Near the river we discovered a trail, the first we had seen so far on our journey around Assiniboine. After an hour of walking we came to a number of horses, and soon saw on the other side of the river a camp of another party of gentlemen, who were exploring this region, and had been out from Banff twenty-four days. We forded the river, and found it a little over our knees, but very swift.
A very pleasant half hour was spent at this place, enjoying their hospitality, and then we pushed on. We were now going westward up the valley, which held a straight course of about six miles, and then turned around to the north. The trail being good, we walked very rapidly till nightfall in a supreme effort to reach our camp that night. Having now been on our feet almost continuously for the past fifteen hours, we had become so fatigued that a very slight obstruction was sufficient to cause a fall, and every few minutes some one of the party would go headlong among the burnt timber. We had barely enough provisions for another meal, however, and so we desired to get as near headquarters as possible. At length, nightfall having rendered farther progress impossible, we found a fairly level place among the prostrate trees, and, after a meal of bacon and hard tack, lay down on the ground around a large fire. The night was mild, and extreme weariness gave us sound sleep. After four hours of sleep, we were again on foot at four o’clock in the morning. We marched into camp at 6:30, where the cooks were just building the morning fires, and commencing to prepare breakfast.
We were without doubt the first to accomplish the circuit of Mount Assiniboine. By pedometer, the distance was fifty-one miles, which we accomplished in forty-six hours, or less than two days.
Mount Assiniboine is the culminating point of a nearly square system of mountains covering about thirty-five square miles. According to my estimates from angles taken by surveying instruments made on the spot, the mountain is 11,680 feet in height. Later on, however, I learned from Mr. McArthur, who is connected with the Topographical Survey, and who has probably climbed more peaks of the Canadian Rockies than any other two men, that, according to some angles taken on this mountain from a great distance, the height is 11,830 feet.
Three rivers, the Spray, the Simpson, and the North Fork of the Cross, drain this region, and as the two latter flow into the Columbia, and the former into the Saskatchewan, this great mountain is on the watershed, and consequently on the boundary line between Alberta and British Columbia. About two-thirds of the forest area round its base has been burned over, and this renders the scenery most unattractive. The north and northwest sides, however, are covered with green timber, and studded with lakes, of which one is two miles or more in length. There are in all thirteen lakes around the immediate base of the mountain, and some are exquisitely beautiful.
The great height and striking appearance of Mount Assiniboine will undoubtedly, in the future, attract mountaineers to this region, especially as a much shorter route exists than the one we followed. If the trail is opened along the Spray River, the explorer should be able to reach the mountain, with horses, in two days from Banff. Mount Assiniboine, especially when seen from the north, resembles the Matterhorn in a striking manner. Its top is often shrouded in clouds, and when the wind is westerly, frequently displays a long cloud banner trailing out from its eastern side. The mountain is one that will prove exceedingly difficult to the climber. On every side the slope is no less than fifty degrees, and on the east, approaches sixty-five or seventy. Moreover, the horizontal strata have weathered away in such a manner as to form vertical ledges, which completely girdle the mountain, and, from below, appear to offer a hopeless problem. In every storm the mountain is covered with new snow, even in summer, and this comes rushing down in frequent avalanches, thus adding a new source of danger and perplexity to the mountaineer.
The day of our arrival in camp was spent in much-needed rest. Our time was now up, and it was necessary, on the next day, to commence our homeward journey, and, as our winding cavalcade left the beautiful site of our camp under the towering walls of Mount Assiniboine, many were the unexpressed feelings of regret, for in the two weeks spent here we had had many delightful experiences, and had become familiar with every charming view of lakes and forests and mountains.
In two days we reached the fork where the Simpson and Vermilion rivers unite. It was our intention to follow up the Vermilion River and reach the Bow valley by the Vermilion Pass. The Vermilion River is at this point a large, deep stream flowing swiftly and smoothly. The valley is very wide and densely forested, with occasional open places near the river. For three days we progressed up the river, often being compelled to cross it on account of the dense timber. At one place, after several of the horses had gained a bar in the middle of the river, one of those following, got beyond his depth and was swept rapidly down, and appeared in great danger of being drowned. Fortunately, the animal was caught by an eddy current, and by desperate swimming at length gained the bar. The poor beast was, however, so much benumbed by the cold water that he could not climb upon the bar, but the men dashed in bravely, and by pulling on head and packs, and even his tail, the animal finally struggled into shallow water. Standing up to our knees in the water, with a deep channel on either side of us and an angry rapid below, our prospects were far from encouraging.
I mounted old Chiniquy behind Peyto and we plunged in first. “It’s swim sure this time,” said Peyto to me, as the water rose at once nearly to the horse’s back, and the ice-cold water, creeping momentarily higher, gave us a most uncomfortable sensation. The current was so swift that the water was banked up much higher on the upstream side. Such crossings are very exciting, for at any moment the horse may stumble on the rough bottom or plunge into a deep hole. Chiniquy had a hard time of it and groaned at every step, but got us across all right. The rest all followed, not, however, over-confident at our success, to judge by their anxious looks. All got across except one pack-horse, which, after a voyage down stream, we finally caught and pulled ashore.
There was evidence of much game in this valley, as we saw many tracks of deer, caribou, and bears. One day, just as we stopped to camp, a doe started up and ran by us. We camped on August 2nd at a beautiful spot near the summit of the Vermilion Pass. A large stream came in from the northwest, and we set out to explore it for a short distance, as, before leaving Banff, we had heard of a remarkable canyon near this place.