Mount Rainier, a Record of Exploration

by Unknown

A weary tramp of about 4 miles from the camp we had left brought us to the border of Winthrop Glacier. In the highest grove of trees, which are bent down and frequently lie prone on the ground, although still living, we selected a well-sheltered camping-place. Balsam boughs furnished luxuriant beds, and the trees killed by winter storms enabled us to have a roaring camp fire. Fresh trail of mountain goats and their but recently abandoned bed showed that this is a favorite resort for those hardy animals. Marmots were also abundant, and frequently awakened the echoes with their shrill, whistling cries. The elevation of our camp was about 8,000 feet.

From our camp on the cliffs above the west border of Winthrop Glacier we made excursions across that glacier and to its heavily moraine-covered extremity. The snow mantle that is spread over the region about Mount Rainier each winter melts first on the rugged plateau surrounding the base of the mountain, and, as the summer's heat increases, gradually withdraws up the mountain sides, but never so as to uncover the more elevated region. The snow line—that is, the position to which the lower border of the mantle of perennial snow withdraws late in summer—has an elevation of about 9,000 feet. The lower margin of the wintry covering is always irregular, however, extending farthest down on the glaciers and retreating highest on the rocks. At the time of our visit the snow had melted off of nearly all the region below our camp, leaving only dirt-stained snow banks in the more completely sheltered recesses and in deeply shaded dells in the adjacent forests. On the glaciers all the region at a greater elevation than our camp was white and free from dirt and stones, while the hard glacial ice was abundantly exposed at lower altitudes and ended in a completely moraine-covered terminus. Above us all was barren, white, and wintry; below lay the flowery vales and grass parks, warm and inviting, leading to the welcome shade of noble forests. Our course led upward into the frozen region.

On leaving the camp on the border of Winthrop Glacier we began our alpine work. There were five in the party selected for the difficult task of scaling Mount Rainier; namely: Willis, Smith, Ainsworth, Williams, and myself. Taking our blankets, a small supply of rations, an alcohol lamp, alpenstocks, a rope 100 feet long to serve as a life line, and a few other articles necessary for traveling above timber line, we began the ascent of Winthrop Glacier early on the morning of July 23. Our route was comparatively easy at the start, but became steeper and steeper as we advanced. The snow was firm and, except for the numerous crevasses, presented no great difficulties to be overcome. In several places the névé rises in domes as if forced up from beneath, but caused in reality by bosses of rock over which the glacier flows. These domes are broken by radiating crevasses which intersect in their central portions, leaving pillars and castle-like masses of snow with vertical sides. At one locality, in attempting to pass between two of these shattered domes, we found our way blocked by an impassable crevasse. Considerable time was lost in searching for a practicable upward route, but at length, by making a detour to the right, we found a way which, although steep, allowed us to pass the much crevassed area and gain the sharp ridge of rock which divides the névé snow flowing from the central dome of the mountain, and marks the separation between Winthrop and Emmons glaciers. This prow-like promontory, rising some 500 feet above the glaciers on either hand, we named The Wedge. This is the upward pointing, acute angle of a great V-shaped portion of the lower slope of the mountain, left in bold relief by the erosion of the valleys on either side. As will be described later, there are several of these remnants about the sides of the mountain at the same general horizon, which record a somewhat definite stage in the destruction of the mountain by ice erosion.

On reaching The Wedge we found it an utterly desolate rocky cape in a sea of snow. We were at an altitude of about 10,000 feet, and far above timber. Water was obtained by spreading snow on smooth rocks or on rubber sheets, and allowing it to melt by the heat of the afternoon sun. Coffee was prepared over the alcohol lamp, sheltered from the wind by a bed sheet supported by alpenstocks. After a frugal lunch, we made shelf-like ledges in a steep slope of earth and stones and laid down our blankets for the night. From sheltered nooks amid the rocks, exposed to the full warmth of the declining sun, we had the icy slopes of the main central dome of the mountain in full view and chose what seemed the most favorable route for the morrow's climb.

Surrounded as we were by the desolation and solitude of barren rocks, on which not even a lichen had taken root, and pure white snow fields, we were much surprised to receive passing visits from several humming-birds which shot past us like winged jewels. They came up the valley occupied by the Emmons Glacier, turned sharply at The Wedge, and went down the way of the Winthrop Glacier. What tempts these children of the sunlight and the flowers into the frozen regions seems a mystery. That the humming-birds are bold explorers was not new to me, for the reason that on several occasions in previous years, while on the snow-covered slopes of Mount St. Elias, far above all vestiges of vegetation, my heart had been gladdened by glimpses of their brilliant plumage.

When the sun declined beyond the great snow-covered dome that towered above us, and the blue shadows crept down the previously dazzling cliffs, the air became cold and a strong wind made our perch on the rocks uncomfortable. Wrapping ourselves in our blankets we slept until the eastern sky began to glow with sunrise tints.

Early on the morning of July 24 [1896] we began the climb of the steep snow slopes leading to the summit of the mountain. Roped together as we had been on the previous day, we slowly worked our way upward, in a tortuous course, in order to avoid the many yawning crevasses. The way was steep and difficult. Some members of the party felt the effects of the rarefied air, and as we lacked experience in true alpine work our progress was slow and laborious. Many of the crevasses that our course crossed were of the nature of faults. Their upper rims stood several feet above their lower margins, and thus added to the difficulty of passing them. Our aim at first was to traverse the névé of Emmons Glacier and gain the less rugged slope bordering it on the south, but the intervening region was greatly broken and, as we found after several approaches to it, utterly impassable. The climb presented no special difficulties other than the extreme fatigue incident to climbing steep snow slopes, especially while attached to a life line, and the delays necessitated by frequently turning and retracing our steps in order to get around wide crevasses.

Once while crossing a steep snow slope diagonally, and having a wide crevasse below us, Ainsworth, who was next to the rear of the line, lost his footing and slid down the slope on his back. Unfortunately, at that instant, Williams, who was at the rear of the line, removed his alpenstock from the snow, was overturned by the pull on the line, and shot headfirst down the slope and disappeared over the brink of the crevasse. A strong pull came on the members of the party who were in advance, but our alpenstocks held fast, and before assistance could be extended to the man dangling in midair, he climbed the taut rope and stood unhurt among us once more. The only serious result of the accident was the loss of an alpenstock.

Pressing on toward the dark rim of rock that we could now and then catch glimpses of at the head of the snow slopes and which we knew to be the outer portion of the summit crater, we crossed many frail snow bridges and climbed precipitous slopes, in some of which steps had to be cut. As we neared the summit we met a strong westerly gale that chilled us and benumbed our fingers. At length, weary and faint on account of the rarity of the air, we gained the lower portion of the rim of stones marking the position of the crater. While my companions rested for a few moments in the shelter of the rocks, I pressed on up the rugged slope and gained the top of the rim.

The stones exposed at the summit are bare of snow, possibly on account of the heat from below, and are rounded and their exposed surfaces polished. The smooth, black bowlders shine in the sunlight much the same as the sand-burnished stones in desert regions. Here on the mountain's brow, exposed to an almost continuous gale, the rocks have been polished by drifting snow crystals. The prevailing rounded form that the stones present may be the result of weathering, or possibly is due to the manner in which the fragments were ejected from the volcano. My hasty examinations suggested the former explanation.