At the small stations boys and girls board the cars with tiny baskets of luscious blackberries and ripe raspberries for sale, soon disposing of them to the passengers. These are picked within a dozen rods of the railway track, where they are seen in great abundance. Wild flowers beautify the roadway, among which the most attractive are the golden-rod, the bright pink fire-weed, the towering and graceful spirea, the wild musk with its large bell-shaped scarlet flower, the fragrant tansy, with snow-ball clusters of white, and big patches of the tiny wild sunflower, its petals in deepest yellow, while among the lily-pads dotting the pools of water, orange-hued lilies are in full and gorgeous bloom.
The scenery is strictly Alpine, but constantly varies as our point of view changes, and we thread miles upon miles of snow-sheds. Heavy veils of mist fringe the mountain-tops, and the tall peaks are wrapped in winding-sheets of perpetual snow. The rugged scenery is fine, but finer is yet to come. Still climbing upwards, we are presently in the Selkirks, threading tunnels, dark gorges, sombre cañons, and narrow passes to the summit of this remarkable range, forced onward by two powerful engines, one in the rear the other in front of the train.
At a point known as Albert Cañon the railway runs along the brink of several dark fissures in the solid rock, three hundred feet deep, through which rushes the turbulent waters of the Illicilliwaet River (“Raging Waters”). Here the cars are stopped for a few moments that the passengers may the better observe the boiling flumes of angry waters, flecked with patches of foam, and compressed within granite walls scarcely twenty feet apart.
In approaching Glacier House station, at a certain point the train ascends six hundred feet in a distance of two miles. This is accomplished by a zigzag course, utilizing two ravines which are favorably situated for the purpose; the consummation is a grand triumph of engineering skill. While passing through this winding course we are serenaded by a chorus of dancing rapids, foaming cataracts, and rushing cascades. Here the torrents and waterfalls are innumerable, first on one side then on the other of our slowly-climbing train, and finally on both the right and the left, gleaming with bright prismatic rays while moving with tremendous impetus. Sir Donald, the highest peak of the Selkirk Range, shaped like an acute pyramid, now comes into view, rising to eleven thousand feet above the level of the sea, and piercing the blue zenith with its inaccessible summit. It is named after one of the most active promoters of this transcontinental railway. Sir Donald sends down from its immense snowfields a ponderous glacier half a mile wide and eight miles long, presenting most of the characteristics of such frozen rivers, though lacking the grand effect of those so lately seen in Alaska, where they join the ocean in partially congealed form, thus producing thousands of icebergs. This Donald glacier is nevertheless equal to the average of European ones. The mountain has never yet been ascended. We were told that a thousand dollars and a free pass over the railway for life await the successful mountain-climber who reaches the summit.
In making our way through Beaver Cañon and Stony Creek Cañon, the highest timber railway bridge ever constructed is passed, three hundred feet high and four hundred and fifty long, supported by direct uprights. Safe enough, perhaps, but one breathes freer and deeper when it is passed.
It would seem as though mosquitoes could hardly thrive at such an altitude, but their number here is myriad, and their vicious activity at Glacier House station beggars description.
CHAPTER XXIV.
In the Heart of the Rocky Mountains.—Struggle in a Thunder-Storm.—Grand Scenery.—Snow-Capped Mountains and Glaciers.—Banff Hot Springs.—The Canadian Park.—Eastern Gate of the Rockies.—Calgary.—Natural Gas.—Cree and Blackfeet Indians.—Regina.—Farming on a Big Scale.—Port Arthur.—North Side of Lake Superior.—A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Rogers’ Pass, at an altitude of four thousand two hundred and seventy-five feet above the sea, is situated between two ranges of snow-clad peaks, whence a dozen glaciers may be seen in various directions, frigid and ponderous.