Page images

Photograph from H. F. Lambart


The Arctic cold and arduous labor of the climb necessitated the best woolen clothing, "shoe-pac" or "barker" boots (rubber soles with leather uppers), or dry-tanned moccasins, wind-proof outer gloves to slip over woolen gloves, drill-cloth parka, woolen helmets, snow glasses and frequently stained mosquito nets to wear over the head as protection from sun and wind.

sides of the peak were bulging and the top appeared as a huge acorn, below which cliffs descended for thousands of feet to the Seward Glacier.

On reaching the summit we encountered that strange apparition known as "the specter of the Brocken," the weird phenomenon seen on the tops of very high mountains, under certain conditions of light and atmosphere, whereby the figure of each observer is seen silhouetted against the fog banks in the center of a

complete circular rainbow of miniature size.

We set foot on the summit of Mount Logan at 8 o'clock in the evening, and as we stood in a little knot, with the view completely obscured, we were reminded by Andy Taylor that a storm was upon us. So, after reading the aneroid and a hearty handshake all around, Carpe deposited a small brass tube containing our record. Our thermometer, which was exposed for a short time only and which was observed to be rapidly dropping, read 4 degrees below zero, Fahrenheit.

We began our downward journey after a stay of barely 25 minutes at the summit, retracing our steps down the steep arête and along the icy slopes at accelerated speed.

We arrived at our cache of snowshoes without mishap, but the storm by now was full upon us.

We had come to the end of our willow wands (see text, page 611) before reaching the summit of the first peak, early in the afternoon, and now we groped along, guided only by the general slope of the ground. After stumbling forward for an hour in a fruitless effort to locate the trail, the hopelessness of the task was realized. We halted on the side of a fairly steep snowdrift and bivouacked for the night, digging in as best we could with the aid of our snowshoes. As nearly as we could judge, our elevation here was about 19,000 feet.

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Truly "festal," for after the conquest of Canada's highest peak the Expedition celebrated their feat "by dining upon almost every conceivable delicacy that the genius of man has contrived to put in a can" (see text, page 631).

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The exhausted party is resting in the shelter of the granite cliffs immediately after fighting a blizzard (see text below). Left to right, A. M. Taylor, W. W. Foster, Allen Carpe, H. F. Lambart, reading the aneroid, and Albert H. MacCarthy bending over to remove his load.

Our shelters were miserable affairs, but we managed to make them roomy enough to get everything except our legs under the protecting overhang. Here we rested fitfully during the interminable night and into the late morning of the following day. The party was in deplorable condition, for all were suffering more or less from frozen fingers and the effects of snow blindness, while one member, due to tight socks, had the toes on both feet frozen while he slept. Before the loss of our maximum and minimum thermometer here, we read 12 degrees below zero.


Up to noon of the 24th conditions had not changed. Should we hazard another night in the open or strike out into the snow and fog, hoping against hope that just one little guiding twig might show itself? We decided to take the latter chance.

Changing our direction now half left and climbing on a heavier slope, we came suddenly upon a willow wand sticking out

of the snow. It appeared to us like a telegraph pole!

Our joy was unbounded, for this discovery meant a sudden change from a situation in which bewildered climbers were fighting for their lives in fog and storm to one of almost certain security, leading back to shelter, food, and rest.

Our pace was quickened, as we followed from twig to twig, not daring to allow the last man on the rope to leave the rear twig until the one forward had been found.

Some members of the expedition during these latter experiences had certain hallucinations. At one moment the ground would appear to drop away in front, and, expecting a descent, we would instead experience a sharp rise; then, again, a wall of snow would seem to appear to one side, and upon stretching out a hand one found nothing at all; and yet again, a wild procession of fences, barns, and houses seemed to be following our trail on either side. It is difficult to account for all this, except that we were nearly spent,

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A two-day rest at Cascades Camp was spent in nursing frozen hands, faces, and feet and in eating unrestrainedly (see page 627). Only one man suffered no ill effects from the cold. The return trip was made less painful by abandoning at this camp all effects which could not be carried in one pack.

and in our exhausted state our minds undoubtedly wandered.

The 25th was a glorious day of rest. On the 26th we decided upon a desperate effort to get off the mountain and reach our camp at the King col. Of this day of blizzards volumes could be written.

The willow wands kept us to the trail, and all went well where the footing was good and the snowshoes could be used; but the time soon came when we had to rise more abruptly to get through the rocky gorge-the site of our 18.5 Campand here the surface became glare ice and it was impossible to keep one's feet.

LONG ICICLES HANG FROM BEARDS Snowshoes had to be taken off and crampons substituted. With frostbitten hands and feet, this task simply could not be accomplished by some of the members of the party; so to our injuries were added a few more frostbitten fingers. One rope was a little in advance and above the other, and, looking down, I could see

MacCarthy, Carpe, and Foster struggling on, so disfigured with ice as to be quite unrecognizable. From their beards and helmets protruded long icicles, tinged red in one case from sore and bleeding lips. They looked like huge pelicans beating against the storm.

Thanks to the efforts of the stronger members of the party, all arrived, after what seemed hours, in the shelter of the granite crags flanking the 18.5 summit.

After a short rest, we moved down the southern slope of the mountain, and, although dealing here in some measure with heavy wind and driving snow, we had left behind us the severest storm area. Upon reaching deep snow we disposed of the crampons.

At the Windy Camp site all was completely buried in snow, and we stayed here only long enough to dig out a few personal effects, leaving the rest behind. On the slopes immediately above the site of Ice Cliff Camp the snow was so deep that we floundered along in a very



At Hubrick's Camp (see text, page 631) material and tools had been left to build two boats to carry the Expedition down the Chitina River, but the exhausted men could not undertake this labor and finally decided upon two rafts of logs. These were built in two days, and the swift Chitina gave the party a violent, exciting run.

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