An Expedition to Mount St. Elias, Alaska

by Israel C. Russell

Mr. Kerr endeavored at first to occupy a station on the crest of the rocky ridge, but as the steepness of the slope and the shattered condition of the rock rendered the station hazardous, the snow-ridge, which was covered with dust and sand and nearly as firm as rock, was occupied instead. The clouds parting toward the northeast revealed several giant peaks not before seen, some of which seem to rival in height St. Elias itself. One stranger, rising in three white domes far above the clouds, was especially magnificent. As this was probably the first time its summit was ever seen, we took the liberty of giving it a name. It will appear on our maps as Mount Logan, in honor of Sir William E. Logan, founder and long director of the Geological Survey of Canada.

The clouds grew denser in the east, and shut off all hope of extending the map-work in that direction. While Kerr was making topographic sketches I tried to decipher some of the geological history of the region around me and make myself more familiar with its glaciers and snow-fields.

Even more remarkable than the mighty peaks toward the north, beheld that day for the first time, was the vast plateau of ice stretching seaward from the foot of the mountains. From my station what seemed to be the ocean's shore near Icy bay could just be distinguished. Beyond the bay there is a group of hills which come boldly down to the sea, and apparently form a sea-cliff at the water's edge. Beyond this headland there is another vast glacier extending westward to the limits of vision. The view from this point is essentially the same as that obtained from the cliffs at Pinnacle pass a few days earlier, except that it is far more extended. It need not be described in detail.

The clouds becoming thicker and settling in dark masses about the mountains, we gave up all hope of further work and started for our camp. On the way down the ridge between the crest of snow and the crest of rock we found a stratum of sandstone filled with fossil leaves, and near at hand another layer charged with very recent sea-shells. Collecting all of these that we could carry, we trudged on, finding the snow soft and some of the bridges which we had easily crossed in the morning now weak, trembling, and insecure. We crossed them safely, however, and, reaching the level floor of the amphitheatre, marched wearily on toward Point Glorious. This time we passed along the northern base of the butte at an elevation of two or three hundred feet above the glacier, and, taking a convenient slide down the snow-slope, reached our tent.

Soon a delicious cup of coffee was prepared, bacon was fried, and these were put in a warm place while some griddle cakes were being baked. A warm supper, followed by a restful pipe, ended the day. Kerr and I were our own cooks and our own housekeepers during much of the time we lived above the snow-line. We cleared away the remains of the supper, and prepared our blankets for the night. One of the huge ice pinnacles on the glacier fell with a great crash just as we were turning in. Rain began to fall, and the night was cold and disagreeable; how it passed I do not know, as I slept soundly. Scarcely anything less serious than the blowing away of our tent could have awakened me.

ACROSS SEWARD GLACIER TO DOME PASS.

Stormy weather and the necessity of bringing additional supplies from Blossom island detained us at Camp 14 until August 13. We rose at three o'clock on the morning of that day, and, after a hasty breakfast, prepared to cross the Seward glacier. The morning was cold but clear, and the air was bracing. Each peak and mountain crest in the rugged landscape stood out boldly in the early light, although the sun had not risen. Soon the summit of St. Elias became tipped with gold, and then peak after peak, in order of their rank, caught the radiance, and in a short time the vast snow-fields were of dazzling splendor.

The frost of the night before had hardened the snow, which made walking a pleasure. We crossed a rocky spur projecting northward from Point Glorious into the Seward glacier, and had to lower our packs down the side of the precipice with the aid of ropes. Our course led at first up the border of the great glacier to a point above the head of the rapids already referred to, then curved to the westward, and for a mile or two coincided with the general trend of the crevasses. We made good progress, but at length we came to where the Augusta glacier pours its flood of ice into the main stream and, owing to its high grade, is greatly broken. Skirting this difficult area, we passed a number of small blue lakelets and reached the western border of the Seward glacier. We found a gently rising snow-slope leading westward through a gap that could be seen in hills a few miles in advance. But little difficulty was now experienced, except that the snow had become soft under the summer's sun, and walking over it with heavy loads was wearisome in the extreme. We could see, however, that the way ahead was clear, and that encouraged us to push on. Toward night we found a camping place on a steep ridge of shale and sandstone projecting eastward from a spur of Mount Malaspina. This ridge rises about five hundred feet above the surrounding glacier, and has steep roof-like slopes. The summer sun had melted nearly all the snow from its southern face, but the northern slope was still heavily loaded. The snow on the northern side stood some thirty or forty feet higher than the rocky crest of the ridge itself, and between the rock crest and the snow crest there was a little valley which afforded ample shelter for our tent and was quite safe from avalanches. The melting of the snow-bank during the warm days supplied us with water.

The formation of crests of snow standing high above the rocky ridges on which they rest is a peculiar and interesting feature of the mountains of the St. Elias region. A north-and-south section through the ridge on which Camp 15 was situated, exhibiting the double crests, one of rock and the other of snow, is shown at a in figure 6. b is a section through a similar ridge with a still higher snow crest. The remaining figures in the illustration are sketches of mountain peaks, as seen from the south, which have been increased in height by a heavy accumulation of snow on their northern slopes. These sketches are of peaks among the foothills of Mount Malaspina, and show snow pinnacles from fifty to more than a hundred feet high. In some instances, domes and crests of snow were seen along the western sides of the ridges and peaks, but as a rule these snow-tips on the mountains are confined to their northern slopes. The edges and summits of the snow-ridges are sharply defined and clearly cut. The southern slope exposed above the crest of rock is often concave, while the northern slopes are usually convex.