The Kautz Glacier on the southern slope is long, narrow, and winding. It has an enormous medial moraine. Pyramid Rock commands an excellent view of this and other scenes.
Many admirable names have been selected for the objects of interest on Rainier. In this connection, some one is to be thanked for substituting "cleaver" and "wedge" for "arrête."
The snowfall on the peak is heaviest on the lower slopes. This diminishes with altitude and is lightest on the upper slopes and the summit. This is typical of mountain snowfalls. From long experience in the Rocky Mountains, I am able to say that the snowfall there is much less on the high peaks than on their middle slopes. The same fact applies to the Sierra Nevada of California, to the Andes of South America, and to the Himalayas and the Alps. It is common for a storm-cloud to be comparatively close to the earth. The height of it is determined more by the height of near-by plateaus and passes than by that of the peaks. It is certain that during many of the lowland storms the mountain peaks thrust up into the sunshine through the silver lining of the clouds.
Wind is an interesting factor in the distribution of the snowfall. It sweeps snow off exposed ridges and accumulates it in vast quantities at places where a glacier starts or where the snow avalanches to a glacier. Columbia's Crest—the summit—appears to be in a large measure formed by snow that the wind carries up to it from the slopes far below. Thus, to snows that fell on these slopes the height of the peak and its white top are in a measure due.
A score of turbulent streams radiate from this mountain. Apparently its volcanic material is easily eroded. The streams are heavily laden with gravel and sediment. Though the peak is comparatively young, the cañons made by ice and water are large. Vast portions of the mountain have already been carried away by the erosive forces of ice and running water.
V
CRATER LAKE NATIONAL PARK
The supreme attraction in Crater Lake National Park is the vivid blue lake that sleeps in the rugged and magnificent crater of a dead volcano—Mount Mazama.
One golden September afternoon I climbed alone upon the rim of the crater near Eagle Point. There was no wind, and everything lay broodingly silent in the sunshine. In an instant the scene became unreal. The lake, mysteriously blue—indigo blue—lay below. Barren, desolate mountain walls of a desert strangely surrounded it. Was I exploring the topography of the moon?