Mount Rainier, a Record of Exploration

by Unknown

Descending into the crater, I discovered crevices from which steam was escaping, and on placing my hands on the rocks was rejoiced to find them hot. My companions soon joined me, and we began the exploration of the crater, our aim being to find the least uncomfortable place in which to take refuge from the freezing blast rather than to make scientific discoveries.

The crater that we had entered is one of the smaller and more recent ones in the truncated summit of the peak, and is deeply filled with snow, but the rim is bare and well defined. The steam and heat from the rocks have melted out many caverns beneath the snow. In one of these we found shelter.

The cavern we chose in which to pass the night, although irregular, was about 60 feet long by 40 wide, and had an arched ceiling some 20 feet high. The snow had been melted out from beneath, leaving a roof so thin that a diffused blue light penetrated the chamber. The floor sloped steeply, and on the side toward the center of the crater there was a narrow space between the rocks and the descending roof which led to unexplored depths. As a slide into this forbidding gulf would have been exceedingly uncomfortable, if not serious, our life line was stretched from crag to crag so as to furnish a support and allow us to walk back and forth during the night without danger of slipping. Three arched openings or doorways communicated with other chambers, and through these drafts of cold air were continually blowing. The icy air chilled the vapor rising from the warm rocks and filled the chamber with steam which took on grotesque forms in the uncertain, fading light. In the central part of the icy chamber was a pinnacle of rock, from the crevices of which steam was issuing with a low hissing sound. Some of the steam jets were too hot to be comfortable to the ungloved hand. In this uninviting chamber we passed the night. The muffled roar of the gale as it swept over the mountain could be heard in our retreat and made us thankful for the shelter the cavern afforded.

The floor of our cell was too uneven and too steeply inclined to admit of lying down. Throughout the night we leaned against the hot rocks or tramped wearily up and down holding the life line. Cold blasts from the branching ice chambers swept over us. Our clothes were saturated with condensed steam. While one side of the body resting against the rocks would be hot, the strong drafts of air with a freezing temperature chilled the other side. After long hours of intense darkness the dome of snow above us became faintly illuminated, telling that the sun was again shining. After a light breakfast and a cup of tea, prepared over our alcohol lamp, we resumed our exploration, none the worse for the exposures of the night.

Following the inner rim of the crater so as to be sheltered from the gale still blowing steadily from the west, we gained its northern border and climbed to the topmost pinnacle, known as Columbia's Crest. This pinnacle rises about 50 feet above the general level of the irregular rim of the crater, and is the highest point on the mountain. Its elevation, as previously stated, is 14,526 feet. [26]

The magnificent view described by former visitors to this commanding station, which we had hoped would reward our efforts, was concealed beneath a canopy of smoke that covered all of the region about the mountain to a depth of about 10,000 feet. The surface of the layer of smoke was sharply defined, and appeared like an undulating sea surrounding the island on which we stood. Far to the northward rose the regular conical summit of Mount Baker, like an isolated sea-girt island. A few of the rugged and more elevated summits, marking the course of the Cascade Mountains, could be discerned to the eastward. The summits of Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens were in plain view and seemingly near at hand. All of the forest-covered region between these elevated summits was blotted out by the dense, heavy layer of smoke, which rose until it met the westerly gale of the upper regions.

During the ascent of Mount Rainier by Emmons and Wilson, previously referred to, more favorable atmospheric conditions prevailed than at the time of my visit, and the region about the base of the mountain was clearly revealed. In describing the view from the summit Emmons says:

From the northeastern rim of the crater we could look down an unbroken slope of nearly 10,000 feet to the head of the White River, the upper half or two-thirds of which was so steep that one had the feeling of looking over a perpendicular wall. [It was up this slope that the climb briefly described above was made.] The systems of glaciers and the streams which flowed from them lay spread out as on a map at our feet; radiating out in every direction from the central mass, they all with one accord curve to the westward to send their waters down toward Puget Sound or the Lower Columbia. [Attention has already been directed to the westward curvature of the streams from Mount Rainier on reaching the tilted peneplain on which the mountain stands, and the explanation has been suggested that they are consequent streams the direction of which was determined by the original slope of the now deeply dissected plateau.]

Looking to the more distant country, the whole stretch of Puget Sound, seeming like a pretty little lake embowered in green, could be seen in the northwest, beyond which the Olympic Mountains extend out into the Pacific Ocean. The Cascade Mountains, lying dwarfed at our feet, could be traced northward into British Columbia, and southward into Oregon, while above them, at comparatively regular intervals, rose the ghost-like forms of our companion volcanoes. To the eastward the eye ranged for hundreds of miles over chain on chain of mountain ridges, which gradually disappeared in the dim, blue distance.

In the truncated summit of Mount Rainier there are three craters. The largest one, partially filled by the building of the two others, is the oldest, and has suffered so greatly from subsequent volcanic explosions and erosion that no more than its general outline can be traced. Peak Success and Liberty Cap are prominent points on the rim of what remains of this huge crater. Its diameter, as nearly as can be judged, is about 2½ miles. Within the great crater, in the formation of which the mountain was truncated and, as previously stated, lost fully 2,000 feet of its summit, there are two much smaller and much more recent craters. The larger of these, the one in which we took refuge, is about 300 yards in diameter, and the second, which is an incomplete circle, its rim having been broken by the formation of its more recent companion, is perhaps 200 yards across. The rim of each now partially snow-filled bowl is well defined, and rises steeply from within to a sharp crest. The character of the inner slopes shows that much rocky material has been detached and has fallen into the cavities from which it was ejected. The rock in the crater walls is in fragments and masses, some of them well rounded and probably of the nature of volcanic bombs. In each of the smaller craters there are numerous steam jets. These show that the rock below is still hot, and that water percolating downward is changed to steam. These steam jets evidently indicate the presence of residual heat and not an actual connection with a volcanic center deep below the surface. All the evidence available tends to show that Rainier is an extinct volcano. It belongs, however, to the explosive type of volcanoes, of which Vesuvius is the best-known example, and there is no assurance that its energies may not be reawakened.