On the sixth day after separating from my companions, judging that they must have returned at least to the camping place where we had separated, I packed my blankets and what food remained, abandoned the tent and oil-stove, and started to descend the mountain. The snow had settled somewhat, but was still soft and yielding and over six feet deep. Tramping wearily on through the chaff-like substance, I slowly worked my way downward, and again threaded the maze of crevasses, now partially concealed by the layer of new snow, with which we had struggled several times before. Midway to the next camping place I met my companions coming up to search for me. Instead of meeting three men, as I expected, I saw five tramping along in single file through the deep snow. The sight of human beings in that vast solitude was so strange that I watched them for some time before shouting. Glad as I was to meet my companions once more, I could not help noticing their rough and picturesque appearance. Each man wore colored glasses and carried a long alpenstock, and two or three had packs strapped on their backs. Several weeks of hard tramping over moraines and snow-fields had made many rents in their clothes, which had been mended with cloth of any color that chanced to be available. Not a few rags were visible fluttering in the wind. To a stranger they would have appeared like a dangerous band of brigands.
The reason for the presence of five men instead of three was this: Lindsley and Stamy, when they left us at Rope cliff to return for additional rations, were obliged to go back to Camp 12 in order to get a tent and an oil-stove. On reaching that place the temptation to return to Blossom island was so great that Lindsley could not resist it and went back to the base-camp, where he reported that Kerr and I were storm-bound in the mountains and in need of assistance. Three men, Partridge, Doney, and White, started at once, and found Stamy, who had waited for their arrival at Camp 12. A day was thus lost, which increased Mr. Kerr's hardship and might have proved disastrous. The party then returned to Rope cliff and joined Kerr on the evening of August 29. On this occasion, as on several others, I found myself indebted to Stamy for willing assistance when others hesitated.
During my imprisonment at the highest camp, Mr. Kerr was detained under similar circumstances at the camp below Rope cliff. On endeavoring to rejoin me with the supply of coal oil, so very valuable under the circumstances, he was caught in the storm and was unable to reach the rendezvous appointed. He reached Rope cliff late in the afternoon of the first day of the storm, climbed the precipice, and found his way through the gathering darkness, along the nearly obliterated trail beneath the avalanche cliffs, and up the steps cut in the snow-cliff, to the site of our bivouac camp. Finding nothing there, and being unable to proceed farther through the blinding storm, he abandoned the attempt and returned to the camp below Rope cliff. In descending the rope, he found that its lower end had become fast in the snow. The taut line, sheathed with ice, was an uncertain help in the darkness. Midway in the descent his hands slipped and he slid to the bottom; but the cushion of new snow broke the fall and prevented serious injury. Alone, without fire, without blankets, having only a canvas cover and a rubber cloth for shelter, and with but little food, he passed three anxious days and nights before the arrival of the camp hands.
THE RETURN.
Deciding that the ascent of Mount St. Elias could not be accomplished through the new snow, which refused to harden, it was decided to abandon the attempt and return to Blossom island. Our retreat was none too soon. Storm succeeded storm throughout September. Each time the clouds lifted, the mantle of new snow was seen to have descended lower and lower. Our last view showed the wintry covering nearly down to timber-line.
On the night of August 31 we slept at the camp beneath Rope cliff, but had a most uncomfortable night. Six men sleeping in a tent measuring seven by seven feet, with but little protection from the ice beneath, certainly does not seem inviting to one surrounded by the comforts of civilization. A large part of the night was occupied by Doney in preparing breakfast over our oil-stove. An early start was welcome to all; we were disappointed at not being able to reach the top of St. Elias, and were anxious to return to more comfortable quarters. Kerr concluded to return at once to Blossom island to recuperate, while I made an excursion up the Seward glacier, with the hope of gaining the upper ice-fall and seeing the amphitheatre beyond.
We left Rope cliff about six in the morning, and found the snow hard and traveling easy for several hours. After descending the lower ice-fall, however, the snow became soft, and a change in the atmosphere indicated the approach of another storm. Kerr and Doney pressed on and were soon lost to sight, while the rest of the party were delayed, owing to Partridge having become snow-blind and almost helpless. As the crevasses were exceedingly numerous and the snow-bridges soft and uncertain, the task of conducting a blind man to a place of safety was by no means light. Partridge bore up bravely under his affliction, however, and did not hesitate in crawling across the treacherous snow-bridges with a rope fastened about his body and a man before and behind to assist his movements. Late in the day we reached our camping place at the eastern border of the Agassiz glacier, while Kerr and Doney crossed Dome pass and spent the night in a tent that had been left standing at the first camping east of the pass. We pitched a tent on our old camping place at Camp 16, and had the luxury of a rocky bed to sleep on that night. As Partridge's blindness still continued, White was sent ahead to tell Kerr and Doney to wait for us in the morning, so that Partridge could accompany them to Blossom island. Rain continued all that night and all the next day. As Partridge's eyes were still unserviceable in the morning, I concluded to wait a day before allowing him to start for Blossom island.
Toward evening on September 2 we moved our camp across Dome pass, and pitched our tent on the high ridge beside the one occupied by Kerr and Doney. In the morning, although the storm still continued, our party divided, Kerr, Doney, and Partridge starting early for Blossom island, while Stamy, White, and myself, after following their tracks for a few miles, turned to the left and worked our way northeastward among the crevasses of the Seward glacier. Toward evening we reached the northwestern spur of Mount Owen, but found the cliffs rising abruptly from the glacier and too favorable for avalanches to admit of our camping near them. Again we were forced to go into camp on the open glacier, and were less comfortable than previously on similar occasions, owing to the fact that we had been exposed to the rains for three successive days and our blankets and clothes were wet. Rain continued all night and all the next day, and on the following night changed to snow.
On the morning of September 4 we awoke to find the skies clear, but the mountains all about us were white with snow. Before the sun rose, White and I started for the top of the high ridge above us, determined to have at least a distant view of the amphitheatre which we wished to explore. The snow about our camp was only six or eight inches deep, but as we ascended the mountain it grew more and more troublesome, and at a height of a thousand feet above camp was thirty inches deep. On gaining the summit of the ridge a magnificent view was obtained of the upper portion of the Seward glacier and of Mount Irving and Mount Logan, and many bold, tapering mountains farther northeastward. The whole landscape was snow-covered, and as the sun rose clear in the east became of the most dazzling brilliancy. An icy wind swept down from the northeast and rendered it exceedingly difficult to take photographs or to make measurements. On endeavoring to use my prismatic compass, I found that, having been soaked with moisture during the previous days of storm, it froze solid and refused to move, on being exposed to the air. Making what observations I could, we started back to camp with the intention of abandoning all further attempts to work in the high mountains.
On the steep slope now exposed to the full sunshine several avalanches had gone down, and there was great danger of others. Selecting a point where an avalanche had already swept away the new snow, we worked our way downward in a zigzag course and reached the bottom safely, although an avalanche starting near at hand swept by within a few yards. When nearly at the bottom my attention was attracted by a noise above, and on looking up I saw two rocks bounding down the slope and coming straight for me. To dodge them on the steep slippery slope was difficult and dangerous. Allowing one to pass over my right shoulder, I instantly moved in that direction and allowed the other to pass over my left shoulder. They shot by me like fragments of shells, but did no injury. Reaching camp, we found that Stamy had dried our blankets and clothes.