We arrived at the Glacier House at 10:30 P.M., where we were surrounded by anxious friends, and regaled by a hot dinner of roasted chickens and all manner of good things, such as one always finds at this most excellent inn. At such times, more than at any other, one appreciates the thoughtfulness and care of a kind host.
Our experience on Eagle Peak, trying as it was, could not equal that of two gentlemen who, in 1894, made an attempt to scale the mountain. Unfortunately they failed to reach the summit, and, worse still, were benighted among the crags and cliffs at a high altitude, where they spent the night in misery. Finding themselves in their attempt unable to advance farther for some reason or other, they were descending, when it suddenly occurred to them that they were on a different ledge from any they had seen hitherto. Nightfall was bringing rapidly increasing darkness, and it seemed impossible, at length, either to proceed farther or even to retrace the steps by which they had come. Here, then, on a narrow ledge overlooking a precipice, the awful depths of which were rendered still more terrible in the obscurity of gathering gloom, and with their feet dangling over the verge, they were forced to remain motionless, and wear out the long night in cold and sleepless suffering. The next morning a search party was organized, and they were conducted back to the comforts of the Glacier House, much to the relief of their anxious friends, but nearly prostrated by their terrible experience.
Later, we made an ascent of Mount Cheops, a striking peak with a most perfect representation of a pyramid forming its summit. The view is fine but not worth the labor of the climb, as the ascent of the lower slopes seems interminably long and tedious by reason of the underbrush and steep slope. Like Eagle Peak, the summit revealed no evidence of previous conquests, and it will probably be a long time before any one will be so far led astray as to make a similar attempt.
Trails and good foot-paths lead from the Glacier House to points of interest in the vicinity. The chief resort is the Great Glacier itself, where one may witness all the phenomena of a large ice stream, or ascend to the vast névé, and wander about on a nearly level, and apparently limitless, snow field.
Mount Abbott is an easy and favorite climb, and is often successfully attempted by women who are endowed with considerable strength and endurance. On the way, a small pool, called Marion Lake, is passed. It nestles among the cliffs and forests on the mountain side far above the valley. It is the only lake I know of in the Selkirks. This is one of the remarkable differences between the Selkirks and the Summit Range of the Rockies: the absence of lakes in one region, and their great number in the other. The great majority of lakes in the Rockies are very small and often do not deserve the name, as they are mere pools a few yards across. But their small size in no way detracts from their beauty, and it is most unfortunate that the Selkirks possess so few of these, the most charming of all features in mountain landscapes.
The Selkirks are but little known, because the dense forests and the immense size of the fallen logs forbid the use of horses almost altogether, and will ever prevent the mountaineer from making extended journeys into the lesser known parts of the mountains, unless trails are cut and kept in good order. At present all provisions, blankets, and tents must be packed on men’s backs, a method that is both laborious and expensive.
It must eventually result, however, that these mountains will prove a most popular resort for climbers and sportsmen. The attractions for either class are very great. For the mountaineer, they present all the grandeur and beauty of the Swiss Alps, with difficulties of snow and rock climbing sufficient to add zest to the sport. The multitude of unclimbed peaks likewise offers great opportunities for those ambitious for new conquests. The immense annual snowfall causes many of the higher peaks to assume an appearance of dazzling beauty and brilliancy, while the Alpine splendor of these higher altitudes is strongly contrasted with the dark-green color of the forested valleys.
For the sportsmen, too, there are abundant opportunities to hunt the larger game. On the mountains are numerous herds of mountain goats and sheep, while the forests abound in bears—the black bear and the grizzly or silver tip. During the berry season, these animals frequent the valleys and are often seen by the railroad men even near the Glacier House. One gentleman had the good fortune to shoot a black bear from a window of the hotel last year. Of course, there is practically no danger from even the grizzly bear in this immediate vicinity, as they have learned to fear man from being frequently shot at, and have long since lost the ferocity which they sometimes show in extremely wild and unfrequented regions.
No mention has yet been made of the kind of trees to be found in a Selkirk forest. Almost all the varieties of coniferous trees observed in the Rockies, except the Lyall’s larch, occur in the Selkirks, though each variety attains much larger size. The cedar, the hemlock, the Douglas fir, and the Engelmann’s spruce are most conspicuous and form the chief part of the forest trees. Each of these species here attains a diameter of from three feet upward, even to six or seven, and a height of from 150 to 200 feet.
Nothing is more enjoyable than to take one of the mountain trails and enter the depths of the forest, there to rest in quiet contemplation where trees alone are visible in the limited circle of view. On a quiet afternoon, when all is calm and not a breath of air is stirring, the long, gray moss hangs in pendent tufts from the lower branches of the giant trees, and one feels that this is indeed another Acadian forest of which Longfellow sings: