Outposts of the Forest. Storm-swept White-bark Pines on Mount Hood.

STAND upon the icy summit of any one of the Columbia's snow-peaks, and look north or west or south across the expanse of blue-green mountains and valleys reaching to the sea; your eyes will rest upon the greatest forest the temperate zone has produced within the knowledge of man. Save where axe and fire have turned woodland into field or ghostly "burn," the mantle is spread. Along the broad crests of the Cascades, down the long spurs that lead to the valleys, and across the Coast Range, lies a wealth of timber equaled in no other region. The outposts of this great army of trees will meet you far below.

Alpine Hemlocks at the timber-line on Mt. Adams. Mt. Hood in distance.

Rimming about your peak, braving winds and the snows that drift in the lee of old moraines, and struggling to break through the timber-line, six thousand feet above the sea, somber mountain hemlocks (Tsuga mertensiana) and lighter white-bark pines (Pinus albicaulis) form the thin vanguard of the forest. They meet the glaciers. They border the snow-fields. They hide beneath their stunted, twisted forms the first deep gashes carved in the mountain slopes by eroding streams. Valiant protectors of less sturdy trees and plants, their whitened weather-sides bear witness to a fierce struggle for life on the bleak shoulders of the peaks.

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Make your way, as the streamlets do, down to the alpine glades, on the high plateaus, where anemone, erythronium and calochortus push their buds through lingering snow-crusts. The scattered trees gather in their first groups. Just within their shelter pause for a moment. Vague distance is narrowed to a diminutive circle. The mystery of vastness passes. Sharp indeed is the division between storm-swept barren and forest shelter.