The Spell of the Rockies

by Enos A. Mills

Among glacier-records in the Rocky Mountains those on the slopes of Long's Peak are pre-eminent for magnitude and interest. On the western slope of this peak the ice stream descended into the upper end of Glacier Gorge, where it united with streams from Mt. Barrat and McHenry Peak. Here it flowed northward for two miles through the now wonderfully ice-carved Glacier Gorge. Beyond the gorge heavy ice rivers flooded down to this ice stream from Thatch-Top, Taylor, Otis, and Hallett Peaks. A mile beyond the gorge it was deflected to the east by the solid slopes of Flat-Top and Mt. Hallett. It descended to about the altitude of eight thousand feet. Along its lower course, the lateral moraine on the south side dammed up a number of small water channels that drained the northern slope of Battle Mountain.

On the northern slope of the Peak a boulder field begins at the altitude of thirteen thousand feet and descends over a wide field, then over a terraced slope. Though probably not of great depth, it will average a mile wide and extends four miles down the slope. It contains an immense amount of material, enough to form a great mountain-peak. Probably the greatest array of glacial débris is the Mills Moraine on the east side of the Peak. This covers several thousand acres, consists of boulders, rock-fragments, and rock-flour, and in places is several hundred feet deep.

Where has all this wreckage come from? Some geologists have expressed the opinion that ages ago Long's Peak was two thousand or so feet higher. At the time of its great height, Long's Peak was united with the near surrounding peaks,—Meeker, Washington, and Storm,—and all stood together as one peak. The present shattered condition of these peaks, their crumbling nature, the mountain masses of débris on the slopes below, all of which must have come from heights above, suggest this explanation. But to take it as it now is, to stand on this crumbling peak to-day and look down upon the lakes, moraines, polished gorges,—all the vast and varied glacial works and ruins,—is for the geological student startling and profoundly eloquent.

Above the altitude of thirteen thousand feet are many fields of "eternal snow," and a dozen miles to the south of Long's Peak is the Arapahoe Glacier; while northward are the Andrews, Sprague, and Hallett Glaciers within ten miles. Though all these are small, each exhibits in a striking manner the Ice Age in a nutshell. On the east side of Long's Peak, too, is a moving ice-field that might well be classed as a glacier. By this ice begins the upper extent of the Mills Moraine, and in the gorge just below—one of the most utterly wild places on the earth—is Chasm Lake.

Most of the glacier lakes are in gorges or on terraces between the altitudes of eleven thousand and twelve thousand feet. Almost all have a slope or steep rising above them, down which the ice descended while gouging out their basins.

Grand Lake, one of the largest reservoirs constructed by the Ice King in the Rocky Mountains, is three miles in length and one in width, cut into bed-rock. This lake is less than nine thousand feet above the sea. It is in the eastern extremity of Middle Park, a few miles to the west of Long's Peak. Great peaks rising from it, a great moraine sweeping along its northerly and westerly shores, it peacefully shows the titanic beautifying landscape labors of the ice.

The glacial winter is over. The present snowfall over this section is about one half that of the Alps. Here snow-line is thirteen thousand feet above the sea, while in the Alps it is four thousand feet lower. Down from the heights of all the high peaks pour many white streams ever singing the song of the sea.

In these mountains there are many deep gorges and cañons. Most of these are short and ice-polished. The Thompson Cañon is one of the longest and finest. Its twenty miles of walled length is full of scenic contrasts and picturesque varieties. The lovely mingles with the wild. In places its walls stand two thousand feet above the river and the daisies. The walls are many-formed, rugged, polished, perpendicular, terraced, and statuesque, and are adorned with panels of rusty veneer, with decorative lichen tracery or with vertical meadows of velvet moss. Blossoms fill many niches with poetry, while shrubbery, concealing in its clinging the cracks in the wall, forms many a charming festoon.

In some stretches the parallel walls go straight away, well separated; then they curve, or crowd so closely that there is barely room for the river and the road. At intervals the walls sweep outward in short, grand semicircles and inclose ideal wild gardens of pines, grass, flowers, and the winding river. The river is ever varying its speed, its surface, and its song. Here it is a boulder-framed mirror reflecting the aspens and the sky, there a stretch of foam-flow; now it rests in a wild pool pierced with sharp rocks, now it hurries on to plunge and roar over a terrace of rocks, then on, always on, toward the sea.

Speckled and rainbow trout dart in the streams. Mountain sheep climb and pose on the crags; bear, deer, and mountain lions are still occasionally seen prowling the woods or hurrying across the meadows. The wise coyote is also occasionally seen darting under cover, and he is frequently heard during the night. Here among the evergreens is found that wee and audacious bit of intensely interesting and animated life, the Frémont squirrel, and also, one of the dearest of all small animals, the merry chipmunk. Within this territory are a number of beaver colonies, whose ways I have described in earlier chapters.