THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^vv^ A REVTc;F.n AMD F.^ '.) EDITION OT *' CAM . La/ce O'Hara. A lake TS-ihelands<^ape's most beautiful and expressive feature. ^Ftis edrth's e^>e; looking into which the be- holder measures the depth of his own «a/«r^."-'rnoREAU. jHIRD KDiTli.':: m G. P. PUTNA NEW YORK XTbe fcnicfterbocKcc ipcess 1909 F ■.\^i\aVj THE Rockies of Canada A REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION OF "CAMPING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES" WITH MORE THAN FORTY PHOTOGRAVURE AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL PHOTO- GRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX, F.R.G.S. AUTHOR OF " nCTURESQUE LANDSCAPES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKY mountains" THIRD EDITION G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON Ube IRnicherbocher press 1909 Copyright, 1900 BY WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX Copyright, 1909 BY WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX fSbe Ttnfcfserbocfter fl>ces8( Dew l^orli /C^O PREFACE THE increasing popularity of the Canadian Rock- ies as a pleasure ground and the author's experiences among them, now extending over nearly twenty years, make changes necessary in the present work from time to time. In this edi- tion, a considerable part of the text has accordingly been rewritten, and nearly half the steel plates are new. The work is illustrated with reproductions of photographs taken by the author. Pictures are an essential, if not the most vital, element of every book of travel, and no pains have been spared to achieve the best possible results in this part of the work. The views have been selected to give a comprehen- sive idea of the mountains and cover a large variety of subjects. Many of the landscapes, especially the views of lakes, were obtained only after patient effort and long delays, while awaiting the favourable opportunity to secure a photograph. Nature, espe- cially in the mountains, reveals her most inspiring moments and her most beautiful combinations of sky and clouds, of distant peaks, half veiled in purple haze, of reflected forest trees or sparkling water, so 6682r.2 iv preface rarely, that only a tireless patience may claim the prize of a perfect picture. Year after year the author has returned to artistic spots, in the effort to get difficult subjects, and amongst these, success and failure have been measured out in a manner as uncertain and capricious as the weather itself. Most of the views have been reproduced with remarkable fidelity to the original negatives, and though a few of the most artistic effects cannot be rendered by any mechanical process, the author hopes that the general standard of illustration has been materially raised. The contour map, covering a large part of the mountains under discussion, is a photographic copy from an original kindly supplied by the Department of the Interior of Canada. For allowing him to reproduce and use this map the author gratefully acknowledges the kindness and courtesy of Dr. E. Deville, Surveyor General, and of Mr. Arthur O. Wheeler, Topographer. W. D. W. Washington, D. C, March, 1909. CONTENTS CHAPTER l_f HE Rockies of Canada II— Lake Louise 111— Its Environment IV— Paradise Valley Y_]VIt. Assiniboine VI— A Second Visit Vll— Camp Life Viii— In Search of Mt. Brown Hooker IX— Exploring the Vermilion X— Moraine Lake XI— Wenkchemna Lake XII— Lake O'Hara XIII— Mountaineering XIV— Hunting and Fishing XV— The Stony Indians Index and Mt. PAGE I 12 33 54 69 98 113 139 168 198 205 220 258 281 295 PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS Lake O'Hara .... Frontispiece Banff Springs Hotel Bow River and Cascade Mountain Lake Louise and Mount Lefroy . Lake Louise and Mount Victoria Mounts Victoria and Lefroy from Mount Niblock View from Little Beehive Discovery of Paradise Valley . Mount Temple from the Saddleback Camp in Paradise Valley Giant Steps Falls .... Mount Assiniboine .... Assiniboine Group from the North-east On the Continental Divide Lake Aline Bill Peyto Crossing a High Pass Camp at the Bow Pass Mount Balfour The Bow Lake . Page 6 10 i6 28 34 38 48 54 58 66 82 88 100 108 118 126 132 140 144 viii pbotogravurc Illustrations, Page Source of the Little Fork of the Saskatchewan River 146 Storm in Little Fork Valley . . . . I'^o Fortress Lake /60 Moraine Lake 172 Consolation Valley 176 Storm Scene 182 Early Morning at Moraine Lake . . . 204 An Ideal Camp 206 Alpine Flower Gardens 208 Wenkchemna Lake 214 LakeO'Hara 220 Outlet of Lake O'Hara 224 Lake Mc Arthur 228 Mount Hector and Slate Mountains . . . 2^4 On the North Slope of Pinnacle Mountain . 240 View South-east from Slope of Mount Assiniboine 246 Head of Rocky Mountain Sheep . . . 270 In the Enemy s Country 282 ILLUSTRATIONS OTHER THAN PHOTOGRAVURE Head of Rocky Mountain Goat . . . 262 A Typical Stony Indian 286 A Stony Indian Mother and Children . . 2C)0 Map In pocket at end. THE ROCKIES OF CANADA THE ROCKIES OF CANADA CHAPTER I THE CANADIAN PLAINS — CHARACTERISTICS OF THE ROCKIES — COMPARISON WITH OTHER GREAT RANGES OF THE WORLD — THE NATIONAL PARK OF CANADA — BANFF — A VISIT TO THE devil's lake AND GHOST RIVER VALLEY — SIR GEORGE SIMPSON'S JOURNEY THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS — AN INCI- DENT OF INDIAN WARFARE — THE VERMILION LAKES AND SOME FOREST TREES OF THE MOUNTAINS THE western plains of Canada, rolling in gentle undulations of hill and dale, extend east a thousand miles to the wheat fields of Mani- toba, south to the arid plateau of Colorado, and north to the frozen regions of the Arctic and the Barren Lands. They appear to have no definite limits except on their western border where the Rockies rise out of them like rugged shores from a great sea. The herds of innumerable buffaloes which 2 tTbe IRocMee ot Canada formerly roamed here have disappeared through the criminal slaughter of the white man's rifle, though the Indians remain as a last relic of primitive Western life and their roving bands of horsemen give a dash of life and colour to the monotonous plains. For a score of miles or more there is a region of quiet beauty where the foothills make a borderland be- tween plains and mountains. Here rivers fed by melting glaciers and snow freshets in the mountains make their way eastwards on their long journey over the plains. Their terraced valleys are covered by a thin turf which is brightened, at least in early sum- mer, by prairie flowers, while the higher places are crowned with groves of a rough-barked evergreen called the Douglas fir. The Rockies, like an impas- sable rampart, terminate these hills and show a multitude of snowy peaks extending north and south beyond the limits of vision. These mountains have on their eastern side a rocky escarpment with jutting headlands towering in abrupt cliffs thousands of feet above the plains. The great system of the Pacific Cordillera, which is generally called the Rocky Mountains, commences far south in Mexico and sweeps north to Alaska. The alkaline valleys of Nevada and the glaciers of Alaska, the cactus of Arizona and the evergreen forests of British Columbia mark the diversity of climate in a mountain system of such vast extent, while the granite domes of the Sierras, the bare and lofty summits of Colorado, and the snow-covered Cbaracterl0tic6 of tbe IRocl^les 3 dolomites and quartzite ledges of the Canadian Rockies illustrate the possibilities of mountain forms. There are many reasons why the Rockies of Canada are interesting to the mountain climber and explorer. They have only recently been made ac- cessible. Though these mountains have not the absolute height of those in Colorado, their apparent grandeur is greater because the valleys are both deep and narrow, richly forested and frequently guarded by cliffs which are precipitous for three, four, or even five thousand feet. Such rock walls are some- times adorned by clinging trees and bushes or beauti- fied by sparkling waterfalls playing at the mercy of changing breezes in their dizzy fall. Above are snow fields and hanging glaciers which often awaken thunders among the mountains by avalanches of ice. There are besides many lakes of blue or bluish-green colour, some of them hidden in the solitudes of ever- green forests, others enclosed by rugged cliffs, or exposed on the open expanse of upland meadows, and so they add beauty to their grand environment. In comparison with other ranges of the world, the Canadian Rockies are unusually interesting. The Andes of Ecuador, Peru, and Chile have mountains from twenty thousand to twenty-three thousand feet above sea-level, or nearly twice the height of the greatest peaks of southern Canada. The highest mountains in the world, the Himalayas, reach such stupendous altitudes that no human being may hope, 4 ^be IRockies of Canaba in the immediate future at least, to reach their sum- mits on foot. But these great ranges lie in parts of the world somewhat remote from the beaten tracks of travel. Whymper's description of the Andes in Ecuador and Fitz Gerald's of those in Chile show that the lack of vegetation on their higher parts gives them a bare and dreary aspect. Sven Hedin's account of the Kuenlun and other ranges in Central Asia proves that they are likewise comparatively bare of forests and that their grandeur is not accom- panied by beauty. The Caucasus and Alps, espe- cially the latter, alone equal or surpass the Canadian Rockies, because they have scenic grandeur of snow fields and forests combined with historical interest. The Canadian Rockies have no single peaks or groups of mountains so far discovered equal to the Jungfrau, the Matterhorn, or Mont Blanc. Their wild and secluded valleys echo neither to the tinkle of bells nor the call of horn. Their interest depends on natural beauty added to the fact that their solitudes are as yet unfrequented by travellers. Where many of the larger rivers and mountain ranges remain as yet unexplored, every side valley offers some pos- sibility of discovery. The mountaineer likewise standing on the windy summit of some high point com- mands a view, not of a limited circle of mountains as in Switzerland with the sea and plains beyond, but of a chaotic upheaval where countless peaks and ridges extend in every direction beyond the utmost possibility of vision — four hundred miles to the Zbc IRational park of Canada 5 Pacific, a thousand towards the Arctic, a thousand and more southwards. All this region was practically an unknown wilder- ness before the completion of the Canadian Pacific Road. This undertaking was formally begun on the 20th of July, 1 87 1, when British Columbia entered the Dominion of Canada and on which day the first survey parties commenced work. Eleven different routes were surveyed across the several ranges of the Rockies before the work of construction began. In 1880 the Government seemed unable to make any progress in so vast an undertaking and gave over its control to a private corporation. Under new man- agement, what was at that time the longest railroad in the world was soon an accomplished fact, and in 1886 a new region was opened to mountain climbers and travellers. Places of unusual interest and beauty were then chosen among the mountains, of which the chief is Banft in the Rocky Mountains Park. This reserve has an area ot 48 1 4 square miles, while the Yoho Park, adjoining it, covers 725 square miles. Game is pro- tected and roads are being built every year to reach new places. A small body of the North-west Mounted Police is stationed here to enforce the game laws and keep order generally. Their exploits with rebellious Indians and desperadoes on the plains make the theme of many exciting tales. They wear a scarlet uniform, Wellington boots, and a small circular cap gayly tilted to one side of the head. Their duties are 6 Zhc IRoMce of (^ana^a easier now than a few years ago when there were laws in force against the sale of whiskey, for many desperate attempts were made in those days to smuggle in stimulants, which were regarded neces- sary to stave off the rigours of a severe climate. The thirsty inhabitants of Banff met with some success, though in the process many bottles were smashed and many barrels were rolled into the Bow River. Whiskey is easily obtained by everyone now, and the people have accordingly lapsed into temperance. The village of Banff consists of a few scattered houses and stores, with the necessary schoolhouses and churches for the enlightenment of the people, and several hotels for the entertainment of summer guests. Some excellent roads and bridle-paths lead through pine and poplar groves to places of interest, such as the hot sulphur springs, the Spray valley, and Lake Minnewanka. From the summit of Tunnel Mountain, which is exactly one thousand feet above Banff, a very good idea of the surrounding region may be had. The Bow River comes from the north-west, passes through the village of Banff, and after forcing a passage be- tween great mountains, flows east to the plains, which are concealed by intervening ranges. South- wards, for many miles, may be seen the green val- ley of the Spray River, an unbroken mass of forest enclosed by long ridges, one of which, Mt. Rundle, is nearly ten thousand feet high and towers a mile above the Bow. To the north-east is seen the end of tlbc 'ipn there were many the pc. The h a severe c with soiiie su '■ s were smasiiea i iiiiu the Bow River. oy everyone now, and 'iised into temperance. ew scattered lOuses WOXti^aJtff Springs //f^ff/. !1 IS 'Od ->w 1 1 1 1 /1 11.1 ye t X 10 i 1 arc V ranges. ^ r.vr , 1 the gree., . 11 mass of fort, a .^ s, one* h, Mt. Rundle, is ^oiisand feet high s a mile above e north-east 1 the end of Bantt 7 Minnewanka Lake, beyond a series of gravel ridges which are relics of the glacial period. About one mile from the village, on an eminence overlooking the junction of the Bow and Spray rivers, stands the Banff Springs Hotel. The Bow River makes a fine cascade between rocky walls just below the hotel, which latter is a comfortable place with accommodations for a large number of guests. The verandas command, from a considerable height, a magnificent view of the foaming river, while a vista of snowy peaks almost unrivalled on this continent is seen in the distance through a gap in the nearer limestone cliffs. Several years ago, two gentlemen decided to as- cend Cascade Mountain, one of the highest peaks of the neighbourhood. Instead of taking such advice as was offered, they would have it that a course over an intervening ridge was preferable to any other. They started out with the intention of returning within twenty-four hours, but instead mysteriously disappeared for three days. Then they returned, much to the relief of their friends, who were by that time alarmed for their safety. It appears that they had been lost in a region of burnt timber where they had wandered hungry and hopeless till some fate led them to a place of safety. No one knows how far they went or where, but it is certain that upon reaching the hotel they retired to their rooms and remained there the greater part of the ensuing week. In the early summer of 1899, I made a camping 8 ^be IRocWes of Canaba trip from Banff to Lake Minnewanka, or the Devil's Lake, and along its north shore to the chain of pools beyond. This lake, which is ten miles long, though very narrow, is like a bit of the Mediterranean set between high mountains. An excellent trail, much favoured by the Indians, follows the north shore. On the second day we passed the end of Devil's Lake and made camp finally by the borders of another small lake, in a place almost surrounded by mountains but commanding a view of the plains towards the east. Our camp was located in a meadow where innumerable wild flowers blossomed, and among them meadow rue and wild onions grew together. A few white blossoms — albinos — were mingled among the purple heads of the wild onions. These and the other mountain flowers were slowly drown- ing under the rising waters of the lake, which was fed no doubt by underground springs from the mountains. This is the valley of the Ghost River, a strange vale of limestone formation where no streams flow. Tor- rents descend gullies and waterfalls dash over the vertical walls of this canyon, but each one of them disappears as it enters this Ghost River valley. It is supposed to have been the ancient valley of the Bow, of which these small lakes and the larger Minne- wanka are relics of the former channel. A few miles to the east, the mountains end abruptly, and this en- trance upon the plains is called the Devil's Gap. What with a gap, a large lake, and a mountain a an Incident of UnMan IKIlarfare 9 short distance to the north, called the Devil's Head, named after him, his Satanic Majesty seems to have a mortgage on all this region. All the large rivers of the north-west enter upon the plains from these kinds of openings which are called gaps. They are in real- ity noble thresholds or vestibules between the rolling plains and the mountains. This Devil's Gap was the route by which Sir George Simpson entered the mountains in 1858 on his journey which he claims was the first overland expedition around the world from east to west. In this part of his journey his train, consisting of forty- five horses and a large number of packers, was guided by an Indian named Peechee. The guide Peechee seems to have possessed great influence among his fellows, and whenever, as was often the case, the Indians gathered around their camp-fires and gos- siped about their adventures, Peechee was listened to with the closest attention. Nothing delights the Indians more than to indulge their passion for idle talk when assembled together, especially when un- der the soothing and peaceful influence of tobacco — a surprising fact to those who see them only among strangers, when they are usually silent. A circumstance of Indian history connected with the east end of the lake is mentioned by Sir George Simpson, and illustrates very well the nature of savage warfare. A short time previous to his arrival, a Cree Indian and his wife had been tracked and pursued by five Indians of a hostile tribe. At length lo tTbe IRocMes of Canaba they were discovered and attacked by their pursuers. Terrified by the fear of almost certain death, the Cree advised his wife to submit without making any defence. She was possessed of a more courageous spirit, however, and replied that as they were young and had but one life to lose they had better exert every effort in self-defence. Accordingly she brought down the foremost warrior with a well-aimed shot. From very shame her husband was forced to join the contest and mortally wounded two of the advancing foe with arrows. There were now but two on each side. The fourth warrior had by this time reached the Cree's wife and with upraised tomahawk was on the point of cleaving her head when his foot caught in some inequality of the ground and befell prostrate. With lightning stroke the undaunted woman buried a dagger in his side. Dismayed by this unexpected slaughter of his companions, the fifth Indian took to flight after wounding the Cree in his arm. One of the most interesting excursions in the vicinity of Banff is a boating trip up the Bow River and through the Vermilion lakes. This part of the Bow valley above the falls is fiat and the river is here wide and deep, with a comparatively moderate cur- rent. A small stream half a mile from the boat-house leads to the Vermilion lakes, and on pleasant sum- mer days is alive with canoes and boating parties. The stream comes from two shallow lakes not far away, and the voyage thither is full of interest. In places the waterway is too narrow to permit of the -S^^TN. yhk^y i by il suers. tain u ^'le were ' very si ^ join the c( ■ ncing fo siae. I uc luui,. tb" ^'- '- ^vife ; ' ' M^^^^wer and Cascade Mountain. lualityo' tning stro led alter V, VILU! 1 ti A wide an^ nier In A xx/-rf . , of the ^be IDcrmilion Xakcs II use of oars and you must paddle between tangled bushes and marsh grasses, dodging meanwhile the overhanging branches of willows and alders. On these lakes there is an excellent opportunity to study some of the characteristic features of the Canadian Rockies. The surrounding mountains are covered with evergreens, part of that great subarctic forest which sweeps down from the north and clothes all Canada and the northern States in a gar- ment of sombre green. The trees are spruce, balsam- fir, and pine. On the sunny south-facing slopes there are a few large Douglas firs which penetrate the lower mountain valleys from the foothills, but do not live at much higher altitudes than that of Banff, which is forty-five hundred feet above sea-level. The open glades are filled with small aspen poplars, wil- lows, and birches, which are practically the only deciduous trees. These live only at the lower alti- tudes, but the spruces and balsam-firs cover the grey limestone mountains to a height of nearly three thou- sand feet above this valley. The red squirrels and chipmunks surprise the visitor by their tameness. Many of the wild birds are likewise very tame, and I have seen a number of finches engaged in picking seeds from bushes within two yards of where I was walking. CHAPTER II EARLIEST VISITS TO LAKE LOUISE — VIEW OF LAKE FROM THE CHALET — DESCRIPTION OF THE LAKE — SWAMP FLOW- ERS — THE WHITE-FLOWERED RHODODENDRON — THE TRAIL NEAR THE LAKE — CLIFFS OF THE WEST SHORE — THE DELTA OF THE INLET STREAM — THE ROCK SLIDE OF THE SOUTH SHORE — COLOUR OF LAKE LOUISE WATER — TEMPERATURE IN MIDSUMMER — SOME INSECT PESTS — BATTLES OF HORSE- FLIES AND WASPS — CHALET LIFE — SUMMER CLIMATE AT THE LAKE— THUNDER-STORMS— LIGHT EFFECTS AND COLOUR ILLUSIONS — AN OCTOBER VISIT TO LAKE LOUISE — AN AVA- LANCHE FROM MT. LEFROY — A WARNING OF WINTER'S APPROACH LAKE LOUISE is near the Bow valley, about forty miles from Banff. Who first discovered the lake or whatever became of him is lost to history. It is probable that venturesome spirits came to this wild spot during the early years of railroad building, or possibly when the first surveyors as- cended the Bow valley. The earliest record of a visit that I have been able to find tells how, in 1882, Tom Wilson was camped with a pack train near the mouth of the Pipestone, when some Stony Indians came along and placed their teepees near him. Not long after, a heavy snow- slide or avalanche was heard among the mountains I lEarlieet IDlelta to Xake Xouiee 13 to the south, and in reply to inquiry one of the Indians named Edwin, the Gold Seeker, said that the thunder came from a "big snow mountain above the lake of little fishes." The next day Wilson and Edwin rode through the forests to the lake of little fishes, which was named subsequently for the Prin- cess Louise. The Indian told of two smaller lakes higher on the mountain side to the west, one of which, called by him the " Goats' Looking-Glass," is now known as Lake Agnes. The history of the mountains may be divided roughly into two periods : first a search for the easiest route through the wilderness, then an in- vasion of climbers looking for unconquered diffi- culties. Such groups of snowy peaks as surround Lake Louise while "repelling the early explorer and surveyor later became favourite resorts for the climber. Some time before 1890, a rustic inn was placed on the swampy shore of the lake, and a waggon road was made to open communication with the railroad at the little station of Laggan. In this way the first travellers came to Lake Louise. But one day in 1893 this log building caught fire, *and burned to the ground, so that there were no accommodations and very few visitors that summer. However, with a friend I spent two weeks of that season, camping out in a tent among the tall trees near the shore, and in a small way we commenced our earliest explorations of the neighbourhood, which was at that time com- paratively new. 14 ^be IRocMce of Canaba The new chalet stands on a ridge near the water edge and gives a splendid, and possibly the best, view of the lake. The extreme length of this in- teresting body of water, which is shaped like the left human foot, is one mile and a quarter, but from the magnitude of the mountains on every side it appears at first glance to be a mere pool. The primitive simplicity of a virgin forest is shown in its densely wooded shores and the tangle of bushy banks where fallen trees, mossy in decay, are half concealed by underbrush and flowering shrubs. A narrow margin of angular stones and rounded boulders marks the shore line. From this the bottom drops away very suddenly to great depths, but you may see large stones under the water and water-logged hulks of old trees swept long ago from their positions on the mountain sides by avalanches. Lake Louise has the enduring attraction of nature in one of her grandest and most inspiring moods. It is a deeply coloured lake between wooded slopes^ which sweep upwards on either side in unbroken masses of green, to barren cliffs above tree line. On the left the forest growth ascends more steeply to the base of a grand precipice, while farther down the lake a massive pile of fallen rocks rests against the mountain base and dips abruptly into the water. Mt. Victoria, a giant of the continental watershed, stands square across the valley end beyond the lake. Its brilliant ice fields make striking contrast to the dark forests and shadowy cliffs encircling the lake. Swamp jf lowers 15 In early morning and during calms after a storm, the placid surface reflects the precipices and hanging glaciers of the distant Mt. Victoria, and brings that picture of Alpine grandeur in pleasing proximity to the beauty of spruce-lined shores and richly coloured water. These mountain outlines are so harmonious, and the colour changes so exquisite, that Lake Louise is a realisation of the perfect beauty of nature beyond the power of imagination. Though surprisingly at- tractive to the new arrival, Lake Louise, like many another beautiful phase of natural scenery, grows in impressiveness when experience has given a true idea of the distance and magnitude of the surrounding mountains. The swampy shore before the chalet makes a fine display of wild flowers even in these times when a new set of visitors comes every day to tear them up. Every spot in these mountains has its character- istic plants according to the nature of the ground and its altitude above sea. There is at this end of the lake a low and swampy shore, reeking with surface water from cold springs, unable to escape through the clayey soil beneath. Yellow violets and several species of anemones thrive here together with a con- siderable number of greenish orchids, and the fragrant lady's tresses, but by far the most beautiful flower is the yellow mountain columbine, a near cousin to the scarlet variety of our eastern rock banks. There are several shrubs, of which red-flowered sheep-laurel and white-tufted Labrador tea are most conspicuous, 1 6 ^be IRockiee of Canada the leaves of the latter being covered underneath with a rusty down. In the retirement of partial forest shade the beautiful white-flowered rhododendron grows. This bush has tender leaves of an oval shape, and is decorated in spring with large bell- shaped flowers, which hang their white corollas in artistic clusters among the foliage. In June you will find them in bloom near Lake Louise, but the bush grows higher on the mountains also, and there they blossom in July, or rarely in August. As in many other mountain plants, the succession of flowers throughout the summer season comes from the low- est valleys upwards to higher altitudes. The scrub birch, Betula glandiilosa, has no flowers except in- conspicuous catkins, but its long black wands and small round leaves soon become familiar to every visitor to these mountains, for this bush is rarely absent from any mountain meadow. A rather rough trail closely follows the north shore, and with perseverance you may arrive at the far end of the lake. New mountains appear as you proceed, and the form of the lake, which from the chalet seems like a round pool, changes apparently into a long and narrow body of water. Through a vertical opening in the cliffs at the head of the lake, Mt. Lefroy looms in the distance, crowned with a helmet of perpetual snow and hanging glacier. The extreme end of the lake is guarded by a vertical cliff. The trail ascends to avoid a pile of stones which have fallen from above, and so traverses a grassy slope, ■,.vA tTbe 1R0( . uic iieath ,_v Jow'i tbrest e bea ^dron This I il id is decorated in spring shaped llowers, which hang their white coro; artistic cl >ng the foliage. In June you wiii find them ni Dioom near Lake Louise, but the bush grows higher on the mountains also, and there they i.i,.cc,,n^ in ^"^^ '"'"' '■"•'■'^- '^^ * ' ' colouring at sir^-' ' ' ' -"-' * --^ *k ^ g mountains. The ;■''' '^■*"'>^' .. ic.n V|as little hfies Z«/^^ Louise and Mount Victoria. HI lais, in oral has fhpm h rose or surface i — bla z>\i v.ncs ' .>v'er It 9ppmp iamiliar !id lonely an Hvalancbe from flDt. Xefro)? 29 merely because man had resigned his claims to the place. Suddenly a wild, unearthly wail, from across the water, the cry of a loon, which is one of the most melancholy of all sounds, startled me and abruptly ended my reverie on solitude. Accordingly I walked down the north shore of the lake with the intention of going several miles up the valley and taking some photographs of Mt. Le- froy. The flat, bushy meadows near the upper end of the lake were cold, and all the plants and reedy grass were white with frost. The towering cliffs and castle-like battlements of the mountains on the south side of the valley shut out the sun and pro- mised to prevent its genial rays from warming this spot till late in the afternoon. In the frozen ground I saw the tracks of a bear, made probably the day before. Bruin had gone up the valley somewhere and had not returned, so there was the possibility of making his acquaintance. 1 was well repaid for my visit by seeing a magni- ficent avalanche fall from Mt. Lefroy, a rock mount- ain which rises in vertical cliffs between two branches of a glacier encircling its base. A hanging glacier rests on the highest slope of the mountain and forms a vertical face of ice over two hundred feet thick at the top of a precipice. At intervals, sometimes of days or weeks, masses of ice break from the hang- ing glacier and fall with thundering crashes to the valley. I was standing at a point about two miles distant so Zbc IRocMce of Canaba when, from the vertical ice-wall, a fragment of the glacier, representing its entire thickness, broke away, and, turning slowly, began to fall through the airy abyss. In a few seconds of continued silence, for no sound had yet reached me, the heavy mass struck a projecting ledge, after falling half a thousand feet, and there was shivered into innumerable pieces and clouds of powdered ice, as though it had been rent by some great explosion. Simultaneously came the first thundering roar of the avalanche. Then for two thousand feet more the greater masses of ice led the way, leaping from ledge to ledge, some of them whirl- ing round in mid-air, while others shot downwards like meteors, trailing behind snowy streams brushed off in their awful flight. In a long succession of white curtains resembling a splendid waterfall, the smallest particles followed after. The loud crash which signalled the first destruction of the icy mass now grew into a prolonged thunder, mingled with explosive reports of bursting fragments as they collided in mid-air or dashed against projecting parts of the precipice. It was like the sound of battle, where the clash of arms and the sharp crack of rifles are accompanied by a continuous roar of artillery. The north face of Mt. Lefroy is a practically ver- tical cliff twenty-five hundred feet from base to top. Imagine then a precipice sixteen times higher than Niagara, at the top of which stands a hanging glac- ier crevassed into yawning caverns, ever moving a Marnlng of *Minter'0 Hpproacb 31 resistlessly forwards and threatening at any time to launcii tremendous masses of ice into the valley below. Such avalanches are among the most thrilling spectacles of nature. The majestically slow move- ment of these masses as they commence to fall is a measure of much greater heights and depths than the eye, deceived by the clear mountain air, can at first appreciate. The first movements of these avalanches proceed in total silence, and the ice may fall a thous- and feet or more while the sound is travelling the intervening distance, to awaken echoes among the cliffs and startle the mountaineer. 1 have often noticed that the thunder of avalanches from Mt. Victoria requires twenty seconds to reach the chalet, so that by that time there is often nothing but a white cloud to indicate what has occurred. 1 got back to Lake Louise again about one o'clock. A local breeze made a narrow lane of ripples in the midst of a surface otherwise perfectly calm. This was one of those rare days when the lake is undis- turbed by wind at midday under a clear sky, for the wind generally comes and goes with the rising and setting of the sun. The morning chill had been tempered by the October sun and a few forest birds were flitting silently among the trees, but the flowers and butterflies of summer were no more. It seemed the last expiring effort of autumn, when at any time a sudden storm might wrap the landscape in snow and bind the lake with ice. Even at this warmest time of day the feeble sun rays seemed unable to 32 ^be IRocWes ot Canada fully heat the air, while the cold forest shadows and unmelted frosts gave warning that winter was pre- paring to descend from the mountains, and rule un- interrupted for a period of eight or nine months. CHAPTER III THE ENVIRONMENT OF LAKE LOUISE — ORGANISATION OF A CAMPING PARTY — ALPINE FLOWERS — LAKE AGNES — MOUNTAIN SOLITUDES — VIEW FROM THE LITTLE BEE- HIVE — THE VICTORIA GLACIER — AN ACCIDENT ON MT. LEFROY — A RETURN FOR AID — INDIAN CONSOLATION — ASCENT OF A SNOW PASS — DISCOVERY OF A NEW VAL- LEY — EXPLORATION OF A DELIGHTFUL REGION — A FOR- EST BIVOUAC — INDIAN SARCASM THE environment of Lake Louise is wild and rugged. The snowy mountains seen be- yond the water, Mt. Victoria and Mt. Lefroy, form part of the continental watershed and are among the finest peaks of southern Canada. The spur ranges make a complex knot of splendid mount- ains towering from four to six thousand feet above the valleys. These latter abound in lakes and forests in striking contrast to the bare rocks and dazzling snow fields of the high altitudes. The forces of nature have made here a wonderful combination of gloomy gorges and tremendous cliffs, limestone pinnacles, and crevassed glaciers. To explore this chaotic wonderland, then but little known, and to learn something of the neighbouring valleys and mountains, a party of college men was 33 34 ^be IRocMes of Canada organised in 1894, and met at Lake Louise in July. One member of our party was an enthusiastic hunter, another eager for the glories of mountain climbing, one was a disciple of Daguerre, while the two others were ready to join almost any undertak- ing whatever. Yandell Henderson, Lewis Frissell, and I were the first to meet at Lake Louise, but we had not been there long before our spirits were cheered by the arrival of our friend George Warring- ton. After a few preliminary excursions had been made, to get in condition for more arduous trips, Samuel Allen, with whom 1 had made several mountain ascents in previous years, completed our party towards the middle of July. A common purpose helped the unity of our work, which was to explore the region immediately around Lake Louise, to ascend some high peaks, and to ob- tain photographs of the scenery. Through Warring- ton's ingenuity in contriving a winding reel, the lake was sounded and then mapped and contoured. Henderson added to our larder by his skill with a rifle, while the rest of us climbed mountains and made maps. Our first excursion, and one that nowadays is very popular with visitors, was to Lake Agnes. A trail leaves the chalet, and by a course of zigzags through the forest ascends the sloping mountain west of the lake. The tall coniferous trees cast a cool shade and shut out the mountain world till an ascent of a thousand feet has been made. An older .'}v , -\ v^ . / \ '.A AKCi'xr . m* 'A ■ I 'a *- A 1 ilV^^E^^^^^^^K 34 ^be T -^a .use in July. enthusiastic '^' mountain vhile the randei irst to iiieel at L )i there long before our : V the arrival of our friend George wamii^- ton. After a fev^^ nrriininary excursions had been made, to £^e1: i' for more arduous trips, Samu lad made several Mounts Victoria cmdJLefroyfroM Mourn JNiolock. party i-^^v^arcs inc niivldie d! fiil'. id ,vj ob- y airing- the lake ntoured. Hend< • with n rifle, whii est of us made map^. '"i"' .h!-.; excursion, an :S with visitors, v. A chalet, and b -CS est ascends ' :.ci;n The tall c ast a . it the moi. id till an lousand feet has beei An older aipine jTIowere 35 trail then leads off to the right and presently comes out on u bare slope, swept of trees years ago by a winter snow-slide. A wonderful view is here dis- closed. Mirror Lake, a small pool, is several hundred feet below, shut off from breezes by an encircling forest and a great cliff called the Beehive, whose ta- pering form and horizontal bands of red and grey rocks suggest its name. On the right of the Bee- hive, Lake Agnes appears, partly concealed by Ly- all's larch, and from it comes a cascade that dashes over rocky ledges down to Mirror Lake. Mt. Lefroy and Mt. Aberdeen across the valley seem far higher than they did twelve hundred feet below. Where the avalanche has swept away the forest trees, a growth of bushes and herbs has restored the green colour to the mountain side and added beauty to it by means of a multitude of Alpine flowers. The great mount- ain anemone, showing rigid white flowers, and com- pound leaves divided again and again into fern-like tracery, grows here among the rocks. It should be called the snow-flower, for it is the first to awaken at the touch of spring and bloom at the edges of melting snow-banks. I have seen their burst- ing buds surrounded by an inch of snow ready to open in to-morrow's sun. Sometimes the great anemone blossoms in August or September on Al- pine highlands, where perhaps the snows of winter have been unusually deep, and a false spring comes in autumn when the belated meadows are at last uncovered. This plant bears a tufted bunch of 36 ^be IRocMee of Cana^a plumed seeds which, at full development, is twelve or eighteen inches above the ground, and these tas- seled heads make a conspicuous display in every high mountain meadow. Somebody has said that edelweiss and Scotch heather grow on this slope. There are two plants resembling them, one an antennaria, and the other a heath called bryanthus, which has small purple blossoms remarkably like the Scotch heather. Why does not somebody import the seeds or roots of the Swiss edelweiss and plant them here ? Then, as in the Alps, lovers can risk broken limbs to show their devotion. These Canadian Rockies have the grand- eur and beauty of the Alps, but need their romance and poetry, picturesque mountain villages, cattle pasturing on the upland meadows, or the calls of the shepherd and yodel to awaken the forest echoes. The trail, which is soon lost among the attrac- tions of this place by anyone not devoting his atten- tion to it, appears again on the farther side of the avalanche track. It makes a dizzy course along the face of moss-fringed cliffs, glistening in. places with spring-water. Spruce trees have established a foot- ing wherever there is the slightest opportunity, often on the very edge of the precipice, so that their spreading branches lean far out from the cliff, and their bare roots, like writhing serpents, are flattened in narrow fractures of the rocks. These wooden anchors have safely outlived a thousand mountain storms and may see as many more. QLake aone0 37 Lake Agnes is a wild tarn imprisoned by clieer- less cliffs. At one end there is a narrow fringe of trees, but the lake on either side is bordered by barren angular stones, where nothing grows. Its northward exposure and the towering walls of a great amphitheatre keep out the sun and allow the snow to linger here all summer. One year the ice did not melt away till the end of July, and a thin sheet of ice often forms on clear summer nights. I have seen the lake covered with winter ice again in October. This lake is about one-third of a mile in length. The water is green, and, coming as it does from melting snow and springs, is so clear that the rough bottom may be seen at great depths. It is almost the only rock-basin lake that I have seen in the mountains and, like all other lakes that have not been sounded, it is fathomless. The solitary visitor to the lake is soon oppressed with a sensation of utter loneliness. All these sur- roundings are desolate and a perpetual silence reigns, except for the sound of a rivulet falling over rocky ledges on one side. The faint pattering, echoed by opposite cliffs, seems to fill the air with a murmur which is faint or distinct at the mercy of fickle breezes. The elusive sound starts from every side, or dies away into nothing, and seems almost superna- tural because the ear is powerless to tell whence it comes. The shrill whistle of a marmot, the hoary badger of the Rockies, often breaks this unwonted silence in a startlinof manner. Once a visitor to the 38 ^be IRocWee of Cana^a lake cut short his stay and hurried back to the chalet upon hearing one of these loud whistles, which he thought must be the signal of robbers or Indians about to commence an attack. Many excursions of interest may be made on this mountain side, but none commands a finer panorama of the surrounding region than the top of a rock buttress called the Little Beehive. This is half a mile north of Lake Agnes and is merely a knob upon a greater mountain. Vertical precipices form the side towards Lake Louise, but there is a flat top of several acres extent covered with a most beautiful growth of the scraggly Lyall's larch, whose feathery needles merely filter but do not interrupt the streaming sun- light. A generous share comes to the huckleberry bushes and Labrador tea which grow underneath. They need all they get, for it is a long way north here, besides being seventy-five hundred feet above sea-level, where snow falls every month of the year and the air is warm only at midday. To the north- west you may see a lake near the source of the Bow River, Mt. Hector, towering like an uplifted castle eleven thousand feet above sea-level, standing be- tween this valley and the Pipestone, then far away eastwards beyond Pilot Mountain (formerly a land- mark for the surveyors) thirty miles down the Bow valley, and finally a nearer mass of giant peaks to the south-east and south, which are strangers to us yet, together with the now familiar peaks of Mt. Lefroy and Mt. Victoria. 1 have never seen this glorious 38 to the , which hidians <■:■> ui Lake Agnes and is mereij ^ .w,w. .x^.^.. . .iiounta'"- Vrrtinl nrprinire^; form the side sLakeLo ^ of several acres extent cov ' h of the me Vi^w from Little Beehive. we Ri. eleven tween tbii) v eastwards b* mark for the ^ui vc ^\(^^; ind finally a _t and sout^ er with the i and Mt. Vici ,v Ulk... T > ^- \ 1 . jDOve he year orth- Bow have ;>ow othe ^ yet, L Lefroy glorious Zl)C IDlctorla (Blacler 39 ensemble of forests, lakes, and snow fields surpassed in an experience on the summits of more than forty peaks and the middle slopes of as many more in the Canadian Rockies. And the best part of it all is, that a most indifferent climber can easily reach this place and, with care, a horse might be led to the summit. Before our party was complete, Henderson, Fris- sell, and 1 made an excursion to Mt. Lefroy, which gave us more caution ever after and nearly resulted fatally for one of us. After crossing the lake in a boat, we ascended the valley for a mile to the end of a glacier which is the source of the Lake Louise stream. This glacier is formed from two branches, one of which fills the valley between Mt. Aberdeen and Mt. Lefroy, while the other comes from a narrow canyon called the Death Trap. Thus Mt. Lefroy stands like a precipitous island in a sea of ice. We crossed the muddy glacial stream and after climbing the sharp-edged moraine descended upon the glacier. This glacier is about three miles in length by half a mile wide. Its upper part, or neve, is comparatively clear, but many stones cumber the ice at its lower end, increasing ever towards the snout, till at length this dirtiest glacier of the Rockies ends dismally and indefinitely, buried beyond recognition in a confused moraine. The burden which the glacier carries is a mass of limestones and shales, which have fallen from the cliffs up the valley and are being slowly trans- ported to the terminal moraine. You may walk 40 Zhc IRockies of Canaba half a mile over the lower glacier and not once touch the ice under this covering of stones. There is one large pile of shale blocks, which have been apparently dumped upon the glacier all at one time, in which some of the stones measure fifteen or twenty feet in length. Passing the ice-pillars, with their protecting caps of stone, streams gliding silently over the glacier sur- face in polished channels of ice, and the dark crev- asses, into some of which these streams fall with a hollow roar, we came, after an hour of walking, to the foot of Mt. Lefroy. There is a snow couloir on the north side of this mountain which seemed to offer a possible way up a precipice about seven hun- dred feet high. Above this precipice there is an easier slope to the summit, and we thought that, once arrived there, nothing could prevent our ascent of the mountain. An exploration was accordingly begun of this couloir in an effort to see how far it was practicable in view of some future ascent. The snow slope, which was comparatively easy at first, soon increased to a pretty stiff angle four or five hundred feet above the glacier, and it seemed better to try the rock cliffs on one side. We were now en- closed by limestone cliffs disintegrated by frost. It was in fact one of those narrow and precipitous gulches of the Canadian Rockies which are most dangerous to climbers. On either side of us there were overhanging walls, decayed limestone pillars, tottering masses of broken stone with daylight an acclbent on fIDt Xefroi? 41 showing through the cracks, and a thousand rocks resting threateningly balanced and apparently ready to fall at a feather's touch. That we were not dis- mayed at this hopeless prospect proves that we were more audacious than prudent. At length when reaching upwards for a handhold, with a boost from below and my face against the limestone, 1 saw a large and dangerous-looking stone poised above us. "Fellows, we must look out for that stone," said I, ''and not let the rope touch it." A moment after, Henderson and I were above this, climbing another rock ledge, when we heard the grinding sound of the large stone moving. We turned in time to see Frissell falling. The rope tight- ened and held him on a ledge ten feet below, but the tremendous stone, which must have weighed a ton, was rolling over and coming down upon him. For a brief but awful moment, helpless and immovable, as in a frightful dream, we saw the stone leap out into the air to descend upon our poor comrade, but he made a desperate movement, pressing hard against the cliff, and escaped the full force of the blow. Then the whole place resounded with the hollow rattle of falling stones as they danced in a shower of death below us. We found that Frissell could not stand, one leg being perfectly helpless, while he was so dazed by the shock that he fainted twice in our arms. We were many miles from assistance and it was after two o'clock. Uncoiling the full length of the rope, one 42 ^be IRocMee of Canaba end was fastened round his waist, and the other round mine. With an ice-axe buried to the head in the snow as an anchor, I paid out the rope and low- ered our helpless friend fully fifty feet. Then Hen- derson went down and, anchoring himself in like manner, held him while I came down. This opera- tion, repeated a number of times, brought us soon upon the comparatively level glacier. Removing my coat for him to lie on, 1 started to the chalet for aid. Heedless of crevasses, over the crumbling moraine and rough stones to the trail around the lake, run- ning at all times except in the very roughest places, I covered in seventy minutes what had required three hours to walk in the morning. Arrived at the chalet completely exhausted, 1 hoped to find sufficient aid there to make up a relief party, but, as ill luck would have it, only Joe Savage, the cook, was at the chalet. Mr. Astley, the manager, and two Indians, Tom Chiniquay and William Twin, were on the mount- ain near Mirror Lake. So while Savage got poles and canvas ready for a litter, I commenced a tiring climb for the others. Coming at length upon Wil- liam, where he was cutting out a trail, I addressed him in the Indian way of speaking English : "Wil- liam, three white men go up big snow mountain. Big stone come down — hurt one man. I think Tom, Mr. Astley, you, all go up snow mountain— bring white man back." William asked, " Kill him ? " but his face showed anxiety till I told him that our friend was still alive, though he must hurry. Dropping his a IReturn for al^ 43 axe, he ran off for the others who were higher upon the mountain, while I returned to the chalet and made ready some food and whiskey. Thus a relief party of four was soon started. On the back of an Indian cayuse I galloped away to Laggan and telegraphed for Dr. Brett to come from Banff. Then to division headquarters, " How much for a special engine from Banff to Laggan ? " The reply was in terms too high for our purse, and I arranged for a hand-car crew to bring up the doctor. The distance is thirty-six miles and there is a stiff grade with a total ascent of five hundred feet. Meanwhile the rest of the party on the glacier, seeing me disappear about three o'clock beyond a swelling mound of ice, were left to pass the tedious hours in lonely contemplation. On a hot summer day a glacier is a fairly comfortable place abounding in cool breezes and bright sunshine. A decided change, however, takes place immediately after the sun disappears, as it soon did here, behind Mt. Vic- toria, ice-needles formed on the pools, the genial breezes ceased, and a penetrating draught came down from the higher places. The long hours rolled by and still no sign of aid appeared. In imagination they recounted the possibility of its never arriving, thinking that I might have fallen into a crevasse, or sprained my ankle while on the moraine, and that no one would ever think of com- ing to them. At length in desperation they made a plan to leave the glacier by the shortest way, at 44 tTbe IRocMes of Canaba whatever risk to life or limb, rather than die of cold on this cheerless sea of ice, but before such plans were carried out they discovered, with a field-glass, a boat leaving the far end of Lake Louise. In half an hour the boat had crossed the lake, and then for an hour or so no further sign of help was seen. Suddenly four moving figures appeared like black dots in the distance and they knew that a rescue party was coming at last. At seven o'clock, or more than four hours after the accident, our injured com- panion commenced his journey to the chalet in a litter hastily constructed and which, at best, only served to lift him a little above the ground. William observed his woebegone appearance and heard his groans with concern, but with true Indian lack of tact, frequently during the painful journey enter- tained the invalid as follows : '' You think you die ? Me think so too." While Frissell was regaining health and strength we made several expeditions to the adjacent valleys, and, among others, one of them proved the most de- lightful that I have ever taken in this region. We as yet knew nothing of the mountains east and south of Lake Louise. Certain glimpses of a valley beyond Mt. Aberdeen and Mt. Lefroy had been caught in our various climbs, but they gave only imperfect ideas of the geography of all that region. To push our exploration into this new and doubtless attractive place seemed a most desirable thing. Our plan was to explore the Lefroy glacier and force a passage, if ascent of a Snow pass 45 possible, over a snow pass eastwards, where, no doubt, all this unknown region would lie before us. Accordingly one day near the first of August our party of four might have been seen traversing in Alpine fashion the ice-fields near Mt. Lefroy. This entire valley, which is more than seven thousand feet above sea-level, is filled with glacier ice and per- petual snow. From the entire absence of trees or vegetation of any kind it is impossible to judge dis- tance and heights of mountains in this place. It is a veritable canyon, of magnificent though desolate grandeur, with the bare limestone slopes of Mt. Aberdeen on the north, and on the other side the north face of Mt. Lefroy, which has a total height of nearly four thousand feet from the glacier. At the valley end there stands a curious pointed mountain, shaped like a bishop's mitre, and on either side of this there is a col, or snow pass, one of which we hoped to ascend. As we were marching over the glacier, which was covered with snow and therefore somewhat dangerous, Warrington, who was third on the rope, suddenly broke through the frail bridge of a crevasse. '' I could hear," he afterwards told us, ''the noise of snow falling under my feet and the gurgling of water at the bottom of the depths over which 1 was sus- pended." We pulled him out of this dangerous place without anyone else getting in, and reached the foot of the snow passes without further accident. The one on our left seemed easier of slope than the 46 ^be IRocMee of Cana^a other. It was very soon apparent that we had a considerable amount of work before us. Allen led the way cutting steps in the snow, for the slope was very steep and we had no desire to slide into one of the great crevasses which made the place formid- able. We crossed some of these treacherous caverns by means of snow bridges, but others we were compelled to pass around, and in such places had inspiring views of blue grottos hung with dripping icicles. From the darkness of these yawn- ing death-traps came the sound of sub-glacial streams. After three hours of slow and tiring work we had climbed only one thousand feet. It was a cloudy day with a damp and cheerless atmosphere, and at this altitude of eight thousand feet there were occa- sional showers of hail and snow. Chilled by the long exposure and the necessary slowness of our progress, every member of the party became silent and depressed. It seems to me that the circulation of the blood has much to do with the mental state and that courage depends in a large measure on the pulse. The panting soldier will face a cannon's mouth, but dreads unseen danger when chilled by night watching. To judge by our surroundings alone, we might have been exploring some lonely polar land, for our entire view was limited by high mountains covered with glaciers and snow and altogether barren of vegetation. At such times you wonder why you Discopcrp ot a 1Rcw IDallcp 47 came. Why not stay at home and be comfortable ? Every climber feels such temporary repulses, when the game is not worth the candle and he decides once for all to give up mountain climbing. Like the ancients vowing sacrifices and temples to the gods in the thick of battle or on the point of shipwreck, which vows they forgot very speedily when they arrived at safety, the mountaineer forgets his re- solves under the genial influence of hot Scotch and a comfortable camp. These Rockies have many sur- prises for the explorer, and there was one in store for us. We sought temporary rest on an outcropping ledge and tried to regain some strength by eating lunch. The summit of our pass now seemed only a short distance above, but we had been deceived so many times on this interminable slope that we put no faith in our eyes. Recommencing our climb at a quicker pace, for the slope was easier and we were most anxious to see the view eastwards, we were soon near the summit. The last few steps to a mountain pass are attended by a pleasurable excite- ment equalled only by the conquest of a new mountain. The curtain is about to be raised, as it were, on a new scene and the reward of many hours of climbing comes at one magical revelation. Arrived on the summit of our pass, 8500 feet above sea-level, we saw a new group of mountains in the distance, while a most beautiful valley lay far below us. Throughout a broad expanse of meadows and 48 Zl)c IRocl^les ot Canaba open country many streams were to be seen winding through this valley, clearly traceable to their vari- ous sources in glaciers, springs, and melting snow- drifts. With all its diversity of features spread like a map before our eyes, this attractive place was seen to be closely invested on the south by a semicircle of high and rugged mountains, rising steeply from a crescent-shaped glacier at their united bases. The encircling mountains extending then to the left, hemmed in the far side of the valley in an irregular line of peaks, to terminate, so far as we could see, in a double-pointed mountain with two summits about one mile apart. The strata of this mountain had been fashioned by ages of exposure into innumerable forms of beauty, like imitations of minarets, pinna- cles, and graceful spires. The mountain itself resem- bled a splendid building, with nature as architect, the frost and rain for sculptors. Its outlines showed a combination of gentle slopes and vertical ledges like the alternating roofs and walls of a cathedral. On one side of this mountain, where nature had evi- dently striven to surpass all other efforts, there rose from the middle slopes a number of slender stone columns, apparently several hundred feet high. They were strange monuments of the past which had sur- vived earthquake shocks and outlived the warring elements while nature continued her work. Com- pared with these columns, the pyramids of Egypt, the palaces of Yucatan, and the temples of India are young, even in their antiquity. iicui> winding )11p^ \7'>llP\ ■ r van- no w- • a .ed nioun ea glacier at tneir united L. ountains extending then lu me leiL, hetu. ,. ^. m; j''^ ^'" ^'^ - -^ ^^^-^ '.'oii^w in an irregular line of peaks, , . mnlrl ^pp in .a double-pointed 't on D'ls'cd'very of Pai'adise Valley. fOT es like ■ On pass -,. ..:iing Com- f^gypt, idia are H)i9C0\)er^ of a IRew IDallci? 49 At the time of our arrival on the summit, a sudden change took place in the weather. The wind came from another quarter, and the monotonous covering of grey clouds began to disclose blue sky in many places. The afternoon sun poured shafts of light through the moving clouds, and awakened bright colours over forests, meadows, and streams. This beautiful scene opened before us so suddenly that for a time the cliffs echoed to our exclamations of pleasure, while those who had recently been most depressed in spirit were now most vehement in ex- pressions of delight. A short time before no one could be found to assume the responsibility of such a foolhardy trip, but now each member of our party had been the proposer of this glorious excursion. We spent a half-hour on the pass, and divided our work so that while one took photographs of the scene, another took angles of prominent points for our map, and the rest built a cairn to celebrate our ascent of the pass. It was decided, by each one no doubt to himself, but at any rate by the party unanimously, to explore this new valley whatever should be the result. Though it was late in the afternoon and there was small chance of reaching the chalet that night, the desolate valley behind repelled, while the new one seemed to bid us enter. Fortunately, a long snow slope led far into the valley from the pass. This we prepared to descend by glissading, all roped together, because one or two 50 ZTbe IRocWce of Canada of our party were undergoing their first Alpine ex- periences. The slope was pretty steep, and we were just well under way in our descent, when someone lost his footing and commenced to slide at such speed that the end man was jerked violently by the rope, and lost his ice-axe as he fell headlong. With con- sternation very evident on their faces, our two com- rades came rolling and sliding downwards, head first, foot first, sometimes one leading, and sometimes the other. Their momentum was too much for the rest of us and, even with our ice-axes well set in the soft snow, we all slid some distance in a bunch. Owing to the complicated figures executed in our descent, it required several minutes to unwind the tangled ropes in which we were caught. Then a committee of one was appointed to go back and gather the scat- tered hats, ice-axes, and such other personal effects as could be found. In a short time we had descended fifteen hundred feet to the valley bottom. We had thus in a few moments exchanged the cold and dreary upper re- gions for the genial warmth of summer. Humboldt says : 'Mn the physical as in the moral world, the con- trast of effects, the comparison of what is powerful and menacing with what is soft and peaceful, is a never-failing source of our pleasures and our emo- tions. " By our rapid change of altitude we had passed through all gradations of climate from polar to tem- perate, and now found ourselves surrounded by meadows of rich grass, gay with the wild flowers of jeyploratlon of a Bellobtful IRcoion 51 midsummer, and open groves where squirrels were chattering, and the wild conies and other rodents were staring at us as we passed along. There were not a few mosquitoes in evidence also. We followed a small stream and saw it finally grow into a river. Pursuing our way with rapid steps, like adventurers in nature's fairyland, where every moment reveals new wonders, we came at length to an opening in the forest, where the falling stream dashed among great stones strewn in wild disorder. They were colossal fragments of sandstone hewn by nature into angular blocks and poised one upon another as though they were ready to fall from their insecure positions. After several hours of walk- ing, the stream became a large, muddy torrent which swung from right to left every hundred yards or so, and was now too wide and deep to cross. The tremendous cliffs of Mt. Temple, one of the highest of the Canadian Rockies, guard the east side of this valley. For the space of three miles its preci- pices present an uninterrupted wall of rock, four thousand feet from base to top and a total height of five thousand feet from the valley. Henderson and I led the way, and at length lost sight of the others, who preferred a slower pace after such unusual exer- tions. In the early evening we came to a swampy place, beyond which we recognised the broad open- ing of the Bow valley. Here we waited some time for our friends, who were a long way behind, and then at length wrote a note and fastened it to a pole 52 ^be IRocMee of Canada in a conspicuous place. It read : *' We are going to climb the ridge to the north and try to make the chalet to-night. Advise you to follow us." On the top of the pole we cut a slit and pointed a splinter of wood in the exact direction we were to take. Having accomplished these duties in the best manner possible and in spite of innumerable swarms of mosquitoes from the swamp, we walked at our best speed, not relishing the prospect of a cheerless bivouac overnight after our long fast. Encountering the usual obstacles of fallen timber, we reached Lake Louise, by good fortune, at eight o'clock. After shouting in vain for someone to send over a boat, we forded the stream and entered the chalet, where a sumptuous repast was prepared forthwith and to which we did justice after our walk of twelve hours' duration. Our friends did not appear till morning. It seems that they discovered our note, but decided not to take our route as they thought it safer to follow the stream to the Bow. This, however, proved much farther than it appeared, and they had not proceeded far before they became entangled in a large area of fallen timber, where they were soon overtaken by night and compelled to give up all hope of reaching Lake Louise till morning. In the dark forest they lit a small fire, and were at first tormented by mosqui- toes, and later by the chill of advancing night, so that sleep was impossible. The utter weariness of exhaustion, embittered by hunger and sleeplessness, ■flnbian Sarcasm 53 amid clouds of voracious mosquitoes, was only off- set by the contents of a flask, with which they endeavoured to revive their drooping spirits and nour- ish the feeble spark of life till dawn. Fortunately the nights in this latitude are short, and at four o'clock they continued their way to the Bow River, which they then followed to Laggan. A week later, a little column of smoke was seen rising from the woods toward the east, and from Lag- gan it was reported that a large area of the forest was on fire. Some pointed the finger of scorn at us and held our party responsible. William Twin, our Indian friend, said, " Me think two white men light him fire," to which we replied that this was impos- sible as the fire had broken out nearly a week after our visit. William then met our arguments with this sarcastic fling: " Oh no, white man no light fire. Me think sun light him." A gang of section men with axes and water- buckets was immediately despatched from Laggan to fight the fire, which, thanks to the weather, did not prove very serious and was extinguished in two days. CHAPTER IV AN UPLAND MEADOW — VIEW OF MT. TEMPLE — WE PLACE OUR CAMP IN PARADISE VALLEY — DIFFICULTIES OF TRAVERSING THE PATHLESS FOREST — A MARVELLOUS SOMERSAULT — THE UPPER END OF PARADISE VALLEY — DISCORDANT FLOWER COLOURS — THE FIREWEED — THE SPRUCE AND BALSAM — THE BLACK PINE AND WHITE- BARKED PINE — THE LYALL'S LARCH — ITS ENDURANCE OF COLD AND STORMS — THE MARMOT AND PICA — THE VALLEY IN WINTER THE beautiful place which had been discovered in such a delightful way we called Paradise Valley. Our route will never be popular ex- cept with mountaineers, and comparatively few will see this valley from the Mitre col. The lower end of Paradise Valley can be seen to better advantage from an elevated place called The Saddle, a part of Fairview Mountain, east of Lake Louise. An excel- lent trail has been made and you may now ride there on the back of an Indian pony in an hour. The Saddle is an upland meadow between a craggy ele- vation on one . side and the great conical mass of Fairview Mountain to the north. This alp, beautified by waving grass and bright flowers, alternating with scattered groves of Ly all's larch, is so elevated that 54 \^\^^^<>^, MEADOW — ViEU CAMP IN PARADISE V ALLEY — Di h FICU L i U - IV.-.1NG THE PATHLESS FOREST — A MARVELLOUS ULT — THE UPPER END OF PARADISE VALLEY — ISCORDANT FLOW) REWF.ED — THE SPRU. BARKED COLD A^ VALLEY r WHITE- Mount Temple f 7' 0771 the Saddleback. of P I rail has b* back ot :. "n uplark! "'^ side tain to iS and oves of ! - of lied ^; with elevated that Hn ^planb nDcat)ovp 55 it commands an inspiring view of the Bow valley and of Mt. Temple. The latter is a splendid mount- ain (the highest seen from the Canadian Pacific Road), and is surpassed only by the giant Mt. As- siniboine to the south, and by those great snow mountains, Forbes and Lyell, near the source of the Saskatchewan. The meadow dips gently southwards, suddenly breaks up into rocky crags, and then drops abruptly fifteen hundred feet to the bottom of Paradise Valley, where the stream resembles a narrow band of silver, winding in sinuous course through the forests. Standing on one of these flat-topped ledges, where a stone from the hand drops one hundred feet before touching the cliff, you may enjoy one of the most inspiring views in the Rockies of Canada. A small, blue lake rests against the base of Mt. Temple, some- what elevated above the valley, hemmed in by forests, and sparkling with diamonds when the sun is south. It is more than five thousand feet from the water of this lonely pool to the top of Mt. Temple. A glacier, free of all dirt-bands and stones, for there are no cliffs above to scatter rock-falls upon it, crowns the mountain summit and, at intervals, makes ice ava- lanches when its hanging edge breaks away. These avalanches are infrequent, but the roar of ice in its fall of several thousand feet may be heard at Laggan, six miles distant. One route to Paradise Valley lies over this Saddle, but a far shorter way is through the forests from Lake 56 ^be IRocklee of Canada Louise to the mouth of the other valley, which is only three miles distant and on about the same level. We decided to make a camping expedition into this region and explore it at leisure, so we procured three or four horses at the chalet and made ready some pro- visions and blankets. It would not have required a very large book to contain all we knew about packing horses at that time. They say the Bedouins pack their camels in a singular manner by winding thongs round the animals' bodies, packs and all, and at their journeys' end simply cut the fastenings, whereupon everything comes loose. Our horses must have been packed in a similar manner, but at all events we knew absolutely nothing about the " diamond hitch." Allen and Henderson said they would go ahead and get a camp settled near the end of Paradise Val- ley. To help drive the horses, two Indian boys were engaged, but on the second day, after a hearty break- fast, they deserted. Frissell and 1 came along in two days with another horse and some auxiliary supplies. I shall never forget that night when we were search- ing for the camp. We had been leading the horse, an obstinate old brute, more than six hours through the pathless forest, and had arrived at length not far from the valley end, where, however, there was no sign of a camp. A stormy night was coming on and a fine drizzle commenced to wet the underbrush. We untied the rifle and fired several shots as a signal of distress. Hollow echoes from the forest gloom and the long-drawn repetitions farther and farther Zlraversina tbc patblcse jforeet 57 away mocked our despair. The poor old cayuse was a picture of silent misery with his head hanging down, the rain dripping in streamlets from ears and mane, and his body steaming with moisture. We prepared to make a night of it in the wet forest with no tent to protect us, no axe to cut fire-wood, and little chance of cooking anything, though there were some cold canned provisions somewhere on the horse unless they had fallen out of his packs. I put on a "slicker" and made a last search for the camp in a rapid excursion up the valley. Some large whitish stones loomed through the darkness and several times deceived me into the idea that they were our tent. At length I found the place on the farther side of a stream and gave a shout. There was no fire before the camp, which made it so diffi- cult to find. In another hour the horse had been brought up and a fire made, large enough to dry our clothes and cook a fine dinner. The next day was spent in cutting fire-wood and boughs for beds, to say nothing of making camp generally comfortable. Several trips were made afterwards between the lake and camp to replenish our stock of blankets and provisions. As might be supposed where the ex- plorers were inexperienced and the country unusually rough, some remarkable things happened on these journeys. There was a spot about two miles within the valley entrance that always put our patience to a severe test. On one side of the stream was a place made fairly impassable by fallen trees crossed two or 58 Zbc IRocWee of Canada three deep. The other bank, which we were com- pelled to take, was covered by an unusually dense forest, where a tangled underbrush and fallen timber partially concealed the pitfalls of a moss-covered rock-slide. There were deep holes between the stones, and in many places underground streams, which we could hear gurgling beneath our feet, had washed out the soil. To lead a horse through this place required considerable skill and courage. With- out guidance the poor beast would stand motionless, but to choose a path while leading him was a pre- carious occupation, for the very first hole was enough to frighten the animal so that, instead of going more carefully, he usually commenced a wild rush till he fell. In these frantic struggles we were occasionally trampled on, while the packs were smashed against the trunks of trees or torn off altogether. Our usual manner of procedure was to have one of our party ahead to select rapidly open places in the forest, while about twenty-five yards behind came another whose duty it was to find the path- finder, and if possible improve on his route. Then came the horse led by a third, while the rear of our little procession was brought up by two others charged with the responsibility of picking up what- ever articles fell out of the packs. The following incident, which is related merely for the sake of historical accuracy and to show the possibilities of the country, is offered with no fond hope whatsoever that anyone will credit the tale. 'A«%.«r-. «BE^ VKr¥*at M fmdc ad a n< vv iLii- Cam/> in Pm-adise Valley. a riDarpclloue Somersault 59 It happened that we were pursuing our way through the woods in our usual manner, when the leader came to a tree which leaned over the trail at an angle, it was small enough to be limber, and large enough to be strong. Moreover, it was too low for the horse to pass under, and too high for him to jump over. Approaching the slanting tree, the leader saw the pack-horse rear in the air and prepare for a jump. He thought it best to get out of the way, but in his haste stumbled and fell headlong into a bush. Meanwhile the horse, a stupid old beast, prepared for the effort of his life, and with a tremendous spring jumped high in air, but unfortunately his fore- feet caught in the tree, which swung forward a little with his weight, and then returning like a spring, turned the animal over in mid-air. The poor beast fell on his back about five yards farther on, and re- mained motionless as death, with his four legs point- ing towards the sky. But this was not all, for the tree swung back violently and caught one of our party on the nose, fortunately at the end of its swing, but with sufficient force to knock him down. When our two friends had recovered, we turned our attention to the horse, which had not yet moved. ''He is dead," cried a voice. We rolled him over nevertheless, whereupon he got up and seemed none the worse for his experience except for a more than usual stupidity. Though our camp life was not so comfortable as further experience has shown to be possible in these 6o ^be IRockiee of Canada mountains, still there was the enthusiasm of early exploits and a certain romantic atmosphere to all we saw and did that perhaps lessens with riper experi- ence. In the first place our surroundings would have appealed to any lover of nature. The upper part of this valley is hemmed in by an encircling line of mountains, and abruptly terminated to the south by a bare precipice which rises in a wedge-shaped peak called by us " Hungabee," or the chieftain. Falling away into a moderate depression, the cliffs rise again on the right into the lofty summit of Mt. Lefroy. A curious glacier, shaped like a horseshoe, lies at the base of this semicircle of mountains. The glacier ends in a high moraine ridge, and below this for a mile or more the valley abounds in de- lightful meadows and open groves, interrupted at frequent intervals by level tracts, pools of water, and quiet rivulets, or, where the country is more broken, by noisy glacial streams. The meadows were at the height of summer glory and bright with the scarlet painted-cup and red-purple epilobiums mingled in a wild clash of colours. There are several species of epilobium in the mountains, of which the commonest is a tall plant with a long raceme of flowers. It is called the fire- weed, for it appears most abundantly in the desolate wastes of burnt timber lands, where its bright flowers enliven the black and grey monotony of charred trees. In late summer it sends forth a multitude of cottony seeds, which are borne away through the ^bc Tllppcr lent) of iparaMse IDallei? 6i air for miles, sometimes over high mountain ridges, to other valleys. There is a smaller and more beautiful plant of the same genus, which is only a few inches high and bears a few conspicuous flow- ers, magenta-purple coloured, that harmonise with nothing except perhaps the green of its own pointed leaves. It prefers the pebble-lined borders of mount- ain streams, or the dry bed of some old channel where a little gravel offers a foothold between water-worn stones, to the rich soil and verdure of meadows. This flower, like Grieg's music, recalls mountain pastures, and suggests in its discordant beauty of colour tones his wild, bitter-sweet harmonies. The altitude of all the upper part of Paradise Val- ley is approximately seven thousand feet above sea- level, which, in this part of the Canadian Rockies, is the normal tree-line. The terms tree-line 2indi snow- line are inexact, and vary greatly according to situa- tion. In secluded valleys that face north, the upper limit of tree growth is sometimes below seven thousand feet. But where the valleys are broad and sun-exposed, spruces and larches grow as high as seventy-five hundred or even seventy-six hundred feet above sea-level. All the valleys of these mountains are covered with heavy coniferous forests. There is a certain dignity in these tall, straight trees, which seems suit- able to the cold northern wilderness, though the effect is monotonous as compared with the variety of tree forms found in the deciduous forests of the 62 Zhc IRocWee of Cana^a Appalachians, the Green, and the White mountains. Only five kinds of trees compose by far the greater part of the forests in the summit range of the Cana- dian Rockies. The white spruce (Picea Engelmannii) is found everywhere throughout the mo'untains from the low- est altitudes to the highest limits of tree growth. It is from forty to one hundred feet in height and from one to three feet or more in diameter. In heavy for- ests the outline of this tree is very narrow, as the higher branches, especially, project but a little way from the tapering stem. These lateral branches show a tendency to slope downwards, possibly the better to shed the burden of winter snow. In dark forests the lower branches die away and are often hung with black and gray beard-lichens. In places where the forests are somewhat open and protected from snow-slides, the spruce has live branches from the ground to the terminal bud, and the tree then as- sumes the form of a symmetrical spire. I counted four hundred rings in an old spruce stump near Lake Louise. This tree was less than three feet in dia- meter, but it sometimes exceeds four feet, and by the same ratio of growth such trees should be between five hundred and six hundred years old. The balsam spruce {Abies subalpind) has about the same range as the white spruce, but is less common. At a distance it is hardly to be distinguished from the spruce, but the bark on branches and young trees is raised in blisters which contain a drop or two ITbe Spruce an^ Balsam 63 of balsam. This balsam exudes from the bark wher- ever it is bruised. At first it is a very clear liquid, regarded by old trappers and woodsmen as a certain cure, when brewed with hot water, for colds and throat trouble. On exposure to air it slowly hardens into a brittle resin, which the woodsman melts into pitch to seal boxes or mend leaky canoes. The camper-out makes his bed from balsam boughs, as they are more springy and less rigid than those of the spruce. The blunt and soft leaves of the balsam are likewise much pleasanter to the touch than the sharp spruce needles. There are two kinds of pine — the black pine (Pinus Miirrayana), a small and slender tree which cannot endure very high altitudes, and the white- barked pine {Pinus albicaulis), which is found on rocky slopes at greater heights. The black pine ex- tends over considerable areas, and alternates with spruce when fires destroy one or the other forest. The white-barked pine has an open branching trunk and is rather scarce in these mountains. The most interesting and by far the most beauti- ful conifer is Lyall's larch {Larix Lyallii). It resem- bles the eastern tamarack, but is restricted to the summit range of the Rockies, and its southern limits, probably in Montana, have not yet been determined. 1 have never seen the larch in any of the Saskatche- wan or Athabasca valleys, and the farthest north that I have observed it was on the slopes of Mt. Hector, eleven miles from Laggan. It rarely lives at altitudes 64 ^be IRocWee of (Iana^a below six thousand feet above sea-level. The ex- treme range of altitude of this tree might be safely placed between 5600 and 7600 feet. Lyall's larch is very beautiful, having a rough, grey bark, irregular and heavy branches, and a foliage of soft needles arranged in tufts like green brushes. Its appearance among the spruces as you ascend is a certain indica- tion that you are approaching tree-line, where it forms scattered groves on all the higher ridges and meadowy uplands. Its growth must be extremely slow, as I have counted thirty rings in a branch only three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The wood is hard and brittle, and after a heavy snowfall the branches often strew the ground in a painful ruin. Thus the tree has an irregular and gnarled appear- ance as a result of its ceaseless battle with snow- storms and gales. Probably no other tree in the world endures such stress of weather. Not till June or July does the snow entirely disappear from the ground in its usual habitat, and if the winter has been unusually severe the drifts may remain all sum- mer. Its tender buds burst in June and the needles are fully developed in early July, but they are fre- quently covered with ice or snow during the summer, and in fact I have seen them covered with light snow in a freezing atmosphere for nearly three suc- cessive weeks in July and August. Then, no matter how hot the summer has been, the snow begins to fly again in September at these high altitudes, so that the larch has an active growing period of only ^be %^n[VQ Xarcb 65 two or three months in the year. Nevertheless their trunks are frequently more than two feet in diameter, which seems to indicate that they attain a very great age in spite of the vicissitudes of climate. Those larches that grow at the highest altitudes have a curious development not found on trees a few hun- dred feet lower. The tufts of needles spring from a hollow woody sheath, which is sometimes more than an inch long on the high-altitude trees, while else- where this development is not present. In October the larch needles fade, and during autumn mark a band of pale yellow on the mount- ains. The Lyall's larch is a constant source of de- light to the mountaineer, and adds much beauty to those higher valleys and slopes where the deep for- ests end and the perpetual snows first appear. Its rough bark and crooked branches, adorned with a scanty foliage, make a light shade and show the blue sky beyond. In such places, contrasted with the cliffs and snow fields of the mountains, it lends a charm to their grandeur. The Douglas fir (Pseudotsiiga Douglasii) is the largest conifer of the eastern or summit range, but is only found on the foothills east of the mountains or in valleys which are less than five thousand feet above tide. Here it is found in company with the aspen poplar {Populus tremtiloides), and the cotton- wood (P. balsamiferd), which when well seasoned makes the finest camp-fire possible and gives out no smoke or sparks whatsoever. 66 Zl)c IRocWes of Canada There was not much game around our camp in Paradise Valley, though we saw tracks of mountain goats while on our various excursions. There were, however, numerous small animals, one of which, a kind of rat with a bushy tail, tried to run off with various metal articles and did considerable damage during our absence from camp by gnawing our cam- era cases and leather straps. We frequently saw and heard the great hoary marmot, or whistling badger, which always remains at a safe distance, but startles the solitary wanderer by its sudden and ex- ceedingly shrill whistle. Porcupines also lived in the open woods, one of which we killed and ate when we were hard up for provisions. They are hardly eatable, though the Indians regard them highly as an article of food. A most interesting little rodent is one that, at first, we called the seven-thousand-foot rat, because he invariably puts in an appearance at this altitude. This is the pica, or tailless hare, a squirrel-like animal, which infests dry meadows and the tumbled masses of rocks where slides have come down from the mountains. They have sufficient curiosity to make them narrowly watch your approach, till at length, overcome by fear, they dart away among the stones. The pica's only music is a dismal squeak, but they are so char- acteristic of upland parks and lonely though beautiful valleys, that the mountain climber comes to associate them with some of his finest experiences and so to love them. .'♦'•p We hi larmot, or Giant Steps Falls. n,-. slide have watc by :a's ilLli . uate d so to Zbc IDallei? in IKHlnter 67 Our chief adventures in Paradise Valley were the successful ascent of two unclimbed peaks, Mt. Aber- deen and Mt. Temple, an account of which will be given elsewhere. At the end of summer we had pretty well explored about fifty square miles around Lake Louise and were enabled to make a map of this beautiful region. One by one the members of our party were com- pelled to bid farewell to the glories of the Rockies. 1 remained later to finish some details of survey work, and early in October made a final expedition with Mr. Astley to bring back our tent from Paradise Valley. A light snow covered the ground in pro- tected places, and the large stream of Paradise Valley had fallen so much that its rocky bed proved the safest route for our pack-horse. On our way we saw a fine herd of mountain goats, a species of antelope like the chamois of Switzerland. Our camp was buried in snow, the ridge-pole of the tent broken with the heavy burden, and every- thing so much changed in appearance that we had trouble at first in finding the place. The murky air was filled with falling snow as we rolled up the frozen canvas and blankets, while the mountains, half concealed by the approaching storm, showed vague outlines, and from the thickening gloom came the indefinite roar of distant snow-slides. We reached the lower end of the valley by night- fall, where in this altitude a fine rain was sitting through the spruce needles, and here we made camp 68 ^he IRocUtes of Cana^a in a dense forest. A crackling camp-fire, built of great logs, drove away the chill and dampness of a rainy night. The tent, our clothes, and the mossy ground were soon steaming, while the glare of our fire gave a cheerful light to the dark forest. Snow was falling in the morning, and squalls were sweep- ing through the valley and across the flanks of Mt. Temple, but three hours' travel through the cold swamps and snow-covered underbrush brought us to the chalet. A few days later I climbed to Lake Agnes to hunt the mountain goats which frequent the place. The lake was nearly covered with ice, while the snow was already two feet deep, and 1 was compelled to seek shelter behind a cliff, for there was a driving wind, bitterly cold, and full of hail. CHAPTER V MT. ASSINIBOINE — OUTFITTING FOR A CAMPING TRIP — ANEC- DOTES ABOUT THE EARLY SURVEYORS — ROUTE TO ASSINI- BOINE — A RAINY CAMP — DEEP SNOW ON THE SIMPSON PASS — WOODS OF THE SIMPSON VALLEY — DEATH OF A PACK- HORSE — END OF AN EXHAUSTING MARCH — FIRST VIEW OF ASSINIBOINE — A BURNT TIMBER CAMP — MUSIC OF THE WIL- DERNESS — IMPRESSIVE VIEW OF ASSINIBOINE — ENVIRON- MENT OF OUR CAMP — A STRANGE LAKE — UNDERGROUND STREAMS— MEASUREMENT OF THE MOUNTAIN — WE COM- MENCE A TOUR ROUND IT — DISCOVER A DEEP VALLEY AND THREE NEW LAKES — A WASTE OF FALLEN TIMBER— OUR FIRST BIVOUAC — ASCENT OF AN UNKNOWN STREAM — FOILED BY A CUL-DE-SAC — HOPE AND DESPAIR — SUCCESS AT LAST — DESCENT INTO THE NORTH FORK VALLEY — AN EXHAUST- ING MARCH ONE of the highest mountains of southern Canada is Mt. Assiniboine, which lies about twenty-five miles south of Banff. This remarkable peak attracted the surveyor's atten- tion very early and its position was determined as a prominent landmark long before it was visited. Dr. Dawson saw it from the White Man's Pass and named it after a tribe of plains Indians. So far as I have been able to discover, the first person to reach 69 70 Zhc IRocWee of Cana^a the base of the mountain was Mr. R. L. Barrett, who visited it with Tom Wilson in 1893. The reputed interest of the mountain, and the sur- rounding region, which was said to be dotted with numerous lakes, made me decide to arrange for a visit during the summer of 1895. Fortunately it was the intention of Mr. Barrett, who was then at Banff, to revisit Assiniboine with his friend Mr. J. F. Porter, and upon comparing plans it was evident that mutual advantage would come from combining our forces. There were to be two separate parties, with men for each, travelling as one. Thus we were ready at any time, in the event of disagreement as to routes or plans, to separate and take our several ways. The sixth of July was the date determined upon for our departure. In the meantime we made fre- quent trips to the log house of our outfitter, Tom Wilson, who was to supply us with pack-horses, guides, and our entire camping outfit. Many years previously Wilson had packed for the railroad sur- veyors and was regarded one of the best packers in the North-west. He has a remarkable memory for the details of any country that he has ever seen and is, moreover, peculiarly alive to special points of interest or attractive scenery in the mountains, a quality that is conspicuously absent in the majority of the people connected with the North-west. July commenced rainy and cold, but our arrange- ments went forward without interruption. Wilson's anecbotee about jEarl^ Surveyors 71 place was a scene of busy preparation during the last two or three days. Pack-saddles, piles of blankets, tents, and ropes were to be seen here and there, while bags of provisions and canned goods of all kinds were ready for final assortment. Rashers of bacon and bags of flour made the bulk of our pro- visions, while the smaller packages contained dried fruits of several varieties, cereals, sugar, tea, and coffee. Pots and pails, knives, forks, and spoons were collected in other places, while our men, who were already engaged for the trip, were bringing order from a chaos of articles, and making sure that the saddle-girths, head-ropes, and hobbles were in good condition, the axes sharp, and the rifles bright and clean. 'Mt is all very well," said Wilson one night after we had been talking over the possibilities of our trip, *'to travel with maps, or a guide, and you will have no trouble, but 1 remember some strange things that have happened in these mountains. When the sur- veyors were searching for the best route across the Rockies, Major Rogers sent a party to explore the Kananaskis Pass. The man in charge of this party was to find, if possible, a way to the Columbia, but at the summit of the pass he came to a stream which flowed in a direction east of south. He retreated after he had followed the stream a short distance, as its course made him certain that he was still on the eastern slope of the range. But he was at the head of the Elk River, which flows into the Columbia by ^2 ZTbe IRocfties of Canaba way of the Kootenay, and so, without realising it, had crossed the divide. "Major Rogers himself," Tom resumed, "was upon one occasion more completely turned round than that, trying to cross the Selkirk Range. He started up the Beaver River from the Columbia and, turning up Grizzly Creek, struck the headwaters of the Spilimichene, till at last he came out again on the Columbia, seventy miles from where he started in, and on the same side of the range." Our route to Mt. Assiniboine lay through the Simpson Pass, and thence down the Simpson River to a certain place where an opening in the mountains to the south would lead us to this giant of the Rockies. Our journey began on the sixth of July, though the day was wet and showery. Our four men with nine horses started before noon for our first camp at Healy's Creek, about six miles from Banff. Barrett, Porter, and 1 came later, on foot, and after a mile or so of good road, plunged into the difficulties of a bad trail in a burnt timber country, and left the last sign of civilisation behind. In a drizzling rain we made our way over charred logs and through wet brush, hunting for the trail most of the time. We came at length to Healy's Creek, a large stream that comes roaring out of the mountains from the west and drains the Simpson Pass to swell the Bow River. We shouted across and soon saw Peyto, one of our packers, coming at a gallop through the a IRaln^ Camp 73 brush. Chiniquay, an Indian cayiise which he rode, had to carry us one by one across the creek, which was rather deep and swift. The three tents of our camp had been prettily grouped under some spruces. Everything was in order and the cooks were prepar- ing supper upon our arrival. We were labouring under many of those imaginary evils which by some are supposed to make camp life intolerable, soaked through by a long tramp in wet brush to reach a rainy camp. Nevertheless we were all happy, as our clothes were soon drying around open camp- fires, where a fine supper was served. Then we rolled up in blankets laid on balsam boughs and realised that, at last, our journey to Assiniboine was begun. " Breakfast is ready," was the cheery shout that interrupted our dreams the next morning. The ris- ing sun was struggling through uncertain bands of clouds and all the meadow flowers and grass were sparkling with pendent diamonds of rain and dew in the early light. Peyto and Edwards had long since driven our horses into camp and in an hour the men were busy packing. Our march commenced at eight o'clock, Peyto leading, the bay and Pinto — our best pack-horses — next, and then our several men interspersed among the animals in Indian file. We crossed a mile of fiat country and, turning southwards, commenced to ascend among the high mountains. The interest of our march was much increased by 74 Zl)c IRochiee of Canada the number of flowers that were to be seen as we went along. In damp, mossy woods we saw the round-leafed orchis, a very pretty plant with a single green leaf and a raceme of rose-purple flowers. It is quite common throughout the mountains. A rarer flower and one of exquisite beauty was also seen, the Calypso, a northern orchid named for the beauti- ful goddess who fell in love with Ulysses. The single blossoms are shaped somewhat like those of the species called lady's -slipper, and combine a showy display of pink, purple, and yellow colours. There is a small patch of green timber half a mile east of Laggan station where this flower may also be found, but it is very scarce elsewhere. After a march of six hours we made camp in the deep valley of the north fork of Healy's Creek. While the men were putting things in order, it was dis- covered that Edwards's axe had been lost some time on the day's march. In view of the long journey before us and the possibility of considerable trail cut- ting, this axe was indispensable to our progress. He saddled his horse and started back, saying that he would not return till it had been found. Contrary to our expectations, he did not return that day nor for a period of nearly two weeks. Our camp was only a few miles from the Simpson Pass, and the next day we reached it in an hour. The summit was covered with snow, and many of the drifts were fifteen or twenty feet deep. The alti- tude of this pass is 6884 feet, and the entire summit Deep Snow on tbe Simpson pass 75 and the mountains several hundred feet higher are covered with trees. The unusual amount of snow in July was the result of a long and stormy winter followed by a backward spring. The day of our visit was warm, and the snow was being fast reduced to slush, under the influence of a mild south wind. The pass has no decided slope for a mile or more, but is broken up by rocky ridges and inter- spersed with small lakes. When our descent began, the first warm southward slopes were already free of snow and covered with banks of beautiful Alpine flowers. There were only two or three species in these snow-lined flower-gardens, but the multitude of blossoms made up for the lack of variety. The great white anemone and the yellow Alpine lily {Erythronhim grandiflorum) were in all stages of bud and blossom, revelling in the balmy breezes and a wealth of sunshine. Our heavy-footed horses trampled down myriads of blossoms in a ruthless destruction, regardless of the beauty round them, but glad to get into a place where there was hope of grass. We had crossed the great divide and passed from Alberta to British Columbia. An Indian trail led us down by a stream which, at first a mere rivulet from melting snow, had now become a brawl- ing torrent. This stream ran into the Pacific Ocean. The woods became deep and dark with sombre trees of great height, among which the trail wound deep cut in the loamy soil, and led us at length away from the noise of falling water into the forest 76 Zlbe IRockies of Canada silence. The day's march ended at the Simpson River, where we camped in a level place beside many Indian teepee-poles. July 9th. The entire Simpson valley in this part is an unbroken forest. Several thousand feet higher, bare limestone cliffs rise above the mass of green, making a picturesque contrast, but there is little per- petual snow in sight from the depths of the valley bottom. Our line of march lay near the Simpson River, which is a very rapid stream, and we followed its banks for several hours. During one of several river crossings one of my pack-horses was lamed in a mysterious manner, but no attention was at first paid to what seemed a trivial accident. However, in a few minutes we made a final crossing before we should ascend the opposite mountain side to a dis- tant valley opening. Barrett said this was the route he had followed with Wilson in 1893. The stream had been safely crossed, and we were trying a short cut to the trail which Peyto had located just previ- ously on a trip of reconnaissance, and while flounder- ing through a soft, mossy wood, the horse recently lamed fell in a rough place. The poor beast could not get up till his packs were removed, and then it was seen that his leg was broken. It required but a few minutes to remove his saddle, and then, after the other horses were led away a short distance, Peyto ended the unfortunate animal's life with a rifle bullet. Barrett said it was not far to a pretty lake where lenb of an igybaueting flDarcb n there was an excellent camping place and good feed for the horses. Leaving the river at an altitude of about forty-five hundred feet, the trail ascended by a succession of steep pitches through a green forest of pine and spruce. After we had been on the march for six hours we found ourselves entering a high valley much encumbered by rock-slides which, though easy enough for us to walk over, were very trying and dangerous to the horses. It was impos- sible to camp in this vicinity, and after an exhaust- ing march of three hours more and an ascent of fully two thousand feet from the Simpson River, we made camp in a delightful place near a stream. Some bushy meadows promised fine feed for our horses and the adjacent woods gave us fire-wood. Even our weary pack animals when their saddles were re- moved rolled on the ground in delight and scratched their backs before running off to the meadow. Axes were at work cutting fire-wood and poles, so that in the hour while our cooks were preparing dinner the three tents were placed in position and camp put in order for the night. Our valley was hemmed in by mountains which presented a continuous barrier on either side for many miles. The scenery resembled that of the Sierra Nevadas — smooth cliffs dotted here and there with trees or clumps of bushes, and ornamented by waterfalls so high, and so distant from us, that they resembled silver threads waving from side to side in the changing breezes. Sometimes a stronger wind 78 ^be IRocl^lee of Canada held them suspended for a time in mid-air, or swept them away altogether in a cloud of spray. Opposite our camp, and at a considerable height above it, there was a formation upon the mountain like a rock fortress, where nature had built a nearly perfect representation of a mediaeval castle. One might easily imagine that these sharp pinnacles and rocky clefts were ramparts, embrasures, and turreted fortifications. But the wild goats, marmots, and picas were the sole owners of this castle. July loth. From a small lake near our camp we caught a dozen trout in the morning while our men were coming up the valley. It appeared that a few miles would bring us to the valley's end, where a high pass seemed to terminate the ascent. Filled with hope of getting our first view of Mt. Assiniboine during the day, we were on the march at an early hour. Lyall's larch and scattered snow-drifts indi- cated our increasing altitude. The snow soon became so deep that only with the greatest difficulty could we make any progress whatsoever. On several occasions our horses had to struggle through long stretches of snow, five or six feet deep, and in such places we all went ahead and trampled out a pathway for them. Finally a long bare ridge, well exposed to wind and sun, offered us a fine route through the unbroken snow fields and led us to the summit. As the slope began to fall away in the opposite direction a new world lay before us. It was a deso- late valley of burnt timber, beyond which appeared a Burnt timber Camp 79 a richly coloured lake, girt by green forest and over- hung by a barrier of snowy peaks. Above this rough range, the sharp crest of Mt. Assiniboine was faintly seen through the smoky atmosphere, for forest fires were raging somewhere in spite of the rainy season. We descended into the valley and camped in burnt timber near a small stream. That our men and horses might rest after the long marches of the last four days it was decided to spend an entire day at this place. There was little of the picturesque in our environment of burnt timber. However, this camp has for some reason made one of the pleasantest impressions upon my memory. Our tents were placed among some trees killed by fire. The ground was made comparatively smooth by rolling away the charred logs, cutting the bushes that had grown up in recent years, and strewing upon the ground branches from trees of the new generation. In a swamp near us a number of birds were nesting and calling their mates. The camp was upon the edge of a bluff overlooking a bare ravine, where a stream ran swiftly in a timber- choked channel, and gave the encroaching bushes endless rhythmic movements, as the splashing water touched them. A gentle south wind coming up the valley soothed us to dreamy slumbers. The stronger gusts awakened shrill vibrations in the dead and splintered trees, or carried away the torrent's roar in frequent alternation of sound volume. The smoke 8o Zl)c IRockiee of Canaba bathed the mountains in hazy blue, and once, com- ing in greater thickness, nearly concealed them alto- gether and softened the sunlight to a mellow glow. The thunder of repeated ice avalanches, or the loud reports of stones falling upon the mountains, where summer was loosening the frost, several times disturbed my siesta. The dreamy rustle of wind- blown grass and the varying sound of the torrent were, however, like an endless slumber song. From a bushy copse in the swamp near our camp two white-crested sparrows sang the entire day and part of the night a plaintive little air of five notes (C, D, E, E, C, of which the two E's are eighth notes, while the rest are quarters) repeated six or seven times a minute. The last note is somewhat faint and flat. This feeble and pathetic outpouring of music from happy creatures seemed to accord with the barren forest ruin. It is difficult to understand the exquisite pleasure that often comes from such chance associations. There is something wonderfully beautiful in the idea of a pretty melody repeated throughout the long summer in the heart of a wilder- ness where, in the waste of charred trees and waving fireweed, the music of one little bird stirs the heart- beats of but one other creature, its mate. Tulf 1 2th. We marched east for two hours, find- ing a route among the fallen timber as well as we could. At length a steep ascent brought us by a waterfall to a grove of larches beyond which a beau- tiful lake appeared. The transformation from the •flmpresslve IDlew of Heslnlbolne 8i waste of burnt timber was immediate and complete. A well-marked trail led around the winding shore on our left, the other side of the narrow lake being hemmed in by rock-slides and cliffs. The last ice of winter was drifting before the wind, and the water was covered in several places with a kind of slush, made of innumerable slender ice-needles. These gave a faint sound like the rustle of silk as they rubbed one against another in the ripples. The trail led us by the lake for half a mile and then, leav- ing it, ascended a rocky ridge through a grass-lined opening. Another lake was immediately disclosed, and beyond it mighty Assiniboine. The majestic mountain, which is a noble pyramid of rock towering above snow fields, was clearly re- flected in the water surface. Such a picture so sud- denly revealed aroused the utmost enthusiasm of all our party, and unconsciously everyone paused in admiration while our horses strayed from the trail to graze. Continuing once more, we traversed some open places among low ridges covered with beautiful larches. We passed through a delightful region which descended gently for half a mile to a treeless moor, where we pitched camp. Behind us was a clump of trees, before us Mt. Assiniboine, and on our left a lake of considerable size, which washed the very base of the mountain and extended northwards in the bottom of a broad valley. We remained here for a period of two weeks. The altitude of this place is seventy-four hundred feet. 82 Zbc IRocWes of Canada This is considerably above the usual tree-line of these mountains, though there were a considerable number of spruces and larches not only at the level of our camp but several hundred feet higher. I attribute this to the open character of the valley, which receives a considerable amount of sunshine, and so collects sufficient heat to raise the level of possible tree growth above the normal. Mt. Assiniboine was al- most due south from our camp. The distance in a straight line was more than a mile to its base and nearly three to its summit. Two diverging spurs from Assiniboine enclose this valley. To the north it expands into open places, interrupted in part by scattered tree clumps, but covered generally with a low, bushy growth. The smaller trees which grow in the open are dwarfed and distorted by their cease- less struggle with cold. Even at the borders of thick groves the spruces often show a regular line of branches, like a trimmed hedge, as though no single branchlet would venture into the cold air beyond its company. The higher dry ground is uneven and hummocky from the burrowings of innumerable picas and mar- mots. These are a variety of Parry's marmot, some- times called the red-bellied ground squirrel, which is considerably smaller than the siffleur, or great hoary marmot, so common in these mountains. The wolve- renes have dug into their burrows and by throwing out piles of dirt and great pieces of turf have added to the roughness of the region. In the meadowy and Mount Assiniboine. a strange lake 83 and swampy places where our horses pastured, two miles north of camp, some curious action of frost has converted the ground into a mass of low grass- crowned hummocks with bare soil between. Alto- gether 1 have never seen a region which is more tiring to the pedestrian than this, because of these endless inequalities of the ground, which are half concealed by dwarfed trees and a tough underbrush. The large lake near the position of our camp has some peculiar features. At the time of our arrival a strong wind was driving cakes of ice down the lake amid whitecaps. The lake seems to rest against a small glacier at the foot of Mt. Assiniboine where it gets a large part of its water-supply. A large stream enters it at the opposite or north end, and several others come in at various points, but we were sur- prised to find no outlet. This, however, explained the rapid change in water level which we had no- ticed. The lake was rising at the rate of several inches every twenty-four hours. There were indi- cations on the shore that the water had at some comparatively recent period been ten or twelve feet higher. Where do the subterranean waters escape ? Perhaps the curious nature of a valley north of our camp may throw some light upon this subject. Peyto had put our horses in a meadow two miles from camp. He made frequent visits to the place while looking after the horses, and upon one occasion made a trip of six or seven miles down the valley. The streams from these meadows run north- 84 ^be IRockles of Canada wards, disappear into the ground, reappear several times, and finally vanish altogether. In this valley a mile or so farther on is a curious lake set in a lime- stone basin. One or two small streams enter it, and a number of air bubbles rising through its clear wa- ter in several places indicate subterranean springs, but there is no outlet. Then for three miles no stream or sign of water is visible in this weird valley of curious limestone hills covered with a few trees. At the base of a great hill, however, where the valley bottom drops suddenly six or seven hundred feet, a number of springs gush out, and this we dis- covered later was the source of the Simpson River. Everything seems to show that the waters of the last lake, the meadows beyond, and perhaps also the large lake at the base of Mt. Assiniboine are carried in underground passages to make these springs. The whole region is a limestone formation and abounds in caves and sink-holes. It has been mentioned that on the second day's march one of our packers, Edwards, had gone back to find a lost axe. At every subsequent camp, there- fore, we had left a supply of provisions and infor- mation about the route we were going to pursue. More than ten days had now elapsed and nothing had been heard from him. Peyto's fertile imagina- tion conjured up visions of his having been drowned in Healy's Creek, and I must confess that we were all somewhat worried. It seemed best to send Peyto back on a fast saddle-horse, to make inquiries at flOeaeurement of tbe flDountain 85 Banff, and improve the opportunity of bringing out another horse to replace the one that had been shot. Meanwhile, as Mt. Assiniboine seemed a serious problem for even a v^ell-equipped Alpine party, we made no attempt to climb the mountain. We con- tented ourselves with a number of lesser mountain ascents, and from several points between eight thou- sand and nine thousand feet high obtained splendid views of the giant of the Rockies. There were, unfortunately, no surveying instru- ments in our outfit, but I determined to get a rough approximation on the height of Assiniboine. 1 used my camera tripod for a plane table and made a little alidade by adjusting two upright sticks to an- other with a straight edge. The upright sticks were threaded with horse-hairs. Taking a piece of linen thread about fifteen yards long 1 set up stakes and laid out a base line. This thread was carefully meas- ured when I reached Banff. With these crude in- struments I plotted out and found the horizontal distance to the top of the mountain, and repeated the operation several times. For the vertical angles I set up a table and a basin of water. 1 had a large piece of celluloid as a substitute ground glass for my camera, and on this a straight line was ruled and made to coincide with the water surface. Then two needles were used as sights, and the vertical angle to the mountain top was indelibly scratched on the celluloid and measured later. By adding the result thus determined to the altitude of our camp, I got 86 ^be IRocklee of Canada 1 1, 680 feet for the total height of Mt. Assiniboine. The result obtained by the Topographical Survey of Canada from angles taken at a distance is 1 1,830 feet. This, no doubt, is very nearly the exact height, and the comparative agreement of my result is probably due to several errors cancelling themselves out and so giving a better result than the instru- ments deserved. One day, about a week after leaving us, Peyto galloped into camp with another horse, some addi- tional provisions, and our guide Edwards. The lat- ter said he had followed us for four days' march, when he lost our trail and returned to Banff. Shortly after Peyto's arrival, Barrett and 1 pro- jected a plan to see the south side of Mt. Assini- boine. As the country was very rough, it was impossible to make the trip with horses, so we pre- pared to try it on foot. We were going into a coun- try that in all probability had never been visited by any white man. We each carried a single blanket and food enough to last three days. These burdens were made as light as possible, for the success of our expedition would depend in a large measure on the rapidity of our movements. My camera, several cups and knives, a small hand-axe, and a few other articles which seemed absolutely necessary were distributed among our packs. On the 26th of July, Barrett, Peyto, and I started on this expedition, which, though attended by con- siderable hardship, eventually proved most valuable a Beep IDallei? 87 and interesting. At eight o'clock we bade farewell to those at the main camp and said we should return on the third or fourth day. We walked three miles to the north-east, through open country, which rises gradually to a pass eight thousand feet above sea- level. On the summit of this a deep valley lay before us, very heavily wooded and nearly filled by three lakes, one of which is three or four miles long, while the two upper ones are smaller. The water of each is differently coloured, one yellowish green, another blue-green, and the other blue. All are fed by a stream coming from a glacier on Mt. Assiniboine which presently appeared on our right. We descended two thousand feet into the valley and took a short rest by the blue waters of the mid- dle lake. The air was oppressively hot and we struggled amid the pitfalls of very large timber, mak- ing slow progress and tormented by myriads of mos- quitoes. We crossed this narrow valley between the two upper lakes and found a fallen tree that served for a bridge over the stream. Then ensued a difficult scramble up the opposite side of the valley, which made us climb again nearly the entire two thousand feet of our first descent. This hard work ended suddenly when we found ourselves in a com- paratively level valley, beautified by meandering streams, open m.eadows, and a few small lakes. On the summit of a pass where the water turned in the opposite direction we ate lunch and took an hour of rest beside a rock-girt pool. 88 ^be IRockies of Canada This was the end both of the green timber and of our pleasant surroundings, for shortly after resuming our journey we came to a burnt forest. It seemed that the entire valley had been utterly devastated by afire which had swept through this region apparently not many years before. Many of the trees had been completely destroyed, while the youngest had been charred and warped into arched poles with their tops touching the ground. Ledges of sandstone and quartz had been splintered by the intense heat into sharp-edged fragments which covered the ground. The direction of this desolate valley soon changed sharply to our right and we felt that a corner of Assini- boine had been turned. There was no sign of any trail and it is very doubtful if the Indians ever used this route among the mountains. The fallen timber became denser as we progressed. The monotony of our travel was interrupted by our coming to a sudden pitch or descent of the entire valley where there was an abrupt fall of about five hundred feet. Arrived at the bottom of this, we had not walked far before another appeared, similar to the first, only far deeper. The mountains, which were very high on either side, seemed to rise above us to far greater altitudes as, in rapid descent, we reached lower levels. The burnt timber continued without interruption. Our passage became mere log walking, as the extra exertion of jumping over the trees was worse than following a crooked course on top of the prostrate trunks. This laborious and exceedingly tiresome f- 1) 5- »N J '. J ^U ik^'l Assiniboine Group from the N'orth-east. prostrate tiresome a Maste of ifallcn timber 89 work lasted for three hours, and at length the charred trunks, uprooted or burnt off near the ground, and crossed in every direction, were piled so high that we were often ten or twelve feet above the ground, and had to work out our puzzling passage with consider- able forethought. At five o'clock our labours ended. We made camp by a stream which seemed to take its source near Mt. Assiniboine. The only good thing about this place was the abundance of fire-wood, which was well seasoned, required but little chop- ping, and was already half converted into charcoal. Under the shelter of an overhanging limestone ledge we made three lean-tos by supporting our blankets on upright stakes. Black as coal-heavers from our long walk in the burnt timber, seeking a refuge in the rocky ledges of the mountains, and clad in un- couth garments torn and discoloured, we must have resembled the aboriginal savages of this wild region. Some thick masses of sphagnum moss, long since dried up, gave us a soft covering, to place on the rough, rocky ground. Our supper consisted of bacon, hardtack, and tea. Large flat stones placed on a gentle charcoal fire served to broil our bacon quite successfully, though the heat soon cracked the stones in pieces. We were now on the Pacific slope and, as we be- lieved, on one of the tributaries of the north fork of the Cross River, which flows into the Kootenay. The aneroid indicated that our altitude was only forty- seven hundred feet above the sea, and showed that 90 Ztbe IRocf^ies of Canaba we were nearly three thousand feet below the level of the camp we had left nine hours before. At eight o'clock, though it was still light, we retired to the rough protection of our shelter with a fire burning near us. Overhead the starless sky threatened rain, which fortunately did not come, while the clouds and our lower altitude made the night comfortably warm. On the following day everyone was ready to pro- ceed at an early hour. Hitherto in our journey around Assiniboine we had turned to the right wherever any valley or pass gave us the opportunity. Thus we were making a circuit of its several spurs and keeping as near the great mountain as possible. However, no view had been obtained of the main peak after leaving the valley of the three lakes, where we looked upon its north-east face. This first bivouac was beside a stream of moderate size, coming out of a valley at right angles to the one we had re- cently followed. It seemed altogether better to explore this, that we might keep as near as possible to Assiniboine and not find our view cut off by any intervening mountain range. With practice a very fair idea of the length of these mountain valleys may be had by observing the size of streams and the amount of water they carry. This one seemed to indicate a valley between eight and ten miles in length. We were on the march about seven o'clock and began to ascend the stream. Our plan was to follow the valley as far as practicable and see what would develop, but beyond that everything was indefinite. Clouds covered the entire sky and touched the mountain tops, but the worst sign of bad weather was that they constantly settled to lower levels. We had this one day, however, to see the south side of Assiniboine, and were resolved to take our chances, though they seemed much against us. We traversed the unending burnt timber by first scaling far up to avoid a canyon and then coming down to the stream, where at length there was better walking. About ten o'clock we sat down on the bank to rest a few moments and to eat a lunch of hardtack and cold bacon. In the fresh mountain air even this rough fare was most appetising after our tramp of three hours amongst fallen trees. A most encouraging change of weather now took place, for a sudden gleam of sunlight called our at- tention upwards, where to our great relief blue sky appeared and the clouds seemed to be dissolving away. Once more taking up our various packs, we pushed on with renewed energy. On the left or south, was a long and lofty ridge of nearly uniform height, on the right a stupendous mountain wall of great height, the top of which was concealed by the clouds. This impassable barrier seemed to curve around at the head of the valley, and, turning to the south, join the ridge on the opposite side. This then was a cul-de-sac, or ''blind" valley without an outlet. 92 ^be IRochies of Canaba There were two courses open to us. The first was to wait a few hours, hoping to see Mt. Assiniboine, and return to camp the way we came. The second was to force a passage, if possible, over the mount- ain ridge to the south and so descend into the North Fork valley, which we were certain lay on the other side. The latter plan was preferable, as we would have a better chance to see Mt. Assiniboine, and the possibility of returning to camp by a new route. After a short discussion, we selected a favourable slope and began to ascend the mountain ridge. In memory a great number of obstacles loomed behind us — two high passes, dense forests, and that endless valley of dead timber where the trees were crossed in be- wildering confusion. Hope built a pleasing air-castle in striking contrast to this picture. We were now climbing to its outworks and, should we succeed in capturing the place, a new and probably interesting route would lead us back to camp — so extravagant is hope — perhaps by nightfall. Thus with a repel- lent force behind us and eager desire to complete our circuit of the mountain, we were resolved not to retrace our steps. The slope we were now ascending was at first comparatively gentle. We passed several red-col- oured ledges containing deposits of iron ore, while calcite and carbonate of iron were visible everywhere and made a brilliant surface of sparkling crystals over the dull limestones. In the valley below, two lakes appeared as we ascended, one of which was Ibope an^ Bespair 93 literally covered with floating trees, the result, no doubt, of a winter snow-slide. In an hour we had come to the apparent top of our ridge, though hope hardly dared suggest that it was the true summit. As one after another we reached a commanding spot, a blank look of despair stole over the face of each. No word was spoken, but that silent gaze meant our defeat. To our dis- may, a vertical wall of rock appeared and rose five hundred feet above us. Thus all our fond hopes were suddenly defeated and we turned perforce, in imagination, to a weary retreat over the many miles of prostrate tree trunks that intervened between us and our camp. The main object of our long journey was, how- ever, at this time attained, for the clouds lifted and revealed the south side of Mt. Assiniboine, a sight that probably no other white men have ever seen. I took my camera and descended on a rocky ridge for some distance in order to get a photograph. Re- turning to where my friends were resting, I felt the first sensation of dizziness and weakness, resulting from unusual physical exertion and a meagre diet. 1 joined the others in another repast of raisins and hardtack, taken from our rapidly diminishing store of provisions. Some more propitious divinity must have been guiding our affairs at this time, for while we were despondent at our defeat, and engaged in discussing the most extravagant routes up an inaccessible cliff, 94 ^be IRocl^ics of Canada our eyes fell on a well-defined goat trail leading along the mountain side on our left. It offered a chance which we accepted. Peyto set off ahead while we were packing up our burdens. Having already passed several places that appeared very dangerous, what was our surprise to see him now begin to move slowly up a slope of snow that appeared nearly vertical. We argued that if he could go up such a place as that, he could go anywhere, and that where he went we could follow. We hurried after him and found the goat trail wide and the worst places not so bad as they seemed from below. The snow ascent was very steep but safe enough, and after reaching the top, the goat trail led us on, like a faith- ful guide, showing us the way. We could see only a short distance ahead because of numerous ridges and gullies. Below us was a steep slope roughened by projecting crags, while, as we passed along, showers of loose stones rolled down the mountain side and made an infernal clatter, ever reminding us not to slip. At one o'clock we stood on the top of the ridge nine thousand feet above sea-level, having ascended forty-three hundred feet from our last camp. The valley of the north fork of the Cross River lay far below, covered with green forests, which gave a pleasant invitation for us to descend. Gallop- ing down a long slope of loose scree, with a shower of rocks following us, we came to rough limestone gullies where unstable footholds suggested caution. Then ensued several hundred feet of bare rock-slides, Descent Into IRortb fork IDalle^ 95 where among the lichen-covered stones the highest Alpine flowers appeared, and then very soon tufts of grass and green slopes, with a few dwarfed trees. Their increasing size, the warm air, and at length a deep forest indicated our rapid descent. A final slope, where copses of birch and a few small maples showed that we were on the Pacific side of the range, led us through a garden of bluebells, asters, and painted-cup to a meadow by the river. Here we paused to admire our surroundings and feast on wild strawberries. In this place we were four thou- sand feet below the ridge from which we had re- cently gazed on Mt. Assiniboine. This was the north fork of the Cross River, no doubt the same stream by which we had camped on our journey to Assiniboine, and the same that takes its source in small lakes near our camp. Near the river we found a trail, the first we had seen so far on our way around Assiniboine. After an hour of walking we came to a number of horses, and soon saw on the other side of the river a camp of another party of gentlemen, Messrs. Allen and Smith, who were exploring this region, and had been out from Banff twenty-four days. We forded the river, and found it a little over our knees, but very swift. A pleasant half-hour was spent at this place while we enjoyed their hospitality and related our adven- tures. Then, ''hitting the trail" once more, we walked rapidly in a supreme effort to reach camp 96 Zbc 1RocWc0 of Canada that night. The valley held a straight course for about six miles and then swung round to the north. We had turned three corners of Assiniboine. Burnt timber now came again in evidence. As we had been walking almost continuously for the past fifteen hours, we were so fatigued that a very slight obstruc- tion was sufficient to cause a fall, and every few min- utes some one of the party would tumble headlong into the burnt timber. We were too tired to lift our feet over roots and sticks, but there were barely enough provisions to last another meal and we were anxious to get as near headquarters as possible. At ten o'clock the light in the northern sky failed us, and further progress being impossible, we selected a fairly level place among the charred logs for a biv- ouac. After a last meal of bacon and hardtack, we lay on the ground round a large fire. Thanks to a mild night and extreme weariness, we slept soundly during the few hours of darkness, but were again on foot at four o'clock. We marched into camp at half-past six and found the cooks building the morning fires and ready to prepare breakfast. This was without doubt the first circuit of Mt. Assiniboine. By pedometer, which, however, meas- ured every one of the countless logs we had jumped and a thousand devious turns, the distance was fifty- one miles, and. this we had done in less than forty- eight hours. After a day of needed rest, our winding train of horses left the beautiful site of Mt. Assiniboine to an JEybaustlng flDarcb 97 commence our homeward journey, and there were many unexpressed feelings of regret at saying fare- well to these scenes of beauty and grandeur. We followed the Simpson to the Vermilion River and the latter to the Vermilion Pass, and after seven days reached the Bow River at Castle Mountain. CHAPTER VI ANOTHER ROUTE TO ASSINIBOINE — MEADOWS ON THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE — A MIDSUMMER SNOW-STORM — A MARCH THROUGH FOG AND SNOW — A VISION OF STRANGE MOUNTAINS — A PERILOUS DESCENT — VALLEY OF THE GNOMES — A TREMENDOUS LANDSLIDE — SECOND CAMP AT ASSINIBOINE — A PARTIAL ASCENT — GENERAL FORM OF THE MOUNTAIN — FOUR DIFFERENT ROUTES TO THIS REGION IN the summer of 1899 I made another visit to Assiniboine. Messrs. Henry G. Bryant and Louis J. Steele were anxious to see this noble peak, and for my own part, the exploration of new routes to and from the mountain was a sufficient incentive to make the trip. It was first proposed to take a Swiss guide and make some attempt to climb Assiniboine, but we were unable to obtain the serv- ices of one for such a length of time as our jour- ney would require. Nevertheless, we carried in our outfit some rope and three ice-axes, with the idea of making at least a reconnaissance of its lower slopes under our own guidance. Wilson suggested a shorter route than by the Simpson Pass, one that should follow a branch of Healy's Creek and lead to q8 flDeabows on tbc Continental Wmttc 99 the summit of the continental divide, where there is a level and open expanse above tree-line. On these elevated meadows, it is possible for horses to travel with ease in any direction. On July 23rd, about noon of the second day out from Banff, our party might have been seen on an Indian trail that runs through a dark forest, over- looking a narrow valley, and commands, through the trees, inspiring views of the height and depth of mountain grandeur. The trail led persistently upward, sometimes in pitches so steep as to worry our heavily burdened horses, till at length the larches began to appear, and gave a sure sign that open country was near. Presently the slope be- came gentle. Marching through open meadows and between larch-crowned ridges, we soon entered a delightful upland. We could see the peaks of dis- tant mountains rising above the open country, while all the low regions were hidden from view. An ex- cellent trail (as is always the case when there is no urgent need for one) led us gradually above the re- gion of larches till we were surrounded by banks of Alpine flowers, and snow-drifts lingering from a stormy winter. Far to the south a sharp mountain of striking outline rose above the meadowy expanse. It was Mt. Assiniboine. We made camp by a small lake which was dot- ted with several rocky islands and enclosed by stern cliffs where a few half-dead larches were standing, or their ancient hulks, bare of bark and bleached loo zi)c IRocWee of Canada by the exposure of centuries, covered the ground. Bryant, who was familiar with the interior of La- brador and Greenland, said the place recalled those barren regions. The day of our arrival was one of brilliant sunshine, while great cumulus clouds were suspended in the blue vault above. The green meadows and rolling hills from which we seemed to command a view of the entire world were veritable gardens of wild-flowers growing near drifts which nearly gave us snow-blindness. Summer was just coming to this upper world, and all nature was alive. Springs and streams were carrying away the snow- drifts and turning to snow-white foam again, as they fell over ledges to lower levels and other meadows. Butterflies floated across our paths, flies and bees were gathering honey from the flowers to scatter un- consciously the pollen of the anemones and the heaths, while even a few birds visited this high re- gion to prey upon the innumerable insects which were enjoying their brief summer. Brief indeed it was, or at least interrupted for a time. Clouds gathered in the night, and the next morning a cold rain was falling and soon turned to snow. The upper hills began to whiten, and pres- ently, the snow remained upon the ground near our upland camp. The storm increased and shrouded the nearer hills in gloom, shutting out our land- marks, for we were to travel that day in spite of the weather. It was cold and cheerless work for our men and us to roll up our wet and slushy tents and ild W' ir driii6 vviiicn iMUii- .>.:>. . .'snmer was just ■:]:] mil n|1 !-!:*■';■ w.'i<; nlivp. 6^;? ^/le Continental Divide. irned t< 1 5iir( V for our J slushy tents :»nd a fll^i^0ummer Sno w^'Storm loi keep our blankets dry while the shivering horses were packed. Some were refractory and wild, so that an hour was wasted in patient and artful effort in the wet brush to catch two of them. A large fire was kept blazing to bring back life and warmth to our half-frozen fingers. We should never have undertaken a march through a country un- known to every one of the party, had we not carried an excellent contour map of the Topographical Sur- vey, besides a compass and an aneroid. We were like a mariner with an excellent chart, steering his storm-beaten ship through unknown dangers. At the very commencement of our march, all spread out and tried to locate the trail, but the snow was now deep enough to conceal every evidence of this valuable guide. Regardless of this setback, our horses were assembled and a plan made to pur- sue our way, relying on the compass and aneroid. It fell upon me to take the responsibility of leadership, so with map in hand, 1 preceded at some distance and on foot, so that whenever a mistake was made I could run back and direct the men and horses else- where. Our route, according to the map, lay for several miles through an undulating country, which was, in fact, the very backbone of the continent. On one side was the deep valley of the Simpson, three thousand feet below, and on the other side, the streams which unite into Healy's Creek. It soon appeared that with every mountain concealed from view, and every high hill, even to the narrow circle I02 ^be 1Rockic0 of Canada of snow-covered ground near us, shrouded in mist and flying snow, the task of keeping a certain direc- tion through the maze of ridges and impassable snow-drifts was not easy. Several times we found ourselves on the crest of a precipice, overlooking the blackness of unknown depths, or, still more dis- heartening, near a lake or a stream that looked remarkably like what we had passed long before. Crossing many ridges of moderate height, we were often caught between deep snow-drifts, when a re- treat was necessary, or sometimes a perilous passage over the snow was tried, but fortunately these great snow-banks were hard in the middle and bore our horses up, though they usually broke through at the edges where the snow was only three or four feet in depth. Thus we marched, closely surrounded on every side by a thick and impenetrable gloom, in which various forms of strange hills and cliffs contin- uously loomed before us, passed by, and disappeared. At length, according to our map, we should come to a ridge or pass about 7800 feet in height, where certain landmarks, one of which was a small lake, would appear if we were right in our calculations. Hitherto the rolling nature of the country gave no certain clue, nor offered determinate landmarks, while our altitude was nearly uniform. Owing to countless reverses and delays, we might have been now quite turned round. It was therefore with the greatest interest that we found ourselves ascending to the crest of a ridge, seemingly like one shown on a IDieion of StrauQC HDountaine 103 the map, for the whole question would be settled upon looking into the basin beyond. Whatever interest there may have been to learn our whereabouts was absorbed upon reaching the ridge crest by a revelation of wild and gloomy grand- eur that I have never seen equalled. Our little band of men and horses were standing upon a craggy ledge, where splintered rocks, frost-rent and rough, rose through perpetual snows, making a tower of observation, whence we looked out on a mountain wilderness. Shifting winds were sweep- ing fog-banks and clouds far above the highest trees of a forest-clad valley, now faintly discernible through the storm. Yet they were below the crest of our lofty pinnacle, where our storm-beaten band of horses, steaming in moisture, stood darkly out- lined against the pale mists. No gleam of light broke through the lurid sky. The monotonous grey of falling snow had given place to heaving bands of clouds, for the storm was breaking. Then slowly and mysteriously beyond a dark abyss rose a beauti- ful vision of mountains clad in new snow. Their bases rested on unsubstantial fog, their tops were partially concealed by clinging mists, and they were apparently so far away as to seem like the highest mountains in the world. Overawed by these wonders of the breaking storm, the nature of the immediate country was, for a moment, forgotten. Then we formed a group around the map, its folds now broken, and the paper I04 ITbe IRochlee of Canada a mass of pulp from melted snow, and with com- pass upon it, we hoped to prove that so far no mis- take had been made. Some of the ridges appeared as they should, according to the map, but a certain lake was missing. We knew about where it should be, but unfortunately no lake appeared. Descend- ing a short distance to command a better view, I saw a lake and shouted back the glad tidings. Bry- ant and Steele said it was a lake too, but they did it so as not to hurt my feelings. I had been working pretty hard for the success of the day's march, and they wished to encourage me. What a lake that was, to be sure ! It seemed about ten feet across. Two hot days might dry it away, or a bunch of ponies could easily drink it up. So we had made a huge blunder, and it was best to go down to the woods and strike camp till another day. A last de- spairing effort led me to reconnoitre several hundred feet below, when 1 came to an overhanging ledge, and with wild joy beheld a fine little lake, nestling dark and blue on the whitened mountain side. Rapidly descending, our route lay along the shore of the coveted lake, which was located at the level of tree-line and was surrounded by the highest skir- mishers of the forest. Thence we marched through long, rolling meadows, in gentle descent to places quite free of snow. Here the trail appeared, and led us for miles along the very crest of the continent, by other lakes and streams, some flowing to our right into the Pacific, others, to our left, into the Atlantic. H perilous Descent 105 Here each swamp and ridge marked the sinuous border line between East and West ; between two oceans ; between British Columbia and the North- west Territory. The storm was rapidly breaking. Distant mount- ains were disclosed, and their snow-clad slopes were flashed with beams of sunlight through dark clouds. A sharp-crested mountain arose on our right, and at its base was a fme lake three-quarters of a mile long. Leaving this behind, we came to a desolate pass, filled with great stones, snow-covered and barren. This was the highest point of the day, and then ensued a continuous descent into the Simpson valley. Here we got beyond the limits of our map and like- wise of the visible trail. After long and tedious delay, we took our horses down a slope, not at all to their liking. Our route lay through a gulch filled with burnt timber, where the poor animals slipped and rolled their packs over their heads in a desperate descent of two thousand feet, until at length we fairly tumbled into the Simpson valley. However, an abundance of succulent grass for our horses, and hot Scotch for us, soon mended things. We were absolutely soaked through from our long march in the storm and made a late camp in burnt timber. The next day, which was sunshiny and warm, found us at noon near the great ascent in the Simp- son valley. At the base of this the river gushes out in springs. At the top there is no water. Ascend- ing the steep slopes of this abrupt hill, we entered io6 Z\)c IRocMes of Canada a valley that is almost unique in these mountains. The whole place for three or four miles is a succes- sion of weird hillocks of grey and whitish limestone of fantastic form and outline. No springs or streams water this "valley of the gnomes," as we called it, though a struggling growth of small spruces adorns the place and takes away its barren aspect. Our spread- ing line of horses appeared very picturesque as they followed the winding trail, which makes many little turns, or sudden pitches and ascents, among these extraordinary mounds and copses. The termination is at a small limestone-girt lake, which is about four miles from our old camp at Mt. Assiniboine. It seems to me that this strange valley has been made by a tremendous catastrophe of nature. Op- posite the great pitch where the whole level of the valley suddenly rises nearly a thousand feet, and also opposite the little limestone lake, where the character of the country changes again, are notches in the mountain ridge to the north, and it appears as though a massive fragment of the mountain, three miles long and from three hundred to five hundred feet thick, had scaled off and fallen into the valley. Above this lake the valley is lined with meadows where deep streams flow over beds of black gravel and then sink away and disappear. These waters probably pass under the broken masses of limestone only to reappear where the landslide ends. Mt. Assiniboine suddenly appeared as we reached the lake. The distant peak was reflected in placid Seconb Camp at aseinibolne 107 waters, which our thirsty horses disturbed as they drank. It was now late afternoon and there would have been suggestions of making camp were we not so near Assiniboine. So we plodded on through weary miles of beautiful meadow land upheaved in countless hummocks, very tiring to ourselves and horses. I kept far ahead of our party, and at night- fall lit a fire on the site of our old camp, shouting back to their answering cries as they drove our horses at a gallop through the woods. The period of four days which we spent here was full of interest to every one of our party, though certain minor accidents had changed our plans. One of our ice-axes had been broken by a horse falling against a tree^ and moreover, my knapsack, contain- ing all my personal effects and various scientific instruments, had totally disappeared. Campbell, our packer, went back eight miles the next day, but failed to find it. " Did you search carefully the long, steep pitch," 1 inquired. " That is the only place 1 did not go over," said he, '' because 1 found the trail on the other side and thought I would take the chance on this one place." So he and 1 spent the next day in further search and found my roll upon the long slope, with a small burnt tree caught in the straps, showing how it had been torn from the pack. While Bryant and Steele were climbing the neigh- bouring mountains, which were familiar to me, 1 spent the day in photographic work near the two summit io8 Zbe IRockiee of Canada lakes, with one of which, Lake Aline, I was particu- larly anxious to succeed. This pretty sheet of water is typical of many mountain lakes. They are found near tree-line in a setting of larch trees and snow- drifts, which latter remain until July. Fed by melting snow and cold springs, their waters are remark- ably clear, often shallow, and usually not so highly coloured as lakes of lower altitudes. Their chief beauty lies in their mountain surroundings, their comfortable banks lined with heather and larch trees, and their sinuously artistic shores. Only on the stormiest days are they without calms and reflec- tions. The ripples on such lakes of small extent require but a brief respite from wind to settle into perfect calm, or to that more delightful stage, when the water, still tremulous yet generally smooth, gives soft reflections of trees and clouds. The day of my return for the lost knapsack was spent by Bryant and Steele in an interesting manner. They made a partial ascent of Mt. Assiniboine, reach- ing a height of ten thousand feet, and exploring the snow fields, out of which rise the steep cliffs of the highest peak. Turning southward from our camp, they walked through open country to the base of the mountain, where, with rope and the two remaining ice-axes, they commenced a slow ascent of the snow and ice slope which descends from the upper glacier and rests on the lower. This ascent of seven or eight hundred feet accomplished and a short but difficult scramble over a water-worn cliff, led them to of lower r mountain surroundings. i with heatht irch trees, v on the ' --tlec- .;.Lent La/^e Aline. '>' into \,i II ning the snow '•icier I 01 seven or -^ "^hort but 1. .ed ihem tn a partial ascent 109 a wide expanse of unbroken snow, which they traversed southward for two miles to the very base of Assiniboine's highest pinnacle. A projecting spur on an arete to the west offered an opportunity to reach easily a considerable altitude and command a view to the south. This they accomplished after several hours' work and attained a height of ten thousand feet. The forenoon of that day was nearly perfect. There were clouds and signs of thunder toward midday, and in the early afternoon they saw a storm in the south, and another in the north-west, which seemed to approach the mountain rapidly. Descending in haste, they had just come to the top of the last ice slope, when Steele's foothold gave way, and he fell, dragging Bryant after him. There was but one possible escape from a terrible fall. A projecting rock of considerable size appeared not far below, and Steele, with a skilful lunge of his ice- axe, swung round to it and anchored himself in a narrow crevice, where the snow had melted away. No sooner had he come to a stop than Bryant shot over him from above and likewise found safety. Otherwise, they would have fallen about six hundred feet, with serious, if not fatal, results. The storms which were promised gathered in the late afternoon and were followed by a night of rain and wind. Next morning was one of foul and fickle weather. Showers of hail and snow and gusts of wind swept wildly through the valley and shrouded the mountains from view. Mt. Assiniboine seems no ^be IRocWee of CanaDa to be a gathering place for storms. During our visit in 1894, we had a week of bad weather at this place, in the middle of July, and now again, at the same period of the year, fresh snow covered the ground. Before saying farewell to Assiniboine, some gen- eral remarks on this great peak would be in order. Mt. Assiniboine is the culminating point of a part of the mountains on the continental watershed. Five spurs reach out from the central peak and cover an area of about thirty square miles. Fourteen or fif- teen lakes, small and large, nestle around its imme- diate base and supply the waters of three rivers, the Simpson, the Cross, and the Spray. Above two of the valleys the mountain rises abruptly six thousand feet, but above the one on the north the total ascent is only five thousand feet. Every side of this mount- ain is exceedingly steep, the east face being an abso- lute precipice, and the other two having slopes that average fifty degrees. The rock strata are nearly horizontal, and are eroded into many precipitous bands which girdle the mountain, and these, together with the disintegrated limestone and frequent fresh snow, will make it a difficult prize for the climber. In my opinion, the south face offers the best chance, but it will require heroic effort to bring horses into that waste of burnt timber, where in 1894 Barrett, Peyto, and I made our foot journey. The north side, where the mountain has the most striking appear- ance and has a remarkable resemblance to the Mat- terhorn, will no doubt be the point of attack. This jfour Different IRoutee III side, moreover, offers the pleasantest position and surroundings for a camping-ground. Of the four routes to Assiniboine which are fa- miliar to me, the one by which we returned to Banff in 1899 is the easiest, and at the same time most uninteresting. A gap in the mountains north-east of Mt. Assiniboine leads to the headwaters of the Spray River, and a rapid descent from the elevated plain where our camp was to the bottom of the deep val- ley is the most attractive part of the journey. On the right, one of the most stupendous cliffs in the mountains towered above us as we followed the trail through the forest. Then after a few miles we came to burnt timber, which we traversed uninter- ruptedly for two days. Part of our route was through the White Man's Pass, and the white men have burnt up all the woods. However, the timber is all standing between Assiniboine and the Spray lakes, so that the travelling is excellent. From the Spray lakes to Canmore the miners have kept the trail in excellent condition for the sake of the fishing, and in proof of this we marched twenty miles on the last day of our journey. The route over the Simpson Pass and down the river is by far the longest and hardest way and re- quires five or six days' travel. By the Simpson and up the river, through the weird and waterless Gnome Valley, is shorter, but not advisable. Our route along the high plateau region on the summit of the Rockies is the most varied and interesting way to 112 ZTbe IRocWes of CanaDa Assiniboine, but there is a very difficult descent of two thousand feet into the Simpson valley. There is another possible way to reach Mt. Assin- iboine from Banff, by following the south fork of Healy's Creek. I saw a gap in the mountains as we were descending the Spray, near its source, which appears to offer a low pass into the region where Healy's Creek rises. No trail is known to go up this fork of Healy's Creek and I have never been able to get any information from the Indians about a pass. Theoretically this should be the shortest possible route to Mt. Assiniboine, and the problem is a tempt- ing one to some enterprising explorer with a week to spare. CHAPTER VII EFFECT OF ENVIRONMENT ON CAMP LIFE — PASSING OF OLD CUSTOMS — HOW TO COMMENCE A CAMPING TRIP — THE CAMPER HIS OWN GUIDE — PITCHING CAMP— THE WESTERN PACKER— BILL PEYTO— A CHARACTER SKETCH— A DAY OF CAMP LIFE — DRIVING IN THE HORSES— BREAKFAST ON THE FROSTY GRASS — SADDLING UP AND PACKING— GLORIES OF EARLY MORNING— ON THE MARCH — FOREST DEPTHS— OPEN MEADOWS AND BURNT TIMBER — FORDING TORRENTS — SILENCE OF HIGH ALTITUDES— ORIGIN AND DEGENERATION OF INDIAN TRAILS — AGILITY OF PACK-HORSES — CHOOSING A CAMP SITE— THE INDIAN CAYUSE— SOME UNUSUAL PACK- HORSES — EVENINGS ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE — PEYTO'S EX- PERIENCE ON THE PIPESTONE PASS — ADVENTURE OF TWO PROSPECTORS — STARVATION IN THE WILDERNESS — WON- DERFUL INDIAN TRAILING CAMP life in every part of the world is affected by environment. The kind of animals used to carry the provisions and equipment de- pends on the country. In the Rockies of Canada the only animal suitable to convey the explorer and his outfit through the mountain forests and over the swelling rivers that oppose his progress is the Indian pony. Mules cannot be used in these mountains as they are farther south because they lack courage in water, and their small feet allow them to sink deeply 8 113 114 ^be IRocftlcs of Canada in those swamps that the larger hoofed horse can barely pass over. Many customs of camp life in the North-west are derived from the fur traders. The earliest explorers and railroad builders have handed them down to the sportsmen and mountain climbers of to-day. But a new element is being introduced with the rapid in- crease of camping parties in the Rockies of Canada. While bacon and beans continue to be the main- stay of camp fare, as of right they should, campers are getting into the habit of carrying preserved fruits and vegetables, and such other luxuries as make the old-timers wonder at the change of customs. The rugged simplicity and semi-starvation of old days are passing. A guide once told me that upon a certain occasion he called at a wayside house for a meal. Seeing no pepper and salt to season the coarse fare, he ventured the polite suggestion that they would be appreciated, but was considerably startled when the old woman held up her hands in surprise. ''What — luxuries ! " she cried ; " pepper and salt— luxuries, and all for two bits ? " An instance of a similar na- ture concerns a hungry traveller who was invited to share a simple meal with a lone prospector. Nothing appeared on the festive board but a generous supply of bacon and mustard. The unfortunate guest, being unused to the ways of the country, declared that he did not eat bacon. ''Ah, well," said his host, " I am very sorry. Help yourself to the mustard." Camp life in the Canadian Rockies now affords a Ibow to Commence a Camping Crip 115 much greater refinement of comfort and variety of eatables than ten years ago, just as camping out in the Adirondacks and eastern Canada suggests steak for breakfast, and even a newspaper not more than three days old. The number of camping parties that travel among the Canadian Rockies every year is rapidly increas- ing. This manner of spending a vacation w^ill soon become more popular as the great pleasure-grounds become better known. About one-half the number of campers are sportsmen, and the rest are either mountain climbers or explorers. Many, of course, wander among these wilds for the mere love of na- ture, and for the simple and healthful life in the evergreen woods, surrounded by mountains, running streams, or placid lakes. Imagine, then, that you intend to make a trip into the mountains. You must first engage your packer and cook, and procure saddle-horses and a full out- fit of blankets, tents, and general camp necessaries. There are agents at Banff, the general starting-place for all expeditions in the eastern range, who will fur- nish you with horses, men, and everything needed for trips of whatever length or nature, and thus re- lieve you of all responsibility. One of the most ex- perienced outfitters is Tom Wilson, who packed for the railroad surveyors many years ago. During the summer season "Wilson's" is frequently the scene of no little excitement when some party is getting ready to leave. Then you may see ten or fifteen ii6 ^be IRockles of Canada wicked-eyed ponies, some in a corral and the rest tied to trees ready for packing. If the horses are making their first trip for the season there will be considerable bucking and kicking before all is ready. Several men are seen bustling about, assorting and weighing the packs, and making order out of the pile of blankets, tents, and bags of flour or bacon. The cayuses are saddled and cinched up one by one, with many a protesting bite and kick. The celebrated '' diamond hitch " is used in fastening the packs, and the struggling men look picturesque in their old clothes and sombreros as they tighten the ropes, bravely on the gentle horses, but rather gingerly when it comes to a bucking bronco. A crowd of the business men of Banff, who usually take about 365 holidays every year, stands around to offer advice and watch the sport. Then the pict- uresque train of horses with their wild-looking drivers files out through the village streets under a fusillade of snap-shot cameras and the wondering gaze of new arrivals from the east. But these evidences of civili- sation are soon left behind and after a few miles the primitive wilderness is entered. Some parts of the mountains are more easily reached from other points than Banff Thus you leave the railroad at Castle Mountain for the Vermilion Pass, at Laggan for the Pipestone and sources of the Bow, and at Field for the Ottertail and Kicking Horse rivers. In such cases it is easier to meet guides and horses at these stations and commence camp life there. The maps of this Zbc Camper bis ®wn (BulDe u; part of Canada give only a rough idea of the country at best, while many parts of the mountains are even yet a geographical blank. Then, too, the maps are on a scale which does not permit of much detail, so that what seems a short and easy journey on the map often proves a struggle amongst bewildering ranges of mountains when the trip is commenced. Moreover, there are as yet no guides for these mount- ains, and the explorer must depend in general on his own judgment in finding a way. This is done by following the great rivers which, by their relative position and direction, are always a certain clue. The several ranges of the Rockies have an almost con- stant trend north north-west, and south south-east. This fact, along with a general knowledge of the streams and lakes, or information picked up from the Indians, is the main reliance of the camper. Every year the packers who go on such trips gain know- ledge of the passes and trails, so that the day is not distant when there will be efficient guides for many of the most interesting excursions. However, the necessity for self-reliance and the use of one's own judgment in picking a way through the count- less obstacles of these mountains are great sources of pleasure. The camper inexperienced in the methods of the North-west, has much to learn. It is quite possible that until the first camp is made he is quite ignorant of what all those mysterious bags and boxes contain which have been transported at great expenditure of ii8 ^be IRocWee of Canaba horse-flesh and bad language a day's journey into the woods. The pitching of the first camp is a revela- tion to the inexperienced. After a suitable site has been chosen, with fire-wood and water con- veniently near, and a meadow not far away where the horses may find pasture, the men cut tent-poles and the cook spreads his pots and pails round a crackling fire. The pack-saddles and blankets are usually piled beneath some large tree and covered with a canvas sheet, — while another sheet covers the bags of provisions. The cook soon has several pots on the fire, stewing apples or apricots, making hot water for tea or cocoa, or perhaps cooking the omnipresent bean. Two boxes, called cook boxes, stand near at hand, and they contain cans of con- densed milk, all the spices and condiments, the small tins of preserves and pickles that have been opened or are in constant use, as well as the table dishes, plates, knives, forks, and spoons, which are no less necessary. It may be a week or more before the numerous small bags tucked away in larger ones have been sampled. While dinner is preparing and the delicious odour of frying bacon blends with the pungent smoke of the spruce-wood fire, there is time for a little study of our packers and cook. Who are they and whence did they come? Perhaps no more interesting char- acter has ever appeared in this region than my old packer. Bill Peyto. 1 made my first excursion to Assiniboine with him and have travelled several Bill ipe^to 119 hundred miles under his guidance. Bill is very quiet in civilisation, but becomes more communicative around an evening camp-fire, when he delights to tell his adventures. His has been a roving life. The story of his battle v/ith the world, his escapades and suffer- ings of hunger and exposure, not to mention the dreams and ambitions of a keen imagination with their consequent disappointments, has served to entertain many an evening hour. Peyto assumes a wild and picturesque though somewhat tattered at- tire. A sombrero, with a rakish tilt to one side, a blue shirt set off by a white kerchief (which may have served civilisation for a napkin), and a buck- skin coat with fringed border, add to his cowboy appearance. A heavy belt containing a row of cart- ridges, hunting-knife and six-shooter, as well as the restless activity of his wicked blue eyes, give him an air of bravado. He usually wears two pairs of trou- sers, one over the other, the outer pair about six months older. This was shown by their dilapidated and faded state, hanging, after a week of rough work in burnt timber, in a tattered fringe knee-high. Every once in a while Peyto would give one or two nervous yanks at the fringe and tear off the longer pieces, so that his outer trousers disappeared day by day from below upwards. Part of this was affecta- tion, to impress the tenderfoot, or the "dude," as he calls everyone who wears a collar. But in spite of this Peyto is one of the most conscientious and experienced men with horses that I have ever known. I20 zi)c IRocklee of Cauaba In camp, Peyto always goes down to see his horses once or twice a day even if they are several miles distant, and I have even known him to look after them in the depths of night when he thought they might be in trouble. When the order to march has been given the night before, our horses are in camp at dawn. Quick and cool in time of real danger, he has too much anxiety about trouble ahead, and worries himself terribly about imaginary evils. He sleeps with a loaded rifle and a hunting-knife by his side. " Bill," said 1, one night, upon noticing a row of formidable instruments of death near me, ''why in the mischief do you have all of those shooting-irons and things here ? " 'M tell you," said he, with an anxious look, " I believe this country is full of grizzlies ; I heard a terrible noise in the woods this afternoon, and besides that, they say the Koot- enay Indians have risen. They may come into the valley any night." A picture of a train of horses crossing an angry stream comes to my memory, and one animal has put his forefoot through the head-rope and fallen helpless as he is swept away by the torrent. Sud- denly a man leaps from his saddle, and with a sharp knife in hand, rushes out into a foaming swirl of waters whence it seems impossible for anyone to return alive. A flash of steel in the sunlight shows the rope has been cut, and after a struggle the horse regains the shore, dragging the man after. It was Peyto ! On another occasion a fast freight, coming a S)a^ of Camp Xife 121 suddenly around a curve, surprised two pack-horses at a few yards' distance, but Peyto struck one on the head, and seizing the rope of the other, pulled the beast from the rails as the engine rushed by, while everyone else stood immovable in a paraly- sis of fear. The best idea of Rocky Mountain camp life might be had by following in imagination the events of an ordinary day. The first sound that usually awakens you is the tramping of horses, the approaching shouts and curses of the packer, and the tinkle of the bell mare's bell as the ponies are driven to camp. The packer's first duty is to get up at dawn and go after the horses. They may be miles away or they may have crossed a deep stream. After one of the tamest animals has been caught, the packer rides bareback and drives the others in at a gallop. By this time the imperturbable early riser has begun to make life miserable for his companions, though it may be an hour before breakfast. There is often found in camping parties one of those cranks with an old saw — as false as was ever written — about, ''Early to bed," etc., to back him in his evil ways. He is up at the crack of dawn, even in these northern mountains where the sun shines eighteen hours a day. The evening camp-fire, the hot punch, and the good stories of adventure are all lost on him that he may prowl around alone in the darkness and frost of early morning, to the worriment of his friends. 122 ^be IRocWce of Canaba At length, however, the cook shouts — "Break- fast is ready" — an announcement that was heralded by the sound of the axe, the crackling of fire-wood and the sizzling of bacon. A cold wash in a neigh- bouring stream or lake is a good awakener. Presently everyone gathers around the "table," a piece of canvas spread on the frosty grass and flowers. Por- ridge and milk, bacon and beans, hot coffee and bannock or camp bread, with possibly some kind of stewed fruit, compose the ordinary fare. The hour immediately after is busy for all. While the packer is "saddling up" the cook washes the dishes and packs the small articles in his cook boxes. Open tins are provided with rough-and-ready covers and placed so their contents will not spill while on the horse's back. The large bags are tied up and every- thing gradually becomes ready for packing. Mean- while, you roll up your personal effects, toilet articles, changes of clothes, and make ready your camera and such scientific instruments as you carry. The tents, which have been standing so that the morning sun and wind may dry the dew or rain, come down last of all, and are rolled up as side packs. Then commences the real work of packing, which after the first day or so becomes easier. The particular pack for each horse is known, and everything is systematised. . However, the constant change in the weight of bags, as provisions are used, requires some little attention on the part of the packer, be- cause one of the most important essentials of good <5lorle0 ot lEarli? nDornino 123 packing is to have the two side packs of equal weight. While the men are at work there is an opportu- nity to write up notes of the previous day. Fre- quently the frost or dew remains on the grass in these deep valleys till marching time, though the sun may have been shining for hours on the bare rocks and snow fields of the mountain tops. The slowly approaching rays creep over the forest, and at length the sun appears above some mountain ridge and pours a sudden flood of light upon the camp. I once saw the morning sun thus suddenly strike upon an upland flower-garden. A moment before the white anemones were hanging their blossoms and shrivelled leaves under the death-like touch of frost. A sudden splendour of illumination poured over the field as the sun rose above a mountain, and in a moment, as if by magic, the frost crystals melted away into pendant drops of heaven's own distillation. Beads of clear water dripping from leaves and tinted petals, made tremulous light flashings like the sparkle of diamonds and rubies. The calm of night still rested upon the field, and there was not the slightest air motion. But the sunlight was at work, and in a moment a leaf quivered, then another, and a droop- ing blossom made a scarcely sensible movement. This was the commencement of a marvellous change, for the hanging leaves began to straighten, the closed petals of numberless blossoms expanded in the sun- light, and in a short time the whole field of nature's 124 JLl)c 1Rockie0 of Canada wild flowers was full of motion, and every plant was quivering and leaping toward the life-giving warmth. What an illustration of the power of sun- light ! And what vitality these Alpine plants must have to survive several hours of frost in their mid- summer nights ! The day's journey means many new experiences. As the horses file along the narrow trail, the mount- ains seem to move majestically, changing their out- line at every new point of observation, and showing new glimpses of snow fields and rugged cliffs. With every great bend in the valley, or upon each pass ascended, there comes a long vista of strange mountains into view. During the five or six hours of the average day's travel, many incidents occur to add interest to the marvels of scenery. Except where the trail is very good the train of horses is not driven without the exercise of patience. In bad places their efforts are accelerated by torrents of pro- fanity that shock the tenderfoot. The men claim that pack-horses will not travel well unless roundly cursed, because it is the only language they under- stand. The monotony of riding an Indian pony during the slow march of five or six hours as the poor beast struggles over logs and through swampy places, fighting bull-dog flies and grey gnats, is broken by that endless variety and change of surroundings, that are a source of delight in every part of these mountains. Sometimes the trail leads for a time On tbe flDarcb 125 through deep forests where the mountains are lost to view, hi the cool depths of forest shade the rhododendron grows, and the moist and mossy ground is often dotted with the wax-like blossoms of the one-flowered pyrola, or the pretty violet-like butterwort, with its cluster of root leaves smeared with a viscid secretion. Some stupid fool-hen, a species of grouse, is more than likely to be seen in a tree near the trail, and proves that her name is de- served, when the bullets fly. She merely cranes her neck in stupid wonderment, till at last her head goes off, and then there is a great flapping of wings, but it is too late. The bird will, however, make a fine dinner to-night. From silent forest depths the trail no doubt leads alongside a noisy stream, boulder-strewn, and hemmed by willows and birch, or across some meadow, gay with scarlet painted-cups, tiger lilies, or forget-me-nots. Here the horses take hasty mouthfuls of the rich grass, as they are hurried along to the other side. Perhaps the border of a lake is traversed, and while the splashing horses move will- ingly, there is time for glimpses of new beauty in water colouring and reflected mountains and trees. Stretches of burnt timber break the monotony of the unending panorama at more or less frequent intervals. Burnt forests, where the trees still remain standing, are easy to travel, but usually the fallen trunks are crossed three or four deep, and every year adds to the number. The procession comes 126 ^be IRocWes of Canaba to a halt after a few yards of progress in such places, and you often wonder what is going forward, but hear only the sound of the axe for answer. " We were surrounded," says one writer, ''by muskegs, burnt timber, and bad language," in speaking of such a place, and it is impossible to travel far in the Rockies without finding a similar environment. The excitement of fording deep streams or noisy torrents of the lower valleys is in greatest contrast to quiet travel through some mountain pass where an eternal silence reigns. Here, perhaps, there are bare limestone cliffs, guarding a turf-lined pass, far above the limits of trees. Scattered pools are col- lected in the inequalities of rocks. No sound of bird or insect, of running water or woodland breezes, breaks the oppressive quiet. The tinkling of the bell and the tramp of horses give the only sign of your passing through these desolate high valleys. But when trails , either good or bad, penetrate it, how can a country be unmapped or unknown ? Perhaps in the same way that the natives have made foot-paths through the deserts of Australia and the jungles of Africa, the Indians of the North-west have made trails through all the larger valleys of the Rockies. These trails which, for aught we know, may date from the era of primitive man, and so represent some of the oldest of human foot-paths, are used by the Indians on their hunting expeditions. Before the coming of white men, they were used as a means of communication between the Kootenay Li oner sue!' Hid it is imp(; Rov jut finding a ^ xitement of fording deep streams or noisy of the lower valleys is in greatest contrast to , : t trave' some mountain pass where ' ■' ^' -"^ nerhaps, there are f^^^'ied pass, far Is are cn\- Crossing a High Pass. Pass in the nearly unexplored region about thirty miles south of the Kananasklx /.ake^. md the jst have ma : of the Roc we know, may an, and so .^ '<..:'■ . iiOiiCi. v.vyiVi; ■■ used as f con- ootenav llnMan Oralis 127 Indians and the tribes that inhabit the plains, for the bartering of fur, game, and horses. So all the im- portant valleys and passes have well-marked trails and the side valleys inferior ones, though it is not always easy to find them or stay on them when found. A trail is subject to constant degeneration, for several reasons. Avalanches and snow-slides sweep over it, and sometimes cover a long stretch with broken trees and great masses of rock. New areas of timber are burned over every year, and the charred trees, after standing a few years, begin to yield to the wind and storms and fall across the trail. Rapid mountain streams often change their courses, cutting away new banks and undermining many places where trails were made. Even in the prime- val forest the underbrush has a constant tendency to choke these pathways, and aged monarchs of the forest die and fall across them. No one ever cuts a tree, if there is a way around, because every one assumes, very selfishly, that he may never come that way again. Thus the Indian trail is a narrow path- way, worn by the hoofs of horses, clearly marked in open meadows or deep, mossy forests, but ever winding and retreating to avoid a multitude of obstacles and usually disappearing altogether when most needed, and some steep cliff or avalanche track or burnt timber seems to block the way. A day's march is often attended by incidents that give zest to the work of making progress. Bucking ponies try to rid themselves of their packs 128 ^be IRocMes of Cana^a or riders. Packs come loose and must be adjusted, and sometimes a panic is caused among the horses when a hornet's nest is disturbed. Horses some- times get beyond their depth in crossing rivers, fall into muskegs up to their ears, or break a leg in fallen timber. Familiarity breeds no contempt for these agile Indian ponies, and new difficulties only cause renewed admiration of their wonderful skill, in jump- ing logs with heavy packs on their backs, threading the obscure trails and pitfalls of burnt timber, or fording the icy rapids of mountain streams. The length of the march necessarily depends on various circumstances, though "camp rules" say that six hours of trail work is all that should be done in one day. There must be a swamp or meadow not far distant, where the horses may pasture, with fire-wood and water near the camp site. Happily the two latter requisites are almost invariably pres- ent in the Rockies of Canada. First the horses are tied to trees, quickly unpacked, and sent off to their well-earned liberty. While they are rolling on the grass, joyful that another day's work is ended, the cook builds a fire, and soon has hot water for tea and other refreshments, of which the details are unimportant, if things are served quickly, and many times. What is the use of putting a man in a glass cage, and taking his temperature and weight to find the heat- and energy-value of various foods ? Let him come to the mountains, walking and climbing ten or twelve hours a day, and observe for himself. Cboo6lng a Camp Site 129 After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal (a splendid food for the sedentary) he will be ravenously hungry in two hours, of cornmeal, after three hours, of bacon and bread, in four or five hours, while pork and beans will sustain him from six to ten hours and give the utmost physical buoyancy and strength. Tea has the greatest stimulating effect on utterly weary muscles and nerves. Coffee, however, is better in cold weather, and cocoa for an evening drink around the camp-fire. In my opinion alco- holic stimulants should be used in camp life only for their reviving effect after exposure to cold and exertion, and never before or during any physical undertaking. One of the chief essentials of a camp, after the question of wood and water has been settled, is a piece of level ground. In certain meadows and open places, the rich grass will afford sufficient bed- ding on which to spread the blankets, but usually some bushes or stones must be cleared away, and balsam boughs laid on the ground, to give the re- quired comfort. The cook boxes, extra blankets, cameras, scientific instruments, and small articles are tucked away in the tents, where rain cannot injure them, but most of the provisions are piled under some tree and protected by a large canvas cover, along with the pack-saddles, cinch ropes, and other camp necessaries. No one can travel far on a camping expedition without feeling an interest in the Indian pony, upon I30 ^be IRocklea of Canada which so much depends. The Indian pony, or cayuse, probably owes its origin to a cross between the mustang and the horses introduced by the Spaniards in the conquest of Mexico. They are small horses with very great endurance and ability, combined with sufficient strength for all needful purposes. Some of them have ''glass eyes," or a colourless condition of the retina, supposed to be the result of too much in-breeding. They are raised on the plains chiefly by the Indians, and their only food throughout their days is grass. In winter, most of the horses are driven from the mountains and pas- tured among the foothills, where they paw away the snow and find abundant nourishment in the " bunch grass." The hardest time comes at the end of win- ter, when the snow melts and freezes alternately. Then the ponies must starve unless they are driven in and fed by their owners. There is as much diversity of temperament among horses as among men. Some are nervous and intelli- gent, while others are stupid and obstinate. Horses do not seem to do as much independent thinking as mules, and are slower in many feats of intellect. A mule may be taught to travel miles alone over a beaten route, but a horse will stop and eat grass at the first meadow. They say a mule will walk over a trestle bridge like a dog, while a horse will invariably fall through before he has gone ten yards. But in swamps and deep water, the horse is far superior. Almost all cayuses are liable to buck and kick after a long Some innueual pack^lborses 131 period of rest. These bad habits may have de- scended from their primitive ancestors, in efforts to throw off w^olves or panthers, but are now used with effect on riders and packs. I have seen a horse stand up and fight with his forefeet, and an old bronco-buster once told me that he had had horses rush upon him and try to kill him by biting and striking. Two of the most interesting pack-horses that 1 have ever known are the "Pinto "and the "Bay." The Pinto is a well-formed, graceful pony, with a light chestnut coat and irregular white patches on his flanks and chest. He has a long, beautiful tail and well-formed head, but he is so quick and nervous that I have never yet succeeded in getting a good pho- tograph of him. This Pinto is tame and affectionate, but afraid of any sudden movement, because, no doubt, some former owner had abused him. The Pinto is wonderfully intelligent, and as Peyto says, "knows more than anyone else about the trails." Sometimes we placed Pinto ahead and let him lead the procession for hours. Anyone seeing such a feat for the first time would find it quite incomprehensible. Once Pinto, when thus leading, took a small branch trail and left the well-defined open path. "You are wrong for once, Pinto, and have been caught napping at last," said I to myself. While the procession moved on, I followed the main trail, and soon came to a tree that had fallen across the trail and had caught about four feet from the ground. While 1 was 132 ^be IRocWes of Canada examining this Pinto was about a quarter of a mile ahead, once more on the main trail, having gone round this unseen obstacle, unknown to any of us, but probably remembered by him from some previ- ous year. The Bay is Pinto's inseparable companion and friend. The two horses are always at the head of the line, and rarely allow any others to precede. The Bay defers only to Pinto's unusual intelligence and gives first place to him. Each of these horses carries two hundred and fifty or three hundred pounds on his back, while the smaller animals struggle with less by an hundredweight. I once saw the Bay clear a log three feet and ten inches from the ground, of his own will, under a heavy pack. These intelli- gent animals know all the obstacles of the trail, what two trees their pack will go between, what low branches they cannot pass under, and at a gentle word they hurry along, where an ordinary cayuse will stop to feed, or when shouted at, will run off into the bush. The Bay is the tamest animal I have ever known, and often loiters about the camp and pokes his head over one's shoulder as a gentle hint for a taste of salt or sugar. His feet are never insulted with hobbles, nor his head with a rope, for you may walk up to him any time in the pasture and place your arm round his great neck. Old Denny is a horse of another colour, a shaggy, thick-set cayuse, with a long coat and trailing fet- locks. No ambition ever stirs him to be in front, but on the contrary, Denny never allows any animal to arely r^ rs only to Pinto s unus ■ice to him. Each of these h< Ccii'i n..^ . tWu 'iindred pounds on V- [ - -• "'uggie with I-..-. . n^c. R.-,-,- Camp at the Bow Pass. )iace ©It) Denn^ 133 be behind him, except the saddle-horse of some swearing packer who is hunting him along. Denny was born with an unconquerable tendency to be slow, and though you shout till you are hoarse, old Denny pursues his dignified way regardless. The result is that this singular animal always gets behind the procession, which he follows at his own sweet will. 1 have seen old Denny come strolling into camp half an hour after the other horses were unpacked. However, he is a conscientious old fellow, and never kicks or bucks or crushes his pack against trees. So he was selected to carry the most perishable packs, and has safely transported my valuable cameras hun- dreds of miles through the mountains. Peyto told me that Denny once had a brute for a master, who used to beat him terribly with a stick, till the poor animal would fall to the ground. After that he was taken to the coal mines at Anthracite, near Banff. In the perpetual darkness, however, Denny refused to work, in spite of the beatings and horrible cruelty that the miners practice on their horses. He next appeared as a pack-horse, and under the influence of kind treatment, became one of the tamest of the horses. Besides salt and sugar, which nearly all horses like after a few tastes, he would eat bread, flour, and even corn-meal, which, strange to say, these Western ponies do not consider proper food for horses. No matter how wild your horses may be at the commencement of the journey, they will become 134 ^be IRocklee of Canada gentle and tame with kind treatment. A little salt every morning for a week will gain their confidence, and will save, in many ways, far more than the outlay. The afternoon after a day's march may be occu- pied in short excursions to adjacent valleys or points of interest in the neighbourhood, so that the period after dinner, when the long day ends and the camp- fire lights up the forest, is the best time for stories of adventure and for sociability. The best camp-fire is, in my opinion, a big one, with great dry logs that crack and blaze brightly and make but little smoke. The Indians laugh at us and say, '' White man make big fire — sit far off. Indian make little fire, — sit close" — right over it, in fact, with a few sticks, like a pile of jack-straws — for a fire. The advantages are that there is but little smoke and not much of a wood-pile to cut. Of course there is a limit to size, and I have seen fires where you had to make toast or broil a grouse on a twenty-foot pole. A camp-fire on a dark night always seems most cheerful in a deep forest, when the cheery sparks soar away to meet the stars and a ruddy glow illuminates the sombre trees and picturesque figures grouped before the tents. As the chill of night came on, we often had a light supper, or in any event made a pot of hot cocoa, and under the cheering influence of this, Peyto used to harangue us on his adventures. With a jerk, sailor-fashion, at his trousers, and a playful kick at the fire, I can imagine him, standing in picturesque IPepto'0 iBypcrlence 135 attitude to warm himself. '' Well," says he, " did I ever tell you about my journey up the Pipestone ? " To our negative replies, he gives the story. ''Some years ago a fellow by the name of S., and 1, thought we would put in the winter on the Saskatchewan and trap marten. 1 had got three hundred dollars ahead, the only luck I ever had, and blew it all in on an outfit. You see we had a pretty big grub-pile besides a lot of traps, and it took a good many horses to tote it all. I thought we would make a pretty good haul by the way we sized up the country when 1 was there two years before. So we started from Laggan and struck for the head of the Pipestone. It was late in October, and there was some snow in the valley, but we could n't savey any such snow- drifts as we ran into near the summit. You know they say the Pipestone Pass is the highest in the mountains, and we were a long way above timber, when it came on to snow and blow worse than any- thing I ever saw before. The snow was five feet deep, and as it was our first time through, we did not know that we could ever reach the pass. I got out the shovel and cut a path for the horses, but I give you my word, before we had gone a hundred yards, the whole thing was blown full of snow again. I threw down the shovel and we started for Laggan, but by this time you could not see anything for the snow and wind. Neither of us could tell where the trail was. 1 was riding Pinto, and says I to myself, ' I guess the cayuse knows where we are better than I 136 ZTbe IRocMes ot Canada do,' so I let him have his head and never said a word, and you may not believe it, but that horse took us right back to Laggan in two days." " Some fellows did n't have such luck as you did. Bill," said one of our men, "for an old prospector told me he was coming down the Canoe River, and was somewhere near the Big Bend of the Columbia, 1 think it was, when he ran across an old camp, with everything lying around loose, and three skeletons on the ground." This recalled the story of an expedition that went out into the mountains and was never heard of again, men and horses having apparently perished together. Nothing less than a great snow-slide could so com- pletely have annihilated an entire party. One of the most exciting incidents of adventure in these mountains occurred in the summer of 1896. Two prospectors, named Temple and Smith, started from Canmore by way of the White Man's Pass to reach the Kootenay country. Having come to the gorge of the Vermilion River, their two pack-horses, overloaded and exhausted by long marches, could proceed no farther. As a last effort, they built a raft, and with their entire outfit commenced a voyage down the river, after abandoning the poor horses to their fate. It was not long before the raft came to very rough water and was wrecked in the rapids of the treacherous stream. The men reached the shore after the greatest effort, but, unfortunately, each on opposite sides of the river. After considerable adventure of Zvoo Iproepectore 137 shouting, one to the other, neither would consent to attempt to cross it, and the two separated in the heart of the wilderness, having saved neither food nor blankets from the wreck, nor firearms to procure game. Leaving Temple to proceed west, Smith en- deavoured to retrace his steps and fmd the horses, but he soon lost all idea of locality and direction. He wandered ceaselessly through the forests, slowly dying of starvation, though after several days he managed to kill a single grouse, which he ate raw. At length after eleven days, overcome with weak- ness, his courage failed, and he lay down to die. Just then he was startled by the loud whistle of a railroad engine, a sound that restored for a time his hope and strength. He came to a large river, which was in fact the Bow, and on the farther side saw some section men at work on the railroad. They came over in a boat in answer to his shouts and res- cued him from death. At Banff, where he was taken to recover his strength, he related the story of his sufferings and of his lost companion, about whom nothing had been heard. A relief party was hastily organised, consist- ing of the Rev. William Black of Banff, and a Stony Indian (our old friend) William Twin. William, with that wonderful power that the Indians alone seem to possess, of observing the faintest signs, followed the track of the rescued prospector up Healy's Creek, over the Simpson Pass to the Vermilion River, and thence to the place where the fatal raft had been 138 ^be IRocWes of Cana^a wrecked. One of the horses was found here, and then, crossing the river, he took up the trail of the other prospector. With marvellous skill he led the way, even where the hard ground or solid rock pre- served no apparent footmarks. In one place he crossed a river on a log-jam, saying, as he pointed to the smooth logs : '' Me see him trail — he go here — he go here," and in fact footprints appeared in the sand on the other side. The trail led them in two days more to the stage road on the Columbia, and they sur- mised that Temple had reached safety, as indeed was the case. Strangely enough, he had not men- tioned their adventure or told about leaving his com- panion, who came so near perishing, and only escaped death by the merest chance. CHAPTER VIll THE ATHABASCA PASS — DAVID DOUGLAS NAMES MT. BROWN AND MT. HOOKER — COLEMAN AND STUART'S EXPEDITION — A NEW ROUTE PLANNED — OUR HORSES FALL IN A MUSKEG — THE UPPER BOW LAKE — DISCOVERY OF FIRE IN THE FOREST — SURROUNDED BY BURNING TREES — INDIAN SU- PERSTITION ABOUT THE NORTH FORK — DISCOVERY OF A PASS INTO THE ATHABASCA COUNTRY — WE KILL A BEAR — REACH FORTRESS LAKE AND BUILD A RAFT — MEASURING THE HIGHEST MOUNTAINS — A BIVOUAC IN THE RAIN — SHORT RATIONS AND A DASH FOR CIVILISATION — STRANGE ADVENTURE OF OUR DOG ABOUT one hundred miles north of the railroad lies the Athabasca Pass, famous in the early days of the enterprising North-west Fur Company. Alexander Mackenzie discovered in 1793 a pass across the Rockies by following the Peace River farther north, but the Athabasca and Yellow Head passes were apparently more popular, as they were in the line of general travel, and offered a route between the headwaters of the Athabasca and Col- umbia Rivers. In fact, no other passes were known across the Rockies in those early times. For many years two very high peaks, Mt. Brown and Mt. Hooker, were supposed to stand on either side of 139 I40 Zbc IRocUxcQ ot Canaba the Athabasca Pass, and were believed to be the highest mountains in North America. Even to-day our best atlases place their height at about sixteen thousand feet. When Ross Cox, in 1817, was beat- ing a retreat through this region, from the little col- ony of Astoria near the mouth of the Columbia, his motley crew, embracing many strange nationalities and characters, found themselves surrounded by all the grandeur of the Athabasca Pass. One of the voyageurs, after a long period of silent wonder and admiration, exclaimed: "I'll take my oath, my dear friends, that God Almighty never made such a place." The botanist, David Douglas, travelled through the Athabasca Pass in 1827 and gave the names and the estimates of height to Mt. Brown and Mt. Hooker. Of this region he writes as follows: ''Being well rested by one o'clock (May i, 1827), I set out with the view of ascending what seemed to be the highest peak on the north. Its height does not appear to be less than 16,000 or 17,000 feet above the level of the sea. The view from the summit is of too awful a cast to afford pleasure. Nothing can be seen, in every direction far as the eye can reach, except mount- ains, towering above each other, rugged beyond description. The majestic but terrible avalanches hurling themselves from the more exposed southerly rocks produced a crash, and groaned through the distant valleys with a sound only equalled by that of an earthquake. This peak, the highest yet known (The 1\' Mount BalfoiL7\ iount- .1 •rly the that Known Coleman anb Stuart's jEipcbltion 141 in the northern continent of America, I feel a sincere pleasure in naming Mt. Brown." The investigation of the true height of such mount- ains in a region of which there are only vague re- ports, has a fascination to the explorer, and in 1893 Messrs. Stuart and Coleman made a journey from Edmonton, by way of the Brazeau to the Athabasca, in an effort to solve the problem. They encountered great obstacles in the way of fallen timber, but suc- ceeded, after heroic efforts, in reaching the pass. There they ascended one of the two mountains which were assumed to have such an unusual altitude, to within a short distance of the summit, and found that its height was only about 9000 feet ! The subject seemed worthy of further investiga- tion, and in July, 1896, I started with Mr. R. L Bar- rett with the purpose of visiting and measuring those mountains. In order to add interest to our explora- tion, the route chosen was by way of the Bow, the Little and North Forks of the Saskatchewan, which was practically a new country, and thence, if possible, by some pass available for horses to the Whirlpool River, which flows into the Athabasca. The success of our expedition depended on hnding such a pass. We could get no information about the region, as no white man had been up there, and the Indians are very indefinite in geographical matters. Moreover, they have a superstition concerning the North Fork of the Saskatchewan, and never hunt in that country. We made preparations for a trip of at least sixty days, 142 Zhc IRocWes of Canaba and took five saddle-horses and ten pack-horses to carry our tents, blankets, and provisions. Our men were Tom Lusk, a Texan and an excellent packer, Fred Stephens, a Michigan w^ood-cutter, who acted as second packer, and Arthur Arnold, our cook. We carried in our outfit, besides thermometers and aneroids, a steel tape for base lines, and a tele- scopic gradienter to measure vertical and horizontal angles, and an excellent camera. Following the Bow River northward, our first camp was at the base of the towering and castle-like Mt. Hector, seven hours' travel from Laggan. This broad valley was once a proposed route for the railroad which should cross the range by the Howse Pass. 1 believe the work progressed so far as the making of a general survey to that pass, and building a tote-road about twenty miles up the Bow. The trail, which is the worst in the mountains, follows the old road part of the time, and then wanders off into a track- less waste of burnt timber, for among other things, the railroad men, no doubt, set the woods on fire. The date of the fire can be pretty accurately de- termined by the age of the growing trees which have since sprung up. There is very little left of the old tote-road, and it is only evident in corduroy places and old tumbled-down bridges over streams, or the relics of former camps where wooden boxes, tin cans, and rusty iron stoves have outlived storms and weather to bear silent witness to the glories of the past. Qnv fyovecQ jfall in a flDuel^ea 143 Fred Stephens had been relating the terrors of muskegs among the foothills east of the mountains, where, he said, ''a forty-foot pole would not reach bottom," but on the second day of our journey the muskegs of the Bow proved nearly as bad, if not worse. We had been trying to cross one of these in vain, and were beating a retreat. Barrett found a short cut across a narrow swamp, and said it was safe. Our horses followed, and before they had gone fifty yards, four of them were down in the bottomless swamp, with their heads and ears alone visible. We headed off the rest in time, and then rushed to the rescue of these poor beasts. They were all safely recovered after half an hour's work, but we had to make camp almost immediately in order to dry out the various packs that had gone under water. The accident, which seemed trivial at first, proved more serious when the amount of damage was fully understood. More than half our entire supply of sugar had been dissolved, our tea and coffee soaked so as to lose their flavour, and most of our baking powder, which was to make bread of three hundred pounds of flour, was absolutely ruined. The next day we reached the upper Bow Lake. The first glimpse was a strip of blue water far in the distance. Dark cliffs tower above the lake, and glaciers descending from unseen snow fields appear on shelves of rock between the precipices. In warm weather the ice is crowded so rapidly over the cliff that the valley echoes almost constantly to the thunder of avalanches. 144 ^bc IRockies of Canaba We crossed a wide meadow which led by a gen- tle slope to the shore. The beauty of water, trees, and rugged mountains is here combined to make one of the most charming situations. Our camp was pitched on the border of a small lake, less than half a mile in length, which proved later to be a landlocked cove of the main body of water, and separated from it by a narrow channel. In the dis- tance, through this connecting waterway, a glimpse of the larger lake appeared. Toward the east, the small lake, upon which our camp was placed, con- tracts into a shallow stream, which falls a few feet by a succession of gentle rapids and enters another lake about three-quarters of a mile long. This rests against the very base of the glacier-bearing mount- ain west of our camp. The shores of these smaller lakes are very beautiful and varied. In some places they are wooded rock banks, which rise a few feet above the water, and are partially covered with the drier kinds of mosses, huckleberry bushes, and vari- ous heaths. In such places the water is very deep, and though quite clear, has a dark appearance. Then, in other parts, the meadow lands come down to the water by gentle inclination and terminate in a low and sandy beach. Reeds and water sedges grow in the shallows opposite such shores, and their coarse leaves almost conceal the water by their lux- uriant growth. The wind-swept grass of these swampy shores flashing in the sunlight adds another element of beauty to this interesting place. /.-y >a /es, mile in length, whic J cove of the main body of w i from it by a narrow channel. In the dis- rough this connecting waterway, a glimpse ji Hie i: " ' '"' •■ -rd the east, the small laf '^ placed, con- tracts in is a few feet bv a sii ES another The Bow Lake. This rests sting p vvn in a • iges d their icir lux- of these is another Xlttlc iforFi pase 145 Open, treeless moors, abounding in irregular mounds and depressions, covered with a scant growth of grass, stunted willows, and a dwarfed underbrush, extended in a gradually rising valley to a pass about three miles north-west of the lake. The view on the other side of the pass is one of the most inspiring in the mountains. The slope drops suddenly a thousand feet and discloses the entire length of Bear Creek valley, or the Little Fork of the Saskatchewan. This river takes its source in a fine glacier, enclosed by high and rough mountains, among which there are immense snow fields. From two arched caverns in the ice at the end of the glacier, a milky torrent issues, and after crossing a gravelly flat, enters a large lake which lies below your feet as you stand on the pass. This is Peyto Lake. Its blue waters are closely girt by a very densely wooded shore on every side. To the north- west a narrow valley stretches away in a straight line nearly sixty miles, which leads the North Fork and the Little Fork in opposite directions into the great Saskatchewan. The success of our expedition now seemed im- perilled by an unfortunate circumstance. From our elevated position on the summit of this pass we saw that a very extensive forest fire was raging some miles down the valley. The fire had started in the middle of a heavily timbered valley twenty-five miles long. Clouds of smoke were sweeping up the moun- tain slopes under the influence of a strong wind, and 146 ZTbe 1RocMc0 of Canaba at night we saw a ruddy glow with sparkling lights like the innumerable camp-fires of an invading army. Should we venture to cross the lines of this danger- ous enemy and compel a passage through his forces? Far into the night, grouped round our camp-fire, we discussed how fast the flames might travel, and what line of retreat we should adopt in an emergency. Having decided at length to take our chances of get- ting through, we descended next day into the valley. While on the march a remarkable incident occurred. As our horses were winding through a deep forest, a bird appeared which resembled a pine bull- finch, flitting from tree to tree and following us closely. Somewhat later, it gave the most remarka- ble instance of tameness that I have ever seen. Hav- ing followed us for about two miles, it waited in a tree during the bustle and confusion of making camp, but in the afternoon, when all was quiet, and some of our men were asleep, the bird became exceedingly familiar, walking on the ground near us and finally perching on our extended hands. It was soon evi- dent that the object of our visitor was to catch mos- quitoes, which were hovering in swarms around our heads. It pecked at a ring on my hand, at our needles, and in fact any metal article ; but the climax was reached when by accident the bird saw its own image in a small looking-glass which lay on the ground. Then, with extended wings and open bill, it uttered cries of rage and pecked madly at the glass in which an enemy appeared. Among the solitudes of mountain !iVJiVW:i^\'i\ii'A VYC vr •n>\; iri should ill an H:) t length to take our chai tin ' ^ next day into me v. ■h a deep bull- s Scntrce of Ike Little Fork of the Saskatchewan Rive7\ •x our i I image ground. t uttered .^^y^er ; in which an of mountain i.\^! n I Surrounbeb b)? IBununcj Zvcce 147 forests, squirrels, finches, and whiskey-jacks often show unusual confidence in man, but this particular instance was remarkable, because the bird would alight on our persons even after it had been momentarily though gently detained several times as a prisoner in my hand. Further investigation showed that it was possible to get our horses through the fire, which had spent its energy on a large extent of green timber ; so after three hours' travel from camp we came to the burn- ing trees, where the fire was advancing slowly, as there was a calm. Then came several miles of the recently burned area, now changed to a forest of blackened sticks, some of which were already fallen, with here and there a column of smoke rising from smouldering moss, and everything half concealed in a snowy covering of ashes. At the other edge of the fire there was more danger, and frequently some tree would flash up and send a scorching heat toward us. We were chiefly anxious that the packs should not take fire and cause a stampede among the horses ; so for a considerable distance we drove our animals along the edge of a lake and frequently waded deep in the water to avoid the heat of blazing trees. After an exhausting march of six hours we made our camp in a muskeg, or swamp, about half a mile from the fire. The wind, however, which had been increasing for a time, began to carry the fire toward us, and our situation soon became alarming when some heavy timber began to blaze and the columns 148 Z\)C IRocMes of Canaba of flame, shooting hundreds of feet into the air, made a terrifying roar, which caused our horses to stop feeding. At one time a funnel-shaped whirlwind about two hundred feet high formed over the heated area and remained there a few moments. At the rate of progress the fire was making, we should soon have been surrounded had we not packed up and moved a mile farther down the valley. The second camp was made by the side of a considerable stream, wide enough to stop the fire ; but toward evening cloud banners began to form at the peaks of the mountains, and next day, after many weeks of drought, rain fell steadily for ten hours and fortunately extinguished for a time the fires that were destroying this beautiful valley. Forest fires usually progress slowly, the moss and underbrush carrying the fire along from one tree to another. As the fire catches among the dry branches of a fresh tree it sweeps rapidly upward with a loud roar and sends a sheet of flames one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet into the air for two or three minutes. After the branches and foliage have been consumed the fire smoulders for a long time. In light forests and a calm atmos- phere such fires are not very dangerous, but where the trees are close and a high wind prevails, the flames leap from tree to tree in great tongues of flame. Sparks and brands carried heavenward by a furious draught, created in great part by the fire itself, start the flames in a thousand new places in prebl0torlc Jforest jHrcs 149 advance of the main column and accelerate its terrible speed. Clouds of dense smoke and blasts of air, like the breath of a furnace, precede the flame and wither up the green vegetation in preparation for its burning. Fires sometimes travel forty or fifty miles an hour, and from them there is no escape for any living thing— man, the wild animals, and even birds all perishing together. Though the forests have been more frequently burned since the arrival of white men, there are abundant proofs that fires occurred even before primitive man came among them. Traces of charcoal often appear where old trees have been uprooted by storm in a virgin forest. Charcoal may be found under the roots of trees near Lake Louise, some of which by actual count of their rings are three or four centuries old. 1 discovered a gravel bank near the station of Cascade, a few miles from Banff, which gave evidence of prehistoric forest fires. The river has cut under the bank and left a vertical face of clay and gravel, in which there are several thin layers of charcoal fragments, and under each a band of clay turned red by heat. These ancient fires were no doubt, as is often the case nowadays, started by lightning. After the forests have been burned over, the trees begin to fall and soon make hopeless ob- stacles to travel. A crop of purple fireweed, rasp- berries, willows, and other deciduous bushes springs up in a year or two in the dead timber. Young trees also appear very soon, sometimes growing spon- taneously throughout the burnt tract. I50 Zbe IRocMes of Canada A long day's march led us through miles of dense forest to the banks of the Saskatchewan River. The great valley here shows evidence of those broad grassy meadows which, some miles below, are called the " Kootenay Plains," where the Kootenay Indians meet to trade with the Crees and Stonies. Near our camp was a blazed tree with the initials of two pro- spectors and the pathetic legend " Raining— out of gi-u5_have gone up-stream." May this be another mysterious tragedy of the wilderness? A very large tributary, which we called the ''North Fork," comes in from the north-west and joins the main river about one mile above the Little Fork. This river is not correctly placed on Palliser's map, nor was there any available informa- tion about the region whence it comes. Even the Stony Indians who travel through these mountains know little of this river, because, it is said, many years ago one of their tribe was lost while hunting in that region, and they think he was destroyed by an evil spirit dwelling there. At all events, they will take no chances in visiting that territory now. Our route to the Athabasca, however, lay up this river, and our first duty was to find a ford across the Saskatchewan. A day was spent in find- ing a safe place, as the river was in summer flood, though not at its highest stage. Mr. Barrett, with characteristic energy, discovered a ford about one mile upstream, where the river spreads out among low sand islands to the width of nearly half a mile. iC DanK cuiey her lains, -h the c. camp VN :is a blazed tree with the h spect' rs and the pathetic legend *' Raining— out oi grub --have gone up-stream." May this be another mysterious tragedv ^ ' " ' ' ^ess? A very ' ""^ called the ">|r,rt^ r vp<^t and joi; +he Storm ill Little Fork Valley, ^ > r n ) a - tins rivc; igo one of their ^ • 'lion, anr' ^^'" : ■-' "'J it i^VV; hev will Oli er, la; this river, tmd a ■ Mild- !ood, bctiicu., with '^''' about one out among nearly half a mile. XKae iBntcv tbe lllneiplorcb TRcgion 151 A sense of relief came when, the next day, after fording the turbulent Little Fork, we had crossed the main river, which is of great size at this point, only thirty miiles from its most distant source, and were safely on its north side. Turning north- ward along a high bluff, we came in a short time to the North Fork, which appears to equal the so- called Middle Fork, or main river. About one mile above its mouth the North Fork flows between rocky banks, and there is a fall or rapid in a con- stricted channel blocked by immense masses of fallen cliff, where the water surges in foaming breakers and dark whirlpools. For a mile or so above this fall there is a fine trail through a light pine forest, and then comes a burnt area with trees crossed in such confusion that it required two hours to make half a mile, and we were so much delayed here that our progress for the day could not have been more than three miles in nearly six hours. On the following two days we advanced about ten miles up the valley, having a trail wherever there were green forests, but suffering much delay from burnt timber and muskegs. On one occasion, when marching along a steep bank of the river, a pack-horse stumbled among loose logs and rolled over into a deep pool. The horse was carrying over two hundred pounds of flour, a burden that kept it for a short time at the bottom of the river, but after some violent struggles it came right side up and climbed out. No damage was done, however, as 152 Zbc IRocWee of Canaba flour absorbs water only to a slight depth, and very soon makes an impervious layer on the outside. Ten miles up the river a stream from the west unites with the North Fork. As the two streams are about equal in size, we were at a loss which one to follow in order to reach the Athabasca. In order to get a more extended view of the country, an ascent was made of a mountain which lies between the two rivers. On the summit, at an altitude of eighty-four hundred feet, it was seen that the west- ern stream takes its source in a large glacier about twelve miles distant. A fair idea of the branch streams was given by the valley openings, but it must be confessed that less is known about this river than of any other source of the Saskatchewan under discussion. As a result of this ascent, we were firm in the belief that our route did not lie up the west- ern branch. The other valley, however, seemed exceedingly deep, and canyon-like, in the very short distance that it was visible at all. Though the air was smoky from forest fires, in spite of considerable rainy weather of late, I tried some photographic work, and during a brief but fatal moment, when I was reaching for a plate-holder, the strong wind blew my camera over and broke it badly on the rough limestone rocks. The most fragile parts, the ground glass and lens, fortunately escaped, while the wood and brass work were in pieces. With a tool box carried for such emergencies, the camera was reconstructed after a few hours' labour, and did Difficultiee of Jforbing IRivers 153 excellent work later in the trip. Our men returned in the evening, and reported that there was a trail in the deep valley to the north-west. The next two days we advanced only about ten miles because of the uncertainty of the trails, the rough nature of the forests, and repeated crossings of the river. Our progress was slow, in spite of our custom of having one or two men explore and cut out the trail for the next day as far as possible each afternoon. In this place, the river is at the bottom of a narrow valley, the sides of which are smooth prec- ipices, adorned here and there by clumps of trees clinging to the ledges. Streams and springs from far above came down in delicate curtains of spray or graceful waterfalls wafted from side to side by every breeze. The flood of glacial waters sweeps over a gravel-wash in a network of channels, with the main body of water swinging from one side to another of the valley and washing against steep or inaccessible banks. This condition of things caused us to cross and recross the stream almost constantly, and, though the fords were in general not more than three feet deep, the icy waters ran with such force that our crossings were not without excitement. In spite of the best judgment and care of the packers, our horses got beyond their depth several times and had to swim across. As the saddle-horses are guided by riders, they rarely lose their footing, but the pack-animals, coming along in a bunch, confused by the shouting of the men and the roar of the rapids, hesitate and 154 ^be IRocmes of Canada often enter the river a little above or below^ the best ford, and so get into deep water. Dangerous rapids or a logjam below make such occasions critical, not alone for the safety of the horses, but even for the success of an expedition in case a large quantity of provisions is lost. Pack-horses cannot swim very far with their tight cinches ; and moreover the icy waters of these mountain streams paralyse their muscles very quickly. The trail at length leaves the river, and makes a rapid ascent through forests on the east side of the valley, so that in an hour we had gained a thousand feet. Through the trees we caught glimpses of mag- nificent scenery : the uniting streams in the canyon bottom, the mountain sides heavily timbered or rising into snow summits, and to the west an immense glacier, which was the source of the largest stream. The North Fork was rapidly dividing into its ultimate tributaries. The sound of mountain streams falling in cascades, the picturesque train of horses, each animal cautiously picking a safe passage along the rocky pathway ; the splendid trees around us, our great height, and the tremendous grandeur of the mountain scenery, all helped to make our surroundings most enjoyable. Above the sound of wind in the forest, there was presently heard the roar of a waterfall, and half a mile beyond we saw a large stream apparently bursting from the top of a fine precipice and falling in one magnificent leap down a great height. Through a notch in the mountains, there was another fall visible Searcb for a pass 155 some miles distant fully twice as high as the one near us. It was learned later that every stream de- scended into the canyon by a fall and succession of cascades. We camped in a beautiful wooded valley with much open country at an altitude of sixty-three hun- dred feet above the sea. Near our tents was the river, which at this place is a comparatively small stream of crystal clear water. In the afternoon 1 as- cended, with one of the men, a small mountain which lay to the west of our camp. From this sum- mit two passes were visible, one five miles to the north and the other more distant and toward the north-west. The view to the west was more ex- tended. There was a large straight glacier directly before us, the one we had seen earlier in the day, which supplies the greater part of the water of the North Fork. At least six or seven miles of this glacier is visible, and it may extend much farther be- hind the intervening mountains. The glacier has no terminal moraine, and slopes by a very even grade to a thin knife-like edge, in which it terminates. The next day Mr. Barrett went off to climb, if possible, a mountain over eleven thousand feet in al- titude, north of our camp, while one of the packers and 1 started to explore the pass to the north-west. The other packer spent part of the day investigating the other pass. This division of labour was a great saving of time. At our conference that evening, which did not occur till midnight, when the last 156 Zhc IRocMce of Canaba member came into camp, it was decided that the pass to the north seemed unfavourable as a route to the Athabasca. Mr. Barrett failed in his ascent because the mountain was more distant than it appeared. The pass to the north-west was more favourable, and on the next day we moved our camp so as to be al- most on the summit. The last and longest branch of the North Fork comes from a small glacial lake on one side of a meadow-like summit and at the base of a splendid mountain, a complex mass of rocky aretes and hanging glaciers. Fred Stephens discovered that the route which first appeared most promising was blocked by a can- yon. There remained a high grassy pass to the right, and here, after reaching an elevation of 8000 feet, we were encouraged by seeing a long valley running north-west, which we knew must be some part of the Athabasca River. Thus the most critical part of our expedition, the discovery of a pass between the Sas- katchewan and Athabasca, was safely accomplished. A group of very high mountains lay to the south- west, and the higher we climbed on the neighbouring slopes the more stupendous did their altitude appear, especially through the mystic pall of smoke from forest fires. I made a rough measurement of one of the highest of that group, but found its altitude only about 11,500 feet. Descending two thousand feet next day through the forest, our horses scrambling down steep slopes without any trail, we came to the flat gravel beds of the Sun Wapta River. Violent •Keacb fortress Xake 157 gusts of wind roaring through the trees, clouds of dust sweeping over the exposed flats, and the rushing swirl of torrential streams seemed to accentuate the wild grandeur around us. We pursued our way down the Sun Wapta River for six days and saw it become a deep boulder-strewn torrent impossible to ford. One day we saw a bear and two cubs across the river, so near the noisy rapids that they did not hear us. Barrett killed one of the cubs at long range. We got our first view of the muddy Athabasca from the top of a level terrace, of which there are three in this valley. As we ap- proached the ford of the Sun Wapta, a raven circled around our heads croaking dismally, but we got our horses safely across in spite of the ill omen. Marching six hours a day we turned due south, following the main river. Barrett and 1 went ahead and quickly selected a way through the timber while the men urged the horses at a fast pace behind us. Thus we plunged through ravines, up and down steep banks and around impassable wind-falls, being frequently delayed when cutting through heavy tim- ber. On the second day we crossed a large river which comes from the south-east, and three hours after crossing it we arrived at " Fortress Lake " named by Coleman and Stuart. This was the termination of our journey with horses, which had required twenty-six days' marching to accomplish. Ten days besides had been consumed in various delays, incidental to forest fires, finding 158 Zhc IRocl^iee of Canada fords, and exploring valleys and passes through the wilderness, parts of which were absolutely unmapped and untravelled before our expedition. At Fortress Lake we were so near the Athabasca Pass that any mountains, such as Brown or Hooker, could be seen and measured from the neighbouring heights. It remained now to lay out abase line and commence triangulation of the surrounding region, but before referring to this work, a brief description of the neighbourhood is in order. Our camp was in a grove of spruces near the lake. The shore is flat and rather swampy, while the water is shallow for some distance and very much crowded with a mass of water-worn tree trunks. Some had been stranded on the shore at a time when the lake level was considerably higher, and others, having become water-logged, were sunk in deeper water, where they fairly covered the bottom and projected their bare branches and grotesquely shaped roots above the surface. The lake is about one mile wide and apparently very long. I calculated the distance to a sand-bank down the lake to be five and one- quarter miles. A very imposing mountain lies on the south side of the lake, and another on the north rises more than five thousand feet above the water. But where were Brown and Hooker ? Straight be- fore us to the west, a massive glacier-bearing peak seemed at first as though it might answer for one of them. It was in the right place to be very near the Athabasca Pass, and though its height did not seem H 1bi9b peaU Discovered 159 great, the amount of ice which covered its entire east face and its distance may have deceived us. On August 17th Barrett and I set out to climb the peak north of the lake in order to discover the loca- tion of the highest mountains. We had a long and tiresome walk, through a heavy forest, and dis- covered a very old trail, so much blocked, however, by fallen trees as to be almost useless. After reach- ing a point about forty-five hundred feet above the valley, the weather became threatening, and I set up my camera at once and took a set of views around the horizon. The clouds formed constantly a few yards above my head, but I got the distant mountains, though the smoke and gloom made the results very poor. Barrett continued up the mount- ain, though the climb involved some rather perilous work among rotten limestone cliffs. He reached the summit, which is about ninety-six hundred feet high, where the clouds shut out everything from view. From my point; I could see an immense glacier, the source of the Athabasca, ten or twelve miles to the south. The clouds opened a moment and dis- closed what appeared to be by far the highest and fmest peak that I had seen on the entire journey, ten miles to the south-west. It was a wedge-shaped peak, rising from a very long and precipitous wall of rock, which seemed to be over ten thousand feet high. The next two days Barrett and Stephens were occupied in building a raft, on which we hoped to i6o Zbc 1RockiC0 of Canada reach the other end of the lake. The sound of their axes was continuallyheard among some well-seasoned dead trees, about a quarter of a mile down the shore. While this work was going forward, I measured a base line. The only level place of any length proved to be in the lake itself. 1 laid out a line of stakes in eighteen inches of water and set up my gradienter at either end. It was bitterly cold work in ice-cold water. From my first short base line 1 calculated a longer one, and then found the distance of the high mountain, which we supposed might be Mt. Hooker, to be a little more than seventeen miles. The work- ing out of the final logarithms to get the height was very exciting, and everyone waited impatiently, as I added up the final figures. "Well, the mountain is over twelve thousand eight hundred feet high, anyway," said I, much pleased at the result, which would make this the highest measured mountain in southern Canada. The excitement of the calculation must have been too great for accuracy, however, as 1 found a moment later. In wandering around among tangents and sines, I had gotten in the wrong column somewhere, and after a hasty revision, Mt. Hooker fell twenty-three hundred feet and came down to ten thousand five hundred feet never to rise again, and our enthusiasm fell with it. Meanwhile Stephens and Barrett had built a fine and seaworthy raft. Leaving Tom Lusk in charge of our main camp, on August 19th we piled our luggage on the raft and commenced a voyage to the other end .^^XiA !eir ..iDOLll . xe itselt. .:hes of water and set up my gr. lid. It was bitterly cold work in ice-coid om my first short base line 1 calculated a -rone, ' ' ' tance of the high ' " 'U. Hooker, ^•>^- \xrork- F or tress Lake. iiest n nes, 1 had got jfter a ha- fell twenty-three hundred isand five hundred I ism fell V laiL. Lt:' lie wrong column ^. Mt. down to again, a a nne >i large of -ur luggage ' the other end an flntereeting IDopage bown tbe Xake i6i of the lake. The raft was built of about ten large logs, fifteen feet long, firmly bound together with ropes, which, shrinking in the water, became very tight after a short time. Branches were laid cross- wise to keep our blankets and provisions above the water, and this pile of stuff made a place for two of us to sit upon. The other two sat on boxes forward. Each of these managed an oar which had been roughly hewn by Fred Stephens. Some crosspieces nailed together and to the side of the raft with steel spikes, which we had brought for the purpose, made oar-locks. Our raft, with four of us, carried a burden of more than a thousand pounds. Many speculations were made as to the time that would be required to reach the other end of the lake, and these ranged all the way from six hours to three days. After saying farewell to Tom Lusk we sailed at 6.40 a.m. Our plan was for two men to row in alternate turns of ex- actly thirty minutes. The heavy raft moved with surprising and pleasing speed, as the logs were pointed at both ends. We made a straight course and kept near the south shore as a protection against the wind. The water of this lake is very clear, but there were a number of small cray-fish to be seen as we went along, and I have observed that this is usually a sign of the absence of fish. It is indeed a surprising fact that this splendid body of water has no fish. It is only forty-two hundred feet above sea-level and abounds in food, for we saw thousands of moths and grasshoppers floating on the water. i62 XTbe IRockiee of Cauaba The scenery is very fine, and those of us who were not engaged in rowing had an opportunity to study the forests and mountains on either side of the blue lake. In about three hours we passed the mouth of a large stream, which comes from a glacier several miles south of the lake. A wind sprang up about ten o'clock and roughened the lake, but we were well protected by staying close to the shore, while on the opposite side, we could see the white- caps running. Sometimes our course led us very close to the rocky shores, which were covered with a growth of immense spruces, or in places, where snow-slides had swept the forest away, there was an impassable jungle of spreading alder, willow, and birch bushes. Our steady progress was a constant source of delight, when we thought of the infinite obstacles an overland scramble on such a shore would have presented. After the fourth hour of rowing we approached a small island having a single tree upon it. We passed through a narrow channel between it and the shore. Here the lake makes a turn to the left, and so brought us against the full sweep of the wind, which was driving a heavy surf through the narrow channel between the island and the rocky shore. It so happened that Arnold and 1 had just finished our half-hour of rowing and should have changed, but the wind and sea had become suddenly so rough that it seemed perilous to move around. In fact, for a time, we were a little doubtful how the old raft a Bivouac in tbc 1Rain 163 would behave. The waves swept over her decks, but, fortunately, could not reach our luggage, which was on an elevated platform. The end of the lake now appeared not more than a mile and a half dis- tant, and as we approached, the water became quieter. After five and a quarter hours of rowing our trusty craft began to glide through a growth of water-weeds and rough equisetums, and finally scraped upon the sandy shore of the western end of Fortress Lake. We were delighted with the place, which was a hard, level bank of gravel, covered with an open growth of evergreens. Circles of Dryas, a rosaceous plant, which spreads over the ground from a common centre, and puts forth a margin of leaves and blossoms at the outer edge of the circle, covered the gravelly ground. We caught a number of small frogs and fried their legs for luncheon. In the afternoon, 1 laid out another base line in the lake as at the other end, and con- tinued survey work on the nearer mountains. It rained hard in the night, and though we had no tent, and were sleeping on the ground, we man- aged to keep dry by covering ourselves with rubber and canvas sheets. The weather was so thick with smoke and clouds that nothing could be done in sur- vey work the next day, and it looked as though we should be defeated in this purpose, as our time was limited by our provisions, both here and at our main camp. Friday, the 21st, fortunately broke clear and calm. i64 Zhc IRocMce of Canaba Arnold and I took the raft and rowed to a point on the north shore of the lake, and then ascended a mountain 8450 feet high. I carried my camera and surveying instruments. On the summit of this mountain, which is a long ridge, 1 built two cairns about half a mile apart and took angles on the high triangular peak to the south and also on Mt. Hooker. The amount of work necessary in signalling, build- ing cairns, which should be visible from the valley, taking notes of angles and photographing, delayed us, so we did not commence our descent of four thousand feet until half-past six. We narrowly es- caped being overtaken in the woods by darkness, but reached the raft just at nightfall. I spent the next day triangulating the two cairns on the summit of the mountain we had climbed. My final results gave me 1 1,450 feet as the height of this peak, which is higher than all others within a radius of many miles. The other high mountain, which we supposed to be Mt. Hooker, proved to be 10,505 feet. The results from the two short base lines at a distance of nine and seventeen miles showed a difference of less than two hundred feet between them. The results were based on a height of 4175 feet for Fortress Lake, which depended on compari- sons of my two aneroids, with simultaneous observa- tions of a mercurial barometer at Lake Louise, one hundred miles distant. On the 23rd, Barrett and 1 left camp in a final at- tempt to see and photograph these mountains from Source of tbe Moot) IRlver 165 a nearer point, and for this purpose we set out down the Wood River valley. We crossed the Wood River, a swift, clear stream, which comes from Fort- ress Lake, and we had all we could do to keep our footing. A larger, muddy stream comes down a side valley, less than a mile from the lake, and joins the Wood River. After that it was impossible to cross and we remained on the south bank. We walked about eight miles down the valley, and encountered in some places a jungle, very similar to those of the Selkirks. The Oregon grape and mountain ash, which are characteristic of the western slope of the Summit Range, were abundant, and even the prickly Devil's Club appeared, much to our regret. There was no path except one about six inches wide, and no blaze marks on the trees, so that this is, in all probability, nothing but a game trail. We reached a place at length where the Wood River be- gins to descend into a canyon. Through a valley to the south, the great triangular peak rose, dimly out- lined in the smoky air, but making one of the grand- est mountain views that 1 have ever seen. Because of our low altitude, this peak rose nearly eight thou- sand feet above us. May not this be the secret of Douglas's false estimates on Brown and Hooker ? We reached camp at one o'clock, and made lunch- eon of corn-meal, bacon, and stewed apples, which were the last provisions we had. Our men had rigged up two poles on the raft, and were prepared to stretch a laro:e canvas sheet between them. In a 1 66 Zhc IRockiee of Canada stiff wind we set sail and made wonderfully rapid time down the lake, which is about eight miles long, so that we reached the lower end in three and three- quarters hours without the use of oars. We had now been out forty-four days, or three- fourths of the time for which our provisions had been calculated. Moreover, in the accident to our horses in the muskegs of the Bow, much of our food had been destroyed. An anxious calculation was made of every article of food left, and though we had re- quired five weeks to reach this place, we found pro- visions enough to last us only fourteen days. Two meals a day, and light ones at that, were the regula- tions put into effect at once. Our dog had a remarkable adventure on the return journey. One day Barrett decided to climb a high ridge near our line of march, his idea being to come down and join us at the other end without delaying our progress. Unfortunately the dog followed him till at a certain point the cliff became too steep for his climbing ability. The poor animal then probably returned to our camp, but of course found the place deserted, as we had been for some time on the march. ISIo dog appeared at our camp that night, and a day or two later, after we had given up hope of ever seeing him again, we were discussing his probable fate, as to whether he would get wounded by porcupines and die of starvation, or turn into a wild dog and live some years in the wilderness. We were camped on a gravel flat Q\xv 'BoQ'e Strange Ht)venture 167 where the river, in flood, had stranded many old stumps of fantastic shape. In the fading twilight it was easy to imagine the forms of bears and other wild denizens of the forest amid the gnarled roots. "Say, Tom," said Fred Stephens, "does n't that stump look powerful like a dog sitting out there on the flat? " *M believe it is a dog," said Tom, and with that he called, when, to our surprise, what had appeared a stump wagged its tail and came run- ning into camp. It was indeed our lean, hungry, and forlorn dog. We have often wondered whether on finding our camp deserted on the first day he ran back part or all the way to Fortress Lake, more than fifty miles distant, and then another ninety miles to the camp where he found us. CHAPTER IX PLAN TO EXPLORE AN INTERESTING REGION — DESOLATION VALLEY — UNUSUAL AUGUST SNOW-STORMS — FIRST VIEW OF MORAINE LAKE — ITS MARVELLOUS BEAUTY — WE IN- VESTIGATE A NEIGHBOURING STREAM — ALPINE LAKES — SLOW PROGRESS THROUGH THE PATHLESS WOODS — A DESERTED MINING CAMP — FIND SOME USEFUL PROVIS- IONS — OUR HORSES DISAPPEAR — ALONE IN THE WILDER- NESS — RELIEF AT LAST — MAGNIFICENT VIEW OF THE VERMILION PASS — ANOTHER LARGE LAKE DISCOVERED — CURIOUS IMPURITIES IN THE WATER — EXPLORE TWO VAL- LEYS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA — A PROSPECTOR'S CAMP — PEYTO'S HORSES LEAVE HIM — A TREACHEROUS RAFT — BAFFLED BY MINERS' TRAILS — REAL SOURCE OF THE VERMILION A REGION that is sure to be popular in the near future lies south of Lake Louise. For many years it had been an object of my ambition to explore this part of the Rockies, which, though skirted on two sides by the railroad, was not mapped in its interior. That there were many wonders of natural scenery hidden away among those rugged peaks seemed most probable. But it was not till 1899 that I could arrange my plans to visit this easily accessible part of the mountains. It might be described as the Summit Range of the 168 Zo lEyplore an Unterestlng IRegion 169 Rockies between the Bow River on the east, the Vermilion and Ottertail rivers on the west, the Kick- ing Horse Pass on the north, and the Vermilion Pass on the south. It was my idea to skirt round the outer edge of this nearly rectangular block of mount- ains, whose area was about three hundred square miles, and to ascend every stream and valley which offered a route into the interior. To facilitate our progress through an unmapped and trailless region, where good nature and patience would, no doubt, be put to the final test in over- coming countless unforeseen obstacles, 1 reduced my outfit to the minimum size. It consisted of one man, Ross Peecock, upon whose good nature I justly placed great reliance, and four horses, two of which we rode. We left the chalet at Lake Louise on the 1 3th of August, and crossing the bridge which had recently been made over the stream from the lake, left the trail and entered the woods. Following a nearly level traverse, we reached the mouth of Paradise Valley in two hours. Our journey for the next two or three hours was through swampy meadows or heavy forests, till at length the slopes falling away to the south, and glimpses of new mountains appear- ing through the trees, showed that Desolation Val- ley had been reached. The woods were open and easy to travel. As we descended some gently slop- ing meadows, the grand range of jagged peaks on the south of Desolation Valley came into view. A I70 Zbc 1RocWe0 of Canada few minutes later we were at the border of the valley stream, which flows in shallow rapids over a bed of rusty-coloured stones. We made camp higher up the valley, where the stream expands to a width of one hundred yards and makes a chain of pools decorated with low islands. A strong south wind and threatening sky caused us to put our tent up quickly, as a storm could be seen coming over the mountains, and in a short time a warm summer rain was falling. Showers fell during the night and developed into a continuous downpour all the following day. It grew cooler, and in the early evening a slight whit- ening of snow appeared on the flanks of Mt. Temple, opposite us. About ten o'clock at night the rain suddenly changed to snow. A foot of snow lay on the ground in the morn- ing and the storm continuing all day, added another six inches by evening. This August snow-storm, at an altitude of less than six thousand feet, is the most remarkable freak of weather that I have ever experienced. The snow-storm ceased in the night and by morn- ing there were signs of clearing. The snow settled rapidly, though there was but little sun. Overcome by our enforced idleness of two days, I set out in the afternoon for a tramp up the valley. Some years before, Allen and I had seen a fine lake in this valley from the sides of Mt. Temple, and 1 hoped now to find it. I walked about a mile and a half and came flDoralne Xake i;i to a ravine, where a roaring cascade, encumbered with logs and great boulders, comes out of the valley to the south-east. I got across on a slippery log, and after another mile, came to a massive pile of stones, where the water gurgles as it rushes along in sub- terranean channels. Ascending a ridge about fifty feet high, there lay before me one of the most beauti- ful lakes that I have ever seen. This lake, which 1 called ''Moraine Lake," from the ridge of glacial formation at its lower end, is about a mile and a half long. A green forest covers the north shore, while the opposite side is overhung by a high precipice. Two large piles of debris from the mountains dip into the lake and encroach upon its surface in semicircular lines. An imposing cliff, like a Tower of Babel, makes a grand terminus to the range of mountains on this side of the valley. Beyond the water is a succession of high peaks ris- ing five or six thousand feet above it, with a few short glaciers among them. The water is very clear and of the characteristic blue-green colour. A num- ber of logs were floating on it in various places, while others crowded the shore and raised the water level by damming up the outlet stream. Part of the water escapes by subterranean channels among the quartzite and shale ledges of the moraine, and the rest flows out at the north-west end through an im- mense mass of logs. 1 think these trees have been stripped down by snow-slides and hurled into the lake during some recent winter. 1 72 Zbc IRocl^ies of Canada At the time of my arrival the lake was partly calm and reflected the rough escarpments and cliffs from its surface. No scene has ever given me an equal impression of inspiring solitude and rugged grandeur. 1 stood on a great stone of the moraine where, from a slight elevation, a magnificent view of the lake lay before me, and while studying the details of this unknown and unvisited spot, spent the happiest half-hour of my life. Elated with this beautiful discovery, I followed the ridge, and after crossing the outlet stream, went back to camp by a different route, firmly decided that no time should be lost in moving our camp to the shores of Moraine Lake. I related my trip to Ross while we ate supper and picked the bones of a grouse we had killed. We were up at five o'clock the next morning. The weather was beautifully clear and only six inches of snow were left. A potentilla, a bushy plant covered with bright yellow flowers, which grew inside our tent, had cheered us for several stormy days. Out of the thousands of flowers in this valley, it alone had escaped the snow by the chance of our tent's protection. However, one of our hungry horses noticed the plant as the only green thing in sight and quickly consumed it. We reached the lake in an hour and made camp a short distance down the left bank. The snow was completely gone near its shore, because, for some reason, much less had fallen here than farther ''TLerflfi^^^ :is partly slight - . . before me, and studying th- unknown and unvisited spot, iest half-h ny life. • discovery, I followed li U't stream, went b 'v decided ihn ' Moraine Lake. 'n ihe ne of only ■t camp Dank. ; tie snow SI iv^oo ■. 11 ii<^i' iin larxner It0 m>arveUou0 Beauti? 1 73 down the valley. We spread our blankets on the ground in the bright sun, to dry. While Ross was putting things in order 1 hurried over to the moraine ridge with my large camera and photographed the lake. The effects were fine, and some misty clouds were rolling over the high mountain peaks. While I was at this Ross caught a fme trout, which we ate for lunch. In the afternoon we walked to the other end of the lake and, though the country was open, were surprised to fmd that it required forty minutes. From this end a narrow gorge may be seen across the lake, above which is a hanging glacier and an imposing snow mountain of great height. The woods in this part of the valley had been burnt over a long time ago. The new trees are about fifty years old, so that the general appearance is that of a green forest. Some of the trees destroyed by the old fire were very large, as is shown by logs three or four feet in diameter. The mountains roared all day. Repeated ava- lanches of snow came from Mt. Temple, and the long winding streams could be seen moving among the cliffs, attended by a noise like thunder. In the evening a considerable rock-slide fell on a slope across the lake. Several great masses of stone came off the mountain and descended in tremendous leaps, making a ripping sound like that of a cannon-ball. One of these struck a large stone and burst into pieces with a loud report and a cloud of dust. The site of our camp was delightful. The ground 174 ^be IRocklee of Canada was smooth and hard and had a slight slope towards the water. The seasoned driftwood along the shore made the best kind of camp-fire and the balsam trees behind our tent gave us fine flat boughs for our beds. From a large log in the lake, just in front of our tent, we caught ten trout in the evening. We got a long pole and attached two hooks to the smaller end. To the other, we tied a line, and then giving the pole a shove, it carried the hooks far out into the lake. In a moment the pole could be seen to move and then to swim away, this way and that, showing a fish had taken the bait. We soon had all we wanted and a great swarm of hungry fish appeared in the clear water under our floating dock. They are a kind of speckled trout, and the largest was seventeen and one-half inches long, though none were less than fourteen inches. We had fresh fish from the lake at five minutes' notice for every meal thereafter. A stream enters the valley about one mile below the lake. It comes from the south-east beyond the curious and impressive rock cliff, which we called the Tower of Babel. On the 19th we started to explore the valley whence it came. I carried my camera, and Ross our luncheon and a pail in which to make hot coffee. Just as we were off, the sun came over the mountain and illumined our pretty tent with a flood of light, while the dark lake and cliff beyond seemed almost gloomy by contrast. We scrambled over the log dam and the massive ledges of the moraine, to the other side. The woods were a 1Rel0bbounn0 Stream 175 moist with night dew and a myriad drops of water, like rounded diamonds, were delicately poised on the tender leaves of the white-flowered rhododendron. No other bush holds so much rain or dew on its foliage, and to avoid the showers we used long sticks to shake them as we advanced. We climbed to the base of the Tower of Babel in half an hour, and looked down into a new valley. It was not far to the stream, and in a short time we stood upon its bank. Open woods made our way easy through this new and pleasing region. Suddenly a long stretch of water opened before us and disclosed a beautiful scene. Beyond the pretty banks of the stream, lined with birch and willow bushes, appeared in the distance an Alpine peak, fringed with a narrow border of ice near its tooth-like crest. In the middle distance on the left stood a forest, while on the right, there was an open grassy meadow. The shallow stream flowed gently in an extended channel, where the quiet surface, interrupted by stones or the ripples of slow moving water, reflected the distant peak. Every- thing in these surroundings helped to make one of the most beautiful pictures that I have ever seen in the Rockies. I was very anxious for a photograph of this spot, so while Ross lay on a mossy bank, I searched for a good position and endeavoured to group the bushy banks and mountains in har- monious lines. We were very much pleased with the place, and Ross suggested that, since the other was called Desolation Valley, we might call this 176 ^be IRocUies of Canada ''Consolation Valley," a name that seemed quite appropriate. On the south side of this valley is a rock pre- cipice, commencing with the Tower of Babel, and then gradually increasing in height eastward, till it terminates in the Alpine peak just described. The face of the wall is more nearly perpendicular than any I have seen. Some of the cliffs, for nearly a thousand feet, must have an angle of between eighty-five and eighty-eight degrees, while the extreme height is about four thousand feet from the valley. We followed the stream for some distance and came to a small lake. Beyond this was another, of similar size, separated from it only by a narrow ridge of stones. Leaving Ross at the first and telling him to expect me back in two hours, I continued to ex- plore the valley. The second lake rests against a glacier which discharges pieces of ice and solid snow into the water. Some of these were floating about like small icebergs, and others were stranded on rough stones of the shore. The ripples were flash- ing in sunlight, and some ducks were swimming over the water. Among the massive ledges of this old moraine a few birds were flitting about, and I was delighted to hear again the plaintive song of the white-crested sparrow. This was a characteristic upland lake of the Rockies, where glaciers, moraine, and forest made a perfect picture of Alpine beauty. I walked round the lake to the music of rivulets and the frightened squeak of picas through meadows of ;te ii the Alpine peak just describ le wall is more nearly perper i have seen. Some of the cliffs, for nearly a et, must have an angle of between eighty-tive and ghty-eight extreme height is about fo! lUey. '"' distance and another, of Co7isolation Valley. n'^rrow rid^e I Of him rough St ing in su;.. over the wa old moraine was delighted to h isted spill d lake of the lade a i . V 1 A <^ Vi O <. ^M' <^ swimming vlIl of this ing about, and I itive song of the a characteristic {laciers, moraine, Upine beauty. I of rivulets and : . meadows of flowers, recently covered by snow and beaten down by storms, but as fresh and bright in colour as ever. The blue sky above was flecked by snowy clouds, and the sun's heat made frequent avalanches of ice on the opposite mountain. 1 climbed more than one thousand feet on the ridge north-east of the lake, and saw two passes, one opening to the east, and the other on the left, proba- bly into the Bow valley. Later explorations would solve these problems. As I was climbing, the sky suddenly thickened and became threatening. The air grew colder and seemed to be ready for snow, so that as a sufficient height had been reached to com- mand a view of the entire valley, I returned to the lake where Ross was waiting. Here I had a delicious lunch of bread, marmalade, and coffee. We followed the stream bank and had an easy trip back to our camp. In the evening we caught a dozen trout to take with us on the next day's march, for it was now necessary to continue our journey towards the Vermilion Pass. August 20th. The weather was threatening in the morning. Bands of mist swept above the lake and against the mountains, driven by strong winds in opposite directions, making grand cloud effects. We bade farewell to Moraine Lake about 10.30, and followed the left bank of the stream, past our first camp, to where this valley opens into that of the Bow. Here we turned south, crossed the stream, and commenced to ascend the ridge which faces the 178 Zbc IRocMee ot Canaba Bow valley. We soon got into a dense forest on a steep slope, where very slow progress was made in spite of much chopping of wood and urging of horses. Thinking it best to get above the tree-line, we as- cended, and for a time, had easy travel, but presently came to a long rock-slide, which it was impossible to get above or to cross. Nothing was left but to descend and lose all our hard-earned climb. These rock-slides are barren piles of broken, lichen-covered stones of considerable size, easy for a man to scram- ble over, but impossible for horses. Several hundred feet below we found a way for the pack animals, and about evening, made camp in the woods on the mountain side, 6600 feet above sea-level. On this shady north slope some snow from the great storm was still left. As we unpacked it commenced to rain, and a drizzle continued until morning. 1 had learned from Wilson that about opposite the station of Eldon, there is an old copper mine and several log shacks built by the miners, but abandoned long since. As it was in an upland park of great beauty, it seemed well to make it a camping place on our trip. So the following day we ascended wherever any obstacle appeared and gradually in- creased our altitude. Heavy timber and swampy places with moss-covered rock-slides gave us great difficulty. Ross and 1 led alternately, for it appeared that the responsibility of finding a way through the unending obstacles and of cutting trees entailed too much labour for either one constantly. Two hours of Slow procjrese 179 such work were enough to exhaust all of one's good temper and patience. It was surprising with what a will and dash either of us would commence to lead the procession, and how, after a time, this gave way to hopeless despair. Then from the front something like this would be heard. " It is absolutely impossi- ble to get through here. There is a rock-slide on one side and the timber is piled five feet high on the other." ''Then why don't you go ahead?" came from the rear. " Because I am standing on the edge of a cliff twenty feet high." About such times we simply changed leadership, and while one rested his nerves, the other used his in making a slow advance. About mid-afternoon we came to an old trail which descended the slope and soon led us to groves of Lyall's larch and upland meadows. The miners' cabins appeared above us, and in half an hour we were unsaddling our horses in this miniature deserted village. Some immense larches covered the ridge and the place was delightfully open and beautiful. These Alpine meadows have a wealth of colouring impossible to describe. In the short grass a multi- tude of antennarias grow ; their leaves covered with a whitish down, which makes a silver sheen when wet with rain and turns the drops to pearls. The square-stemmed white and purple bryanthus revels in these meadows, and above them the heads of ane- mones and the varied-coloured painted-cup, with pur- ple, scarlet, yellow, white, or greenish flowers, make a gay display of colour. These are the commonest I So ZTbe IRocWes of Cana^a plants, but you will see bluebells, larkspur, vale- rian, forget-me-nots, and many others among them. After the horses were turned loose and our tent set up, Ross and 1 investigated the old shacks. They were low houses about twelve feet square and built of logs. Inside one of them were some rough sleeping places, strewn with boughs. There were two bags of flour and several others containing coffee, beans, or sugar. In a rough cupboard, made of a box nailed to the wall, were several dozen tins of tomatoes, condensed milk, and various condi- ments. An iron stove was rusting under the leaky roof, and the porcupines had played havoc with the flour and other accessible food, much of which was valueless. We took a supply of condensed milk, sugar, corn-starch, and tomatoes, to eke out our pile of provisions, and used some golden syrup, which we discovered, to flavour our flap-jacks. Ross knew how to make them remarkably light and wholesome. The other shack was dry and in far better condi- tion, but offered nothing to our purpose. Suspended by a cotton string to a rusty nail in the roof, was a case labelled '' Five Hundred Detonating Caps," and a few feet away on the floor was a heavy box labelled " Powder," which probably contained enough ex- plosive to tear a hole in the mountain and arouse the natives from Banff to Laggan. During the afternoon it rained, but in the night it grew much colder and began to snow. The weather was still dubious in the morning, though the sun a De9erte^ riDinina Camp iSi broke through the clouds by noon. I ascended a ridge beyond the copper mine, which was not far distant, to a height of eight thousand feet, and got a fine view of the Bow valley from beyond the Vermilion Pass to the river's source, a sweep of about forty-five miles. In the afternoon I went into a beautiful open vale, west of our camp, and after climbing the ridge beyond, looked down on a fine lake nearly a mile in length. It lay several hundred feet below, and after a rapid descent through a thick woods, I found myself by the shore. A small glac- ier and a barren pile of moraine debris were seen beyond the lake, while the slopes on either side were more cheerful sweeps of forests and green slides. The shore is flat and mossy, and some purple asters and bright castilleias made a pretty colouring among the rough quartzite stones and broken timber lining the water's edge. Two young ducks were playing on the blue water. The lake sends a considerable stream towards the Bow and is joined not far from the lake by another which comes from the open vale near our camp. I crossed the outlet stream on floating logs, which had drifted from the lake, and climbed a high ridge on the other side. The top of this was a mass of tottering cliffs, so much disintegrated by frost and weather that they seemed dangerous to approach. From this 1 saw another short valley, with several small lakes, the lowest of which is crescent-shaped. Af- ter sketchinof the streams and mountains I descended 1 82 zbc TRocklea of Cana^a into the valley and then made my way back to camp through the woods, trying to find a good route for our horses. The last mile to camp was up a beautiful torrent with grassy banks and noble trees on either side. One spruce was more than four feet in diameter. This whole region, for a mile or more, is a veritable park of Lyall's larch, and abounds in picas, marmots, and porcupines, one of which I came upon as I approached camp. Towards evening the weather thickened, and showers of sleet and snow fell. The moon was a little past full, and during the cold night, it broke through the clouds and mists that were sweeping over the mountains. The cliffs loomed dark through ghostly and fleeting shrouds of fog, and the sharp- lined shadows of the larches above us were thrown in bright moonlight upon our ice-covered tent. Rain in the morning made the fourteenth day of almost consecutive stormy weather, which is past all precedent for the month of August. Much de- layed already by storms, it was necessary to make rapid and long marches henceforth. However, a new contingency had arisen, — our horses had dis- appeared ! Ross searched for them all the morning, and returned about two p.m., saying he had been nearly to Eldon, in the Bow valley, east of our camp. Again in the evening we both set out, I up the ridge, and Ross towards the muskegs and meadows below our camp to the north. No sign of our animals was discovered. A curious effect ,-{?. \'A-^' tour feet i gion, f. or more. eritable park ot Lyall's larch, and ab< icas, marmots, and porcupines, one of which 1 came upon as I approached camp. ^ wards '' ather thickened, and ~ ♦■ ' "^^^'^ moon was a 'it it broke Storm Scene. weeping " The evergreens . . . battle with storm and avalanche an^^]^^) fire, attd ascend into those forbidding heights where every summer storm-cloud whitens the ground with hail." layed _....., i was rapid \\g marches hencefc new contingency had appeared ! Ross searc nnd returned about tv Eldon, in ti i rolling over the Bay^/y Morning at Moraint'Lnk^^'^ aS from r, a veil o I .A-.. 'inj? si' J eritirt \\\ tlie gioorn ^ distant, stormy v.cd fr:igment nx/hf ind resembled CHAPTER XI AN IDEAL CAMP — SPRINGTIME IN THE ALPINE MEADOWS — THE SCARLET PAINTED CUP — WHERE WILD ASTERS GROW — A REMARKABLE MOUNTAIN TARN — IMPRESSIVENESS OF WENKCHEMNA LAKE — PHOTOGRAPHIC IDEALS — DIFFICUL- TIES OF LANDSCAPE WORK — ARTISTIC QUALITIES OF LAKES AND RIVERS — FLEETING OPPORTUNITIES — NEED OF JUDGMENT AND DECISION — ANIMAL LIFE OF THE UPPER MEADOWS — TRAITS OF THE PTARMIGAN — PLAYGROUND OF THE PICAS AND MARMOTS — PREHISTORIC EARTHQUAKES AND BEAR-DEN MORAINES — THE ORIGINAL DESOLATION VALLEY — A MYSTERY OF THE MORAINE AFTER spending several weeks at Moraine Lake I moved up the valley with the idea of camping on the shores of a small lake where some years previously I had seen marvellous views. When already in sight of our goal we found the way blocked by a rock-slide, impassable for the pack-horses, and so had to retrace our steps and finally camp in a grove of larches some two miles below the lake. It was at first a bitter disappointment not to pitch our tent on the shores of this wild tarn, but 1 was soon reconciled, for the new camp turned out to be the most ideal that I recall in all my experience. That we were about 7000 feet above sea level was indicated by the open groves around us. At this altitude, where they 2o6 Zhc 1Rochic0 of Canada have plenty of room, the spruce trees assume a noble habit of trunk and symmetry of branches and reach a remarkable age, secure from the ravages of fire and other dangers of the crowded forest. A near-by riv- ulet supplied us with the coldest and most delicious water which had just enough exposure to air and vegetation to make it thoroughly palatable. Some of the coldest springs in the high mountains which come from melted snow are, from their excessive purity, flat and tasteless as distilled water. In every direction we had glimpses of mountains rising above soft needled larch groves. Jim, who was a snap-shot artist, was most enthusiastic and said : ''You get a fine view here whichever way you point the camera." This effect was largely due to the peculiar character of the light-foliaged larches through which the sun- light passes almost without casting a shadow. The season had been remarkable, many long days of sunshine following one another in unbroken suc- cession. The flowering plants of these upper mead- ows at the end of winter always find the ground well soaked with moisture as the snows melt away in June. These are the days of spring's awakening, when the edge of every snow-bank melts back a foot or two each day under the tireless sun whose linger- ing twilight gives a glow in the north throughout the short-lived night. The splashy meadows reek with moisture, the rocks glisten with silvery tricklings, and every little cleft and dale sends its contribution down to the deep valleys where turbid rivers are ^^^m fliSr noble ..M.t :m vVltn L ' iiad just CllULi^ll CApUbUI . . cv> make it thoroughly palatum iv^. of : jidest springs in the high mountains which CO" "^ from melted snow are, from their excessive id tast distilled water. In every ntains rising above An rldeccl Campy > was a snap-shot " The upland meadows where spruce andlofrch mih^lf^^ gg-j- ^ the final lovely expression of flic forest." ;ie camera. ning, vv.i^i a foot or tw iinger- i^^' ! ighout tadows reek ry tricklings, contribution id rivers are r>*>-^f ^- ''"^S^yi^i Zbc Scarlet painteb Cup 207 booming in summer flood. A golden band of yellow encircles every snow-drift, where lie the dead leaves and stems of last year, now already punctured and dotted with green leaves and white flowers, the ad- vance guard of the Raniinculacece, the *' little frogs " family so clearly associated with springtime ''peepers" in our eastern marshes. Then for a short season comes the pale blue, yellow, and white display of those earliest blossoms treading hard on the heels of winter and even pushing up impatient buds through softening snows. The great white anemone, queen of Alpine flowers, preserves its attractiveness through- out the summer, for when the white sepals have fallen, there comes a tufted silky plume rising high above its deep-cut almost fern-like leaves, waiting for the first September storms to scatter its seeds over the ground. Then as summer advances there appears the char- acteristic flower of the Rockies — the painted cup. It is like a tuft of leaves dipped in the richest dyes of the Orient. When camping days are over, and from amid the turmoil of civilisation the memory wings us away to the mountains, no picture of meadow or trail-side seems complete, no gravelly stream bed or high open pass can be brought to the mind's eye, without that ever-present galaxy of red and scarlet and purple flowers. The succession of flowering plants has reserved mid-August for the glorious climax of the floral dis- play. Every season is alike in this, but when long 2o8 ^be IRockies of Canada weeks of sunshine such as we have enjoyed this year have wrought their influence, there result a profusion and perfection of beauty that cannot be described in words. Such was the fortunate time of our arrival. From our tent we could look over seas of untold millions of wild asters. For a quarter of a mile in every direction the dominant tone, aside from the green leaves, was a pale lilac colour, given by the in- numerable delicate rayed, yellow-eyed flowers grow- ing tall and graceful on slender stems. In the most crowded parts of these gardens it was an easy matter to seize twenty or thirty blossoms in a single grasp of the hand, yet out of a myriad offlowers you could not see one wilted or imperfect head. Amongst them the white valerian, whose dying leaves make that strong, rank odour, noticeable everywhere in late summer, and the yellow rayed arnicas, like fallen golden stars, the painted cups and tasselled plumes of anemones were lost in sheer multitude. It seemed a pity to trample through these gardens, and so we came at length to pick our way with care. The sun, when it pours a flood of light over these wild flower gardens, gives a marvellous sensation of cheerfulness. Bewildered at the contrasting colours near at hand you look for relief through fairyland vistas of larch and meadow where details are lost in distance. The most pleasing idealisations of Corot seem to exist for us here, and here Turner's wonder- ful light effects are realised. But so sharply drawn are the lines of temperature that at a few hundred r?,-^^^^-« of Ca^n^3 - year 11 uon oi p Such Was uic '..K^ i. 1 . V 1 V - ' r U>'>f \x/(^ rr,: v ovpr se.! .illlllO. '^^ ever,' iOn the dominani aside ! . es, was a pale lilac colour, given by the in- nui-nerable delicate rayed, yellov/-eyed flov/ers grow- ing tall and grac nder stems. In the mpst crowded parts ot tii^ ■> it was an easy matter ' ^ ir t; . ns in a single grasp , y^^z>z^j /^/.9ze/^r : (^f^^^^^rs you could •'A perfection of beauty that.cannot.be describ^i^iVsW^^'^p^^^ th ;e eve rayed ari; -n ;e. It ens, anu care. light over these Y^ iOUS sensation of (;!; contrasting colours near . lairyland vistas ot letaiis are lost in Ke, i sations of Corot e Turner's wonder- eiRcio '■ so sharply drawn ,nes of IV. ' at a few hundred IPbotograpbic 11t)cal6 209 feet more of elevation the forest ends and the domina- tion of bare rocks and snow begins. The upland meadows where spruce and larch mingle are the final lovely expression of the forest, the swan song, as it were, of the evergreen mantle rising dense and sombre out of the valleys. About two miles up the valley, at a somewhat higher level, was the Wenkchemna Lake where 1 hoped to do much photographic work. It would be difficult to find another lake of small size in a wilder setting, the shores being of great angular stones, perfectly in harmony with the wild range of moun- tains beyond. Except in one place where a green and inviting slope comes down to the water, this rough ground is utterly unsuitable for vegetation and nearly devoid of trees. From my favourite point of view only one tree is visible, a distant, solitary larch. The lake seems about a quarter of a mile across, but there is nothing to judge distance by, and it is probably more, as an hour will hardly suffice to walk around the shore. The lake is as cold as ice, too cold to melt the snow-banks which line its shores till late in sum- mer and in places dip under the clear, green water. The water is so deep that the bottom cannot be seen, and so the reflections are marvellous. Though the passing breezes quickly ruffie its surface, ten minutes of calm are enough to smooth it out again, so that all those beautiful transition stages between sparkling ripples and a mirror surface are repeated many times in an hour. Though hemmed in by barren rocks, 2IO Zlbe IRockies of Canada and the wildest of mountain peaks, this little sheet of water does not impress me as sad or desolate. Such are the little shallow lakes in high valley ends or passes, surrounded by monotonous characterless slopes, with neither trees or rocks to relieve the eye or give a touch of life. Wenkchemna Lake, always interesting from every part of her rough shores, has the distinction of reflecting in its surface several of the highest and most difficult peaks of the Canadian Rockies. On and near the shores of this lake were endless possibilities for my work in photography and here, if anywhere in the mountains, I hoped to succeed in carrying out certain ideals. I look back on those beautiful sunny days with keenest pleasure. Many were the journeys between our camp down in the Alpine flower garden, and this rock-girt tarn, and many a day did I reach the hilltop, where first you look down on the water, with heart beating hard under the burden of my camera, and in excitement to know whether the conditions were favourable. Once, to save the extra exertion of packing the load of fifty pounds or more, I strapped the big leather case over- night, up in the branches of a larch. When I came back the next day the straps were nearly gnawed through in several places. Jim, who is part Indian, and interprets not only the tracks and traits of every mountain animal, but even ventures to tell the ap- proximate hour of their visits, said that the only an- imal that could have done this was a bush-tailed rat. BMcuItice of Xanbecape UClork 211 I usually spend the first few days composing my pictures, devoting much time to that most im- portant part, the foreground, for it seems to me that a landscape without a foreground is hardly a picture at all, and certainly not to be regarded as a work of art. The foreground takes away that feeling of being suspended somewhere in space, gives you confidence that you are really standing on something, helps in- terpret the subject, and adds another element of dis- tance and perspective. Yet, of all parts of the picture, this is the hardest to arrange. Every line, every mass of light and shade, that you succeed in harmonising with the idea of your picture, means, by the very fact that you have shifted your point of view to right or left, or up or down, that many another element of your picture has been lost. It is an absorbing puzzle that often requires days to solve, even for the experienced worker, and must always end in many compromises. The painter has an immense advan- tage, for he can adapt nature to his requirements, but the photographer has to take her nearly as she is. I say nearly because you can occasionally cut away an offending branch, or darken a too bright stone with a splash of water — but how limited is this power in working out a perfect composition ? After the point of view that gives the most harmonious lines has at length been determined, it is an easy matter to mark the spot with stakes or stones awaiting the day when light conditions and atmosphere are perfect. 1 have been trying for many years to get away 212 Zhc 1RocWc0 of Canaba from the hard, black and white, ordinary photograph, endeavouring to portray the atmosphere and distance of the mountains, the glory of the sky and clouds in a soft artistic medium so as to interpret nature as she appears at her best. And the first thing I learned was to break all the rules of the old-fashioned photo- grapher. The brilliantly clear day and cloudless sky no longer appeal to me, and I boldly point my lens into the sun till my eyes are dazzled. I welcome the rolling thunder clouds and the fleecy cirrus, the purple haze before a storm, and the smoke of distant forest fires, when each receding ridge and mountain mass stands out clearly from the other, yet shows its true magnitude and grandeur as never happens in a clear atmosphere. But to work thus means enthusiasm for the art of landscape photography and tireless patience. How- ever intensely eager you may be to secure a coveted picture, and however worried as the precious days slip by without result, you must hold yourself pa- tient to wait for days and weeks, even to return year after year. The final reward for such an attitude is always adequate. It is wonderful how a lake or any placid body of water complicates the problem. While you may take ten excellent pictures without water you will not get one showing a lake or river. Yet their artistic qual- ities are such that you will want ten pictures of water to one of any other kind. Thoreau says, '* A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. Jflecting Opportunities 213 It is earth's eye ; looking into which the beholder measures the depth ofhis own nature." And they are eyes and mirrors indeed amid these grand mountains, reflecting and amplifying every passing mood of sky and sunlight. Taking such a lake as this ofWenkchemna, which in a way lends itself remarkably well to photography, it is easy to prove that in an entire year there are only a few minutes, or at most, a few hours, in which the conditions are perfect for exposing a plate. Let us say that only during three months is the ground free of snow. Of these ninety days the large major- ity will be either stormy, or overcast, or very windy and of the remainder some will be densely smoky, or too brilliant, so that the problem quickly narrows down to a possible ten perfect days. In each of these there will be only one or two hours in which the direc- tion of sunlight is favourable for any given picture, and during these hours only a short time in which the ever-drifting clouds are properly grouped, the water surface unruffled, and the sunlight falling on fore- ground, or distance, or wherever you desire it to be. Ruskin says, "Though nature is constantly beautiful, she does not exhibit her highest powers of beauty constantly. Her finest touches are things which must be watched for." This study of landscapes continued through many days, holding the attention ever alert for certain desired conditions, is a splendid training, possibly the best, for the enjoyment of nature. No one could do 214 ^bc IRocMee of Canaba this, or would, without that enthusiasm born from a deep love of natural beauty, and at least a superficial knowledge of the outdoor sciences; enough of botany to enjoy the varied forms and colours of vegetation, enough of geology to read aright the meaning of the uplifted mountains, and of meteorology to interpret the infinitely varied forms of clouds and mists, the wonders of the sky and atmosphere. It seems that all the natural sciences have most to offer, com- paratively speaking, at their very thresholds, and the deeper you plunge the less interesting they become. It is the very reverse of what holds true in art and literature. To understand Shakespeare and Bach and Wagner you must fathom deep into the human mind and emotions. But there is no need of the dissecting needle and microscope to appreciate the brilliant colours of wild flowers, nor do we have to know how to calculate the movements of the celestial bodies in order to feel inspired by infinite space on a starry night. But this waiting for the crucial moment is pleasant work. It would not be easy to describe the excite- ment and expectancy, when after weeks of delay, the several elements of light and air, of sky and sparkling water, are as favourable as they ever will be, and you' wait for the culminating moment of time when nature has concentrated her powers. Now must you use skill, and be favoured by fortune besides. For a single second there is a prize to grasp, which if not seized with boldness, may be withdrawn forever. It is hard to say which is the more bitter disappointment, to '■^^' ^:*.'F -ar.*!*-' "tf «l^ .z: %} li 1 va \^ ' .^ n '"" ^''^ned forms a. •■-oy ^'^ ^^-'^^^ nricrht the itains, ill- ri; ::tely varied forms of wonders of the sky and sphere. It s that al itural sciences have most to offer, com- parati\ thresholds, and the deeper }\ "'^ey become. It is th ' ^rt and 1It(-nti Wenkchemna Lake. 'AuA se\ water, art as wait for theci has concent ra ndbefavo i there is a ' ^ness, m ich is . , tiie jrkling . and you' en nature you use For a single f not seized '^ 's hard !lt, to animal %xtc of tbe ITlpper nOeabows 215 expose your last available plate a moment too soon, and see shortly afterwards, in your helplessness, far more beautiful combinations, or in expectation of greater things to come, overstay your opportunity and have the curtain fall, as it were, perhaps for another year on nature's drama. These long waits give rare opportunities to study the birds and small wild animals, and for the very reason that you are quiet, they at length lose their fear and make you one of their company. Down in the heavy forest it is an easy matter to make friends with the squirrels and whiskey-jacks and chickadees, but up in the open meadows your arrival creates a general alarm. The shrill whistle of the siffleur first pierces the silence, for the hoary marmot has sighted you from afar, then all the lesser animals commence their danger signals, the small picas disappearing after a single squeak under some stone, while the Parry's marmot more boldly stands erect and gives- a succession of short, nervous cries, which as you draw nearer, finally ends in panic-stricken, rapid notes, fad- ing away as he hurries to the deepest recesses of his burrow. These small marmots and the picas are always on the alert. Living as they do in the open it is quite likely that hawks, weasels, and bears kill many. There are two pairs of ptarmigans near the lake, each with its brood of young hopefuls. These Arctic birds which have chosen the uppermost limits of vegetation for their feeding- and nesting-grounds, 2i6 ^bc IRocUice of dauaba grew familiar to our presence, and each day allowed us to come nearer. Sometimes upon surprising them suddenly I noticed that of an entire brood only one or two would be seen. Those that are behind rocks or bushes, apparently realising that they are unseen, remain motionless, but the others knowing that they are observed, scatter in various directions while the mother bird clucks loudly and does her best to defend them. Once only I saw the entire family in flight. Such a thing never occurs when they are disturbed by some invader, as in that case they first scatter, and then fly off for short distances, one at a time, as approached. On a grassy plot where a small stream enters the lake 1 watched the little family for an hour feeding amidst the grass and heaths. A Parry's marmot was browsing on the same ground, and at length drew near the ptarmigans. The marmot made a feint to jump at her, but mother ptarmigan flapped her wings, and stood him off in a defiant manner, after which the marmot continued feeding as though nothing had happened. Later on a pica, and several small birds joined this group of animal life. West of the lake there are remarkable cliffs of horizontal ledges worn into an almost perfect imitation of an ancient ruin. Hoping to obtain a good view- point I scaled the lower cliffs and came to a flat bench several hundred feet above the valley floor. But out of a clear sky a sudden storm came up, and for an hour I lay huddled under a dwarfed spruce, while the wind howled and the hail whitened the ground. jprcbistoric lEartbcjuahcs 217 While descending I saw a small bird flying before me from point to point uttering cries of distress, and a moment later its fledgling fluttered along the ground trying to escape. I reached out to catch it, for it seemed bent on self-destruction but the little bird rolled over a cliff and disappeared. The great boulders and massive ledges of broken rock which surround Wenkchemna Lake and extend for half a mile or more towards the glacier are a part of the so-called '^Bear-den" moraine. Dr. Scherzer in his valuable and interesting report on the ' ' Glaciers of the Canadian Rockies and Selkirks" has given an ingenious and plausible theory for these baffling formations. He suggests that they represent a great catastrophe in the form of an earthquake or series of earthquakes at a time when the glaciers were some- what more extended than at present. These earth- quakes, which must have been excessively violent, shook down from every mountain peak, tottering cliffs and vast masses of rock, which, falling on the glaciers were transferred to their present position and piled up in as wild and barren a kind of landscape as the moun- tains present. It was this great extent of moraine and glacier that we looked down upon while making our early explorations and that led us to call this "Desola- tion Valley. " Looking south from the Wastach Pass as you come over from Paradise Valley, down upon and across these moraines, to the jagged range which rises sheer in sharp-toothed peaks three or four thousand feet out of the ice, not a single tree or spot of vegetation 2i8 Zbc IRockies of Canaba presents itself to the eye. It is the wildest and most desolate view 1 have ever seen. Later experience, however, showed how unfair this name, adaptable only to this extreme upper end of the valley, would be, as applied to the forests and beautiful scenery of the lower parts, and the name ''Wenkchemna,"mean- ing ''Ten Peaks," is far more poetic and appropriate. One day I wandered off over the moraine in a kind of exploration. The great slabs of stone require a most devious course, and no little climbing up and down just as an ant travels over the various obstacles in a rough field. The rocks are of immense size, one of the largest measuring over fifty feet long by twenty- five feet broad and fifteen feet thick. They are piled in confusion, some standing on end like monuments of a remote antiquity, some of red limestone, others blue or grey, weathered and splintered into strange forms, just as the ledges appear on mountain tops. Mingled indiscriminately amongst these softer stones there are many resisting and imperishable quartzites and shales. This is a vast solitude. As I paused on a massive ledge far out on the moraine I was nearly overcome with the deathly silence. The power and majesty of mountains stand forth most clearly when ac- companied by some great sound, the crashing of thunder or avalanche or the roar of a rushing stream. Their vastness dawns upon us only amid a desert- like silence. And now no sound of running water, or wind, or song of birds struck my ear, but from H HD^stcr^ of tbe flDoraine 219 time to time a soft, long-drawn wail or sigh seemed to come out of the air mysteriously. What could it be — this strange note in the heart of a barren moraine where the forces of nature were locked in everlasting death and no visible living thing seemed to venture? 1 continued on for an hour in the glorious sunshine, hardly appearing to progress at all, but gradually circling round towards the lake. The crashing of rocks as they rattled down distant precipices and slid onto the glacier broke the silence momentarily. Then again that weird sigh — beginning nowhere, end- ing nowhere. This was one of nature's most per- plexing puzzles. We can solve many of them with patience and observation, but there seemed little hope of ever learning the cause of this strange sound. Presently I came to a place amid weathered lime- stones where a rough though rocky soil was beginning to form from the decaying ledges. Here were some green mats of moss-pink dotted with flowers, the first vegetation 1 had seen on the moraine. There was a honey-bee scrambling clumsily over the sharp- pointed leaves, and purplish blossoms, busily extract- ing nectar, and then, as he flew away, there came again that long-drawn sigh which melted into the distance as he vanished! CHAPTER XII DIFFICULTY OF DESCRIBING NATURAL SCENERY — THE SPE- CIAL ATTRIBUTES OF EVERY REMARKABLE SCENE — PEACE- FULNESS OF o'HARA LAKE — A MIDSUMMER DAY — AN IMPRESSIVE PASS — CHICKADEES AND WATER OUSELS — OUR FIRST VISIT TO THE LAKE — A BIVOUAC UNDER THE FROSTY MOON — DAYBREAK IN THE MOUNTAINS — A MOSSY STREAM — McARTHUR LAKE AND ITS ICEBERGS — COMPARI- SON OF PALMS AND EVERGREENS — PECULIAR TRAITS OF THE SPRUCE TREES — WHERE THE FOREST IS CONQUERED BY COLD — UNENDING VARIETY OF CLOUD FORMS — COLOUR GLORIES OF THE PARTING DAY. IN all the mountain wilderness the most complete picture of natural beauty is realised at O'Hara Lake. To write a description of such a scene, and bring the salient features to the reader's imagina- tion, seems an easy matter under the forced draught of a long pent-up enthusiasm. But what glows with fire and inspiration under the mellow lamp-light, the morning sun often consigns to the waste basket. It is less difficult to describe the sea or the desert, for their limitless extent appeals more powerfully to the imagination, but in the presence of the majesty and grandeur of mountains both the painter and the writer realise their utter helplessness. What manner of ex- CHAPTER XII DIFFlCULfY OF DESCRIBING NATURAL SCENERY — iMt 5i'i: CIAL ATTRIBUTES OF EVERY REMARKABLE SCENE — PEACE- FULNESS OF o'HARA LAKE — A MIDSUMMER DAY — AN IMPRESSIVf: HS AND WATER OUSELS — OUR FIRST VL^ C UNDER THE r-c^.-^c-r-.r n.^,.x . ^ MOSSY Lff^^e O 'Hara. '^< )MPARI- rs OF TH It and bring the ^ tion, seems an e; _ of a long pent-up er fire and inspirati morning sun often ^ :s less difficult to o 'imitless exten on, but in '^mounta ci; utter b' .iu, \ed draught glows with 1, the ' basket. It f-t, for ;y to the esty and he writer er of ex- Difficulty of Deecribing IRatural Scenery 221 pression is best ? To give infinite detail to make the story truthful and complete is to perplex and bore. But, on the other hand, to give an impressionistic sketch, is fleeing Scylla to encounter Charybdis, because blurred details and hazy outlines if carried too far make the interpretation lack strength and individuality. Now every extraordinary scene has for me a char- acteristic note peculiar to itself alone. There is a vast difference, for instance, between the wildness of those jagged peaks and rough shores that encircle iMoraine Lake, and that perfection of the single pic- ture as realised at Lake Louise, or between the silent little tarn of Wenkchemna, and the peaceful loveliness ofO'Hara Lake. But the distinctive characteristics of every scene, easily observed and strongly felt as they are, become elusive as dream visions, ephemeral as flowers whose petals fall at the slight touch of the reached-out hand, once you try to describe them. It were useless therefore to make any effort to paint word-pictures except that he who has seen the moun- tains, in this or any other part of the world, may per- haps, amid many worthless pebbles, find a grain of ore here and there, and occasionally run across some idea in harmony with his experience that may recall pleasant memories. Neither artist nor writer will attain the best results by trying to reconstruct his picture out of the past. There are too many subtle details in the harmonious whole that escape the memory. But if he works while the very scenes are 2 22 Zhc IRocMee of Canaba before his eyes, his effort, however feeble, will have somewhat pertaining to flowers gathered with the morning dew still fresh upon them. To me the dominant impression at O'Hara Lake is tranquillity and peace. Secluded in a deep pocket of the mountains, an almost perpetual calm prevails, the wind when it blows is gentle, and even the sound of falling rocks and crashing avalanche is rare. The stream, beside whose brawling course you have ascended the valley, yields finally to this persistent spell and, at the vestibule of one of the finest spots in all nature's realm, becomes hushed in a shallow pool where you already feel the presence of the lovely scene about to be revealed. From between the trees where you first come upon the lake, the eye glances over a sheet of water, clear and pure as an emerald, to the opposite shore, where a cascade throws a white veil over distant cliffs and makes ribbons of foam amongst the trees. The encircling amphitheatre of mountains is remark- ably free from any impression of rugged wildness. Sultry, midsummer days give the most harmonious expression to this scene. Let us imagine it upon a typical day of July or August when a faint trace of smoke or hot-weather haze bathes the mountains in a purplish colour, making broad, massive tones of each receding vale and ridge. Amid coppery clouds hung motionless in space, a sun of dim gold fills the dreamy air with feeble rays. The evergreens, darkly outlined against the purple distance, border the lake — Ipeaccfulnc06 of 0'1bara Xahc 223 a mirror of burnished metal. Then in partial silence you almost expect to hear from across the lake, the falling stream whose motion over the cliffs you can barely distinguish. The yellow cliff near it, gorgeous in afternoon light, sends a stream of molten gold over the water almost to your feet. The oval lake is dis- tinguished by a narrow strip of land which sweeps a line of shrubs and wild flowers across the nearer water, and then dissolves into a chain of rocky islets, and so makes an almost perpetual mirror in a miniature cove. Of all the finer lakes O'Hara presents the greatest variety of pleasing views. Its level and open shores of heaths and hard quartzite rocks give endless com- binations of artistic foregrounds. Crossing the outlet stream on a log and walking a short way along the shore, you look southwards over the now open ex- panse of the lake to a rounded dome in the middle distance, and see towering above this two splendid peaks, one a cloud-piercing wedge, the other a dark precipice flanked by vertical walls. Between them is a natural gateway, majestic in outline, worthy of being an entrance into an unknown world. This view of jagged cliffs, the wildest at O'Hara Lake, is best seen under an angry sky, with dark clouds and the white scud flung across from peak to peak amid the rumble of thunder. In the woods near the lake there are many chica- dees, little balls of black or greyish-black feathers, flitting about in small flocks or pairs, they run along 2 24 ZTbe IRocWce of Canada the spruce boughs, looking everywhere for some- thing to eat and constantly calling chickadee-dee-dee. It is interesting to see how rapidly and eagerly these little birds work, and how laughably they twist their necks and cock their heads to look on all possible sides of a tiny twig only a few inches above them. Once I saw something that seemed like lack of sense or faulty memory, when one of these birds, after making a careful examination of three different branches, came back to his starting-point and went over the identical ground in the same order. In rainy weather the chickadees are neither to be seen nor heard, but at the first glimpse of sunshine, out they come from somewhere in the woods and sing the most caressing and affectionate of forest songs. The little lake below the outlet is frequented by a pair of water ousels. They are always busy and always curtseying, hopping over the rocks or dipping under the water, and even walking along the bottom, in marvellous contradiction to their apparent nature. They always seem, to find something to eat, but never appear to finish their meal. Living in the spray of torrential streams, v/here all is life and motion, they have little fear of anything, and so you may approach very close and study their interesting habits. But why do they curtsey continually ? and why again do sandpipers constantly bob their tails? Late in October, 1896, I made my first visit to this attractive spot. Tom Wilson and I had long de- sired to come here together, and when our plans were H: (.M .'a'^vs^V\'< ,.,ng to sc^ .. . :> work, and how , and cock their heads to look on ah sides of a tiny twig only a few inches above Once I saw something that seemed like l- sense or faulty memory, when one of these Diius, after making a careful examination -of three different branches "^ '^ ' ' '' ' ' ' *^o.f;,^rv r.r^;j-,| and went over the ; Jer. In rainy vpnthpr to be seen nor Outlet of Lake GHara^^ . ^^^^, '' Jagged cliffs . . . under an angry sky, Tvtfh dark ^^ clouds and the white scud flung across from peak to ulC peaky iHirtir^ : to Cd \v living spray of torrei ind motion,-they vhen our plans were ©ur Jfiret IDisit to tbe Xake 225 made we were unable to get pack-horses, and had to engage a section-hand to help carry our equipment. Each of us struggled with a load of nearly fifty pounds, distributed in unwieldy sacks. From the railroad at Hector we followed for many hours the old trail, formerly a route much used by the Indians, but now over-grown and nearly obliterated. The trail, crossing and recrossing the stream in a vain endeavour to avoid obstacles, finally became useless to our progress. The weight of our packs had long told heavily upon us, and night was coming on apace, but we plodded along in silent determination, through a forest that became apparently more dense and vast as we ascended, till at length our English assistant gave a deep sigh and cried out : "Where is the bloomin' lake ? " Before our courage gave out the forest opened and at nightfall we stood on the lake shore. To build a fire, cook a simple meal, and arrange camp was an easy matter. It seemed as though night had commenced in mid-afternoon. We had of course no tent, and there was an alarming scarcity of blankets, but after building a huge fire we rolled up at an early hour. Frost-bitten on one side, burning on the other, sleep was nearly impossible. What ap- peared like a faint dawn at length seemed to promise a welcome termination to the long night. Piling on more firewood, I looked at my watch — it was only ten o'clock ! Had my watch stopped, or was that apparent dawn merely the moon about to rise over the mountains ? Our hopes were soon dispelled ; 2 26 Z\)c 1RocWc0 of Canaba the night was only well started. So with momentary intervals of sleep, while the fire blazed brightly, the long hours drew themselves out in painful duration. Yet I cherish the impressions of even that experience. Majestically the twinkling stars moved on their courses, Algol ever varying, and Rigel and red Al- debaran, glorying in their Arabic names, suggestive of long watches on desert sands. The moon sent a flood of frozen silver down through the dark branches, and gliding from point to point marked the remaining hours till dawn. Our section friend wisely gave up all idea of sleep in the early watches of the night, and from time to time cracked the film of ice on our tea-pail and drank huge potions of the nerve-wracking stimulant. Nature's most glorious manifestation of natural beauty is sunset over a tropical sea. Warm vapours glow with the colours of roses, distant lightnings illumine vast domes of alabaster, the heavens revel in riotous colour, and the far-off showers throw a translucent film over clouds of opal and pearl. If nature were less prodigal of her wonders and we could behold such scenes but once in a lifetime, what weary journeys would we not make to enjoy that brief half hour ? Daybreak in the mountains, when the sun comes suddenly over the crest of a lofty ridge, is but little less inspiring. You will see the sun's first appearance as a bright point of light, like a burning star, which instantly broadens into a thin line, and then a crescent, blinding the eyes and a flDoes^ Stream 227 tilling the valley with a sudden flood of daylight. Then the sun's beams creep slowly from point to point, along the sinuous shores, over frosty, silent meadows, driving back dark shadows and pouring rays of light into the green depths of flooded sub- marine caverns. Not far away is a small meadow in the heart of the forest, and scattered through it are great rocks and symmetrical trees. This was Colonel O'Hara's favourite camping ground and, beginning with 1887, he made several visits to this valley. From here you may see a panorama of high and interesting peaks on every side. A small stream flows through the meadow and winds down towards the lake. Its water glides quietly over a mossy bed that shows every shade and variation of the colour green. Rounded cushions of moss, rank and luxuriant in abundant moisture, line the banks and cover the stones, some vivid as a forest in spring, some with a satiny sheen, some silvery, and others marked with points of dull red. Where the soft carpet dips under the water, the green becomes darker and darker, till it merges into a sooty blackness of the stream bed. 1 saw what appeared to be pearls on the bottom, but looking closely they resembled more the glassy eyes offish. One broke off and floated away, spinning around in a miniature eddy ; then came another and another, till it seemed as though the moss were breathing air bubbles under water. Less than an .hour's walk from this meadow lies 2 28 Zbc TRocMes of (Iana^a McArthur Lake. Nearly two miles long, it is one of the largest lakes in the mountains at such high alti- tude, which is approximately 7300 feet above sea- level. There are absolutely no trees or shrubs in the valley where lies the lake, so that the effect is thoroughly Arctic. A glacier enters the water at the upper end and, even till the end of July or later, there are usually cakes of ice drifting over the lake. The water is exceedingly clear, and there is no ap- parent difference between its colour and that of the sky. There are many lakes of turquoise and emerald colour, as Lakes Louise, Moraine, and O'Hara, but those that are unmistakably blue are very rare. The reflected colours, which range through all the blues, lilacs, and purples to bronze and gold, are remarkable, considering the comparatively sombre and barren cliffs on every side. Mt. Biddle, seen in the distance over the glacier is unsymmetrically located with refer- ence to the lake so that no very effective picture is presented from any point of view. But the icebergs, and the sapphire water set in its fiord-like basin, make the lake unusually interesting and in some respects unique. I have been struck with the very slow growth of trees in the mountains. Photographs taken several years ago, when compared with the same scenes now, show hardly any difference in the height or outline of the trees. Upon visiting our old camp in Paradise Valley, I carried with me a photograph taken many years before, and a careful study of the trees .KV?Aji ^iVW in liic ai IS approximn --^ areabsoli'r ' a and, even till the end of July or .. are usually cakes of ice drifting over the lake. The water is exceedingly clear, and there is no ap- parent difference between its colour and that of the sky. Th( ' turquoise and emerald colour, ' O'Hara, but '^re. The . Lake Mc Arthur. ;e bliif^'^- iji,, " The sapphire water set in its fiord-like basin. W presented tronn any an^ " niai\i_: w.K- : .u\:- respects unique. 1 have been trees in the mor >. whe= hardly i>. the trees. " 1 carrK !. uciore, ai vth of -veral ^ht or camp in ph taken the trees Comparison of ipalms a^^ lEvergreens 229 showed that some of them had not added a foot to their height in fourteen years. My first impression of the evergreen forests was that they were somewhat monotonous. Now how- ever they seem more thoroughly appropriate to the mountains than any other possible form of tree. The royal palm is probably the most beautiful of all trees, but the spruce is, in many respects, to the cold north what the palm is to the tropics. One is like a living Grecian column, crowned with a graceful plume which waves in the trade-wind breezes and fairly sparkles under the blue sky and burning tropical sun. The other, while equally tall, is a tapering, green spire, sombre and moss-hung, pointing to skies that are often cold and grey, murmuring and wailing as the winds rush through its sharp needles. It is a melan- choly and picturesque tree, whether snow-laden under the frozen winter moon or mysteriously out- lined against the pale, dancing Aurora. The bark is reddish-brown or buckskin colour, the needles bluish- green, and its branches are often hung, especially in the less vigorous forest, with beard moss. It is harsh to the touch, its needles sharp, and the dead and brittle lower branches repel approach. Its resinous balsam, though fragrant in the heat of midsummer days, is troublesome on clothing and hands. In strong wind the upper parts of the trees vibrate rapidly, back and forth, but the tree itself is rigid and unyielding and the branches move without poetry of motion. They give a wild sound to the 230 Z\)C 1RocMc0 of Canaba wind like that of distant surf, which rises and falls with the strength of the blast, and in days of rain the blue camp-fire smoke rises among the dark- green foliage and accentuates its colour. Unlike such trees as the white birch and elm, the spruces and palms should be seen from a distance, for, if you stand under them, you see little of beauty. Yet how magnificent do mountains look beyond and through these tall evergreens ! They are the very measuring rods of cliffs, and heights, and distances, that would suffer by their absence. How often, when coming down from some barren summit, into the region of forest trees, of intense contrasts of light and shade, of distant shining snowfield, and near dark clump of evergreens, have I realised that in the valleys are the finest views and most magnificent scenery. Were nature reversed, in that we lived on high summits, and could only visit the valleys by the use of ropes and ice-axes, Swiss guides and great physical exertion, this pastime would undoubtedly be more popular than to visit, as we do, the barren summits of lofty peaks. Making a perpetual mantle of green, giving cool shade and balsamy odours on hot summer days, the evergreens cover the valleys, they rise in tiers on the sloping flanks of the mountains, they stand on the vertical walls of dizzy cliffs, they battle with storm and avalanche and fire, and ascend into those cold and forbidding heights where every summer storm cloud whitens the ground with hail. Then for a Mbere tbc jTorest is Conquereb b^ Golb 231 short distance larches and spruces mingle, till finally the spruce gives way to its still hardier rival. This borderland between the upper trees and the barren rocks, where the evergreens scatter and dwindle into a starved and blasted form, is a most interesting region. Similar scenes must have given Gustave Dore his original inspiration to draw those grotesque and weird tree forms, those gaunt arms of suffering humanity reaching out amid the desolation in mute appeal, writhing in despair. Storm and blasting winds have here wrought their utmost ; here they have bent and twisted and broken till what should have been a stately green spire be- comes a grovelling bush, creeping along the ground, or, with branches swept aside like a torn flame, reaches over the abyss of some beetling precipice, an epitome of its wild surroundings. Come here in a time of wild squalls, when the bitter wind shrieks in the larches, the driven hail stings the face, and the cold draws tears to the eyes, then see the dark clouds driving athwart the sky, and the grey veil of the approaching snow-squall trailing under, like a gigan- tic ghostly form. How appropriately now do those misshapen branches and distorted trees blend with such a scene, and do you longer wonder at their unnatural growth ? These trees have endured not once, but many thousand times, this cold and fury of the mountain blast. The summer of 1908 was one of the most perfect that I have ever experienced in the mountains. From 232 Zhc IRocMes of Canaba early July till the end of August was an almost un- broken succession of fine days, either perfectly clear, or with a few scattered showers and their attendant sky effects. Even at the end of September, when I visited O'Hara Lake again, too late, however, to hope for any favours from the elements, the weather continued wonderfully good. Every season, and even each passing month, reveals new and unex- pected cloud forms, and now a certain type of high fog came pouring through the mountains that I have never seen before. At early dawn each day the peaks are concealed from view, by noon the black clouds, with edges of silver torn into fragments, are driving among the higher cliffs before a violent wind, while in the valleys there is a perfect calm. Later in the day bright clouds, riding above the highest peaks, move serenely across the blue sky. Night before last the coal-red fire of sunset seemed to set the mountains on fire, under steel-blue clouds. To-night it is colder. The glow of sunset rises higher and higher on the snowy summit of Lefroy, and the fleecy, melting clouds take on a bright tone in the darkening sky. A coal-black seam of rock, now for the first time, strikes my eye on the upper ledges of the mountain, and startles me. How many years it requires to see the mountains, even a single scene such as this in its entirety ! The cultivation of the inner eye is a life-work. A pink cloud-banner hangs for a moment to one side of an uplifted wedge of rock, while above there is a grey cloudlet, and even (Blorics of tbe parting E)a^ 233 as I jot down these lines and look up the rich pink has faded away, a sudden darkening takes place, and deep night seems to be hovering behind those eastern ridges. A frosty chill seemingly comes out of the forest, and tells that the day is finished. The inverted trees in the green water are darkening, and across them the blue camp-fire smoke, down the shore, throws a mystic veil, and is wafted gently lakewards, amid complete silence. The colours are coming back again. An opaline cloud with milky border shows fire underneath, the sky is steel-blue, and the uppermost glacial ice is the greenish yellow of chlorine. Has the sun shot a last ray through some far-off pass in the Selkirks that makes this sudden illumination ? CHAPTER XIII MOUNTAIN CLIMBING IN THE ROCKIES — NATURE OF THE ROCK FORMATIONS — THE MOUNTAINS EASILY ACCESSIBLE — PIONEER WORK OF THE SURVEYORS — FIRST ATTEMPT ON MT. TEMPLE — A WILD NIGHT — A SCENE OF RUGGED DES- OLATION — ATTEMPTS TO CLIMB MT. ASSINIBOINE — MR. OUTRAM REACHES THE SUMMIT AND DESCENDS BY THE NORTH ARETE — HIS ASCENT OF MT. BRYCE — SCALING A PRECIPITOUS CLIFF — A THRILLING DESCENT IN THE NIGHT — DR. EGGER'S account OF THE ASCENT OF MT. DELTA- FORM — CHRISTIAN FINDS HIMSELF IN A BAD POSITION — THE SUMMIT REACHED AFTER TEN HOURS' CLIMBING — BRIGHT FUTURE FOR MOUNTAINEERING IN THE ROCKIES. THE time has gone by when even a brief resume of climbing in the Canadian Rockies can be compressed into the limits of a moderate- sized volume. I shall therefore make no attempt to write a history of what has been done, but aim in- stead to give an idea of what mountaineering is like in this range. It is becoming more and more apparent every year that this part of the Rockies is not only a great field for Alpine climbing in its strictest meaning, but un- doubtedly the most extensive and interesting field presented by any readily accessible range in the world. That such men as Collie, Stutfield, Woolley, 234 p m — NATURE y.'i » r.f , , _ ^_ _ :iASILY ACCESSIBLE — THE SURVEYORS — FIRST ATTEMPT ON — A WILD NIC SCENE OF RUGGED DES- MT. ASSINIBOINE — MR. AND DESCENDS BY THE MT. BRYCE — SCALING A Momi/ Hector and SMe'M'iUMMf' N^^"*^ From summit of Observation Peak, io\ib^fen^in%ltitnSe. siv . 1 shall write a history of v. stead to erive an idea ot It is becoming m y^^"* •lat this part of " field * ,,:.-. >.;.-' it Un- . field bv a in the ,t such -Voolley, IFlature of tbe IRock Jformations 235 and Whymper have come over from England several seasons to climb here, that the Appalachian Mount- ain Club, represented by Abbot, who lost his life on Mt. Lefroy, Fay, Weed, Thompson, and others, and that expert climbers such as Outram and Eggers have found climbs that tested their powers to the utmost, or repelled all attacks, even under the leadership of expert Swiss guides, tell much about the real nature of the climbing. The formation of the Alpine Club of Canada in 1906 has done, and will do, much to fos- ter the sport of mountain climbing and the love of the mountains. The average height of the valleys is between four and seven thousand feet above sea-level, and as the greatest peaks are between eleven and thirteen thou- sand feet, the actual ascent of every mountain can usually be made in one day, so that high-level camps are unnecessary. It may be said that six thousand feet is about the upper limit of total ascent necessary to reach mountain summits in the Canadian Rockies. Glacier and snow work is not dissimilar to that in other mountain systems, but rock climbing has special features of its own. The lower parts of mountains near the axis of the range are usually Cambrian quartz-sandstones, which are stable when broken, while the cliffs, though often nearly vertical, abound in ledges and steps, which make easy work. This formation, however, is only found up to a moderate altitude, usually less than eight thousand feet, and then only in the sub-range which 236 Zbc IRocWce of Cana^a makes the continental watershed. The other paral- lel sub-ranges, of which there are five or six, and the upper parts of every range, are formed of blue and grey limestones and dolomites of the Carboniferous and Devonian ages. Sometimes beds of shales and clay-slates appear also in this formation. These lime- stones weather into abrupt and often nearly per- pendicular cliffs on the eastern face of nearly every mountain, while the western is usually a moderate slope which offers a key to many otherwise difficult ascents. When the strata are nearly or quite hori- zontal, however, the softer beds weather into vertical cliffs, which make impassable zones round the mountains. Such peaks assume a castellated appear- ance, and the cliffs are adorned with numerous sharp pinnacles and rounded pillars, which bear a striking resemblance to mediaeval ruins. The disintegration of the limestones is very rapid, as may be seen in the immense talus slopes, which have been piled against the mountain bases since the Glacial Period. Frequent rock-falls add daily to these great masses of debris. The gullies on the high parts of the mount- ains are filled with unstable rocks and lined with tottering walls ready to fall at any time. The danger of falling stones and unsafe ledges is the greatest which the climber will encounter in the Canadian Rockies. At Lake Louise, Field, and Glacier, the climber is near the base of many fine peaks, and may use the several inns as his starting-point, or at least consider pO00lblUt!e9 of tbc Meatber 237 them his main camp. This is true of Banff, though very few climbers will be tempted to make the tedi- ous ascents of Twin Peaks and Cascade Mountain, which do not offer sufficient compensation for the labour required. Many fine mountains raise their snowy summits at a distance from the railroad, and to conquer them, a camping trip, with horses and tents, should be planned. There are no huts as yet, where the traveller may spend a night, except near Lake Louise, unless we consider the occasional log shacks of prospectors and trappers. A tent or even a bivouac is usually far preferable to these damp, por- cupine-infested places. All the climber's work and the reward of his labour depend on weather. That of the Canadian mountains is no worse nor better than elsewhere. The usual summer weather in June is cold and rainy, and the rivers are in flood from melting snow, to be followed in July by sunshiny warm days, interrupted by brief thunder-storms. August is generally hot and dry, but towards the end of the month, a week or more of rain and snow frequently occurs, and this storm marks the breaking of summer heat. Sep- tember is a fickle month, and is usually stormy and cold for a long period. Cool October is the best month of all, though the days are short, and even the midday sun casts long shadows in deep valleys. The nights are frosty, films of ice form on pools, and the mosquitoes and gnats no longer worry the camper. The rivers are low and can be 238 ^be IRochles of Canat)a easily forded, while the most distant mountains are distinctly seen through the crystal atmosphere. The only certain thing about the weather is its uncer- tainty, though in general, fine weather is the rule and rain the exception. During rainy periods, the short intervals of improvement, or the final clearing, are the best of all, and the cloud effects are mag- nificent beyond description. There can be no finer revelation of the sublimity of nature, especially when seen from the craggy summit of some storm- swept peak, than a view of rugged mountains partly concealed by rolling clouds. No doubt the earliest ascents of importance were made by the railroad and topographical surveyors. Between 1887 and 1892, Mr. J.J. McArthur climbed nineteen mountains over nine thousand feet and four mountains over ten thousand feet high. Among the latter, the first ascended was Mt. Stephen, in 1887, and again in 1892. Wind Mountain, near Canmore, and the fine peak called Storm Mountain, near the Vermilion Pass, were ascended by Mr. St. Cyr. All this work was for survey purposes and so cannot be called mountaineering in the true meaning of the term. Only such mountains were attempted as could be climbed when encumbered by heavy surveying instruments, and this resulted in their de- feat on several peaks, one of which was Mt. Hector. Almost immediately after the surveyors finished their work for the time being, some ascents were made by visitors to this new mountain world. In a mm migbt 239 the summer of 1893, Mr. S. S. Allen and I were camped at Lake Louise, with the purpose of making some mountain climbs in that beautiful region. Our two weeks' work resulted in capturing two mount- ains on either side of the lake, and being defeated by Mt. Victoria after reaching a height of ten thousand feet, and by Mt. Temple at ninety-eight hundred feet. On the latter attempt we started from Lake Louise with one horse and a Stony Indian, named Enoch Wildman. The horse carried a tent and some provisions, about ninety per cent, of which was canned duck, a wholesome though monoton- ous diet. We went to Laggan and followed a trail- less course along the south bank of the Bow for five or six miles towards the base of Mt. Temple and then struck up through the forest of pine and spruce, climbing ceaselessly till near nightfall, when we reached the cliffs of the mountain, seventy-five hun- dred feet above sea-level. A violent thunder-storm overtook us towards evening, and we sought shelter at length near a lonely rock-girt pool, enclosed by steep banks, a home for picas and marmots. On its wind-swept surface were fragments of snow from an undermined drift. It was quite dark when we turned out our forlorn pony to graze on bushy heaths and birches, the only vegetation among the barren stones. There was no level place for our tent, and a stone wall had to be built to support our feet and keep us from sliding into the lake. It was a wild 240 Zbc IRockles of Cana^a night of storm and wind. Sliowers of hail and rain swept over us continually, and some of the more violent squalls threatened to bring our flapping tent to the ground. We had built a huge fire, for many great logs cumbered the ground, and it roared like a furnace and sent great flames this way and that in the fickle gusts, but towards the dawn, which seemed never to come, it died away into inert ashes. The crackling of our fire gave place to the sound of lapping ripples on the rocky shore. The light of day revealed our wild surroundings. We were under the northern precipice of Temple. A beautiful fall descended in a series of cascades, a distance of about one thousand feet, to enter our little lake. Some- times the strong wind, blowing against the cliff, or sweeping upward, made the water pause and mo- mentarily hang in mid-air, suspended as it were on an invisible airy cushion, till, gathering greater vol- ume, it burst through the barrier in a curtain of spark- ling drops. Poor Enoch had suffered terribly from cold during the night and begged our permission to return to Lag- gan, promising to come back the next day, ''sun so high," pointing to its place in the early afternoon. He said in his broken English, — ''No grass for pony here, — too cold me, — no like it me." So we took pity on him and sent him back to more comfort- able quarters, while we rested in comparative quiet, it being Sunday and stormy. We were on foot Monday morning at four I I I !in ;U grec and that u) the fickle gusts, but towards the dawn, which seemed never to come, it died away into inert ashes. The crackling of our fire gave place to the sound of lapping ripi • the rocky shore. The light of dayreve' ' ' We were under {h — -^ * *-^"autiful fall nf about On the North Slope of Pinnacle Mountain. -. ■ • . ! f ' I ^\\\\ or " A vast ruin of nature, a barren mass of totteritig''walls an'3 clij^s.'' ;. pause and mo- '\ were on promising ' ^'> high," pointing :i. He said in his brok r pony e took , and :• mfort- s, whih quiet, unday anc Xif^vf^ r.n t four a Qccnc of IRuggeb desolation 241 o'clock. The gloom of early dawn, the morning chill, and a clouded sky had no cheering effect on our anticipations. Our plan was to traverse the mountain-side till we should come to the south- east shoulder, where we had once observed the outline of an apparently easy slope. At eleven o'clock, we had reached a height of nearly ten thousand feet and came to a vertical wall, about four hundred feet high, a barrier that com- pletely defeated us. At the base of this cliff there was a narrow slope of loose broken limestone, and below this, another precipice. Utterly defeated in our attempt by this impassable barrier, I walked along the cliff base into a semicircular recess in a last vain reconnaissance, while Allen took photo- graphs of the scenery. Here 1 had a few moments of quiet contempla- tion of a scene that in its awful solitude has left a deep impression on my memory. Some great stones, dislodged as I moved, fell with a grinding sound over the edge, towards a narrow chasm, three thousand feet below. A cold wintry wind made a subdued monotone amongst the inequali- ties of rough stone and the overhanging cliff, and brought up the dust and brimstone odour from the crushing stones. Opposite was a pinnacled mount- ain stained red and grey, rent into thousands of nar- row gullies or beetling turrets by the wear of ages. it was a vast ruin of nature, a barren mass of totter- ing walls and cliffs, raising two lofty summits far 242 Zbc IRocUies of Cana^a upwards. Between lay a narrow, secluded valley, so thoroughly enclosed by precipices that a small lake in it was still covered by the granular, half- melted ice of last winter. To the east and south a wild and rugged group of mountains made a con- tinuous range and rose into successive jagged peaks. Over all the rough upheaval of mountains brooded a gloomy sky with long furrows of dark clouds moving majestically before the driving wind. Some of the highest peaks were touched by clouds or indistinct in snow showers, while the sun shot a few beams of light through the gloom and swept the ice and rocks with a weird illumination. Im- mense piles of debris rested against the mountain opposite, at the base of which was a desolate valley half filled with glacier and confused moraines. No tree or green vegetation of any kind appeared in all this barren scene. Overcome at length by cold winds and our hopeless prospects of further advance, we turned back and reached camp by the middle of the after- noon. Here we found that Enoch had returned, faithful to his word, and in a very short time we commenced our journey to Laggan. Next year, August, 1894, we were camped again at the base of Mt. Temple, this time in Paradise Valley. We were better prepared than before, as a year's study of photographs had thrown new light on a possible route up the grand mountain. On the 1 6th, by way of physical training, we ascended jfinal SUCCC00 243 Mt. Aberdeen, which lies between this valley and that of Lake Louise. The ascent of this peak, 10,250 feet high, was not difficult by the route we took. Surrounded as it is by Mts. Lefroy, Victoria, Hunga- bee, and Temple, which are among the greatest peaks in southern Canada, the view is well worth the climb. On the following day Allen, Frissell, and I commenced the ascent of Temple. We were up at four A.M. There was no trace of dawn, and the waning moon, now in her last quarter, was low in the southern sky, near the triangular peak of Hunga- bee. The cold air was full of woody odours and the smoke of forest fires. We crossed the frosty meadows and came to a secluded gorge, filled with massive boulders, looming dark in the early morning light. This place lay between Pinnacle Mountain and the south side of Temple. A steep ascent of scree, where the unstable stones were sliding con- stantly, required the utmost caution. Sometimes the mass of rocks would creep and grind ten or fifteen yards above us at each step. Not far from us was a place where a rock slide had occurred, and it seems most likely that this unstable slope will some day rush with a roar of thunder into the val- ley. The constant movement of the stones, and the thought that our presence might be the last straw, made us somewhat apprehensive. At nine o'clock we reached the pass between Pinnacle and Temple, and from a height of nine thousand feet looked eastward upon that wild valley 244 ^be IRocWee of Canada of desolation which we had seen the year before. The slanting sun-rays poured a flood of yellowish light along the silent precipices on either side and gently tempered the chill of morning. The air was perfectly calm, and there was utter silence except the clink of our iron-nailed boots on the rough stones. Cliffs and broken stones were on our left, where we had to force a passage, if anywhere. The lot fell upon me to lead the party, and when the rope was adjusted, we commenced work. For the next two thousand feet it was merely a careful selection of gullies and scree slopes, with occasional rock climb- ing. Our greatest anxiety was the number of loose stones, which in spite of every precaution were sometimes dislodged and threatened those below. At a height of eleven thousand feet we had a discus- sion as to the better route of two that appeared. One lay at our right and seemed easier, while the other probably lay to our left, and though it was con- cealed from view, the previous study of photographs convinced me that this would be the better route, and it took some time for them to agree on that point. A short scramble among flat shales and very rough cliffs led us suddenly to the great south slope of the mountain, and we knew our prize was all but taken. At noon we reached the summit and stood at the highest point then reached in Canada. The air was calm and at about freezing point. The sum- mit of Mt. Temple is a sloping mass of blue lime- stone, comparatively free of snow. The south face attempts to Climb HDt aasiniboine 245 is an unbroken snow-field and glacier, while the east is precipitous. Mt. Assiniboine, matchless in outline, and tower- ing above all peaks in that region, very naturally attracted attention at an early date. Three attempts to scale the mountain, one by Bryant and Steele, another by the Wallings, and finally by Bryant and myself, had been repulsed, though at ever-increasing levels, before Mr. Outram succeeded in reaching the summit. After a day of reconnaissance he, with the Swiss guides Hiisler and Bohren, reached the highest peak after six hours' climbing from their camp on September 3, 1901. In his very interesting book. In the Heart of the Canadian Rockies, Mr. Outram says: ''One at a time — the other two securely an- chored — we crawled with the utmost caution to the actual highest point, and peeped over the edge of the huge, overhanging crest, down the sheer wall to a great, shining glacier 6000 feet or more below. " The view on all sides was remarkable, although the atmosphere was somewhat hazy and unsuitable for panoramic photography. Perched high upon our isolated pinnacle, fully 1500 feet above the loftiest peak for many miles around, below us lay unfolded range after range of brown-grey mountains, patched with snow and sometimes glacier hung, intersected by deep chasms or broader wooded valleys. A dozen lakes were counted, nestling between the outlying ridges of our peak, which supplies the head-waters of three rivers — the Cross, the Simpson, and the Spray." 2 46 Zhc 1RocJ^ie0 of Canada After an hour or so on the summit the idea was broached of descending by the steep north arete, hitherto considered impregnable. That this was a bold conception may be realised from the fact that there were known to be several vertical cliffs on this face of the mountain, and that a single impassable difficulty meant a return by the way they had come, and the certainty of spending a night at high altitude. ''Well roped" writes Mr. Outram ''and moving generally one at a time, we clambered downward foot by foot, now balancing upon the narrow ridge, 5000 feet of space at our right hand ; then scrambling down a broken wall-end, the rocks so friable that handhold after handhold had to be abandoned, and often half a dozen tested before a safe one could be found; now, when the ridge became too jagged or too sheer, making our cautious way along a tiny ledge or down the face itself, clinging to the cold buttresses, our fingers tightly clutching the scant projection of some icy knob, or digging into small interstices between the rocks ; anon, an ice-slope had to be negotiated with laborious cutting of steps in the hard wall-like surface ; and again, cliff after cliff must be reconnoitred, its slippery upper rim traversed until a cleft was found and a gymnastic descent effected to the ice-bound declivity that fell away beneath its base. ''For close upon 2000 feet the utmost skill and care were imperative at every step ; for scarcely half a dozen could be taken in that distance where an I^^ms^lt^v \^AiS friable ,that h !>: . . ndoned, .and View South-east from .Slofie of Mount A sstnwQtjte. ■■' ^ A-y'^- , ; ■ ^^pJie out- - - ".^ h<^ Alhtude aboiu 11,000 feet. ' -^e too DUlt! proje ir = ^e-si0p^ ;iad to Ut: llSJgUL: .-,-..-.- ,j, ^j^g ■'' ''"' wall-lik.. ,,>..;, r must , . iconnoitred, iversed Mntil a cleft was lescent the ic fell away close upon 20c skill and • imperative a rcely half a dozen could be taken where an ascent ot fIDt. Bri^ce 247 Linroped man who slipped would not inevitably have followed the rejected handholds and debris, that hurtled down in leaps and bounds to crash in fragments on the rocks and boulders far below." No better idea of the difliculties frequently en- countered amongst these mountains can be gained than from Mr. Outram's description of his ascent of Mt. Bryce in August of the following year. This massive peak, estimated to be about 1 1 ,750 feet high, lies south of the great Columbia ice-fields, where the Canadian Rockies seem to attain the culmination of their grandeur. Having reached a point about ten thousand feet above sea-level, he and his guide Christian Kaufmann, found themselves at the base of a nearly vertical cliff on a rocky arete. On the left was a sheer precipice several thousand feet high, and on the right, an unscalable cliff swept by falling rocks. Quoting Mr. Outram's own words: ''So there was nothing for it but to try to scale the escarp- ment straight ahead, and Christian immediately led the way. . . . The first dozen feet were fairly broken and not particularly vertical, but then com- menced a strenuous conflict with the difficulties of this natural outpost, set to bar approach to the stronghold's central tower. Hold after hold gave way as the guide tried them one by one, and frag- ments rattled down the gully and leapt from rock to rock in ever growing bounds till, lost to sight and sound, they dashed to final rest upon the glacier booo feet beneath — a most suggestive journey to 248 ^be IRochies of Canaba those who were engaged in an attempt to climb that selfsame cliff by means of very slightly more reliable supports. ''Fortunately Kaufmann is a magnificent rock- climber, and it was a treat to watch the skill and science he displayed in his advance slowly and cautiously to- wards the goal. Now he was clinging to the round- ed surface of the buttress edge; now swinging into the narrow cleft at its side. Sometimes with arms and legs outstretched, like a gigantic starfish, in a wild endeavour to grasp a possible support; or bunched together after a huge step upward, where no in- tervening foothold offered in an expanse of a yard or more. A tiny resting-place, perhaps an inch in width and two or three in length, on which a por- tion of a nailed boot-edge can maintain a transi- tory grip, is hailed with delight and looked on as a luxury. The least projection, if happily not slippery, suffices for a hold, and one slow gymnastic effort suc- ceeds another as the climber gently draws himself up foot by foot. As little spring or jerk as possible is the invariable rule, lest it detach one of the treach- erous supports, and leave him hanging precari- ously on a fragile remnant, or hurl him in an instant on the cruel rocks that line the gully at his feet. . . . Above him still nearly twenty feet remained of the bad bit, perhaps the worst section of it all. His sit- uation was not of the most secure; the slightest slip or jerk on my part would possibly be enough to drag him from his hold and so precipitate us both into the ^Tbrilling Bceccnt in tbe IRiGbt 249 abyss, where the white glacier gleamed apparently so close beneath our feet, yet really more than 6000 feet away. But 1 must come on or give up the expedition." With this and other difficulties they only arrived on the summit at four o'clock, eleven hours after the start. With some apprehension of being caught by nightfall they made all haste in the descent. To quote again: "It was almost dark when we approached the well remembered cliff, which had been contin- ually on our minds, and to reach which before night- fall had been the object of our hasty, foodless march. But we arrived too late. And now the question arose as to the wisest course to take. We were on the horns of a dilemma. To go on meant descending practically in the dark a cliff which we had deemed so difficult by daylight as almost to be deterred from undertaking it at all. But on the other hand, a night out 10,000 feet above the sea, without the smallest vestige of shelter, on the exposed sky-line of a ridge swept by an arctic wind, with boots and stockings saturated and certain to freeze (and possibly the feet inside as well) before the dawn could aid us on our way, and almost destitute of food, offered a prospect particularly uninviting. 1 left the decision entirely to Kaufmann. The risk was practically his alone. For me, descending first with the good rope in his trusty grasp, there was no danger, even should I slip or fail to find a hold, except for the short distance where both would be upon the face at the same 250 Zhc IRocUcQ of Canaba time. For him, a slip, a lost grip or a broken hold might mean destruction. But again he voted for ad- vance, and at any rate 1 could make a trial and report upon my personal sensations before his turn arrived. So I turned my face towards the rock, slipped over the edge, and entered on the fateful climb. "It will be long before I lose the recollection of those seventy feet of cliff. Drawn out for one long hour of concentrated tension were the successive ex- periences of hopeless groping in the dark depths for something to rest a foot upon, of blind search all over the chilled rocky surface for a knob or tiny crack where the numbed fingers might find another hold, of agonising doubt as to their stability when found, of eerie thrill and sickening sensation when the long- sought support crumbled beneath the stress and hur- tled downward into the blackness of space, whilst the hollow reverberations of its fall re-echoed through the silence. Then the strain of waiting on the best, but very questionable, protuberances for several tense minutes of motionless suspense, whilst the exigencies of the rope compelled Christian to climb down fifteen or twenty feet, and I could move again. At long last came the marvellous relief of feeling solid and suf- ficient standing-room once more, followed by the still more trying period of inactivity, the patient intensity of watching and hauling in the slack as the rope came slowly and spasmodically down, telling of Christian's gradual descent, the strained anxiety lest any acci- dent should happen to my comrade, and, finally, the Zbc ascent of HDt Deltatorm 251 thankfulness of seeing his figure looming close above and in a few moments standing by my side, and we could breathe again." Possibly the most difficult mountain yet ascended in the Canadian Rockies is Mt. Deltaform: A re- markably strong climbing party required nearly twenty-two hours to conquer this forbidding peak after a reconnaissance and repulse two days before. Dr. A. Eggers has been so kind as to give me his account written shortly after the ascent, which 1 take great pleasure in reproducing. ''On the first of September at six o'clock we left our camp for our final attempt. The morning was fine, the temperature thirty-five degrees and the day promised well. We tramped through the timber along the foot of the mountain until we came to the broad snow couloir which we had discovered two days before. There we put on the rope, and from that time until two o'clock the next morning we were tied together to the same fate. We were roped in the following order: Christian Kaufmann, Profes- sor Parker, Hans Kaufmann, and myself. '* After some stiff rock climbing we finally emerged at 1 1. 15 on the southern arete. Here we took our second breakfast in excellent humour, thinking that the hardest part had been accomplished, and that the summit, some eight hundred feet higher, would be easily reached. But we counted without Mt. Deltaform. ' ' The first few hundred feet proved easy climbing. 2 52 Z\)C IRocMes of Cauaba Then our progress was barred by an ice couloir lead- ing up to a nearly vertical rock buttress supporting a small, scree-covered, rocky shelf. The ice, cov- ered with half an inch of snow, was so hard that the ice axe would glance off. The difficulty here was to get handholds amongst the loose scree to scramble up on the shelf from the buttress below. The wall above this shelf was unscalable, and we had to make a traverse along a narrow ledge from three to ten inches broad. This was about thirty or forty feet long and broken in the middle by a chimney, across which a long step had to be taken. The cliff above was nearly perpendicular, but fortunately presented better handholds than we usually found on this mountain. The cliffs below were just as steep and very sharp and ragged. However no mishap oc- curred and we came out on another shelf from which our only way was up a very steep and narrow ice couloir curving around the rock buttress on our left. This couloir, about a hundred feet high, proved the most difficult place. The step cutting took a long time, as the ice was hard and green and the steps had to be cut very deep and with exceeding care. The next hour was rather straining on the nerves. As Christian proceeded up the couloir he disappeared around the rocks and only the sound of his cutting could be heard and the swishing of pieces of ice as they rushed by us down the slope and disappeared on precipices which we knew ended in the valley below. Cbristian Jfinbs Ibimself in a Bat) Ipoeition 253 ''The weather had changed, and a sharp, cold wind was blowing up the chimney with occasional squalls of snow. 1 was finally left alone, one foot in one step, the other high up in the next one, grasping the small protuberances in the rocky wall on my left, which here did not give more than miserable hold for the finger tips, the gloves froze to the rocks, and the fingers finally became too numb to feel. Still it was necessary to hang on because, as the others were shut out of view by the rocks, no warning could be given me in case of a slip. When, after twenty minutes, my turn came to climb, 1 felt as if I was too stiff to move. ''This ice couloir ended against some nearly verti- cal rocks, the upper edge of which was covered by the snow and ice of the slope above. As Christian reached the upper edge of these rocks he found that it was covered with ice, giving no hold for his hands, and his footholds were too insecure to rely on only one hand and use the other for cutting the ice away. He was some minutes trying to find holds for his fingers, not daring to move his feet to another place. Finally he had to give it up, and realising what a possible slip might mean to us all in this difficult place he called to Hans to come up and assist him down. Carefully Hans climbed up beyond Professor Parker, 1 following to give him necessary rope, then holding Christian's feet in their not too secure places, he steadied him while he secured better handholds on which he could rely and work his way down 2 54 ^bc IRockiee of Canada again. After Hans and I had climbed down to our places, Christian tried farther to the right, and suc- ceeded in reaching the snow and ice-covered slope above. We emerged on the western arete, and at the other end rose the final pinnacle of the mountain. " Never has any mountain summit given me such an impression of crushingly sublime, I might say in- solently sublime, unapproachableness. It rose about fifty or sixty feet above the arete, its northern face rearing itself as a vertical cliff, emerging unbroken from the nearly perpendicular cliffs towards the Valley of the Ten Peaks. The southern face rose just as steep and in just as unbroken a wall from the only less precipitous cliffs of the south-eastern face, and fronting right to us, rose an apparently unscal- able vertical wall, some thirty feet high, against which the sharp snow arete came to an abrupt end. These yellowish, naked cliffs were set against the pale blue sky of the frosty September afternoon, while the gale blowing from the north drove the powdery snow from the knife edge of the snow arete in little clouds around its foot. " But what the eyes of the amateur, blinded by the sublimity of the view, did not see, was immedi- ately detected by the trained eyes of Christian and Hans, and without a moment's hesitation did they start towards a narrow cleft in the rocks, which led directly from the arete up the wall confronting us, and it took only a short time to reach the top, from which an easy snow slope led to the actual summit. Z\)c Summit IReacbcb 255 ** At four-fifteen we arrived on the summit. But it was a very solemn party: there was no enthusiasm, no shaking of hands, no congratulations, no laughter, not even a smile. Hans and Christian's faces looked serious, and Christian's only words were: 'We must not stay here, but hurry to get down.' We all knew too well the difficulties which we had overcome, and we realised that we would have the same and still more to overcome while descending. We had used ten hours coming up and only four hours were left before dark- ness would set in at this time of the year. The squalls of snow and wind came with ever increasing frequency and the sky was full of dark, threatening clouds. We had to get down the difficult places before nightfall. We stayed therefore on the sum- mit only long enough to build a cairn and take photographs. There was no time for eating. After less than half an hour we started down again, roped in the following order: Hans Kaufmann, myself, Professor Parker, and Christian. We got down the chimney before darkness set in, but even then we had some two thousand feet more. It had turned quite cold, so our wet gloves froze to the rocks, and the little snow which had fallen made it still more difficult to find holds for hands and feet. Now and then the mioon would come out from behind the clouds, only to show the precipitous cliffs in its de- ceiving light and then throw us into deeper darkness. The hands and feet had to feel for places to rest 2 56 Zl)c IRocMes of Caiiaba which could not be seen, and each place had to be carefully tested before relied on. This is an abso- lutely necessary safeguard even when climbing in daylight among the rotten rocks in the Canadian Rockies. How we escaped being hit by the loos- ened stones, which we heard roll by us but did not see, is a wonder. '' Finally, at two o'clock in the morning, we un- roped and sat down for a lunch, the first we had had since our second breakfast at eleven-fifteen in the forenoon. But we were too dry to eat. We had had no water since six o'clock in the morning, and now there was only half a bottle of tea which was full of ice and only one teaspoonful of brandy for each of us. So we drank that and ate some raisins. At three-thirty we reached our tent, twenty-one hours and a half since we had left it the morning before." A large proportion of the highest peaks near the line of railroad have now been ascended. Amongst them are a number of peaks of conspicuous difficulty, such as Deltaform, Hungabee, Goodsir, Forbes, Bryce, and Assiniboine. Attention will now be drawn to peaks of lesser magnitude, and finally to variation of route on mountains already ascended. There are undoubtedly many surprises in store amongst them, and it is more than likely that some will prove nearly, or quite, unscalable. The south peak of Mt. Douglas and the north tower of Mt. Goodsir are still unclimbed after an attempt on each, Mt. Victoria re- mains unsealed by the north arete, and Pinnacle jfuture of nDountaiii Climbino in IRocMes 257 Mountain has repelled three climbing parties with Swiss guides. It will undoubtedly be many years before all, or nearly all, the peaks, even comparativel)' near the railroad, will have been ascended, while the remoter regions, reached by three or four days' camp- ing trips, will probably offer virgin ascents for an- other generation. The frequency of first ascents will, of course, diminish as the nearer mountains are exhausted. The mountaineering future therefore is bright and full of interest for many years to come. Fortunately some of the loftiest and most difficult ascents can be made with comfortable and home-like hotels as a base, or within easy striking distance, and the climber has an immense variety of climbs at his dis- posal, as, for instance, the lofty but comparatively easy Mt. Temple, the readily accessible but very in- teresting Mt. Victoria, the diminutive but difficult Miter, the dangerous wedge-shaped peaks of Hunga- bee and Deltaform, and the precipice-guarded spire of Pinnacle Mountain, which has thus far proven unclimbable. CHAPTER XIV KINDS OF GAME ANIMALS IN THE MOUNTAINS — THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT — A SUCCESSFUL STALK — A DIFFICULT NIGHT ASCENT — HOW GOAT MEAT SHOULD BE COOKED — AN EXPERIENCE ON THE SASKATCHEWAN — MANY GOATS AROUND LAKE LOUISE — INTERESTING ADVENTURE ON A MOUNTAIN CLIMB — THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP — ITS HABITS AND NATURE — SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A LARGE BAND — CURIOUS INSTANCE OF TAMENESS — SEVERAL KINDS OF GROUSE— THE ALPINE PTARMIGAN — FISHING IN LAKES AND STREAMS— WHERE FISH CANNOT BE FOUND— SOME STORIES ABOUT THE UPPER BOW RIVER — A REMARKABLE CATCH — VARIATION OF FISH IN DIFFERENT LAKES — SPORT AT MO- RAINE LAKE — ON A RAFT AT THE SPRAY LAKES — LARGE FISH CAUGHT IN DEVIL's LAKE — FUTURE OF THE ROCKIES AS A RESORT FOR SPORTSMEN GAME in the Canadian Rockies is moderately abundant. The chief wild animals, besides black and grizzly bears, are moose, elk, deer, caribou, sheep or bighorn, and the Rocky Mountain goat. The several species belonging to the deer tribe are very scarce and hunters rarely bag any of this game. This scarcity is probably due to the rather limited feeding-grounds in the narrow valleys and perhaps, also, to long and severe winters. About 1840, according to a statement of the 258 (Bame Hnlmale in tbe flDountalne 259 missionary De Smet, the Stony Indians came from the north and settled on the plains near the Bow River. They always have been and are still inveterate hunters, delighting in frequent expeditions into the mountains, where they engage in wholesale slaughter of big game. Fortunately, however, they have been recently compelled to submit to certain laws, which, if enforced for a few years, will make game much more plentiful. The Indians believe in certain cycles of about seven years when the various species of game animals become alternately scarce and more abundant, whether from disease or some other cause is not known. Among big game the animal most characteristic of the Rockies of Canada and which, from its scarcity in other parts of the country the sportsman is most anxious to get, is the wild goat. This animal at a distance has the general appearance of a goat, though it is a species of antelope and more closely related to the ibex or chamois of Switzerland. It is covered with a dense coat of soft white wool, through which a mingling of longer hair projects, especially on the belly and stout legs. Both sexes have round, black horns six to twelve inches long, slightly curved back- wards and very sharply pointed. An adult animal, when cornered, can put up a strong fight against ene- mies of its own size, and 1 have heard of an Indian nearly losing his life in a close encounter with an old male. A full-grown goat sometimes weighs more than two hundred pounds. The Indians kill a large 2 6o ^be IRocMee of (]:ana^a number of them every year for their flesh and hides, which latter they tan into a soft leather. Neverthe- less the mountain goat is very abundant and probably actually increasing in numbers. Its natural environment is among high and almost inaccessible cliffs near the upper limit of vegetation, or in the alps and meadows above tree-line. Rarely do these animals come far below tree-line during the summer. They are apparently slow and clumsy in their movements and have a swinging gait like a bear, a resemblance that at a distance is increased by the fact that they hold their heads very low. In spite of apparent slowness they run over the roughest rocks at a rapid pace and climb with certainty cliffs that are inaccessible to man. They run singly or in groups of from three to seven during the summer months, browsing upon the tender Alpine plants which grow between seven and nine thousand feet above the sea. In some of the lower valleys there are clay banks containing minerals which they travel miles to taste, and the number of tracks leading in several directions show that such " licks " are much frequented. My first goat was killed near the base of Mt. Assini- boine. West of our camp there was a long ridge of nearly horizontal ledges for the first thousand feet or so from the valley, while the rocks were more pre- cipitous above. On our various excursions we had noticed fresh tracks of goats, while the low spruce and underbrush were in many places covered with tufts of white wool which had been torn from th^ ZTbc IRock^ riDountaln 6oat 261 animals as they passed. However, no game had been seen till one afternoon, when a goat was ob- served walking along the cliff a few hundred feet above our level and not half a mile distant. Two of us made off in pursuit, and after climbing to a higher ledge, followed the innumerable gorges and rocky spurs of the mountain-side in the hope of getting a shot. But our game made better progress than we and eventually eluded us altogether. After a three- hours' hunt we returned to camp much disappointed ; but while we were at dinner the goat appeared again, this time much higher on the mountain. My com- panion had had enough, and though it was getting late I determined, after having been once baffled, to have that goat if it was necessary to stay out all night. The animal had scrambled down a number of exceedingly steep places to a narrow shelf below which was a vertical precipice that made him pause. At frequent intervals he would look down as though he wanted to descend the cliff, but there was not the slightest foothold for even such a skilful mountaineer. I watched the animal from the cover of some larches with the purpose of fixing in my mind the outline of a certain snow patch. 1 felt that the success of the hunt would depend on knowing exactly where the game was when I should come down for a shot. The mountain goat must be stalked from above. Ex- perience has taught them that their chief enemies, bears and panthers, come from below. They pay little attention to anything above them except to run 262 Zbc 1RocWc0 of Canada to cover of some projecting cliff whenever stones rattle down the mountain-side. After the exact out- line of the snow patch that marked the position of the goat had been fixed in memory, I set out to scramble up the grassy slope, concealed from possible view of my game. I climbed nearly a thousand feet and then had a difficult scramble among some tre- mendous crags and rock fragments with dark caverns and patches of treacherous snow between them. Darkness was coming on rapidly under the shadow of the mountain, and the north-western twilight was fading, as it was nearly nine-thirty. The snow was hardening under the frost, and some pools were freez- ing as I followed a gently descending ledge and saw before me the well-marked snow patch, under which the goat had been standing when I left the valley. Pausing a brief moment to take breath after the rapid climb, I worked over to the cliff edge cautiously but not without disturbing some shaly stones, which pattered down and rattled over the precipice. Aroused by these stones, no doubt, I then saw the goat not far below looking at me with a curiously sullen ex- pression. I aimed, but had sufficient presence of mind not to fire because the foresight of my rifle was making circles around my mark owing to a combina- tion of '' buck fever" and the rapid climbing which I had just done. It seemed a long time before I could make proper aim, and then after a flash there was a dull thud far below. Leaning over the cliff I saw the goat at the bottom of the precipice rolling HEAD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT a Successful StalF^ 263 over and over dov/n the mountain-side. After a circuitous descent I reached the cliff bottom, and found a large hole in frozen snov/, v^here the goat's body had struck after a fall of fully one hundred and twenty-five feet. The poor animal was some distance below, still alive though mortally wounded. I de- spatched the animal with another bullet, and at ten- thirty started for camp. It was now dark and the trees and rocks were dimly outlined under the starlight. A precipitous ledge below compelled a detour. Thinking that the end of this had been reached I commenced to descend a rather steep place which at first seemed easy enough. By a succession of groping movements, aided by projecting roots and stones, I lowered my- self from one point to another till at length, with one hand firmly grasping a young balsam, 1 found myself hanging over a cliff supported by one arm. It was impossible to tell how high the cliff might be, which gave little encouragement to jump into the darkness and risk a fall, just then the rifle began to slip, and a most tiresome struggle ensued to place it securely with one hand while the other supported the entire weight of my body. Though everything seemed fairly safe in going down, the bushes broke or came out by the roots as I tried to climb up, and the smooth stones offered no grip to my fingers. Sheer neces- sity resulted in success at last after some desperate efforts. Camp was reached toward midnight, and around the blazing fire I told of my successful hunt. 264 ^be IRocKtcs of Canada Peyto and Lang took a stout pole in the morning and brought the goat down to camp, where the meat was carefully dressed and laid away in a neighbouring snow-bank. The meat of these animals is somewhat like venison, though it has a musky flavour which is too strong for many palates. However, in my expe- rience, when the meat is broiled, or fried with bacon, and well seasoned with salt and pepper, it is quite impossible to say whether the cook has served goat or the very best mutton. Goat meat should never be boiled or stewed, as the musky flavour is then apparent. In 1896 Mr. Barrett and I were camped at the forks of the Saskatchewan, a seven-days' journey into the wilds. Our camp was in a small canyon near the turbulent Little Fork, and our tents were placed in an open grove of spruce on a flat gravel bed. On the evening of our arrival Barrett and I, accompanied by Fred Stephens, an experienced back- woodsman from Michigan, and a great hunter, walked towards the Saskatchewan River. Leaving the point where the Little Fork pours its small contribution into the milky flood of glacial waters, we strolled down the valley for a considerable distance, when suddenly our attention was called to a large animal upon the river-bank a mile or so distant. Stephens, who had killed many bears in Montana, declared it was a grizzly. A plan was made at once for Stephens and Barrett, who had rifles, to follow the cover of woods while I made signals as to the location of the animal. an lEypcrience on tbe Saekatcbewan 265 After twenty minutes I saw puffs of bluish smoke and heards shots ring out from the forest, whereupon our game reared up on his hind legs and ran towards the hunters. No more shots were heard, the animal disappeared among trees, and it seemed best to climb a tall spruce to get a better view over the flat expanse of the valley, and, if possible, have a look at the game and hunters. Barrett and Stephens afterwards said, however, that I was not up the tree for any other purpose than to avoid the charge of a wounded grizzly which was coming my way. It eventually proved, however, that the supposed bear was nothing less than a very large goat, which must have weighed three hundred pounds. This region is frequented by mountain goats, and fresh tracks were to be seen on the Indian trail near our camp. One day a kid walked along the crest of a low cliff within a few yards of our camp. The little animal showed no fear of us, and browsed the grass as it sauntered along. When one of our men fired a pistol several times it only looked startled for a moment. 1 thought the action of the beast showed supreme contempt for the shooting, which was in- deed very bad. The fact of our seeing two goats and many fresh tracks at this low altitude, which was about thirty-five hundred feet below the tree-line, proves that mountain goats sometimes endure the warmth of the low valleys. On a hot summer day the temperature might easily rise to eighty degrees in such a valley, and if the goats remain below at 266 Zbc IRockicQ ot Canada such times they must tolerate a much greater heat than is supposed. The abundance of goats in these mountains is well proved by the ease with which the Indians kill large numbers of them, and the very good bags made by gentlemen who have made an earnest ef- fort to hunt them. We killed three and saw, all told, about fifteen on this excursion, where hunting was only a side-issue and engaged in at rare inter- vals. Two Englishmen, Col. Melleden and Capt. Chartris, killed six goats and five sheep on a three- weeks' hunting trip in this locality. One of the best places I know for the mountain goat is the group of mountains around Lake Louise. 1 have seen many of these animals every year in the valley of Lake Louise or on the adjacent hillsides. The magnitude of the mountains and the distance require very sharp eyes to see the animals, though the Indians can pick them out where the white man requires a field-glass. They are not much hunted, and are increasing in numbers in that neighbour- hood. In October, 1899, the telegraph operator at Laggan saw a large herd on Fairview Mountain, and a few days later two Swiss guides saw fifteen or twenty on one side of the valley near Mt. Lefroy, and a solitary animal several miles distant the same day. One of the most interesting experiences with goats that has come to my experience occurred on the day following. 1 had made an ascent of Pope's Peak, a high mountain above Lake Agnes, which adventure on a flDountain Climb 267 latter the Indians used to call the ''Goats' Looking- Glass," and, coming down from the cliffs and danger- ous places of the peak to safer travelling, was beginning to experience that comfortable feeling which every mountaineer enjoys after a successful climb when the last hard work is over. It was a per- fect day of sunshine, with massive cumulus clouds and the mountains distinctly outlined in clear air. Having reached an altitude of about eight thousand feet, 1 paused for a few moments to study the great amphitheatre of mountains and the vast sweep of the valley. My eye fell at once on three goats browsing on Alpine herbs of a green slope. I was in full view of them, and the nature of the mountain was such that no concealment was possible. How- ever, by way of experiment, 1 continued the descent with ordinary caution, and, working over to the left, came down upon them from above. They were al- together absorbed in their pasture, and unmindful of the pattering stones which 1 disturbed from time to time. Whenever all of them had their heads to the ground at the same time, I ran some distance, crouching under the cover of low bushes, and then waited for another opportunity. The unwary ani- mals paid no heed till, in wonder at their stupidity, I stood up in full view, not ten yards distant from the nearest goat ! Even then 1 received only a sul- len look from the old billy. He made a curious picture as he flapped his ears constantly to drive away the pestiferous grey gnats which swarm in 268 ^be IRockiee ot Canada the autumn and which were bothering me likewise. I reached for a large stone, and shied it at him ; but he was so close that it went over his back. Then they commenced to run. It is said that mountain goats invariably run up-hill, even in the face of dan- ger, but I was determined not to let them do so. They wheeled to the left, and I likewise, running over rough stones and through scrubby brush as though my life depended on the chase. I got a glimpse of the goats heading up, but I was still di- rectly above them. They saw me and turned back. Then for an interval they were lost to view, and in a few moments they appeared in the valley bottom, loping like wolves over the rough stones and up the opposite slope, pausing to look around in terror be- fore making a final dash for safety. It was not long before they were at my level on the mountain op- posite, and then they came to what appeared an abrupt precipice. They seemed to spring into the air and reach a foothold of some kind several feet above them, pause, and leap again. They were not content till they had climbed more than a thousand feet to the summit of a rough crag called the ''Devil's Thumb," when they disappeared through a little depression into the valley of Lake Louise on the other side. The Rocky Mountain sheep or bighorn has sim- ilar habits. This noble animal, though somewhat scarce, seems to reach the best development of head and horns in these Canadian Rockies. I have never JLbc HDountaln Sbeep 269 seen heads from Montana or the Sierras to compare with the beautiful sweep of horns that is common to sheep killed in these mountains. In speaking of the bighorn John Muir says : ''The domestic sheep, in a generjl way, is ex- pressionless, like a dull bundle of something only half alive, while the wild is as elegant and graceful as a deer, and every movement tells the strength and grandeur of his character. The tame is timid, the wild is bold. The tame is always more or less ruf- fled and dirty ; while the wild is as smooth and clean as the flowers of his mountain pastures." Whereas the mountain goat is clothed in a coat of white wool, the sheep has a thick pelt of stiff and rather brittle hair which, in colouring, harmonizes with the grey and brownish cliffs where he roams. They are more wary than the goat, and require care- ful stalking. The mountain sheep is less abundant than formerly because the Indians seek them persist- ently. Fine heads always bring a good price for mounting, and this, in addition to their excellent meat, makes them eagerly sought after. I have seen the wild sheep only in one part of the Canadian Rockies, though they live sparingly throughout the higher mountains and especially in the foot-hills and Coast range. One day, when we were journeying to the Athabasca Pass, we found ourselves far above timber on a lofty divide between the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. While spread out in single file, our fifteen horses were marching 2 70 ^be IRocklee of Canada through a rolling upland pasture in silence. Sud- denly a bunch of wild sheep ran upon an eminence not fifty yards distant to look at us. This was a magnificent revelation of animal life. Twenty-seven wild sheep proudly outlined against the sky ! Mo- tionless they stood gazing at us in amazement while we studied their graceful forms and curved horns raised high in air. Every rifle was tied to the saddle, as luck would have it, and a long march through rain and wet brush had made unyielding knots in the leather straps. While we were getting at the fire- arms a miserable pet spaniel, which had hitherto proved utterly unfit to find or recover game, ran for- ward barking. With a sudden turn the whole band made off, showing their white rumps as they bounded away for miles over the hills. We hunted them from our camp later. Fred Stephens shot one at long range, but the animal struggled away and fell over some cliffs where it was impossible to follow. The next day two sheep ap- peared on the mountain five hundred feet above the camp. They were looking at us intently, and no doubt wondering what manner of creatures we might be. Barrett and 1 made a long detour, and hunted carefully all that day, but were not able to locate them. We saw numbers of sheep on many occasions in this particular place, which is never hunted by the Indians because of a certain superstition about this part of the mountain. A most interesting experience occurred to Barrett one day when he was making a rjiseu a': an leaiii^ arms prov ward mad.r ed horns ifle was tied to the saddle, aid a long march through rain nyielding knots in the v-^^- - ^ the fire- iiUM hitherto Hea>ct^\df ^h%yMMfitdiWSke'kp^<:. ran for- vVith a suddtii i':- ''^^- whole band wing their white rui i mded miles over the hills. lunted them Fred SU'cipii. VV btruggieJ avv im— " ' • peui> camp doub 1 ti 11 1 i I )Ok!I be. Bai-rett an I carefully all them. V that c in this partic 1 1 ■ - t ular pi. of a itain. .^.rett '" itiv .jove the and no might mnted locate asions Dy the ,juut this vperience linking a Curioue Unstance of ^ameneee 271 lone mountain climb. It was the first and only time for a month that he had failed to carry his rifle. De- scending from the mountain he came upon a young lamb, and presently saw the mother not far distant. Neither appeared much disconcerted by his presence, but moved slowly ahead as he progressed. The lamb actually indulging in various friskings and youthful evolutions at a few yards' distance. Previous to our visit, which was probably the first made by white men to this place, these sheep had been seldom or never hunted, as the Indians got their superstitions about the region years before. They were accordingly in a state of primitive wildness, which may account for these several instances of tameness in one of the most wary of all wild animals. Subsequently, however, several hunting parties have reduced their numbers. The moose, elk, and deer are very scarce except in such low and broad valleys as the Vermilion and Kootenay. Few except Indians succeed in bagging these animals. However, most hunters are more eager to get sheep and goats, and little effort has been made hitherto in the way of killing these members of the deer tribe. Bears, both black and grizzly, are fairly abundant, especially in the Selkirk range, where at Glacier three or four have been seen on several occasions in one day. An immense grizzly was shot at Lake Louise several years ago within a few yards of the chalet, and a number of animals are killed every season by the railroad men. 2 72 Ebe IRockies of Canat)a In seven or eight seasons of marching through these mountain wildernesses, I have seen a bear but once. It is not uncommon to see their tracks, but a bear has acute hearing, and quickly withdraws into hiding upon the approach of a noisy pack-train. The Stony Indians attack them fearlessly. Though they are inferior shots, two alone will open up on a grizzly, and it is often said that they will fight a black bear armed only with hunting-knives. The Stonies, however, are incomparable hunters, and it is their boast that like, Attila, "the scourge of God," be- neath whose feet the grass died : ''No game can live where we hunt." In the way of small game, there are several species of grouse and ducks, which are more likely to fill the larder of an ordinary camping expedition than big game. The Richardson and Franklin grouse, with the grey ruffed and Canadian ruffed grouse, are closely related to the pinnated grouse or prairie chicken. They live in the forests everywhere, and are so abundant that they make a large and important item in the way of fresh meat. These birds are excellent eating, being juicy, tender, and well-flavoured. It is hardly fair to call them "game," for they are easily killed by shooting their heads off with a rifle as they roost in the trees. I have taken six in half an hour, armed with stones, though it requires practice to pick them off at first. Black ducks, mallards, and teal are found in such places as the Vermilion Lakes near Banff, and on all rivers and lakes in the lower valleys. Zbe aiplne ptarmigan 273 They used to swarm in large numbers at Lake Louise in September and October, but have been less nu- merous in the last two or three seasons. The ptar- migan is an Alpine bird, found among the bare rocks, eight or nine thousand feet above sea-level in the summer months. Their summer dress is a pepper- and-salt colour with wings nearly white, but in winter is snowy white throughout, while their legs, and even the bottom of their feet, are covered with feathers, possibly as a protection against cold. These birds are of the same size as the domestic pigeon, considerably smaller than the grouse, but similar in flavour. They will remain quiet until one shot is fired, and if this does not take effect, they fly away out of danger, thereby showing superior dis- cretion to their stupid cousins of the woods. With the exception of goat hunting, it may safely be said, that fishermen have better opportunities of sport than the big-game hunters in the Rockies of Canada. It may be broadly stated that every clear stream abounds in trout if the waters are not too swift. The distribution of fish in the numerous lakes depends on many circumstances, some of which are easily understood ; as for instance the absence of fish in lakes of very high altitude, or where a wa- terfall has made the ascent of streams impossible. But in other rare cases, there are large clear lakes at reasonable altitudes, having fine outlet streams, where there are no fish. The most remarkable place of the kind that I have seen is Fortress Lake, 2 74 ^be IRocMee of (Xanana seven miles long, which empties into the Columbia River. Some of the rivers are glacial streams, carrying a flood of muddy water from ice-fields of the high mountains, and in these no fish can live. Many streams are rushing torrents or a succession of rapids, swinging from right to left in rapid descent, for miles, with no pools or eddies where a trout might find rest. The upper Simpson and Vermilion are such streams, though fine trout abound in their lower parts. The Bow is an ideal river for mountain trout, with many reaches of deep pools and eddying coves, as it descends through its broad and flat valley, and taking its source in two fine lakes, three or four miles long, both of which teem with large lake trout. Some of the best records in trout fishing have been made in these waters near the source of the Bow. The lakes have only been tried from the shore, be- cause the few parties that have visited them have not had time to build rafts and try the deepest places. Many trout have been caught near the shores of the Upper Bow Lake, which run between eight and twelve pounds. The lower lake also no doubt abounds in large fish, though the only one I ever saw was a two-pound fish I got with a fly, after three minutes' fishing from its rocky south shore. To give some idea of the fishing in the upper part of the Bow River, where it flows through the muskegs at the base of Mt. Hector, I will first tell my jflsbiiiG in XaJ^es anb Streams 275 own experience, and then give some more remark- able records made by others. One day our men were having trouble getting the horses through a muskeg, when, by way of experiment, 1 took a line in hand with an artificial fly attached and dropped it from an overhanging bank on the water of a deep pool. A three-pound trout rose to the fly and was soon landed. The next carried away my leader, and I had to suspend operations, as our horses were well ahead by that time. In the afternoon 1 tried some pools above our camp, having no luck at all in some, while others contained several trout. With a red hackle 1 landed Ave trout averaging two pounds each from one pool in less than three minutes. On September 13 to 15, 1898, General Fred Pear- son and Captain Dickerson caught the following mess of trout between the upper and lower Bow lakes : I fish at 4i pounds I at Si pounds 2 " " 6 I " 8f '' I " " 6i " 3 '' 9i '' I '' '' 8 I " 9f '' There is no doubt that these Bow lakes abound in lake trout of considerable size. Wilson says that the Indians used to get numbers of large fish when, for some reason, they came into a small stream which enters the lake from the north-west. These fish were driven by shouts into shallow water, and so caught. Where the stream flows out into the lake is a fine 2 76 Zbc IRocklce of Canada place to fish, and when camped there we caught a great number of two- and three-pound bullhead trout. A camping party, which had just left, caught fewer fish in the same place, but they were all between eight and ten pounds. The fish in each mountain lake have certain pe- culiarities of size or colouring. In Lake Louise the trout are from one-half to one pound in weight, and no large fish have ever been caught. They are brook trout, similar, except in lighter colouring, to those in the brawling outlet stream. Moraine Lake, east of Mt. Temple, abounds in very gamy trout, the size of which was quite uniformly between fifteen and seventeen inches in length. So far as I know, this lake had never been visited before the summer of 1899, when Ross Peecock and I camped there several days. Here is a lake full offish, which we reached in six hours' travel from Lake Louise, and that, too, by driving our pack-horses through the pathless woods. If a trail were cut through the timber, sportsmen could no doubt reach this splendid lake in three or four hours. This gives an instance of the comparative wildness of the mountains, and their wonderful possibilities in the way of sport, which have not been developed hitherto. We found another larger lake some ten miles further south, which drains into the Little Vermilion Creek, where the fish were numerous, but of smaller size, averaging a pound or more. They resemble rainbow trout, but were very highly coloured and their gills fiery red. ®n a IRaft at tbc Spra^ Xal?c6 277 There is a lake about a day's journey from Banff, in the valley of Forty Mile Creek, where sport is impossible because the fish are too numerous. I have never seen it, but old timers around Banff agree that in this place several fish dash to the fly at one time, so that after a few minutes, fishing seems more like slaughter than legitimate sport. One of the best places for lake trout is in the Spray Lakes, a day's march from Banff. This is on the route to Mt. Assiniboine, and on my second journey to that region we camped by the largest of them, called Trout Lake. Mr. Bryant and I got on a raft, which the miners from Canmore had built, and after paddling out into the lake, tried the fly- fishing. Fish of one to two pounds rose to the fly, and we soon got a large number for lunch. In the afternoon we anchored the raft where a large stream enters, and while Bryant used the fly I rigged up a large hook and strong line, and after baiting with a piece of fresh fish, dropped the hook over. The current carried out fifteen or twenty yards of line and swept the hook along the bottom, until, in a short time, there came a violent tug, as though a log had caught the hook. But this was a very different pull, and I had to let out fathoms of line. A big fish was on, and he was rushing madly in every direction, sometimes coming nearer, when some slack could be taken in, then away again, while the strain- ing line whipping through the water threatened to break at any time. In fifteen minutes a lake trout 2 78 ^be IRocklee of Canada that weighed fully nine pounds was landed on the raft and killed. Three more were caught in the first hour, one of which was a ten-pound fish. Bryant got one with his trout rod, deeming it better sport than a hand line, and so it proved. It was a twenty- minute fight between a large fish, his line, and sup- ple rod, which was bent double, and never recovered the strain of that day. It was a glorious sight, as the declining sun was playing over the broad waters of the lake in the majestic calm of evening, to hear the whiz of the line and the sound of the reel, with our friends on the shore shouting : '' Go it, old man, hang on ! " till at last another fine prize was captured. We packed all our spare fish in a wooden box in cold moss and had enough to supply the hundred or more guests at the Banff Springs Hotel. Roughly speaking, the size of trout in the Upper Bow Lake, the largest of the Spray Lakes, and Lake Minnewanka, near Banff, is proportional to the size of the lakes themselves. Lake Minnewanka, or the Devil's Lake, is eleven miles long, and the fish are both numerous and of great size. A trout weighing thirty-three pounds held the record up to 1896, or later ; but all records were surpassed by a fish caught in 1899 by Dr. Seward Webb, which tipped the scales at forty-seven pounds ! The total weight of fourteen fish caught in this lake one day by two sportsmen was forty-three pounds. Sixteen caught the following day weighed forty-eight pounds, or an average of about three pounds to each fish. 1 have ^bc IRocWes as a IRcsort for Sportsmen 279 heard that the Indians sometimes bring in fish of unusual size from the Kananaskis Lakes and other bodies of water remote from the railroad ; but this information is second-hand and like all such, es- pecially in regard to fish, somewhat influenced by imagination. Generally speaking, the sportsman should expect to kill in these Canadian Rockies no big game out- side of the mountain goat and sheep. With a well directed effort in a proper region, especially if an Indian hunter can be persuaded to assist him, he will stand a very fair chance of securing sheep, and al- most a certainty of bagging several goats. The hunter will have to rough it, and may find the vi- cissitudes of mountain travel more trying than any- thing to be encountered in the woods of Maine or eastern Canada. Moreover, the pursuit of these mountain-loving animals requires steady nerves and considerable practice in climbing. Such matters add zest to the chase and the reward is fairly certain. For the fisherman there is an unopened wilder- ness full of fine streams and clear lakes, in the great majority of which fish abound. Emerald Lake and Lake Minnewanka are easily accessible ; but most of them are as yet only to be reached by rough trails, or by forcing a passage through the forests. The re- mote bodies of water are, of course, not supplied with boats, and some, which are only three or four hours' journey from the railroad, have never been fished ; 28o ^be IRocWes of Canada so that the sportsman, to get the best results, must resort to rafts of his own construction, or carry a collapsible boat. However, the waters of all these mountain lakes are deep, and sometimes excellent fly-fishing may be had from their rocky shores. CHAPTER XV HOME OF THE STONY INDIANS — INFLUENCE OF AN EARLY MISSIONARY — THE INDIAN VILLAGE —TREATY WITH THE GOVERNMENT — POWER OF THE STONIES IN WAR — THEIR CHIEFS — SCHOOLS AND EFFECTS OF EDUCATION — RE- LIGIOUS TEMPERAMENT — QUAINT SUPERSTITIONS— ANEC- DOTE ABOUT EDWIN THE GOLD-SEEKER — LOVE OF MUSIC — MORALITY OF INDIAN WOMEN — ABSTINENCE FROM ALCOHOL — INDIAN PONIES — A BEAR STORY — NEW year's day celebrations — where the STONIES GET THEIR COURAGE THE stony Indians, a tribe unique in their man- ner of life and ideas, live on the borders of the great Canadian plains not far from the base of the Rockies. They have few traditions. Except that they are a branch of the Sioux, no one knows whence they came ; but during the last half century at least they have held the foothills of the Rockies for a home and have used the mountains as a hunting-ground. The Stonies have the reputation of being the fiercest fighters among the north-west- ern tribes, and have cruelly punished their enemies, the Blackfeet, in many encounters on the plains. About fifty years ago, when the first explorers came in search of a route across the continent, this 281 2b2 ^be IRocWes of Canada territory was alive with savages. Each cloud of dust in the distance, or band of horsemen scurrying like wind over the plains, was a cause for instant alarm, and no traveller was assured of safety except in arms or the good will of the Stonies ; for the Stonies then, as now, were friends of the white men. Whatever may have been the cause of this friend- ship for the invading whites on the part of the most influential Indians in the north-west, it is certain that they owe much of their religious education to a godly man, Mr. Rundle, a Methodist missionary, who came among them about sixty years ago. To this day the older members of the tribe cherish his name with love and feel a bond of sympathy for all white men through this good man's influence ; for, " Did he not come among us," they say, "a poor man and go away likewise, leaving us richer ? " It is partly ow- ing to the impression of this early missionary's re- markable personality, but certainly also to some native strength of character, that they have such un- usually good traits. The Stonies are exceptionally faithful ; they cannot be tempted to steal, they are true to their word, and, more incredible still, they have an abhorrence of alcohol. Their reserve is a beautiful place in the terraced valley of the Bow River, near the little railroad sta- tion of Morley. The surrounding hills are covered with a scant turf, only green during May and June, soon to be parched by summer drought, and then frost-bitten for half the year. Clumps of rough ^(J^^S^« away likewise, leaving us ri ing to the impressio' markabi' ------- native i,. .,^:i. _., ..;, usually good traits, faithful ; they cannot true to their word, a have an abhorrence o 'reserve is a valley of the Bow Rivei ^•'" "^ Morley. The sr ■'at turf, only gi ^-m ^ nnrched by summe frost-bit, r half the year. in and go oartly ow- - -ceptionally teal, they are still, they '■t terraced :^ad sta- c covered and June, and then of rough Zbc UnMan IDlUage 283 Douglas firs crown the rounded hilltops or grow on the sides of ravines, and every tree leans eastward as a result of the unceasing west winds. The Indian village is on a small plain among wooded hills, about a mile from Morley. It is a col- lection of simple wooden houses which the Indians have built for themselves, though some still use the primitive teepee. During a recent visit I made my first call on Tom Chiniquay, a chief's son, to take pictures of himself and his wife. In his house were tanned skins, beadwork and embroidery, as well as illustrations and cheap prints from our periodicals. In a cupboard were some iron tools and other evid- ences of civilisation. Chiniquay arrayed himself in a gorgeous costume of ermine and otter fur, and put on a magnificent head-piece of eagle feathers, with the sharp, black horns of the mountain goat on either side. After the ordeal, Chiniquay charged me a dol- lar for the privilege of photographing him, notwith- standing an old friendship between us. I have never learned whether this charge resulted from the fact that he is a chief's son, or because of a certain debt at the ''store" for which his costume had been mortgaged. The relations between the Canadian Government and the Stony Indians have been always happy. At a great council of the tribes, held many years ago, in which the Blackfeet, Piegans, Sarcees, Bloods, and Stonies took part, a treaty was made with the Stonies that " so long as the river flows " they are to receive 284 Zhc IRocMes of Canaba rations of beef, flour, tobacco, clothing, and money, in return for the lands of which they have been dis- possessed. The Stonies have behaved themselves, the Government has kept its promises, and everyone is satisfied. There are three Stony reserves in the north-west, but this one at Morley is the most important. At this place there were 581 Indians in 1898, and by natural increase 602 a year later. Though so few in number, the Stonies have exercised strong influence on the other tribes, due perhaps to their prowess in war ; and nearly every enterprise the Indians have under- taken, whether lawful or otherwise, has been a suc- cess if the Stonies joined and a failure if they did not. Thus the Riel rebellion, in 1885, though serious for a time, lost considerable importance when it was known that the Stonies would not lend their assistance. The Stonies have some cousins on the plains, the Assiniboines, who are arrant knaves, liars, and horse- thieves, with none of the good traits of their relatives, and nothing in common with them except a similar tongue. All the Indian tribes of these western plains have become more or less united by a century of the fur trade which brought them together in a peaceful way. The Stonies, like the others, are scattered in separate bands, the purest blood being at the Morley reserve, amalgamated, however, with the mountain Crees, and are at best merely shattered remnants of a tribe that has been repeatedly decimated by war and smallpox. Scbools anb JBttccte of lE^ucatlon 285 There are three chiefs in this band, and upon the death of any one, another is chosen by the hidians to be approved by the Government. Numerous petty marks of distinction — a larger house, or a more gor- geous costume on festal occasions — are the insignia of their authority, which is not very great and is limited to such matters as the choice of camping- places on their marches, a weightier influence in council, and leadership in time of war. One day of my visit, Chief Chiniquay came to the agency on a matter of business. There was nothing, however, in his simple blanket costume and knife-belt to distinguish him from the others. But such was his dignity and reserve that no suggestion was made to take his picture, especially as this chief clings to the ancient superstition about the camera : that it shortens life, or at least takes away some portion of health. The Indians on this reserve have very good edu- cational advantages. There are two day-schools near the village and a boarding-school some six miles distant, which has accommodation for about forty scholars and is supported by the Methodist Church. At each school the children are taught simple arith- metic, geography, and the English language. There are also opportunities for special studies, such as housework for the girls and farming for the boys. The Stonies are ambitious for their children, because education gives them standing among their fellows, and they feel that ability to act as interpreters, read 286 Zbc IRocktcs of (ranat)a the papers, or write messages home when on their journeys is no small distinction. But it cannot be said, in all fairness, that this simple education is always beneficial. No race can jump a thousand generations, or even a thousand years, and feel no shock. Education tends to the Indian's betterment in many cases, but frequently also to his downfall. The study of farming is all lost on the Stonies, because the climate of their country, sit- uated two hundred miles north of Montana and four thousand feet above the sea, is not favourable to the cultivation of even hardy vegetables. Moreover, they have a strong prejudice against agriculture, and for them to dig in the ground is degradation. There are, however, pleasing exceptions to this tendency to relapse from education. Some of the young Stonies speak English perfectly and show by their ideas that they are not only ambitious but progressive. The most surprising moral trait of the Stonies is their sincere religious feeling, a result of early mis- sionary work. They attend church voluntarily and regularly, keep the Sabbath strictly, and even go to the length of private prayer-meetings at home. The Christmas festivities begin with a church service, and even their names, such as ''job Beaver " or " Enoch Wildman," which are sometimes acquired from per- sonal traits or circumstance, also prove their famil- iarity with the Bible. The Stonies show many of the paradoxes of a savage tribe in a transition stage. Striking contrasts A TYPICAL STONY INDIAN iSlualnt Superetltions 287 of ideas often occur in the same individual, which at times almost cause a distrust in his sincerity. In- herited superstitions take deep root in human nature, and till we ourselves learn to disregard the new moon over our right shoulder, thirteen at table, the bad luck of Friday, and such petty self-delusions, whose influence we feel for good or evil, we should not be too severe in judging the Indian. Some beliefs of the Stoniesare, however, very in- teresting, and none more so than certain supersti- tions in regard to their hair, which, by the way, are strangely like those of the Hawaiians and South Sea islanders. A lock of hair in the possession of an enemy is a cause for great anxiety, because therein is believed to lie the power of life and death over the victim. So strong is this feeling that even a good Indian would shoot and kill,without a moment's hes- itation, any one attempting to clip a lock of hair from his head. Many of their beliefs, however, are harm- less : such as the idea that each mouthful of salt takes a year from life, and that it is very bad luckfor a man to touch any article of a woman's clothing. The younger women are subject to strange cataleptic fits and fainting spells, during which their bodies become apparently lifeless and rigid as iron. There is little doubt that the medicine men have a hypnotic influ- ence which is the cause of much that is incomprehen- sible to the Indian mind. These sorcerers pretend to drive away the evil spirits by charms, accompanied by an unending beating of drums and mournful 288 ^be .IRocMes of (^ana^a chants, continued day and night, till the patient either recovers, owing to unusual vitality, or dies, which is more often the case. Much of this gross superstition is dying out and now exists only among the weaker individuals and women in the secrecy and fear fostered by the medicine men, who, in any event, receive large payment for their services. The Indians have a superstition about minerals. One of the first white men to prospect along the Bow River was named Joe Healy. After much diffi- culty and many promises of blankets, flour, and tea, he induced an Indian named Edwin, the Gold-Seeker, to show him a place where there was copper ore. The other Indians shook their heads and said the spirits would be angry and that something would surely happen to Edwin for disturbing the minerals. But when autumn came, and the snow began to fall, Edwin and his family had new blankets and plenty of flour in their teepee. Then the others talked it over and said : '' Perhaps the spirits will not be angry. We know where there is money in the rocks, and when the snow goes we will show it to the white man. Then he will give us horses, blankets, and flour." But one calm night a few weeks later some of the old men were grouped round a camp- fire on the flats by the river, and Edwin was stand- ing before them, telling about an exciting buffalo chase. Suddenly he fell over almost into the fire. The others rushed to help him, but he was dead ! Heart disease— the Indian agent said it was. The flDoralit^ of UnMan Momen 289 old men smiled sadly and said : 'Mn the springtime when the snow melts we will not show the white man where there is money in the rocks." The Indians, though remarkably bad artists them- selves, are very fond of music. They often come to the agency to hear the piano or the graphophone, the latter a marvellous invention of the white man which they do not comprehend, and in admiration say,*' We do not understand whether this is God or the devil speaking." The women are very strict in their ideas of moral- ity and rarely or never travel alone. Unless her hus- band is present a woman will always leave a room or teepee when a stranger enters. Though family quarrels sometimes occur, the Stony women make faithful and loving wives. Their position is higher than among most Indians, as the family tie is not easily broken, and labour is so divided that some of the work is done by the men. The women dress and tan the skins of moose, sheep, and mountain goats, making them into the most beautifully pre- served leather to be found in the North-west. They have charge, too, of the family treasury, and no hus- band will ever close a bargain without first consulting his wife. On hunting trips the women do the cooking and set up the teepees, which require thirteen slender poles stripped of their bark. To the men falls the excitement of hunting no less than the labour of the chase, which, among the heights of the Rockies, is exhausting and often dangerous. 290 Zbe URoMee of Canaba Strict abstinence from alcohol and other vices has given the Stonies health and vitality that make their numbers increase, while other tribes are dwind- ling away. But among all primitive peoples im- ported diseases find a virgin soil, and the Stonies likewise have suffered terribly from measles, small- pox, and consumption. An old Indian acquaintance of mine, William Twin, once told me pathetically that he could sleep no more from thinking about the death of his wife and children, and then added, "Only one little boy left now — if little boy die, no longer want to live, me." The Stonies' welfare in peace and their lives in war depend on their horses, and it is little wonder that they take the greatest pride in them. For many years past they have obtained good horses from the Kootenay Indians in British Columbia, so that they have always had the best animals of the western tribes. They have recently imported eastern stock to improve their undersized ponies. They have few amusements, but are very sociable, and nothing pleases them more than to recount their adventures in a kind of gesture language which is comprehensible even to a stranger. It is not un- common to see an Indian on his knees, before an at- tentive group of listeners, carrying out in pantomime every detail of some exciting adventure, and with words half chanted and voice like one calling from afar, relating the circumstances of hairbreadth es- capes or deeds of heroism. A STONY INDIAN MOTHER AND CHILDREN a Bear Stor^ 291 Among many hunting stories, the following well illustrates their courage : A young brave named Susie was encamped with his family in the Porcu- pine Hills east of the Rockies. After hunting sheep and goats all day, he was returning to his teepee and upon entering an open forest glade came unex- pectedly on a huge grizzly bear. He fired, though too quickly for good aim, and only wounded the bear in the fore foot. Walking backwards, and try- ing to get another cartridge in his rifle, he stumbled on a log and fell. The bear jumped upon him before he could recover. Then ensued a fight to the death. The Indian turned on his side and seized the bear's ear with his left hand. In the other he held his Hudson Bay hunting-knife, a formid'^ble weapon like a small sword, and with this kept striking the bear on face and neck. Biting and clawing, the* infuriated animal reared on his hind legs several times in an effort to throw the Indian from him. At length both contestants, weakened from loss of blood, fell to the ground, when Susie, with a des- perate effort, drove the knife between the bear's shoulders, but had no strength to pull the weapon out. Maddened with pain, the bear gave his head a great toss and threw the Indian several yards to one side. On the following morning Susie's people began to search for him. Within a few yards of the dead bear the Indian was found and carried back to camp. There they dressed his wounds and roasted the feet 292 Zbc IRocMes of Canada of the grizzly, that he might eat them and become a mighty hunter, for by eating the bear's feet the spirit of the animal would enter and give him cour- age. When asked what he thought about while the fight was going on he said : "\ was thinking- why is a bear's ear not long like a deer's ? " The great feast of the year is at New Year's. Every effort is made by the hunting parties to get back from the mountains before then, while those on the reserves spend weeks in preparing magnificent cos- tumes of fur and beadwork for this occasion. Upon the festal day all the Indians of the reserve assemble in two bands, each led by a chief After a volley from firearms, the two bands come together and pass each before the other, while during the performance of this manoeuvre every Indian — man, woman, or child — salutes every other with a kiss. Thereupon they repair to the largest house and have a magnificent banquet, their white guests being first served with articles of civilisation, while the Indians feast on pemmican made of the meat of bear, moose, or sheep mixed with fat, sugar, and wild berries. Then fol- low horse-races and manoeuvres of various kinds, which, together with the award of prizes to the best-looking squaws, and athletic contests, consume the day. In the evening there is a ball with primitive music, where the dancers are urged on by shuffling of feet and an unending " Hi-i-i-i ! " from the specta- tors, while the excitement increases till at length, as in a tarentelle, the participants are ready to faint from Mbere the Stoniee (Bet tbeir Courage 293 exhaustion. Though there is much that is uncouth and savage in these gatherings, there is no disorder, and the stranger will be kindly and hospitably enter- tained by his decorated hosts. The Stonies give an example of what has been true throughout the world's history,— that hill tribes and mountain peoples have always been fierce, inde- pendent, and unconquerable. The Stonies get their courage among the perils of the Rockies, where on hunting trips they have to ford rapid and dangerous rivers, or climb the precipices of the highest peaks and face the cold and storms of dizzy cliffs where the mountain goat and bighorn live. They have physical courage to attack the grizzly single-handed, or engage twice their number in battle. These admirable qualities, with their honesty, sobriety, and much that is best in civilisation, give a new hope for all Indian tribes through their example. INDEX Abbot, P. S., 235 Aberdeen, Mt.,«35 first ascent of, 243 Accident, a remarkable, 59 in muskegs of the Bow, 143 on Mt. Assiniboine, 109 on Mt. Lefroy, 41 to camera, 152 Aldebaran, 226 Algol, 226 Allen, S. S., 34, 170, 239, 243 Alpine Club of Canada, 235 Alpine lily, 75 Altitude, average, of valleys in Rockies, 235 Andes, features of, 4 Anemone, 15, 35, 207 Animal life m upper meadows, 215 Annette Lake, 55 Antennaria, 179 Appalachian Mountain Club, 235 Arabic names of stars, 226 Arnica, 208 Arnold, Arthur, 142 Artistic quality of water in pic- tures, 212 Aspen poplar, 11, 65 Asters, fields of, 208 Astley, W. J., manager of chalet, 42 Assiniboine, Mt., 69 attempts on, 245 circuit of, 86 distance round base, 96 first view of, 81 four routes to, in height of, 86 general remarks, no Mr. Outram's descent of north arete, 246 resemblance to Matterhom, no roughly measured, 85 south side of, 93 view of, 79 Assiniboines, a tribe of Indians, 284 Athabasca Pass, 139 Avalanche, on Mt. Lefroy. 29, 30 Avalanches, time sound of, travels, 31 Bach, referred to, 214 Balsam tree, 62 Banff, description of, 6 location, 5 Banff Springs Hotel, 7 Bay, a remarkable pack-horse, 131 Barrett, R. L., 141, 150, 155, 264 climbs Fortress Mt., 159 strange experience with wild sheep, 271 visits Assiniboine, 70 Bear, Barrett kills a, 157 Bear Creek, 145 Bear-den moraines, 217, 218 Bear, grizzly, shot at Lake Louise, 271 Beehive, the, 35 Beehive, Little, view from, 38 Bee, honey, puzzling sound of, 219 Biddle, Mt., 228 Bighorn, 268 Birch, 16 Bivouac, a painful experience, 52 near Mt. Assiniboine, 89 Boom Lake, 188 Borderland between trees and barren rocks, 231 Bow Lake, 143, 144 Bow Pass, view from, 145 Brett, Dr., 43 British Columbia enters Dominion, 5 Brown, Mt., 139, 164 Bryant, Henry G., 98, 277 Bryant and Steele make partial ascent of Assiniboine, 108 Bryanthus, 36, 179 Bryce, Mt., 256 first ascent of, 247 Bulldog, a kind of horse-fly, 21 Bullfinch, pine, 146 Bush-tailed rat, 210 Butterwort, 125 295 296 Inbei Calypso, an orchid, 74 Cambrian sandstones, 235 Camp, an ideal, 205 choosing a site for, 128 in Paradise Valley, 56 fires, 134 Camp life, how to start, 115 the start, 116 on the march, 124 origin of customs, 114 unusual discomfort in, 183 Campbell, Bob, 107 Canadian Pacific Railway, con- struction of, 5 Carboniferous formations, 236 Cascade Mt., 237 Cayuses, origin and traits of, 130 Chalet, at Lake Louise, 14 first at Lake Louise, 13 Hfe at Lake Louise, 22 Characteristics, peculiar, of lakes, etc., 221 Chartris, Capt., 266 Chickadees, 223 Chiniquay, an Indian pony, 73 Chiniquay, Tom, 42, 283 Chipmunks, 1 1 Coleman and Stuart, expedition of, 141 ColHe, Dr. J. Norman, 234 Colour, of Lake Louise, 19 of sky in mountains, 28 Columbine, yellow, 15 Composition of pictures, 211 Continental Divide, 104 Consolation Valley, 205 coldness of, 204 origin, of name, 175 Cook boxes, 118 Cordillera, Pacific, extent of, 2 Corot, 208 Cotton grass, 17 Cottonwood, 65 Courage dependent on pulse, 46 Cox, Ross, 140 Coyote, 185 Cree Indian, 9, 284 Crevasses of Victoria Glacier, 40 Cross River, 94 Death Trap, 39 Deer, 271 Delta of Lake Louise, 18 Deltaform, Mt., 193, 256 first ascent of, 251 summit of, 254 Denny, a pack-horse, 132 De Smet, a missionary, 259 Desolation Valley, origin of name, 217 Deville E., Preface Devil's Club, 165 Gap, 9 Head, 9 Lake, 278 Thumb, 268 _ Devonian formations, 236 Dickerson, Capt., record in fishing, 27s Discovery of Paradise Valley, 47 Divers, 28 Dog, remarkable adventure of, 166 Dor6, Gustave, referred to, 231 Douglas, David, names Mt. Brown, 140 Douglas, fir, 2, 11 Mt., 257 Dryas octopetala, 163 Edelweiss, 36 Edwards, Ralph, 74, 84 Edwin the Gold Seeker, 13, 288 Eggers, Dr. A., 235 quoted, 251 Eldon, 178 Elk, 271 Elk River, 71 Engelmanns' spruce, 62 Epilobium or fireweed, 60 Fairview Mt., 19 Fay, Prof. Charles E., 235 Finches, 11 Fir, Douglas, 65 Fire, camp, 134 Fire, forest, described, 148 in Bear Creek Valley, 145 Fish, variation according to lo- cality, 276 Fishing, in Boom Lake, 189 Bow Lake, 274 Consolation Lakes, 205 Kananaskis Lakes, 279 Moraine Lake, 174 Rockies, general remarks, 273 Spray Lakes, 277 Foods, energy value of various, 129 Fool-hen, 125 Forbes, Mt., 256 Fording mountain streams, 154 Foreground in pictures, 211 Forest fires, ancient, 149 described, 148 effects of, 88 Forests, early and later impres- sions, 229 Ilnbei 297 Forests — Continued limits of, 230 upper limits of, 209 Forget-me-not, 1 7 Forks of Saskatchewan, 141 Fortress Lake, 157, 158, 273 Forty Mile Creek, 277 Frissell, Lewis, 34, 243 accident to, 41 Game, kinds of, in Canadian Rockies, 258 Geological formations in Canadian Rockies, 235 Ghost River, 8 Glacial period, changes since, 236 Glissade, a ludicrous, 50 Gnome Valley, 106, in Goat, Rocky Mountain, 259 descend to low altitude, 265 haunts of, 260 hunt, a, 260, 264 stupidity of, 267 Goodsir, Mt., 256 North Tower of, 257 Grieg's music, 61 Grouse, 125 Franklin, 272 Richardson, 272 Hawaiian superstitions, 287 Healy's Creek, 72 sources of, 10 1 Heather, Scotch, 36 Hector, Mt., 142 Henderson, Yandell, 34 Hillsdale, 186 Himalayas, features of, 4 Hooker, Mt., 139 height of, 164 measuring, 160 Horse breaks a leg, 76 Horses, camp, origin and traits of, catchmg, m the mormng, 121 disappear near Vermilion Pass, 182 how to treat, 133 Horseshoe Glacier, origin of name, 60 Humboldt quoted, 50 Hungabee, Mt., 193, 256 origin of name, 60 Hunting tale, an Indian, 291 Icebergs in McArthur Lake, 228 Ice pillars, 40 Imagination, effect on, 183 Imperial Limited, 184 Indian camps, 194 Indians, Stony, choice of chiefs, 285 education of, 285 horses, 290 moral traits, 282 origin, 259, 281 prejudice against agricultvire, 286 religious feeling, 286 sarcasm, 53 superstitions of, 287 tactlessness, 44 treaty with, 283 Indian women, morality of, 289 Kananaskis Lakes, fishing in, 279 Kananaskis Pass, 271 Kaufmann, Christian, 247, 252 Hans, 252 Kootenay Plains, 150 Labrador tea, 1 5 Lady's tresses, an orchid, 15 Lake Agnes, 13, 37 in October, 68 Annette, 55 Boom, 1 88 Bow, 143, 144 Louise, chalet life at, 22 chalet, first, 13 colours of, 19, 25 compared, 221 delta of, 18 depth of, 19 first visited, 12 ice breaks up at, 23 location, 12 marvellous effects at, 26 October visit to, 27 outlet of, 19 size of, 14 storms at, 23, 24 temperature at, 23 temperature of water at, 20 trout in, 20 wind at, 23 McArthur, 228 Minnewanka, 8, 278 Mirror, 35 Moraine, 171, 202, 221 O'Hara, 220 Spray, in, 277 Vermilion, 10 Wenkchemna, 209, 221 Lang, Harry, 264 Larch, Lyall's, characteristics, 38, 64 range, etc., 63 298 Inbei Larch — Continued peculiar effects amongst, 206 Larkspur, 180 Larvae, peculiar, 188 Lefroy, Mt., 16, 33 Lion, mountain, cry of, 205 Little Beehive, view from, 38 Lily, Alpine, 75 Loon, cry of, 29 Love of nature, 214 Luncheons in the wilderness, 204 Lusk, Tom, 142, 185 Lyall's larch, 38, 63, 64, 206 Mackenzie, Alexander, 139 Majesty of mountains, 218 Marmot, 37, 215 Marmot, Parry's, 82, 215 McArthur, J. J., 238 Medicine men, 287 Melleden, Col., 266 Methodist mission at Morley, 285 Miners' cabins opposite Eldon, 179 Minnewanka Lake, 8, 278 Mirror Lake, 35 Mitre, Mt., 257 origin of name, 45 Moose, 271 Moraine Lake, compared, 221 discovery of, 171 first view of, 171 origin of name, 171 wildness, 202 Morley, 282 Mosquitoes at Lake Louise, 20 Mount Aberdeen, 35, 243 Assiniboine, 69 attempts on, 245 circuit of, 86 distance round base, 96 first view of, 81 four routes to, 1 1 1 height of, 86 general remarks, no Mr. Outram's descent of north arete, 246 resemblance to Matter- horn, no roughly measured, 85 south side of, 93 view of, 79 Biddle, 228 Brown, 139 Bryce, 256 first ascent, 247 Cascade, 237 Deltaform, 193, 256 first ascent of, 251 summit of, 254 Douglas, 257 Fairview, 19 Forbes, 256 Goodsir, 256 Hector, 142 Hooker, 139, 160, 164 Hungabee, 60, 193, 256 Lefroy, 16, 33 avalanche from, 29, 30 cliffs of, 30 Mitre, 45. 257 Pilot, 38 Pinnacle, 48, 257 Rundle, 6 Temple, 51 attempt on, 239 first ascent of, 243 summit of, 244 Tunnel, 6 Victoria, 14, 33, 257 Wind, 238 Mountain climbing in Canadian Rockies, 234 Mountain lion, cry of, 205 Muir, John, description of wild sheep, 269 Mules not used in Canadian Rock- ies, 113 Muskegs of the Bow, 143 Mystery of the moraine, a, 219 New among Year's celebration Stonies, 292 Night, a wild, 240 Nightfall at O'Hara Lake, 232 North Fork of Saskatchewan, 150 sources of, 154 Northwest Mounted Police, 5 O'Hara, Col. R., first visits O'Hara Lake, 227 O'Hara Lake, an early visit to, 225 compared, 221 dominant impression of, 222 in midsummer, 222 its beauty, 220 nightfall at, 232 Onions, wild, 8 Opabin Pass described, 223 Orchids, green, 15 Orchis, round-leafed, 74 Oregon grape, 165 Outram, Rev. James, 235 ascends Assiniboine 245 quoted, 245, 247, 249 Ousels, water, traits of, 224 Pack-horse falls into river, 151 Packing, early experiences, 56 Ilnbei 299 Painted cup, 207 Palm, royal, compared, 229 Paradise Valley, discovery of, 47 general description, 60 Parker, Prof. H. C, 252 Parry's marmot, 82 Park, Rock-y Mountains, 5 Yoho, 5 Passes, silence of, 126 Pearson, Gen. Fred., record in fishing, 275 Peechee, an Indian guide, 9 Peecock, Ross, 169, 276 Peyto, Bill, 72, 118, 120, 264 his adventure on the Pipe- stone, 135 Peyto Lake, 145 Photography, limited opportunities for, 213 patience necessary to, 212 Pica or tailless hare, 66 Picas' winter store, 203 Pilot Mt., 38 Pine, black, 63 white-barked, 63 Pinnacle Mt., 257 origin of name, 48 Pinto, a pack-horse, 131 Plains of Canada, i Poe, Edgar Allan, quoted, 204 Police, Northwest Mounted, 5 Poplar, aspen, 65 Porcupine, 66 a baby, 190 its cry at night, 198 Porter, J. F., 70 Potentilla, 172 Prospectors' remarkable experi- ence, 136 camp, a, 193 Prospectors' Valley, exploration of, 194 origin of name, 196 Ptarmigan, 273 traits of, 215, 216 Pyrola, one-flowered, 125 Raft at Fortress Lake, 160 Rainy Valley, 192 Ranunculaceae, 207 Rat, bush-tailed, 66, 210 Raven, 157 Rhododendron, 16, 175 Riel rebellion, 284 Rigel, 226 Robin's nest, a, 203 Rock slides at Moraine Lake, 173, 202 dangers of, 58 immense, in Simpson Valley, 106 Rockies, Canadian and Selkirks, 217 Canadian, compared with other ranges, 3 trend of mountains, 1 17 Canadian, vast extent of, 4 Rocky Mountains Park, 5 Rogers, Major, 71, 72 Rue, meadow, 8 Rundle, a missionary, 282 Rundle, Mt., 6 Ruskin quoted, 213 Sadness, of mountains, 204 of the upper lakes, 210 Sandpiper, 198, 224 Scherzer, Dr., Report on the "Gla- ciers of the Canadian Rockies and Selkirks," 217 Shakespeare referred to, 214 Sheep-laurel, 15 Sheep, Rocky Mountain, 268 an unusual sight of, 270 Siffleur, 215 Silence of animal and bird life, 198 Simpson, Sir George, 9 Simpson River, 76, 84 Simpson Pass, 75 Snow-line, 61 Snow-squalls, 231 Snow-storm in August, 170 Somersault, a remarkable, 59 Sparrow, white-crested, 80, 176 Spray Lakes, iii fishing in, 277 Spray River, 6 Spring-time in the Alpine mead- ows, 206 Springs, mountain, intense coldness of, 20 quality of water of, 206 Spruce, balsam, 62 Spruce tree described, 229 Squirrel, tameness of a, 199 Squirrels, red, 11 St. Cyr, 238 Steele, Louis J., 98, 108 Stephens, Fred, 142, 156, 264, 270 Stony Indian reserves, 284 Stony Indians, great hunters, 272 Storm Mt., 187 Storms in the mountains, 231 Stream, a mossv, 227 Stuart and Coleman expedition, 141 Stutfield, Hugh E. M., 234 300 Inbei Sunrise in the mountains, 123, 226 Sunset colours, 204, 232 Sunsets in the tropics, 226 Sun Wapta River, 157 Superstition, an Indian, 150 Susie, an Indian brave, 291 Tameness, remarkable example of, 146 Temple, Mt., 51 attempt on, 239 first ascent of, 243 summit of, 244 Ten Peaks, Valley of, 218 Thompson, C. S., 235 Thoreau quoted, 212 Tower of Babel, origin of name, 171. 174 Tragedy of the wilderness, a, 136 Trails, origin of, 126 Tree-line, 61 Trees, slow growth of, 228 Tropical sunsets, 226 Trout, discovered in Moraine Lake, 173 in Lake Louise, 20 Tunnel Mt., view from, 6 Turner, 208 Twin Peaks, a mountain at Banff, 237 Twin, William, 42, 53 loses his children, 290 woodcraft of, 137 Tyndall, explains colour of sky and water, 19 Valerian, 180, 208 Vastness of mountains, 218 Vermilion Lakes, 10 Vermilion Pass, view of, 187 Vermilion River, origin of name, 196 sources of, 197 Victoria, Mt., 14, 33 north arete unsealed, 257 Violets, yellow, 15 Wagner referred to, 214 Walling, Messrs., 245 Warrington, George, 34 contrives a sounding reel, 34 falls through a crevasse, 45 Wasps at Lake Louise, 21 Wastach Pass, 217 Weather, in Canadian Rockies, 237 Webb, Dr. Seward, 278 Weed, G. M., 235 Wenkchemna Lake, 209 compared, 221 meaning of name, 218 Wheeler, A. O., Preface Whiskey- jacks, 199 White-crested sparrow, 176 White Man's Pass, iii Whymper, Edward, 235 Wildman, Enoch, 239, 240 Wilson, Tom, 12, 115, 224, 275 his memory of places seen, 70 Wind at Moraine Lake, 202 Wind Mt., 238 Wolverene, 82 Wood River, 165 WooUey, H., 234 Yellow Head Pass, 139 Yoho Park, area, 5 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. ^^^^^^ yOfoZ mt \m :&;®74l DATtepF EECETFI NbfJ.RENEWABLE U-(^WA(,,kll 8 Wrj8i57< Rec'3 OCK ;H^R(it-*j'^^ 1974 Form L9-42to-8,'49 ( B5573 ) 444 UC SOUTHERN REGi'j'.A; i irrary ca' i; AA 000 759 267 i|niiiiiiiiiiiiii|iiiiiliiiliiilii|iliii|iiiiiiliiiliii|iiii 3 1158 00673 5'?^