The routes between our various camps, scattered along between Yakutat bay and Blossom island, were traversed several times by every member of the party. To traverse the same trail several times with heavy loads, and perhaps in rain and mist, is disheartening work which I will spare the reader the effort of following even in fancy.
From our camp in Floral pass another reconnoissance ahead was made by Mr. Kerr and myself, as already mentioned. These advances, each one of which told us something new, were the most interesting portions of our journey. The little adventures and experiences of each advance were reported and talked over when we rejoined our companions around the camp-fire at night, and were received with gratifying interest by the men.
A view of the Hayden glacier from the Floral hills showed us that it differed from any of the glaciers previously traversed. Its surface, where we planned to cross it, was free of débris except along the margins and also near the center, where we could distinguish a light medial moraine. Farther southward, near the terminus of the glacier, its surface from side to side was buried beneath a sheet of stones and dirt. As in many other instances, the débris on the lower portion of the glacier has been concentrated at the surface, owing to the melting of the ice, so as to form a continuous sheet.
Early one morning, while traveling over the torrent-swept bowlders in the stream-bed on our way up Floral pass, we were a little startled at seeing the head of a bear just visible through the flowers fringing the bank. Before a shot could be fired, he vanished, and remained perfectly quiet among the bushes for several minutes. But a trembling of the branches at length betrayed his presence, and a few minutes later he came out in full view, his yellow-brown coat giving him the appearance of a huge dog. Standing on a rounded mound he looked inquiringly down the valley, with his shaggy side in full view. I fired—but missed my aim. The unsuccessful hunter always has an excuse for his failure; I had never before used the rifle I carried, and the hair-trigger with which it was provided deceived me. Fortunately for the bear, and probably still more fortunately for me, the bullet went far above the mark. The huge beast vanished again, although the vegetation was not dense, and left us wondering how such a large animal could disappear so quickly and so completely in such an open region. On searching for his tracks, we found that he had traversed for a few rods the plant-covered terrace on which he was first discovered, and then escaped up a lateral gorge to a broader terrace above.
Reaching the head of the Floral pass and climbing the hill of débris bordering the Hayden glacier, we came out upon the clear, white ice of the central portion of the ice-stream. The ice was greatly crevassed, but nearly all the gaps in its surface could be crossed by jumping or else by ice-bridges. The most interesting feature presented by the glacier was the way in which it yields itself to the inequality of the rocks over which it flows. Starting on the eastern side, below the entrance to Floral pass, and extending northwestward diagonally across the stream, there is a line of steep descent in the rocks beneath, which causes the ice to be greatly broken. This is not properly an ice-fall, except near the confining walls of the cañon; but it might be called an ice-rapid. The ice bends down over the subglacial scarp with many long breaks, but does not form pinnacles, as in many similar instances where the descent is greater, and true ice cascades occur. The most practicable way for crossing the glacier was to ascend the stream above the line of rapids for some distance, and then follow diagonally down its center, finally veering westward to the opposite bank. By following this course, and making a double curve like the letter S, we could cross the steep descent in the center, where it was least crevassed.
The marginal moraines on the Hayden glacier are formed of fragments of brown and gray sandstone and black shale of all sizes and shapes. It is clear that this débris was gathered by the cliffs bordering the glacier on either side. The medial moraine which first appears at the surface just above the rapids is of a different character, and tells that the higher peaks of Mount Cook are composed, in part at least, of a different material from the spurs projecting from it. The medial moraine looks black from a distance, but, on traversing it, it was found to be composed mainly of dark-green gabbro and serpentine. The débris is scattered over the surface in a belt several rods wide; but it is not deep, as the ice can almost everywhere be seen between the stones. Where the fragments of rock are most widely separated, there are fine illustrations of the manner in which small, dark stones absorb the heat of the sun and melt the ice beneath more rapidly than the surrounding surface, sinking into the ice so as to form little wells, several inches deep, filled with clear water. Larger stones, which are not warmed through during a day's sunshine, protect the ice beneath while the adjacent surface is melted, and consequently become elevated on pillars or pedestals of ice. The stones thus elevated are frequently large, and form tables which are nearly always inclined southward. In other instances the ice over large areas, especially along the center of the medial moraine, was covered with cones of fine, angular fragments from a few inches to three or four feet in height. These were not really piles of gravel, as they seemed, but consisted of cones of ice, sheeted over with thin layers of small stones. The secret of their formation, long since discovered on the glaciers of Switzerland, is that the gravel is first concentrated in a hole in the ice and, as the general surface melts away, acts like a large stone and protects the ice beneath. It is raised on a pedestal, but the gravel at the borders continually rolls down the sides and a conical form is the result.
Where we crossed the Hayden glacier it is only about a mile broad in a direct line; but to traverse it by the circuitous route rendered necessary by the character of its surface required about three hours of hard tramping, even when unincumbered with packs. From the center of the glacier a magnificent view may be obtained of the snow-covered domes of Mount Cook, from which rugged mountain ridges stretch southward like great arms and enclose the white snow-field from which the glacier flows. At an elevation of 2,500 feet the icy portion disappears beneath the névé on which not a trace of débris is visible. All the higher portions of the mountains are white as snow can make them, except where the pinnacles and precipices are too steep to retain a covering.
On reaching the western side of the glacier we found a bare space on the bordering cliffs, about a hundred feet high, which has been abandoned by the ice so recently that it is not yet grassed over. Above this came the luxuriant and beautiful vegetation covering all the lower mountain slopes.
The mountain spur just west of the glacier, like several of the ridges stretching southward from the higher mountains, ends in a group of hills somewhat separate from the main ridge. The hills are covered with a rank vegetation, and in places support a dense growth of spruce trees. Reaching the grassy summit, we had a fine, far-reaching view of the unexplored region toward the west, and of the vast plateau of ice stretching southward beyond the reach of the vision. West of our station, another great ice-stream, named the Marvine glacier, in honor of the late A. R. Marvine, flows southward with a breadth exceeding that of any of the icy streams yet crossed. Beyond the Marvine glacier, and forming its western border, there is an exceedingly rugged mountain range trending northeast and southwest. Although this is, topographically, a portion of the mountain mass forming Mount Cook, its prominence and its peculiar geological structure render it important that it should have an independent name. In acknowledgment of the services to science rendered by the first state geologist of Massachusetts, it is designated the Hitchcock range on our maps. Rising above the angular crest line of this mountain mass towers the pyramidal summit of Mount St. Elias, seemingly as distant as when we first beheld it from near Yakutat bay.
About a mile west of the hill on which we stood, and beyond the bed of a lake now drained of its waters by a tunnel leading southward through the ice, rose a steep, rocky island out of the glaciers, its summit overgrown with vegetation and dark with spruce trees. This oasis in a sea of ice, subsequently named Blossom island, we chose as the most favorable site for our next advance-camp.