After a week of fickle weather with five inches of new snow on July 15th, there was a decided change for the better, and the warm, bright days following one another more regularly gave us the first taste of real summer that we had. The massed drifts of snow diminished from day to day and the ice disappeared from the lakes. Nature, however, tempered her delights by ushering in vast numbers of mosquitoes and bull-dog flies to plague us. I was engaged at this time in some surveying work, in order to determine the height of Mount Assiniboine, and had to exercise the utmost patience in sighting the instruments, surrounded by hundreds of voracious foes, and often had to allow my face and hands to remain exposed to their stings for several minutes.
We obtained the most imposing view of Mount Assiniboine from the summit of a mountain about five miles east of our camp. Standing at an altitude of 8800 feet, there were eighteen lakes, large and small, to be seen in the various valleys, which, together with the tumultuous ranges of the Rocky Mountains on every side, some of them fifty or sixty miles distant, formed a magnificent panorama. From this point, which was nearly due north of Mount Assiniboine, the mountain shows an outline altogether different from that seen at our camp. Here it forms a magnificent termination of a stupendous wall or ridge of rock, about 11,000 feet high, which runs eastward for several miles, and then curving around to the north, rises into another lofty peak nearly rivalling Mount Assiniboine in height. A very large glacier sweeps down from the névé on the north side of this lesser peak, and descends in a crevassed slope to the valley bottom.
MOUNT ASSINIBOINE FROM NORTHWEST.
The valley just east of us was quite filled by three lakes, the uppermost deep blue, the next greenish, and a smaller one, farther north, of a yellowish color.
Our last exploit at Mount Assiniboine was to walk completely around the mountain. We had long desired to learn something of the east and south sides of this interesting peak, and to effect this Mr. B., Peyto, and I started on July 26th, determined to see as much as possible in a three days’ trip. Our provisions consisted of bacon, hard tack, tea, sugar, and raisins. Besides this we carried one blanket apiece, a small hand axe, and a camera. As our success would depend in great measure on the rapidity of our movements, we did not burden ourselves with ice-axes or firearms except a six-shooter. After bidding farewell to Mr. P. and the other men in camp, and telling them to expect us back in three days, we left our camp at eight o’clock in the morning. We walked for three miles through the open valleys to the north and east, and in about two hours stood at the top of the pass, some 8000 feet above sea-level. From here we made a rapid descent for about 2000 feet, to the largest lake of this unexplored valley, which probably supplies one of the tributaries to the Spray River. The change in the character of the vegetation was remarkable. The trees grew to an immense size and reminded me strongly of a Selkirk forest. We had a most difficult scramble here in the pathless forest and up the opposite side of the valley. The heat was oppressive, and we were glad to gain the level of another more elevated valley where a cooler atmosphere greeted us. We held our way eastward for several miles through a fine upland meadow, where the walking was easy and the surroundings delightful. By noon we reached a small, shallow lake near the highest part of the divide, considerably below tree line. Here we decided to rest and have lunch. Mr. B. had explored this region with one of his men a few days previously, and from him we learned that we should have to struggle with burnt timber in a few moments. The onward rush of the devastating fire had been stopped near the pass, where the trees were small and scattered. After a short descent we entered the burnt timber. I have never before seen a region so absolutely devastated by fire as this. The fire must have burnt with an unusually fierce heat, for it had consumed the smaller trees entirely, or warped them over till they had formed half circles, with their tops touching the ground. The outcrops of sandstone and quartz rocks had been splintered into sharp-edged, gritty stones, covering the ground everywhere like so many knives. The course of the valley now turned rapidly to the south, so that we rounded a corner of the great mass of mountains culminating in Mount Assiniboine. The mountain itself had been for a long time shut out from view by an intervening lofty ridge of glacier-clad peaks, which were, in reality, merely outlying spurs.
The valley in which we were now walking had an unusual formation, for after a short distance we approached a great step, or drop, whereby the valley bottom made a descent of 400 or 500 feet at an exceedingly steep pitch. Here it was difficult to descend even in the easiest places. Arrived at the bottom of the descent it was not very long before another appeared, far deeper than the first. The mountains on either side, especially a most striking and prominent peak on the east side of the valley, which had hitherto appeared of majestic height, seemed to rise to immeasurable altitudes as we plunged deeper and deeper in rapid descent.
The burnt timber continued without interruption. Our passage became mere log walking, as the extra exertion of jumping over the trees was worse than following a crooked course on top of the prostrate trunks. This laborious and exceedingly tiresome work continued for three hours, and at length the charred trunks, uprooted or burnt off near the ground, and crossed in every direction, were piled so high that we were often ten or twelve feet above the ground, and had to work out our puzzling passage with considerable forethought. At five o’clock our labors ended. We made a camp near a large stream which appeared to take its source near Mount Assiniboine. The only good thing about this camp was the abundance of firewood, which was well seasoned, required but little chopping, and was already half converted into charcoal. Under the shelter of an overhanging limestone ledge we made three lean-tos by supporting our blankets on upright stakes. Black as coal-heavers from our long walk in the burnt timber, seeking a refuge in the rocky ledges of the mountains, and clad in uncouth garments torn and discolored, we must have resembled the aboriginal savages of this wild region. Some thick masses of sphagnum moss, long since dried up, gave us a soft covering, to place on the rough, rocky ground. Our supper consisted of bacon, hard tack, and tea. Large flat stones laid on a gentle charcoal fire served to broil our bacon most excellently, though the heat soon cracked the stones in pieces.
At eight o’clock we retired to the protection of our shelter. Overhead the starless sky was cloudy and threatened rain. The aneroid, which was falling, indicated that our altitude was only 4,700 feet above the sea. We arose early in the morning; our breakfast was over and everybody ready to proceed at seven o’clock. We were now on the Pacific slope, and, according to our calculations, on one of the tributaries to the north fork of the Cross River, which, in turn, is a tributary to the Kootanie.
We had a plan to explore up the valley from which our stream issued, but beyond that, all was indefinite. It was possible that this valley led around Mount Assiniboine so that we could reach camp in two days. We were, however, certain of nothing as to the geography of the region which we were now entering.