Our attention was next turned toward the exploration of the mountains and valleys to the east of Lake Louise, which seemed to offer greater possibilities of grand scenery than those on the opposite side. Accordingly, we made several visits to a high upland park or alp, which was in reality a sort of depression between Great Mountain and a lesser peak to the east. This depression and the two mountains, one vastly higher than the other, resemble in outline, a saddle with pommel and crupper and suggested a name for the place which seems eminently appropriate. A trail now leads to the Saddle, and the place has proven so popular among tourists that it is frequently in use.
The Saddle is a typical alp, or elevated mountain meadow, where long, rich grass waves in the summer breezes, beautified by mountain flowers, anemones, sky-blue forget-me-nots, and scarlet castilleias. Scattered larch trees make a very park of this place, while the great swelling slopes rise in graceful curves toward the mountain peaks on either side.
But this is only the foreground to one of the most impressive views in the Rocky Mountains. To the eastward about three miles, on the farther side of a deep valley, stands the great mass of Mount Temple, the highest peak near the line of travel in the Canadian Rockies. This mountain stands alone, separated from the surrounding peaks of the continental watershed to which it does not belong. Its summit is 11,658 feet above the sea-level, while the valleys on either side are but little more than 6000 feet in altitude. As a result, the mountain rises over a mile above the surrounding valleys, a height which approaches the maximum reached in the Canadian Rockies. All sides of this mountain, except the south, are so precipitous that they offer not the slightest possible hope to the mountain climber, be he ever so skilful. The summit is crowned by a snow field or glacier of small size but of remarkable purity, since there are no higher cliffs to send down stones and debris to the glacier and destroy its beauty. On the west face, the glacier overhangs a precipice, and, by constantly crowding forward and breaking off, has formed a nearly vertical face of ice, which is in one place three hundred and twenty-five feet thick. I have seen passengers on the trains who were surprised to learn that the ice in this very place is anything more than a yard in depth, and who regarded with misplaced pity and contempt those who have any larger ideas on the subject.
Avalanches from this hanging wall of ice are rather rare, as the length of the wall is not great and the glacier probably moves very slowly. I have never had the good fortune to witness one, though the thunders of these ice falls are often heard by the railroad men who live at Laggan, just six miles distant. They must indeed be magnificent spectacles, as the ice must needs fall more than 4000 feet to reach the base of the cliff. The compactness of this single mountain may be well shown, by saying that a line eight miles long would be amply sufficient to encircle its base, notwithstanding the fact that its summit reaches so great an altitude.
Mount Temple from the Saddle.
The strata are clearly marked and nearly horizontal, though with a slight upward dip on all sides, and especially toward the Bow valley, so that the general internal structure of the mountain is somewhat bowl-shaped, a formation very common in mountain architecture.
The surroundings of this great mountain are equally grand. Far below in the deep valley, the forest-trees appear like blades of grass, and in the midst of them a bright, foamy band of water winds in crooked course like a narrow thread of silver,—in reality, a broad, deep stream. A small lake, nestling among the dark forests at the very base of Mount Temple, is the most beautiful feature in the whole view. The distance renders its water a dark ultra-marine color, and sometimes, when the light is just at the proper angle, the ripples sparkle on the dark surface like thousands of little diamonds. On the right, an awful precipice of a near mountain looms up in gloomy grandeur, like the cliffs and bottomless abysses of the infernal regions pictured by Doré. This we called Mount Sheol.
One may ascend from the Saddle to the summit of Great Mountain in an hour. Mr. A. and I ascended this mountain in 1893, before there was any trail to assist us, and we had a very hard time in forcing our way through the tough underbrush, while below tree line.
In the course of a great many ascents of this peak I have had several interesting adventures. The view from the summit is so fine that I have made many attempts to obtain good photographs from this point. One day, after a period of nearly a week of smoky weather, the wind suddenly shifted, and, at about ten o’clock in the morning, the atmosphere became so perfectly clear that the smallest details of the distant mountains were distinct and sharp, as though seen through a crystal medium. This was my chance, and I proceeded at once to take advantage of it. I had a large 8 x 10 camera and three plate-holders, which all went into a leather case especially made for the purpose, and which was fitted out with straps, so that it rested between my shoulders and left both hands free for climbing. It weighed altogether twenty-four pounds. With lunch in my pocket, I set out from the chalet with all speed, so as to arrive on the summit before the wind should change and bring back the smoke.