Kingly and alone stood this majesty, without any visible consort, though far to the north and the south its brethren and sisters dominated their realms. Of all the peaks from California to Frazer's River, this one before me was royalest. Mount Regnier[5] Christians have dubbed it, in stupid nomenclature perpetuating the name of somebody or nobody. More melodiously the Siwashes call it Tacoma,—a generic term also applied to all snow peaks. Tacoma, under its ermine, is a crushed volcanic dome, or an ancient volcano fallen in, and perhaps not yet wholly lifeless. The domes of snow are stateliest. There may be more of feminine beauty in the cones, and more of masculine force and hardihood in the rough pyramids, but the great domes are calmer and more divine.
St. Elmo Pass from north side. The name was given by Maj. Ingraham in 1886 because of a remarkable exhibition of St. Elmo's fire seen here during a great storm. A cabin is needed at this important crossing.
No foot of man had ever trampled those pure snows. It was a virginal mountain, distant from human inquisitiveness as a marble goddess is from human loves. Yet there was nothing unsympathetic in its isolation, or despotic in its distant majesty. Only the thought of eternal peace arose from this heaven-upbearing monument like incense, and, overflowing, filled the world with deep and holy calm.
Avalanche Camp (11,000 feet), on the high, ragged chine between Carbon and Winthrop. Carbon Glacier, seen below, has cut through a great range, leaving Mother Mountains on the left and the Sluiskins, right.
Our lives demand visual images that can be symbols to us of the grandeur or the sweetness of repose. The noble works of nature, and mountains most of all,
"have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence."