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THE 
ROCKIES 



CANADA 



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BY 



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WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Clia] lopyright So. 

ShelfafcJ X. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 

Rockies of Canada 



A REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION OF 
"CAMPING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES" 

WITH MORE THAN FORTY PHOTOGRAVURE AND OTHER 

ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL PHOTO- 

GRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 



WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX, RR.G.S. 

AUTHOR OF " PICTURESQUE LANDSCAPES IN THE CANADIAN 
ROCKY MOUNTAINS" 




G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

XTbe IRntcfeerbocfcer press 

1900 



o<> 



.hV s 



647 



JUL 27 lyUJ 

SECOND Ci 

Dslwered tt) 
ORDER DIVISION, 

JUL 23 1900 



- 



Copyright, 1900 

BY 

WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX 



Ube iknicfoevbocfter Press, Hew liJorh 



PREFACE 

THE Rocky Mountains of Canada offer much to 
those who love the study of nature or enjoy 
the rougher life in camp with its attendant 
hunting and fishing or the exercise of mountain climb- 
ing. No other mountains in the world combine with 
greater charm the gentle beauty of placid lakes, of 
upland meadows gay with bright flowers, or the vast 
sweep of green forests, with the stern grandeur of 
rugged cliffs, snow fields, and magnificent peaks 
which are characteristic of these Canadian Alps. 

The encouraging reception given to his previous 
work has led the author, after several seasons of ex- 
ploration in this fascinating region, to rewrite and 
enlarge Camping in the Canadian Rockies. Since 
the appearance of that volume he has visited many 
new and interesting places and secured many photo- 
graphs which should give a better idea of this new 
pleasure-ground. The commencement of serious 
climbing by travellers from this country with Swiss 
guides, and by several noted climbers from abroad, 
has furnished material for a separate chapter on 
"Mountaineering." Other special chapters are de- 
voted to a discussion of " Camp Life," "Hunting and 



iv preface 

Fishing," and of that very interesting tribe, the 
"Stony Indians." 

The work is illustrated by photogravure and half- 
tone plates from original photographs by the author. 
In books where natural scenery makes an important 
part, good photographs give a clearer idea of the 
country than word painting, however faithful, and 
with the knowledge of this fact no pains have been 
spared to get the best possible effect in every detail. 
The illustrations are selected from a large collection, 
and represent many toilsome climbs and foot jour- 
neys, made under the heavy and sometimes danger- 
ous burden of a camera, when repeated visits to 
favoured spots year after year have not always met 
with success, and, owing to smoke of forest fires, 
or the accident of clouds and storm, there was often 
no reward for patient effort. 

Two maps accompany the text ; one a special 
contour map which shows the details of the country 
near Lake Louise, and the other a general map of 
the Rocky Mountains compiled from all the best 
maps hitherto published, supplemented by several 
recent sketches. 

The author wishes to make, in this place, grateful 
acknowledgment to all those who, by kind sugges- 
tion or valuable information, have made this work 
more complete than would have been otherwise 
possible. 

W. D. W. 

Washington, D. C, June, 1900. 



CONTENTS 



I — The Rockies of Canada 






i 


II — Lake Louise . 






12 


Ill — Its Environment . 






33 


IV — Paradise Valley . 






. 54 


V — Mt. Assiniboine 






69 


VI— A Second Visit 






98 


VII— Camp Life . 






113 


VIII — The Bow Lakes 






139 


IX — The Saskatchewan 






150 


X — The Athabasca 






168 


XI — The Middle Fork . 






182 


XII — Sources of the Vermilion 






196 


XIII — Mountaineering 






234 


XIV— Hunting and Fishing 






258 


XV — The Stony Indians 






281 


Appendix 






297 


Index 






307 



PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Page 



Mount Assiniboine . . . Frontispiece 


Banff Springs Hotel . 


. 


6 1 


Bow River and Cascade Mountain 


. 


10 *" 


Lake Louise and Mount Lefroy . 


. 


. 16 


Lake Louise and Mount Victoria 


, . 


. 28 


Lake Agnes .... 

In early July , 1895. 


• 


. 36 


Discovery of Paradise Valley . 


. 


48 " 


Mount Temple from the Saddle 


. 


54 


Camp in Paradise Valley . 


. 


. 60 


Mount Assiniboine . 


. 


. 82 


Lake Aline .... 


. 


108 


Bill Peyto 


. 


. 118 


Camp at Little Fork Pass . 


. 


12S 


Mount Balfour 


. 


140 


Upper Bow Lake .... 

Looking south. 


• 


144 


Upper Bow Lake 

Looking west. 


• 


148 


Source of the Little Fork of the Saski 


itchewan 




River 


. 


i">4 


Storm in Little Fork Valley 




. 182 



viii pbotogravure Illustrations. 

Page 

Moraine Lake 200 

Mount Hector and Slate Mountains . . . 238 

From summit of a mountain near Little Fork Pass, 10,125 feet * n altitude. 

Mount Lefroy and Mount Victoria . . . 246 

From Pope's Peak, 9825 feet. 

The Waputehk Range 252 " 

Looking across the range from near Hector. 

Mount Sir Donald, from Eagle Peak . . . 256 
Head of Rocky Mountain Sheep . . . 270 
In the Enemy's Country 282 



ILLUSTRATIONS OTHER THAN 
PHOTOGRAVURE. 

Mount Lefroy 

Mount Assiniboine from the East 

South Side of Mount Assiniboine 

On the Continental Divide 

Breaking Camp 

Our Camp at Moraine Lake 

Fortress Lake, Looking West 

Fortress Lake, Looking East 

Mount Forbes from Survey Peak (8000 Feet) 

Summit of the Baker Pass 

Consolation Valley 

Sketch of a Part of the Rocky Mountains be- 
tween the Kicking Horse and Vermilion 
Passes 

From a rough survey by the author. 

Pass between O'Hara and Prospector's Valleys 
OHara Lake and IViwaxy Peak 

O'Hara Lake 

Head of Rocky Mountain Goat . 

A Typical Stony Indian . 

A Stony Indian Mother and Children 

Maps . . . . . /// pocket at end 



Page 
40 

88 

94 
100 

122 

'34 

172 

178 
18S 
194 
204 



212 

222 
228 
232 
262 
286 
290 



THE ROCKIES OF CANADA 



THE 
ROCKIES OF CANADA 



CHAPTER I 

the canadian plains— characteristics of the rockies 
— comparison with other great ranges of the world 
—the national park of canada — banff — a visit to 
the devil's lake and ghost river valley— sir george 
Simpson's journey through the mountains — an inci- 
dent OF INDIAN WARFARE — THE VERMILION LAKES AND 
SOME FOREST TREES OF THE MOUNTAINS 

THE western plains of Canada, rolling in gentle 
undulations of hill and dale, extend east a 
thousand miles to the wheat fields of Mani- 
toba, south to the arid plateau of Colorado, and 
north to the frozen regions of the Arctic and the 
Barren Lands. They appear to have no definite 
limits except on their western border where the 
Rockies rise out of them like rugged shores from a 
great sea. The herds of innumerable buffaloes which 



2 Zbe IRocfcies of Canada 

formerly roamed here have disappeared through the 
criminal slaughter of the white man's rifle, though 
the Indians remain as a last relic of primitive Western 
life and their roving bands of horsemen give a dash 
of life and colour to the monotonous plains. For a 
score of miles or more there is a region of quiet 
beauty where the foothills make a borderland be- 
tween plains and mountains. Here rivers fed by 
melting glaciers and snow freshets in the mountains 
make their way eastwards on their long journey over 
the plains. Their terraced valleys are covered by a 
thin turf which is brightened, at least in early sum- 
mer, by prairie flowers, while the higher places are 
crowned with groves of a rough-barked evergreen 
called the Douglas fir. The Rockies, like an impas- 
sable rampart, terminate these hills and show a 
multitude of snowy peaks extending north and south 
beyond the limits of vision. These mountains have 
on their eastern side a rocky escarpment with jutting 
headlands towering in abrupt cliffs thousands of feet 
above the plains. 

The great system of the Pacific Cordillera, which 
is generally called the Rocky Mountains, commences 
far south in Mexico and sweeps north to Alaska. 
The alkaline valleys of Nevada and the glaciers of 
Alaska, the cactus of Arizona and the evergreen 
forests of British Columbia mark the diversity of 
climate in a mountain system of such vast extent, 
while the granite domes of the Sierras, the bare and 
lofty summits of Colorado, and the snow-covered 



Characteristics of tbe IRocfcies 3 

dolomites and quartzite ledges of the Canadian 
Rockies illustrate the possibilities of mountain 
forms. 

There are many reasons why the Rockies of 
Canada are interesting to the mountain climber and 
explorer. They have only recently been made ac- 
cessible. Though these mountains have not the 
absolute height of those in Colorado, their apparent 
grandeur is greater because the valleys are both deep 
and narrow, richly forested and frequently guarded 
by cliffs which are precipitous for three, four, or 
even five thousand feet. Such rock walls are some- 
times adorned by clinging trees and bushes or beauti- 
fied by sparkling waterfalls playing at the mercy of 
changing breezes in their dizzy fall. Above are snow 
fields and hanging glaciers which often awaken 
thunders among the mountains by avalanches of ice. 
There are besides many lakes of blue or bluish-green 
colour, some of them hidden in the solitudes of ever- 
green forests, others enclosed by rugged cliffs, or 
exposed on the open expanse of upland meadows, 
and so they add beauty to their grand environment. 

In comparison with other ranges of the world, the 
Canadian Rockies are unusually interesting. The 
Andes of Ecuador, Peru, and Chile have mountains 
from twenty thousand to twenty-three thousand feet 
above sea-level, or nearly twice the height of the 
greatest peaks of southern Canada. The highest 
mountains in the world, the Himalayas, reach such 
stupendous altitudes that no human being may hope, 



4 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

in the immediate future at least, to reach their sum- 
mits on foot. But these great ranges lie in parts of 
the world somewhat remote from the beaten tracks 
of travel. Whymper's description of the Andes in 
Ecuador and Fitz Gerald's of those in Chile show 
that the lack of vegetation on their higher parts 
gives them a bare and dreary aspect. Sven Hedin's 
account of the Kuenlun and other ranges in Central 
Asia proves that they are likewise comparatively 
bare of forests and that their grandeur is not accom- 
panied by beauty. The Caucasus and Alps, espe- 
cially the latter, alone equal or surpass the Canadian 
Rockies, because they have scenic grandeur of snow 
fields and forests combined with historical interest. 

The Canadian Rockies have no single peaks or 
groups of mountains so far discovered equal to the 
Jungfrau, the Matterhorn, or Mont Blanc. Their wild 
and secluded valleys echo neither to the tinkle of 
bells nor the call of horn. Their interest depends on 
natural beauty added to the fact that their solitudes 
are as yet unfrequented by travellers. Where many 
of the larger rivers and mountain ranges remain as 
yet unexplored, every side valley offers some pos- 
sibility of discovery. The mountaineer likewise 
standing on the windy summit of some high point com- 
mands a view, not of a limited circle of mountains as 
in Switzerland with the sea and plains beyond, but 
of a chaotic upheaval where countless peaks and 
ridges extend in every direction beyond the utmost 
possibility of vision — four hundred miles to the 



Gbe IRational park of Canafca 5 

Pacific, a thousand towards the Arctic, a thousand 
and more southwards. 

All this region was practically an unknown wilder- 
ness before the completion of the Canadian Pacific 
Road. This undertaking was formally begun on the 
20th of July, 1 87 1, when British Columbia entered 
the Dominion of Canada and on which day the first 
survey parties commenced work. Eleven different 
routes were surveyed across the several ranges of 
the Rockies before the work of construction began. 
In 1880 the Government seemed unable to make any 
progress in so vast an undertaking and gave over its 
control to a private corporation. Under new man- 
agement, what was at that time the longest railroad 
in the world was soon an accomplished fact, and in 
1886 a new region was opened to mountain climbers 
and travellers. 

Places of unusual interest and beauty were then 
chosen among the mountains, of which the chief is 
Banff in the Canadian National Park. This reserve 
is similar in aims and government to our Yellowstone 
Park, and covers at present 260 square miles, and has 
a prospect of a much greater extent in the near 
future. A small body of the North-west Mounted 
Police is stationed here to enforce the game laws and 
keep order generally. Their exploits with rebellious 
Indians and desperadoes on the plains make the 
theme of many exciting tales. They wear a scarlet 
uniform, Wellington boots, and a small circular cap 
gayly tilted to one side of the head. Their duties are 



6 XEbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

easier now than a few years ago when there were 
laws in force against the sale of whiskey, for many 
desperate attempts were made in those days to 
smuggle in stimulants, which were regarded neces- 
sary to stave off the rigours of a severe climate. The 
thirsty inhabitants of Banff met with some success, 
though in the process many bottles were smashed 
and many barrels were rolled into the Bow River. 
Whiskey is easily obtained by everyone now, and 
the people have accordingly lapsed into temperance. 

The village of Banff consists of a few scattered 
houses and stores, with the necessary schoolhouses 
and churches for the enlightenment of the people, 
and several hotels for the entertainment of summer 
guests. Some excellent roads and bridle-paths lead 
through pine and poplar groves to places of interest, 
such as the hot sulphur springs, the Spray valley, 
and Lake Minnewanka. 

From the summit of Tunnel Mountain, which is 
exactly one thousand feet above Banff, a very good 
idea of the surrounding region may be had. The Bow 
River comes from the north-west, passes through 
the village of Banff, and after forcing a passage be- 
tween great mountains, flows east to the plains, 
which are concealed by intervening ranges. South- 
wards, for many miles, may be seen the green val- 
ley of the Spray River, an unbroken mass of forest 
enclosed by long ridges, one of which, Mt. Rundle, is 
nearly ten thousand feet high and towers a mile above 
the Bow. To the north-east is seen the end of 



Banff 7 

Minnewanka Lake, beyond a series of gravel ridges 
which are relics of the glacial period. 

About one mile from the village, on an eminence 
overlooking the junction of the Bow and Spray rivers, 
stands the Banff Springs Hotel. The Bow River 
makes a fine cascade between rocky walls just below 
the hotel, which latter is a comfortable place with 
accommodations for a large number of guests. The 
verandas command, from a considerable height, a 
magnificent view of the foaming river, while a vista 
of snowy peaks almost unrivalled on this continent 
is seen in the distance through a gap in the nearer 
limestone cliffs. 

Several years ago, two gentlemen decided to as- 
cend Cascade Mountain, one of the highest peaks of 
the neighbourhood. Instead of taking such advice 
as was offered, they would have it that a course over 
an intervening ridge was preferable to any other. 
They started out with the intention of returning 
within twenty-four hours, but instead mysteriously 
disappeared for three days. Then they returned, 
much to the relief of their friends, who were by that 
time alarmed for their safety. It appears that they 
had been lost in a region of burnt timber where they 
had wandered hungry and hopeless till some fate 
led them to a place of safety. No one knows how 
far they went or where, but it is certain that upon 
reaching the hotel they retired to their rooms and 
remained there the greater part of the ensuing week. 

In the early summer of 1899, I made a camping 



8 Zhe IRocMea of Cana&a 

trip from Banff to Lake Minnewanka, or the Devil's 
Lake, and along its north shore to the chain of pools 
beyond. This lake, which is ten miles long, though 
very narrow, is like a bit of the Mediterranean set 
between high mountains. An excellent trail, much 
favoured by the Indians, follows the north shore. On 
the second day we passed the end of Devil's Lake 
and made camp finally by the borders of another 
small lake, in a place almost surrounded by mountains 
but commanding a view of the plains towards the 
east. Our camp was located in a meadow where 
innumerable wild flowers blossomed, and among 
them meadow rue and wild onions grew together. 
A few white blossoms — albinos — were mingled 
among the purple heads of the wild onions. These 
and the other mountain flowers were slowly drown- 
ing under the rising waters of the lake, which was 
fed no doubt by underground springs from the 
mountains. 

This is the valley of the Ghost River, a strange vale 
of limestone formation where no streams flow. Tor- 
rents descend gullies and waterfalls dash over the 
vertical walls of this canyon, but each one of them 
disappears as it enters this Ghost River valley. It is 
supposed to have been the ancient valley of the Bow, 
of which these small lakes and the larger Minne- 
wanka are relics of the former channel. A few miles 
to the east, the mountains end abruptly, and this en- 
trance upon the plains is called the Devil's Gap. 
What with a gap, a large lake, and a mountain a 



Hn Inci&ent of flnbian THIlarfare 9 

short distance to the north, called the Devil's Head, 
named after him, his Satanic Majesty seems to have a 
mortgage on all this region. All the large rivers of 
the north-west enter upon the plains from these kinds 
of openings which are called gaps. They are in real- 
ity noble thresholds or vestibules between the rolling 
plains and the mountains. 

This Devil's Gap was the route by which Sir 
George Simpson entered the mountains in 1858 on 
his journey which he claims was the first overland 
expedition around the world from east to west. In 
this part of his journey his train, consisting of forty- 
five horses and a large number of packers, was guided 
by an Indian named Peechee. The guide Peechee 
seems to have possessed great influence among his 
fellows, and whenever, as was often the case, the 
Indians gathered around their camp-fires and gos- 
siped about their adventures, Peechee was listened 
to with the closest attention. Nothing delights the 
Indians more than to indulge their passion for idle 
talk when assembled together, especially when un- 
der the soothing and peaceful influence of tobacco — 
a surprising fact to those who see them only among 
strangers, when they are usually silent. 

A circumstance of Indian history connected with 
the east end of the lake is mentioned by Sir George 
Simpson, and illustrates very well the nature of 
savage warfare. A short time previous to his arrival, 
a Cree Indian and his wife had been tracked and 
pursued by five Indians of a hostile tribe. At length 



io Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

they were discovered and attacked by their pursuers. 
Terrified by the fear of almost certain death, the 
Cree advised his wife to submit without making any 
defence. She was possessed of a more courageous 
spirit, however, and replied that as they were young 
and had but one life to lose they had better exert 
every effort in self-defence. Accordingly she brought 
down the foremost warrior with a well-aimed shot. 
From very shame her husband was forced to join the 
contest and mortally wounded two of the advancing 
foe with arrows. There were now but two on each 
side. The fourth warrior had by this time reached 
the Cree's wife and with upraised tomahawk was on 
the point of cleaving her head when his foot caught 
in some inequality of the ground and he fell prostrate. 
With lightning stroke the undaunted woman buried 
a dagger in his side. Dismayed by this unexpected 
slaughter of his companions, the fifth Indian took to 
flight after wounding the Cree in his arm. 

One of the most interesting excursions in the 
vicinity of Banff is a boating trip up the Bow River 
and through the Vermilion lakes. This part of the 
Bow valley above the falls is flat and the river is here 
wide and deep, with a comparatively moderate cur- 
rent. A small stream half a mile from the boat-house 
leads to the Vermilion lakes, and on pleasant sum- 
mer days is alive with canoes and boating parties. 
The stream comes from two shallow lakes not far 
away, and the voyage thither is full of interest. In 
places the waterway is too narrow to permit of the 



Gbe IPermilion lakes n 

use of oars and you must paddle between tangled 
bushes and marsh grasses, dodging meanwhile the 
overhanging branches of willows and alders. 

On these lakes there is an excellent opportunity 
to study some of the characteristic features of the 
Canadian Rockies. The surrounding mountains are 
covered with evergreens, part of that great subarctic 
forest which sweeps down from the north and 
clothes all Canada and the northern States in a gar- 
ment of sombre green. The trees are spruce, balsam- 
fir, and pine. On the sunny south-facing slopes 
there are a few large Douglas firs which penetrate 
the lower mountain valleys from the foothills, but do 
not live at much higher altitudes than that of Banff, 
which is forty-five hundred feet above sea-level. The 
open glades are filled with small aspen poplars, wil- 
lows, and birches, which are practically the only 
deciduous trees. These live only at the lower alti- 
tudes, but the spruces and balsam-firs cover the grey 
limestone mountains to a height of nearly three thou- 
sand feet above this valley. The red squirrels and 
chipmunks surprise the visitor by their tameness. 
Many of the wild birds are likewise very tame, and 
I have seen a number of finches engaged in picking 
seeds from bushes within two yards of where 1 was 
walking. 



CHAPTER II 

EARLIEST VISITS TO LAKE LOUISE — VIEW OF LAKE FROM 
THE CHALET — DESCRIPTION OF THE LAKE — SWAMP FLOW- 
ERS — THE WHITE-FLOWERED RHODODENDRON — THE TRAIL 
NEAR THE LAKE — CLIFFS OF THE WEST SHORE — THE DELTA 
OF THE INLET STREAM — THE ROCK SLIDE OF THE SOUTH 
SHORE— COLOUR OF LAKE LOUISE WATER— TEMPERATURE 
IN MIDSUMMER — SOME INSECT PESTS — BATTLES OF HORSE- 
FLIES AND WASPS — CHALET LIFE — SUMMER CLIMATE AT 
THE LAKE— THUNDER-STORMS— LIGHT EFFECTS AND COLOUR 
ILLUSIONS — AN OCTOBER VISIT TO LAKE LOUISE — AN AVA- 
LANCHE FROM MT. LEFROY— A WARNING OF WINTER'S 
APPROACH 

LAKE LOUISE is near the Bow valley, about 
forty miles from Banff. Who first discovered 
the lake or whatever became of him is lost to 
history. It is probable that venturesome spirits came 
to this wild spot during the early years of railroad 
building, or possibly when the first surveyors as- 
cended the Bow valley. 

The earliest record of a visit that I have been able 
to find tells how, in 1882, Tom Wilson was camped 
with a pack train near the mouth of the Pipestone, 
when some Stony Indians came along and placed their 
teepees near him. Not long after, a heavy snow- 
slide or avalanche was heard among the mountains 



Earliest IDisits to Xafce Xouiee 13 

to the south, and in reply to inquiry one of the 
Indians named Edwin, the Gold Seeker, said that the 
thunder came from a "big snow mountain above 
the lake of little fishes." The next day Wilson and 
Edwin rode through the forests to the lake of little 
fishes, which was named subsequently for the Prin- 
cess Louise. The Indian told of two smaller lakes 
higher on the mountain side to the west, one of 
which, called by him the " Goats' Looking-Glass," 
is now known as Lake Agnes. 

This region being away from the main routes of 
travel, and surrounded as it is by a knot of high 
mountains, no one hoped to find a pass in this direc- 
tion, and no mention of it is made in the records of 
the earliest explorers. Somewhat more to our pur- 
pose is the fact that the place is now well known 
and Lake Louise may be reached with little effort. 

Some time before 1890, a rustic inn was placed on 
the swampy shore of the lake, and a waggon road 
was made to open communication with the railroad 
at the little station of Laggan. In this way the first 
travellers came to Lake Louise. But one day in 1893 
this log building caught fire, and burned to the 
ground, so that there were no accommodations and 
very few visitors that summer. However, with a 
friend I spent two weeks of that season, camping out 
in a tent among the tall trees near the shore, and in a 
small way we commenced our earliest explorations 
of the neighbourhood, which was at that time com- 
paratively new. 



14 Zbc IRocfties of Canada 

The new chalet stands on a ridge near the water 
edge and gives a splendid, and possibly the best, 
view of the lake. The extreme length of this in- 
teresting body of water, which is shaped like the left 
human foot, is one mile and a quarter, but from the 
magnitude of the mountains on every side it appears 
at first glance to be a mere pool. The primitive 
simplicity of a virgin forest is shown in its densely 
wooded shores and the tangle of bushy banks where 
fallen trees, mossy in decay, are half concealed by 
underbrush and flowering shrubs. A narrow margin 
of angular stones and rounded boulders marks the 
shore line. From this the bottom drops away very 
suddenly to great depths, but you may see large 
stones under the water and water-logged hulks of old 
trees swept long ago from their positions on the 
mountain sides by avalanches. 

Lake Louise has the enduring attraction of nature 
in one of her grandest and most inspiring moods. It 
is a deeply coloured lake between wooded slopes, 
which sweep upwards on either side in unbroken 
masses of green, to barren cliffs above tree line. On 
the left the forest growth ascends more steeply to 
the base of a grand precipice, while farther down the 
lake a massive pile of fallen rocks rests against the 
mountain base and dips abruptly into the water. 
Mt. Victoria, a giant of the continental watershed, 
stands square across the valley end beyond the lake. 
Its brilliant ice fields make striking contrast to the 
dark forests and shadowy cliffs encircling the lake. 



Swamp ]f lowers 15 

In early morning and during calms after a storm, the 
placid surface reflects the precipices and hanging 
glaciers of the distant Mt. Victoria, and brings that 
picture of Alpine grandeur in pleasing proximity to 
the beauty of spruce-lined shores and richly coloured 
water. These mountain outlines are so harmonious, 
and the colour changes so exquisite, that Lake Louise 
is a realisation of the perfect beauty of nature beyond 
the power of imagination. Though surprisingly at- 
tractive to the new arrival, Lake Louise, like many 
another beautiful phase of natural scenery, grows in 
impressiveness when experience has given a true 
idea of the distance and magnitude of the surrounding 
mountains. 

The swampy shore before the chalet makes a 
fine display of wild flowers even in these times when 
a new set of visitors comes every day to tear them 
up. Every spot in these mountains has its character- 
istic plants according to the nature of the ground and 
its altitude above sea. There is at this end of the 
lake a low and swampy shore, reeking with surface 
water from cold springs, unable to escape through 
the clayey soil beneath. Yellow violets and several 
species of anemones thrive here together with a con- 
siderable number of greenish orchids, and the fragrant 
lady's tresses, but by far the most beautiful flower is 
the yellow mountain columbine, a near cousin to the 
scarlet variety of our eastern rock banks. There are 
several shrubs, of which red-flowered sheep-laurel 
and white-tufted Labrador tea are most conspicuous, 



1 6 £be IRocMes of Canat>a 

the leaves of the latter being covered underneath 
with a rusty down. In the retirement of partial forest 
shade the beautiful white-flowered rhododendron 
grows. This bush has tender leaves of an oval 
shape, and is decorated in spring with large bell- 
shaped flowers, which hang their white corollas in 
artistic clusters among the foliage. In June you will 
find them in bloom near Lake Louise, but the bush 
grows higher on the mountains also, and there they 
blossom in July, or rarely in August. As in many 
other mountain plants, the succession of flowers 
throughout the summer season comes from the low- 
est valleys upwards to higher altitudes. The scrub 
birch, Betula glandulosa, has no flowers except in- 
conspicuous catkins, but its long black wands and 
small round leaves soon become familiar to every 
visitor to these mountains, for this bush is rarely 
absent from any mountain meadow. 

A rather rough trail closely follows the north shore, 
and with perseverance you may arrive at the far end 
of the lake. New mountains appear as you proceed, 
and the form of the lake, which from the chalet 
seems like a round pool, changes apparently into a 
long and narrow body of water. Through a vertical 
opening in the cliffs at the head of the lake, Mt. 
Lefroy looms in the distance, crowned with a helmet 
of perpetual snow and hanging glacier. The extreme 
end of the lake is guarded by a vertical cliff. The 
trail ascends to avoid a pile of stones which have 
fallen from above, and so traverses a grassy slope, 



Gbe Grail near tbe Xafce 17 

where the blue sky above is portrayed in the petals 
of the most perfect forget-me-nots that I have ever 
seen. Their cheery yellow eyes and bright blossoms 
decorate tall branching plants, and make a pretty dis- 
play throughout the entire summer. 

Then the trail descends directly towards the cliffs, 
winds among great spruce trees, and enters a place 
of sombre and perpetual twilight, made by over- 
hanging cliffs and forest depths. This is a marvellous 
revelation of the stupendous grandeur of these Rocky 
Mountains. The cliffs are disposed in horizontal 
layers of a hard and shiny quartz sandstone, stained 
red and orange transversely by iron, and vertically 
banded purple and black, where oozing waters drip 
from the trees above. Throughout the first three 
hundred feet the cliff rises sheer, or overhangs in 
some places where large blocks of this world masonry 
have fallen and left natural arches. On the higher 
places spruce trees cling with precarious foothold, 
their trunks parallel to the cliff, and so measuring the 
inspiring height of the precipice. The lapping water, 
a few yards below, touches the base of a pile of 
immense rocks, heaped in confusion as they have 
fallen from the crags, whence danger seems to 
threaten as you approach. 

Emerging from this place of solemn grandeur, the 
trail leads down to a flat meadow at the head of Lake 
Louise. Here marsh reeds and white-tufted cotton- 
grass grow in the sand and gravel which a muddy 
stream has carried down to the lake from a glacier a 



1 8 Zbc IRochtea of Canada 

mile or more up the valley. This is in fact a delta, 
which is slowly growing as the coarse materials are 
added to the shore, while the finer sand and clay rush 
out in a tongue of milky water to defile the blue lake. 
About a quarter mile of the ancient lake basin has 
been filled in, but as this has no doubt required all 
the thousands of years since the glacial period, and 
the lake itself is exceedingly deep, many ages must 
elapse before the lake entirely disappears. 

It is almost impossible to continue the journey 
around the lake, as the inlet stream is rather difficult 
to cross, and the south side of the lake for nearly a 
mile is nothing less than a tremendous conical pile 
of stones resting against the mountain side. This 
place is well worth thorough exploration in a boat. 
Some banks of snow, left by winter snow-slides, often 
remain till August, in one or two shady spots near 
the water. The rock-slide is composed of small and 
large fragments disposed in unstable equilibrium, at 
an angle of about forty-five degrees, and descending 
below the water at the same angle, so that at two 
hundred feet from the shore the depth is about two 
hundred feet. These rocks are richly coloured with 
lichens of various shades. Part of the slide is covered 
by birch and willow brush. Even a few spruces 
have ventured to grow in this perilous place, though 
the green vegetation is everywhere scored by narrow 
bands of bare ground, showing where rocks and 
snow-slides have swept resistlessly through. In fact it 
is rather dangerous to approach very near, even in a 



Colour of Xafte Xouise Mater 19 

boat, as stones, which travel at great speed, may fall 
at any time from the cliffs. Above the slide an al- 
most perpendicular wall of rock ascends more than a 
thousand feet, and then rises less abruptly till it ends 
in the summit of Fairview Mountain 3300 feet above 
the lake. 

The usual colour of Lake Louise, which varies con- 
siderably according to the effect of sunlight, is a 
robin's-egg blue. Tyndall says that this blue colour 
of glacial water and lakes, like that of the sky, is due 
to infinitesimally small particles of matter held in 
suspension. The water is very clear in early spring, 
but the incoming stream brings down a muddy freshet 
from the glacier during July and August, so that a 
milky colouring then appears and lasts till the frosts 
of October. The lake finds an outlet near the chalet 
in a broad and shallow stream, but after a few hundred 
yards this changes to a boulder-strewn torrent where 
it begins a rapid descent of six hundred feet to the 
Bow River. The deepest place in the lake is 
230 feet, and this is near the rock-slide. With 
a long rope and a piece of iron pipe 1 got some 
mud from the bottom where the water was two 
hundred feet in depth. This mud is the very 
finest rock dust ground up by the glacier, which 
settles to the bottom century after century, where it 
remains as a fine clay and upon drying turns to a 
white powder. At certain times the surface of the lake 
is covered by a kind of yellow scum that on examina- 
tion proves to be pollen from the spruce forests. 



20 Gbe IRocfties of Canada 

The temperature of the water, coining as it does 
from a glacial stream and melting snow, is very cold, 
and the highest point reached in August is 57 de- 
grees, which is about the average daily temperature 
of the air for this month, at Lake Louise. There is a 
spring near the chalet which pours out a little stream 
of sparkling water only five degrees above freezing, 
and I found another at the north end of the lake only 
one and one-half degrees above freezing. Never- 
theless in this very coldest water some brown con- 
fervas grow. 

Small brook and rainbow trout live in the lake, 
but the fishing is not very exciting, as the countless 
flies and moths that are blown upon the water in the 
daily south wind supply an abundance of food. No 
reason is apparent why large fish are not found here 
as in other similar lakes in these mountains, but 
possibly the fine mud in the water makes a poor 
habitat for lake trout. 

Nature rarely permits perfection, and the wonder- 
ful beauty of Lake Louise is somewhat balanced by 
mosquitoes which swarm from June till the middle of 
August. Newcomers are most annoyed, especially 
those from Europe where mosquitoes are scarce, but 
old-timers are practically immune from their attacks 
and from any poisonous effect of their bites. Several 
different species of mosquitoes are found here, and, 
not to go into the scientific names, they may be 
classed as small grey ones and large brown fellows, 
some that fly on silent wing, and others — the worst 



Some flnsect pests 21 

of all — that announce their pestiferous presence by 
persistent singing. Fortunately the nights are cold 
enough to make them retire after about nine o'clock. 

Another insect pest is a large horse-fly appropri- 
ately called the " bull-dog" from its ferocious bite, 
which feels like a fiery spark. They are among the 
toughest of all insects not protected by a case as 
beetles are, and fly away unharmed after receiving a 
hard blow of the hand. These bull-dogs frequent 
all the lower valleys, and appear during the warm 
summer days, when they drive horses nearly frantic. 
Their instinct leads them to bite only rough things 
and so leave your face and hands alone. Thus they 
spend most of their time prodding your clothes in 
vain and testing the rough hide of a horse, but they 
sometimes make mistakes. 

The bull-dogs and wasps wage continual warfare, 
and this species of fly, which invariably gets the 
worst of it, would certainly disappear if the wasps 
were not so few, or the flies not practically inex- 
haustible. Their miniature battles are most interest- 
ing. Sometimes you will see a wasp pursue and 
capture a fly in mid-air, whereupon the contestants 
fall to the ground and for a moment it is impossible 
to follow the movements of either in their mad 
buzzing circles. From the whirling centre of motion 
come legs and wings, and in a brief moment the fly 
is powerless, shorn of every means of movement by 
the sharp jaws of the wasp. Finally the wasp cuts 
off the head of its helpless victim and leaves the 



22 £be IRocMes of Canafca 

lifeless body that it may continue the chase. These 
acts of the wasps are assuredly cold-blooded and 
murderous, for the victim's body is neither eaten nor 
carried away for future use. Some old family feud 
must be at the bottom of it all. 

Simplicity of chalet life at Lake Louise and per- 
haps even more the adventures on the mountains 
beget a ready acquaintance, which often ripens into 
lasting friendship. It is a study in human nature to 
watch the new arrivals day by day, and to observe 
the effect on each of the superb view which appears 
where the road emerges from the forest. Some 
people are overawed and stand on the lake shore in 
silent wonderment, while the majority exclaim "This 
is the most beautiful scene 1 have ever looked upon." 
A few, after a brief glance at the lake, hasten into the 
chalet for something to eat, thus balancing their 
hunger for material things and their love of nature, 
in uneven scale, but giving a testimonial at the same 
time to the value of mountain air as an appetiser. 

Many interesting people are found among the 
visitors, while the good cheer and hearty comrade- 
ship that reign in this simple place are contagious. 
At evening a large fireplace is heaped with pine logs, 
and a fire is kindled which throws light and cheerful 
warmth against the chill of frosty nights. Then 
amid curling smoke and the clink of glasses the mis- 
haps of the day are related. Often, too, you may 
hear, from travellers who have visited the remotest 
parts of the earth, perhaps thrilling accounts of 



Summer Climate at tbe lake 23 

leopard, and tiger-hunts in the jungle, blood-curdling 
tales of treachery and massacre, or daring exploits 
in the Indian wars. 

In May or early June the ice breaks up, and the 
forests near the lake are free from snow. The sum- 
mer climate is cool and the highest temperature ever 
recorded is 78 degrees. The altitude above sea, 
as near as I could determine from a series of baro- 
metrical observations, is 5643 feet. The nights are 
always cool, and sometimes a frost occurs even in 
July or August. At daybreak the lake is usually 
placid and reflects, like a great mirror, the mountains 
and wooded shores, but so soon as the summer sun 
has tempered the frosty air the breezes begin to stir, 
at first imperceptibly in gentle zephyrs, which touch 
the motionless water some distance down the lake. 
Then rippled places appear, enlarge very quickly, 
and presently make a continuous band across the 
lake. One end of the lake may thus remain under 
the influence of wind for an hour or more while the 
other is quiet, but the strength of the breezes con- 
tinues to grow as the sun gains power, till at noon 
the entire lake is almost invariably covered with lit- 
tle whitecaps. The wind dies away after sunset, 
and by midnight a frosty calm settles once more 
upon the lake. Then the roar of the glacial stream, 
a mile and a half distant, unheard by day, becomes 
plainly audible in the quiet night air. 

The approach of storms is announced by wisps 
of cirrus cloud which move from west to east and 



24 Gbe IRockies of Canaba 

presently make a hazy veil which partially obscures 
the sun. A soft wind blows from the south-west, 
while the smoke of forest fires increases and adds to 
the bluish haze. Sometimes this smoke is laden 
with white ash-flakes, which may have travelled 
hundreds of miles from fires on the Pacific coast, or 
in the Kootenay country, and the distant mountains 
often withdraw from sight in a bluish obscurity. 
The first rain usually commences in a thunder-storm, 
which comes crashing through the mountains with 
its accompaniment of wind and hail, leaving the 
forests moist, and the peaks hung with clinging 
mists. A violent storm at night among these mount- 
ains is one of the most inspiring phenomena of na- 
ture. A continuous roar from the forest, stirred by 
the gale, mingled with the crash of conquered trees, 
is momentarily lost in thunder, echoed and rolled 
back from rock cliffs and mountain sides. A hoarse 
murmur, which is not the roar of ocean surf, but the 
lesser voice of a small mountain lake lashed to fury, 
comes from the shore. 

The gloom of these night storms is followed by a 
period of calm, not less impressive in majestic reve- 
lations. At such times dawn shows the clouds low 
on the mountains, sulking, as it were, before the 
coming victory of the sun. The rising sun awakens 
uncertain movements in the motionless mist, and 
causes moist air currents to ascend and form new 
clouds, while others descend in counter currents, 
spin out into wisps of fog, and disappear again like 



Xigbt Effects an& Colour Allusions 25 

cloud ghosts into thin air. Suddenly a mountain, 
covered with a mantle of fresh snow, appears above 
the rolling masses, and the sun, breaking through, 
pours a shaft of light that in its long pathway leaps 
from mountains and clouds to fall into the lake. 
Changeable breezes make ripples on the calm water, 
then cease, only to breathe upon another place like 
the last dying gasps of storm. 

The first two or three days after a severe rain are 
more beautiful than any others. It is impossible to 
tell or paint the beautiful colours, the kaleidoscopic 
change of light and shade, under such conditions. 
They are so exquisite that one refuses to believe 
them even in their presence, so subtle in change, so 
infinite in variety, that the memory fails to recall 
their varying moods. I have seen twenty shades of 
green, and several of blue, in the waters of Lake 
Louise at one time. Sometimes in the evening, 
when the quantity of light is rapidly diminishing, 
and the lake lies calm, or partly tremulous with dy- 
ing ripples, marked vertically by the reflections of 
cliffs and trees, there is a light green in the shallow- 
est water of the east shore, a more vivid colour a little 
farther out, and then a succession of deeper shades 
merging one into another by imperceptible change, 
yet in irregular patches according to the depth of 
water, to the deep bluish-green and blue of the mid- 
dle lake. The eye wanders from place to place and 
comes back a few moments later to where the bright- 
est colours were, but no doubt they are gone now, 



26 Zbc IRocfcies of Canada 

and the mirror surface is dulled by a puff of air, while 
the sharp reflections have been replaced by purple 
shadows, or the obscure repetitions of the red brown 
cliffs above the water. It may be that a day, a year, 
or possibly a century will pass before those identical 
glories of colour will come again. 

Among many marvellous effects of light and colour, 
one that occurred on a September afternoon remains 
distinct in my memory. The sky immediately over- 
head was clear, but massive clouds were brooding 
above the snowy crest of Mt. Victoria. A mysteri- 
ous calm pervaded the cool air, and the water lay 
tremulous with that gentle motion which is the final 
pulsing of ripples before utter quiet settles on a 
sleeping lake. The distant valley and the farther 
reaches of water were obscured by a gloomy shade 
of motionless clouds. An arching band of light 
bathed their edges in brilliant silver, overleapt the 
dark curtain, and descending, fell into the abyss of 
water near the north shore, to develop there a poison- 
ous looking green colour, intensely strong in com- 
parison with the darkness beyond. The sun's rays 
breaking through the clouds threw light on various 
parts of the lake, steeping in vivid sea-green the 
tawny reflections of iron-stained cliffs and the bril- 
liant yellows of autumn willows and larches, only to 
bury them again in shadow. The lake seemed like 
a great basin filled with liquid under magic spell, 
where the quietly changing sunbeams resembled 
an enchanter's wand, which at the lightest touch 



Hn ©ctober \Dteit to Xafce Xoutee 27 

produced wonderful colourings and weird effects in 
the uncertain light. 

I once made an interesting visit to Lake Louise in 
October. The previous September had been a month 
of disagreeable weather and continuous snow-storms. 
Then followed, as often happens in the Canadian 
Rockies, a month or more of bright weather which is 
the true Indian summer and has peculiar charms of 
its own. I could not resist the temptation, as the 
morning train approached the station of Laggan, to 
improve an excellent opportunity for another study 
of Lake Louise. Sunrise had been unusually bril- 
liant and there was every prospect of a fine day. 
After breakfast at the station-house I set forth on 
the hard frozen road towards the lake. I carried 
lunch in my pocket, and an ever faithful camera 
strapped to my shoulders, while for a companion 
1 coaxed an idle dog to accompany me. The air was 
cold, and the feeble October sun had not as yet 
struck into the forest and removed the frost from 
moss and fallen leaves. In somewhat less than an 
hour I arrived at the lake. All was deserted ; the 
chalet closed, the keeper gone, and the lake restored 
to primeval solitude. Of insect life there was none, 
for the busy swarms of bull-dogs and mosquitoes 
had been annihilated by nights of frost, or else were 
hibernating till another season. Most all of the 
flowers were withered and frost-bitten, the deciduous 
bushes, but lately decked in gay autumn colours, 
were scattering dead leaves on the ground, while the 



28 Zbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

larches far up on the mountains marked a band of 
pale yellow between the green spruces and the bare 
slopes above tree line. However, the greater part 
of Rocky Mountain plants are evergreen, so that the 
spruces, balsams, and pines, no less than the under- 
growth of heaths and mosses, find a way of defying 
winter by wearing a garb of perpetual summer. 

The lake rested motionless and half lighted by 
the early morning sun. There is rarely much sky 
colouring at sunrise or sunset in these mountains. 
The dry atmosphere, especially at this season, has 
little power to dissolve the white light into rainbow 
hues and produce those deep and richly varied colours 
which occur in lowland regions or on the sea. The 
tints are pure, clear, and cold like the air itself. They 
are merely delicate shades or colour suggestions 
which recall those faint but exquisite hues seen in 
topaz, transparent quartz, or tourmaline crystals, in 
which the minutest trace of some foreign mineral has 
created rare spectrum colours and imprisoned them 
there for ever. This morning the snowy mountain 
tops were tinted a clear pink beautifully contrasted 
against an intensely blue sky. 

My breath rose straight upwards in the calm air. 
The mirror surface of the lake was disturbed by some 
wild fowl — black ducks and northern divers — which 
frequent the lake at this season. Their splashings 
and the harsh cries of the divers came faintly over 
the water. It seemed strange that these familiar 
haunts could become so fearfully wild and lonely 



Hn Hvalancbe from fIDL Xefro? 29 

merely because man had resigned his claims to the 
place. Suddenly a wild, unearthly wail, from across 
the water, the cry of a loon, which is one of the 
most melancholy of all sounds, startled me and 
abruptly ended my reverie on solitude. 

Accordingly I walked down the north shore of 
the lake with the intention of going several miles up 
the valley and taking some photographs of Mt. Le- 
froy. The flat, bushy meadows near the upper end 
of the lake were cold, and all the plants and reedy 
grass were white with frost. The towering cliffs 
and castle-like battlements of the mountains on the 
south side of the valley shut out the sun and pro- 
mised to prevent its genial rays from warming this 
spot till late in the afternoon. In the frozen ground 
I saw the tracks of a bear, made probably the day 
before. Bruin had gone up the valley somewhere 
and had not returned, so there was the possibility of 
making his acquaintance. 

I was well repaid for my visit by seeing a magni- 
ficent avalanche fall from Mt. Lefroy, a rock mount- 
ain which rises in vertical cliffs between two branches 
of a glacier encircling its base. A hanging glacier 
rests on the highest slope of the mountain and forms 
a vertical face of ice over two hundred feet thick at 
the top of a precipice. At intervals, sometimes of 
days or weeks, masses of ice break from the hang- 
ing glacier and fall with thundering crashes to the 
valley. 

I was standing at a point about two miles distant 



30 Sbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

when, from the vertical ice-wall, a fragment of the 
glacier, representing its entire thickness, broke away, 
and, turning slowly, began to fall through the airy 
abyss. In a few seconds of continued silence, for no 
sound had yet reached me, the heavy mass struck a 
projecting ledge, after falling half a thousand feet, 
and there was shivered into innumerable pieces and 
clouds of powdered ice, as though it had been rent by 
some great explosion. Simultaneously came the 
first thundering roar of the avalanche. Then for two 
thousand feet more the greater masses of ice led the 
way, leaping from ledge to ledge, some of them whirl- 
ing round in mid-air, while others shot downwards 
like meteors, trailing behind snowy streams brushed 
off in their awful flight. In a long succession of 
white curtains resembling a splendid waterfall, the 
smallest particles followed after. The loud crash 
which signalled the first destruction of the icy mass 
now grew into a prolonged thunder, mingled with 
explosive reports of bursting fragments as they 
collided in mid-air or dashed against projecting parts 
of the precipice. It was like the sound of battle, 
where the clash of arms and the sharp crack of 
rifles are accompanied by a continuous roar of 
artillery. 

The north face of Mt. Lefroy is a practically ver- 
tical cliff twenty-five hundred feet from base to top. 
Imagine then a precipice sixteen times higher than 
Niagara, at the top of which stands a hanging glac- 
ier crevassed into yawning caverns, ever moving 



H Wanting of Winter's approach 31 

resistlessly forwards and threatening at any time to 
launch tremendous masses of ice into the valley 
below. Such avalanches are among the most thrilling 
spectacles of nature. The majestically slow move- 
ment of these masses as they commence to fall is a 
measure of much greater heights and depths than the 
eye, deceived by the clear mountain air, can at first 
appreciate. The first movements of these avalanches 
proceed in total silence, and the ice may fall a thous- 
and feet or more while the sound is travelling the 
intervening distance, to awaken echoes among the 
cliffs and startle the mountaineer. I have often 
noticed that the thunder of avalanches from Mt. 
Victoria requires twenty seconds to reach the chalet, 
so that by that time there is often nothing but a 
white cloud to indicate what has occurred. 

I got back to Lake Louise again about one o'clock. 
A local breeze made a narrow lane of ripples in the 
midst of a surface otherwise perfectly calm. This 
was one of those rare days when the lake is undis- 
turbed by wind at midday under a clear sky, for the 
wind generally comes and goes with the rising and 
setting of the sun. The morning chill had been 
tempered by the October sun and a few forest birds 
were flitting silently among the trees, but the flowers 
and butterflies of summer were no more. It seemed 
the last expiring effort of autumn, when at any time 
a sudden storm might wrap the landscape in snow 
and bind the lake with ice. Even at this warmest 
time of day the feeble sun rays seemed unable to 



32 Zhe IRocMes of Canaba 

fully heat the air, while the cold forest shadows and 
unmelted frosts gave warning that winter was pre- 
paring to descend from the mountains, and rule un- 
interrupted for a period of eight or nine months. 



CHAPTER III 

THE ENVIRONMENT OF LAKE LOUISE — ORGANISATION OF 
A CAMPING PARTY — ALPINE FLOWERS — LAKE AGNES — 
MOUNTAIN SOLITUDES — VIEW FROM THE LITTLE BEE- 
HIVE — THE VICTORIA GLACIER — AN ACCIDENT ON MT. 
LEFROY — A RETURN FOR AID — INDIAN CONSOLATION — 
ASCENT OF A SNOW PASS — DISCOVERY OF A NEW VAL- 
LEY — EXPLORATION OF A DELIGHTFUL REGION — A FOR- 
EST BIVOUAC — INDIAN SARCASM 

THE environment of Lake Louise is wild and 
rugged. The snowy mountains seen be- 
yond the water, Mt. Victoria and Mt. Lefroy, 
form part of the continental watershed and are 
among the finest peaks of southern Canada. The 
spur ranges make a complex knot of splendid mount- 
ains towering from four to six thousand feet above 
the valleys. These latter abound in lakes and forests 
in striking contrast to the bare rocks and dazzling 
snow fields of the high altitudes. The forces of 
nature have made here a wonderful combination of 
gloomy gorges and tremendous cliffs, limestone 
pinnacles, and crevassed glaciers. 

To explore this chaotic wonderland, then but little 
known, and to learn something of the neighbouring 
valleys and mountains, a party of college men was 

3 

33 



34 XTbe IRochies of Canada 

organised in 1894, and met at Lake Louise in July. 
One member of our party was an enthusiastic 
hunter, another eager for the glories of mountain 
climbing, one was a disciple of Daguerre, while the 
two others were ready to join almost any undertak- 
ing whatever. Yandell Henderson, Lewis Frissell, 
and 1 were the first to meet at Lake Louise, but we 
had not been there long before our spirits were 
cheered by the arrival of our friend George Warring- 
ton. After a few preliminary excursions had been 
made, to get in condition for more arduous trips, 
Samuel Allen, with whom 1 had made several 
mountain ascents in previous years, completed our 
party towards the middle of July. 

A common purpose helped the unity of our work, 
which was to explore the region immediately around 
Lake Louise, to ascend some high peaks, and to ob- 
tain photographs of the scenery. Through Warring- 
ton's ingenuity in contriving a winding reel, the lake 
was sounded and then mapped and contoured. 
Henderson added to our larder by his skill with a 
rifle, while the rest of us climbed mountains and 
made maps. 

Our first excursion, and one that nowadays is 
very popular with visitors, was to Lake Agnes. A 
trail leaves the chalet, and by a course of zigzags 
through the forest ascends the sloping mountain 
west of the lake. The tall coniferous trees cast a 
cool shade and shut out the mountain world till an 
ascent of a thousand feet has been made. An older 



Hlpine ]flower$ 35 

trail then leads off to the right and presently comes 
out on a bare slope, swept of trees years ago by a 
winter snow-slide. A wonderful view is here dis- 
closed. Mirror Lake, a small pool, is several hundred 
feet below, shut off from breezes by an encircling 
forest and a great cliff called the Beehive, whose ta- 
pering form and horizontal bands of red and grey 
rocks suggest its name. On the right of the Bee- 
hive, Lake Agnes appears, partly concealed by Ly- 
all's larch, and from it comes a cascade that dashes 
over rocky ledges down to Mirror Lake. Mt. Lefroy 
and Mt. Aberdeen across the valley seem for higher 
than they did twelve hundred feet below. Where the 
avalanche has swept away the forest trees, a growth 
of bushes and herbs has restored the green colour to 
the mountain side and added beauty to it by means 
of a multitude of Alpine flowers. The great mount- 
ain anemone, showing rigid white flowers, and com- 
pound leaves divided again and again into fern-like 
tracery, grows here among the rocks. It should be 
called the snow-flower, for it is the first to awaken 
at the touch of spring and bloom at the edges 
of melting snow-banks. I have seen their burst- 
ing buds surrounded by an inch of snow ready to 
open in to-morrow's sun. Sometimes the great 
anemone blossoms in August or September on Al- 
pine highlands, where perhaps the snows of winter 
have been unusually deep, and a false spring comes 
in autumn when the belated meadows are at last 
uncovered. This plant bears a tufted bunch of 



36 £be IRoclues of Canada 

plumed seeds which, at full development, is twelve 
or eighteen inches above the ground, and these tas- 
seled heads make a conspicuous display in every 
high mountain meadow. 

Somebody has said that edelweiss and Scotch 
heather grow on this slope. There are two plants 
resembling them, one an antennaria, and the other a 
heath called bryanthus, which has small purple 
blossoms remarkably like the Scotch heather. Why 
does not somebody import the seeds or roots of the 
Swiss edelweiss and plant them here ? Then, as in 
the Alps, lovers can risk broken limbs to show their 
devotion. These Canadian Rockies have the grand- 
eur and beauty of the Alps, but need their romance 
and poetry, picturesque mountain villages, cattle 
pasturing on the upland meadows, or the calls of 
the shepherd and yodel to awaken the forest echoes. 

The trail, which is soon lost among the attrac- 
tions of this place by anyone not devoting his atten- 
tion to it, appears again on the farther side of the 
avalanche track. It makes a dizzy course along the 
face of moss-fringed cliffs, glistening in places with 
spring-water. Spruce trees have established a foot- 
ing wherever there is the slightest opportunity, often 
on the very edge of the precipice, so that their 
spreading branches lean far out from the cliff, and 
their bare roots, like writhing serpents, are flattened 
in narrow fractures of the rocks. These wooden 
anchors have safely outlived a thousand mountain 
storms and may see as many more. 



Xafce Hgnes 37 

Lake Agnes is a wild tarn imprisoned by cheer- 
less cliffs. At one end there is a narrow fringe of 
trees, but the lake on either side is bordered by 
barren angular stones, where nothing grows. Its 
northward exposure and the towering walls of a 
great amphitheatre keep out the sun and allow the 
snow to linger here all summer. One year the ice 
did not melt away till the end of July, and a thin 
sheet of ice often forms on clear summer nights. I 
have seen the lake covered with winter ice again in 
October. This lake is about one-third of a mile in 
length. The water is green, and, coming as it does 
from melting snow and springs, is so clear that the 
rough bottom may be seen at great depths. It is 
almost the only rock-basin lake that I have seen in 
the mountains and, like all other lakes that have not 
been sounded, it is fathomless. 

The solitary visitor to the lake is soon oppressed 
with a sensation of utter loneliness. All these sur- 
roundings are desolate and a perpetual silence reigns, 
except for the sound of a rivulet falling over rocky 
ledges on one side. The faint pattering, echoed by 
opposite cliffs, seems to fill the air with a murmur 
which is faint or distinct at the mercy of fickle 
breezes. The elusive sound starts from every side, 
or dies away into nothing, and seems almost superna- 
tural because the ear is powerless to tell whence it 
comes. The shrill whistle of a marmot, the hoary 
badger of the Rockies, often breaks this unwonted 
silence in a startling manner. Once a visitor to the 



38 Zbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

lake cut short his stay and hurried back to the 
chalet upon hearing one of these loud whistles, which 
he thought must be the signal of robbers or Indians 
about to commence an attack. 

Many excursions of interest may be made on this 
mountain side, but none commands a finer panorama 
of the surrounding region than the top of a rock 
buttress called the Little Beehive. This is half a 
mile north of Lake Agnes and is merely a knob upon 
a greater mountain. Vertical precipices form the side 
towards Lake Louise, but there is a flat top of several 
acres extent covered with a most beautiful growth of 
the scraggly LyalLs larch, whose feathery needles 
merely filter but do not interrupt the streaming sun- 
light. A generous share comes to the huckleberry 
bushes and Labrador tea which grow underneath. 
They need all they get, for it is a long way north 
here, besides being seventy-five hundred feet above 
sea-level, where snow falls every month of the year 
and the air is warm only at midday. To the north- 
west you may see a lake near the source of the Bow 
River, Mt. Hector, towering like an uplifted castle 
eleven thousand feet above sea-level, standing be- 
tween this valley and the Pipestone, then far away 
eastwards beyond Pilot Mountain (formerly a land- 
mark for the surveyors) thirty miles down the Bow 
valley, and finally a nearer mass of giant peaks to the 
south-east and south, which are strangers to us yet, 
together with the now familiar peaks of Mt. Lefroy 
and Mt. Victoria. I have never seen this glorious 



Gbe Victoria (Slacier 39 

ensemble of forests, lakes, and snow fields surpassed 
in an experience on the summits of more than forty 
peaks and the middle slopes of as many more in the 
Canadian Rockies. And the best part of it all is, 
that a most indifferent climber can easily reach this 
place and, with care, a horse might be led to the 
summit. 

Before our party was complete, Henderson, Fris- 
sell, and 1 made an excursion to Mt. Lefroy, which 
gave us more caution ever after and nearly resulted 
fatally for one of us. After crossing the lake in a 
boat, we ascended the valley for a mile to the end of 
a glacier which is the source of the Lake Louise 
stream. This glacier is formed from two branches, 
one of which fills the valley between Mt. Aberdeen 
and Mt. Lefroy, while the other comes from a narrow 
canyon called the Death Trap. Thus Mt. Lefroy 
stands like a precipitous island in a sea of ice. We 
crossed the muddy glacial stream and after climbing 
the sharp-edged moraine descended upon the glacier. 
This glacier is about three miles in length by half a 
mile wide. Its upper part, or neve, is comparatively 
clear, but many stones cumber the ice at its lower 
end, increasing ever towards the snout, till at length 
this dirtiest glacier of the Rockies ends dismally and 
indefinitely, buried beyond recognition in a confused 
moraine. The burden which the glacier carries is a 
mass of limestones and shales, which have fallen from 
the cliffs up the valley and are being slowly trans- 
ported to the terminal moraine. You may walk 



4o Zhe IRocfcies of Canaba 

half a mile over the lower glacier and not once touch 
the ice under this covering of stones. There is one 
large pile of shale blocks, which have been apparently 
dumped upon the glacier all at one time, in which 
some of the stones measure fifteen or twenty feet in 
length. 

Passing the ice-pillars, with their protecting caps 
of stone, streams gliding silently over the glacier sur- 
face in polished channels of ice, and the dark crev- 
asses, into some of which these streams fall with a 
hollow roar, we came, after an hour of walking, to 
the foot of Mt. Lefroy. There is a snow couloir 
on the north side of this mountain which seemed to 
offer a possible way up a precipice about seven hun- 
dred feet high. Above this precipice there is an 
easier slope to the summit, and we thought that, 
once arrived there, nothing could prevent our ascent 
of the mountain. An exploration was accordingly 
begun of this couloir in an effort to see how far it 
was practicable in view of some future ascent. The 
snow slope, which was comparatively easy at first, 
soon increased to a pretty stiff angle four or five 
hundred feet above the glacier, and it seemed better 
to try the rock cliffs on one side. We were now en- 
closed by limestone cliffs disintegrated by frost. It 
was in fact one of those narrow and precipitous 
gulches of the Canadian Rockies which are most 
dangerous to climbers. On either side of us there 
were overhanging walls, decayed limestone pillars, 
tottering masses of broken stone with daylight 



an Bccibent on fIDt Xefro? ^ 

showing through the cracks, and a thousand rocks 
resting threateningly balanced and apparently ready 
to fall at a feather's touch. That we were not dis- 
mayed at this hopeless prospect proves that we 
were more audacious than prudent. 

At length when reaching upwards for a handhold, 
with a boost from below and my face against the 
limestone, I saw a large and dangerous-looking stone 
poised above us. "Fellows, we must look out for 
that stone," said I, "and not let the rope touch it." 
A moment after, Henderson and I were above this, 
climbing another rock ledge, when we heard the 
grinding sound of the large stone moving. We 
turned in time to see Frissell falling. The rope tight- 
ened and held him on a ledge ten feet below, but the 
tremendous stone, which must have weighed a ton, 
was rolling over and coming down upon him. For 
a brief but awful moment, helpless and immovable, 
as in a frightful dream, we saw the stone leap out 
into the air to descend upon our poor comrade, but he 
made a desperate movement, pressing hard against 
the cliff, and escaped the full force of the blow. 
Then the whole place resounded with the hollow 
rattle of falling stones as they danced in a shower of 
death below us. 

We found that Frissell could not stand, one leg 
being perfectly helpless, while he was so dazed by 
the shock that he fainted twice in our arms. We 
were many miles from assistance and it was after two 
o'clock. Uncoiling the full length of the rope, one 



42 Zbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

end was fastened round his waist, and the other 
round mine. With an ice-axe buried to the head in 
the snow as an anchor, I paid out the rope and low- 
ered our helpless friend fully fifty feet. Then Hen- 
derson went down and, anchoring himself in like 
manner, held him while I came down. This opera- 
tion, repeated a number of times, brought us soon 
upon the comparatively level glacier. Removing my 
coat for him to lie on, 1 started to the chalet for aid. 
Heedless of crevasses, over the crumbling moraine 
and rough stones to the trail around the lake, run- 
ning at all times except in the very roughest places, 
I covered in seventy minutes what had required three 
hours to walk in the morning. Arrived at the chalet 
completely exhausted, 1 hoped to find sufficient aid 
there to make up a relief party, but, as ill luck would 
have it, only Joe Savage, the cook, was at the chalet. 
Mr. Astley, the manager, and two Indians, Tom 
Chiniquay and William Twin, were on the mount- 
ain near Mirror Lake. So while Savage got poles 
and canvas ready for a litter, I commenced a tiring 
climb for the others. Coming at length upon Wil- 
liam, where he was cutting out a trail, I addressed 
him in the Indian way of speaking English : "Wil- 
liam, three white men go up big snow mountain. 
Big stone come down — hurt one man. I think Tom, 
Mr. Astley, you, all go up snow mountain — bring 
white man back." William asked, " Kill him ? " but 
his face showed anxiety till I told him that our friend 
was still alive, though he must hurry. Dropping his 



a IReturn for Hi& 43 

axe, he ran off for the others who were higher upon 
the mountain, while I returned to the chalet and 
made ready some food and whiskey. Thus a relief 
party of four was soon started. 

On the back of an Indian cayuse 1 galloped away 
to Laggan and telegraphed for Dr. Brett to come from 
Banff. Then to division headquarters, " How much 
for a special engine from Banff to Laggan ? " The 
reply was in terms too high for our purse, and 1 
arranged for a hand-car crew to bring up the doctor. 
The distance is thirty-six miles and there is a stiff 
grade with a total ascent of five hundred feet. 

Meanwhile the rest of the party on the glacier, 
seeing me disappear about three o'clock beyond a 
swelling mound of ice, were left to pass the tedious 
hours in lonely contemplation. On a hot summer 
day a glacier is a fairly comfortable place abounding 
in cool breezes and bright sunshine. A decided 
change, however, takes place immediately after the 
sun disappears, as it soon did here, behind Mt. Vic- 
toria. Ice-needles formed on the pools, the genial 
breezes ceased, and a penetrating draught came 
down from the higher places. The long hours 
rolled by and still no sign of aid appeared. In 
imagination they recounted the possibility of its 
never arriving, thinking that I might have fallen into 
a crevasse, or sprained my ankle while on the 
moraine, and that no one would ever think of com- 
ing to them. At length in desperation they made a 
plan to leave the glacier by the shortest way, at 



44 Gbe IRocMes of Canada 

whatever risk to life or limb, rather than die of cold 
on this cheerless sea of ice, but before such plans 
were carried out they discovered, with a field-glass, 
a boat leaving the far end of Lake Louise. In half 
an hour the boat had crossed the lake, and then for 
an hour or so no further sign of help was seen. 
Suddenly four moving figures appeared like black 
dots in the distance and they knew that a rescue 
party was coming at last. At seven o'clock, or more 
than four hours after the accident, our injured com- 
panion commenced his journey to the chalet in a 
litter hastily constructed and which, at best, only 
served to lift him a little above the ground. William 
observed his woebegone appearance and heard his 
groans with concern, but with true Indian lack of 
tact, frequently during the painful journey enter- 
tained the invalid as follows : " You think you die ? 
Me think so too/' 

While Frissell was regaining health and strength 
we made several expeditions to the adjacent valleys, 
and, among others, one of them proved the most de- 
lightful that 1 have ever taken in this region. We 
as yet knew nothing of the mountains east and 
south of Lake Louise. Certain glimpses of a valley 
beyond Mt. Aberdeen and Mt. Lefroy had been caught 
in our various climbs, but they gave only imperfect 
ideas of the geography of all that region. To push 
our exploration into this new and doubtless attractive 
place seemed a most desirable thing. Our plan was to 
explore the Lefroy glacier and force a passage, if 



Hscent of a Snow pass 45 

possible, over a snow pass eastwards, where, no 
doubt, all this unknown region would lie before us. 
Accordingly one day near the first of August our 
party of four might have been seen traversing in 
Alpine fashion the ice-fields near Mt. Lefroy. This 
entire valley, which is more than seven thousand 
feet above sea-level, is filled with glacier ice and per- 
petual snow. From the entire absence of trees or 
vegetation of any kind it is impossible to judge dis- 
tance and heights of mountains in this place. It is a 
veritable canyon, of magnificent though desolate 
grandeur, with the bare limestone slopes of Mt. 
Aberdeen on the north, and on the other side the 
north face of Mt. Lefroy, which has a total height of 
nearly four thousand feet from the glacier. At the 
valley end there stands a curious pointed mountain, 
shaped like a bishop's mitre, and on either side of 
this there is a col, or snow pass, one of which we 
hoped to ascend. 

As we were marching over the glacier, which 
was covered with snow and therefore somewhat 
dangerous, Warrington, who was third on the rope, 
suddenly broke through the frail bridge of a crevasse. 
" I could hear," he afterwards told us, "the noise of 
snow falling under my feet and the gurgling of water 
at the bottom of the depths over which I was sus- 
pended." We pulled him out of this dangerous 
place without anyone else getting in, and reached 
the foot of the snow passes without further accident. 
The one on our left seemed easier of slope than the 



46 Gbe IRocMes of Canada 

other. It was very soon apparent that we had a 
considerable amount of work before us. Allen led 
the way cutting steps in the snow, for the slope was 
very steep and we had no desire to slide into one of 
the great crevasses which made the place formid- 
able. We crossed some of these treacherous 
caverns by means of snow bridges, but others we 
were compelled to pass around, and in such places 
had inspiring views of blue grottos hung with 
dripping icicles. From the darkness of these yawn- 
ing death-traps came the sound of sub-glacial 
streams. 

After three hours of slow and tiring work we had 
climbed only one thousand feet. It was a cloudy 
day with a damp and cheerless atmosphere, and at 
this altitude of eight thousand feet there were occa- 
sional showers of hail and snow. Chilled by the 
long exposure and the necessary slowness of our 
progress, every member of the party became silent 
and depressed. It seems to me that the circulation 
of the blood has much to do with the mental state 
and that courage depends in a large measure on the 
pulse. The panting soldier will face a cannon's 
mouth, but dreads unseen danger when chilled by 
night watching. 

To judge by our surroundings alone, we might 
have been exploring some lonely polar land, for our 
entire view was limited by high mountains covered 
with glaciers and snow and altogether barren of 
vegetation. At such times you wonder why you 



SHscopen? of a IRew Dalle? 47 

came. Why not stay at home and be comfortable ? 
Every climber feels such temporary repulses, when 
the game is not worth the candle and he decides 
once for all to give up mountain climbing. Like the 
ancients vowing sacrifices and temples to the gods 
in the thick of battle or on the point of shipwreck, 
which vows they forgot very speedily when they 
arrived at safety, the mountaineer forgets his re- 
solves under the genial influence of hot Scotch and 
a comfortable camp. These Rockies have many sur- 
prises for the explorer, and there was one in store 
Yor us. 

We sought temporary rest on an outcropping 
ledge and tried to regain some strength by eating 
lunch. The summit of our pass now seemed only a 
short distance above, but we had been deceived so 
many times on this interminable slope that we put 
no faith in our eyes. Recommencing our climb at 
a quicker pace, for the slope was easier and we 
were most anxious to see the view eastwards, we 
were soon near the summit. The last few steps to a 
mountain pass are attended by a pleasurable excite- 
ment equalled only by the conquest of a new 
mountain. The curtain is about to be raised, as it 
were, on a new scene and the reward of many 
hours of climbing comes at one magical revelation. 

Arrived on the summit of our pass, 8500 feet above 
sea-level, we saw a new group of mountains in the 
distance, while a most beautiful valley lay far below 
us. Throughout a broad expanse of meadows and 



48 £be IRocMes of Canafca 

open country many streams were to be seen winding 
through this valley, clearly traceable to their vari- 
ous sources in glaciers, springs, and melting snow- 
drifts. With all its diversity of features spread like a 
map before our eyes, this attractive place was seen 
to be closely invested on the south by a semicircle 
of high and rugged mountains, rising steeply from a 
crescent-shaped glacier at their united bases. The 
encircling mountains extending then to the left, 
hemmed in the far side of the valley in an irregular 
line of peaks, to terminate, so far as we could see, in 
a double-pointed mountain with two summits about 
one mile apart. The strata of this mountain had 
been fashioned by ages of exposure into innumerable 
forms of beauty, like imitations of minarets, pinna- 
cles, and graceful spires. The mountain itself resem- 
bled a splendid building, with nature as architect, the 
frost and rain for sculptors. Its outlines showed a 
combination of gentle slopes and vertical ledges like 
the alternating roofs and walls of a cathedral. On 
one side of this mountain, where nature had evi- 
dently striven to surpass all other efforts, there rose 
from the middle slopes a number of slender stone 
columns, apparently several hundred feet high. They 
were strange monuments of the past which had sur- 
vived earthquake shocks and outlived the warring 
elements while nature continued her work. Com- 
pared with these columns, the pyramids of Egypt, 
the palaces of Yucatan, and the temples of India are 
young, even in their antiquity. 



Discovery of a IHew IDalle? 49 

At the time of our arrival on the summit, a sudden 
change took place in the weather. The wind came 
from another quarter, and the monotonous covering 
of grey clouds began to disclose blue sky in many 
places. The afternoon sun poured shafts of light 
through the moving clouds, and awakened bright 
colours over forests, meadows, and streams. 

This beautiful scene opened before us so suddenly 
that for a time the cliffs echoed to our exclamations 
of pleasure, while those who had recently been most 
depressed in spirit were now most vehement in ex- 
pressions of delight. A short time before no one 
could be found to assume the responsibility of such a 
foolhardy trip, but now each member of our party 
had been the proposer of this glorious excursion. We 
spent a half-hour on the pass, and divided our work 
so that while one took photographs of the scene, 
another took angles of prominent points for our map, 
and the rest built a cairn to celebrate our ascent of 
the pass. 

It was decided, by each one no doubt to himself, 
but at any rate by the party unanimously, to explore 
this new valley whatever should be the result. 
Though it was late in the afternoon and there was 
small chance of reaching the chalet that night, the 
desolate valley behind repelled, while the new one 
seemed to bid us enter. 

Fortunately, a long snow slope led far into the 
valley from the pass. This we prepared to descend 
by glissading, all roped together, because one or two 



50 Gbe IRochies of Canada 

of our party were undergoing their first Alpine ex- 
periences. The slope was pretty steep, and we were 
just well under way in our descent, when someone 
lost his footing and commenced to slide at such speed 

ithat the end man was jerked violently by the rope, 
and lost his ice-axe as he fell headlong. With con- 
sternation very evident on their faces, our two com- 
rades came rolling and sliding downwards, head first, 
foot first, sometimes one leading, and sometimes the 
other. Their momentum was too much for the rest 
of us and, even with our ice-axes well set in the soft 
snow, we all slid some distance in a bunch. Owing 
to the complicated figures executed in our descent, it 
required several minutes to unwind the tangled ropes 
in which we were caught. Then a committee of 
one was appointed to go back and gather the scat- 
tered hats, ice-axes, and such other personal effects as 
could be found. 

In a short time we had descended fifteen hundred 
feet to the valley bottom. We had thus in a few 
moments exchanged the cold and dreary upper re- 
gions for the genial warmth of summer. Humboldt 
says : " In the physical as in the moral world, the con- 
trast of effects, the comparison of what is powerful 
and menacing with what is soft and peaceful, is a 

1 never-failing source of our pleasures and our emo- 
tions. " By our rapid change of altitude we had passed 
through all gradations of climate from polar to tem- 
perate, and now found ourselves surrounded by 
meadows of rich grass, gay with the wild flowers of 



lEypIoration of a ©eligbtful IReeion 51 

midsummer, and open groves where squirrels were 
chattering, and the wild conies and other rodents 
were staring at us as we passed along. There were 
not a few mosquitoes in evidence also. 

We followed a small stream and saw it finally 
grow into a river. Pursuing our way with rapid 
steps, like adventurers in nature's fairyland, where 
every moment reveals new wonders, we came at 
length to an opening in the forest, where the falling 
stream dashed among great stones strewn in wild 
disorder. They were colossal fragments of sandstone 
hewn by nature into angular blocks and poised one 
upon another as though they were ready to fall from 
their insecure positions. After several hours of walk- 
ing, the stream became a large, muddy torrent which 
swung from right to left every hundred yards or so, 
and was now too wide and deep to cross. 

The tremendous cliffs of Mt. Temple, one of the 
highest of the Canadian Rockies, guard the east side 
of this valley. For the space of three miles its preci- 
pices present an uninterrupted wall of rock, four 
thousand feet from base to top and a total height of 
five thousand feet from the valley. Henderson and 
I led the way, and at length lost sight of the others, 
who preferred a slower pace after such unusual exer- 
tions. In the early evening we came to a swampy 
place, beyond which we recognised the broad open- 
ing of the Bow valley. Here we waited some time 
for our friends, who were a long way behind, and 
then at length wrote a note and fastened it to a pole 



52 £be IRocfcies of Canaba 

in a conspicuous place. It read : " We are going to 
climb the ridge to the north and try to make the 
chalet to-night. Advise you to follow us." On the 
top of the pole we cut a slit and pointed a splinter of 
wood in the exact direction we were to take. 

Having accomplished these duties in the best 
manner possible and in spite of innumerable swarms 
of mosquitoes from the swamp, we walked at our 
best speed, not relishing the prospect of a cheerless 
bivouac overnight after our long fast. Encountering 
the usual obstacles of fallen timber, we reached Lake 
Louise, by good fortune, at eight o'clock. After 
shouting in vain for someone to send over a boat, 
we forded the stream and entered the chalet, where 
a sumptuous repast was prepared forthwith and to 
which we did justice after our walk of twelve hours' 
duration. 

Our friends did not appear till morning. It seems 
that they discovered our note, but decided not to 
take our route as they thought it safer to follow the 
stream to the Bow. This, however, proved much 
farther than it appeared, and they had not proceeded 
far before they became entangled in a large area of 
fallen timber, where they were soon overtaken by 
night and compelled to give up all hope of reaching 
Lake Louise till morning. In the dark forest they lit 
a small fire, and were at first tormented by mosqui- 
toes, and later by the chill of advancing night, so 
that sleep was impossible. The utter weariness of 
exhaustion, embittered by hunger and sleeplessness, 



flnbian Sarcasm 53 

amid clouds of voracious mosquitoes, was only off- 
set by the contents of a flask, with which they 
endeavoured to revive their drooping spirits and nour- 
ish the feeble spark of life till dawn. Fortunately 
the nights in this latitude are short, and at four 
o'clock they continued their way to the Bow River, 
which they then followed to Laggan. 

A week later, a little column of smoke was seen 
rising from the woods toward the east, and from Lag- 
gan it was reported that a large area of the forest was 
on fire. Some pointed the finger of scorn at us and 
held our party responsible. William Twin, our 
Indian friend, said, " Me think two white men light 
him fire," to which we replied that this was impos- 
sible as the fire had broken out nearly a week after 
our visit. William then met our arguments with 
this sarcastic fling: " Oh no, white man no light 
fire. Me think sun light him." 

A gang of section men with axes and water- 
buckets was immediately despatched from Laggan 
to fight the fire, which, thanks to the weather, did 
not prove very serious and was extinguished in two 
days. 






CHAPTER IV 

AN UPLAND MEADOW — VIEW OF MT. TEMPLE — WE 
PLACE OUR CAMP IN PARADISE VALLEY — DIFFICULTIES 
OF TRAVERSING THE PATHLESS FOREST — A MARVELLOUS 
SOMERSAULT — THE UPPER END OF PARADISE VALLEY — 
DISCORDANT FLOWER COLOURS — THE FIREWEED — THE 
SPRUCE AND BALSAM — THE BLACK PINE AND WHITE- 
BARKED PINE — THE LYALLS LARCH — ITS ENDURANCE OF 
COLD AND STORMS — THE MARMOT AND PICA — THE 
VALLEY IN WINTER 

THE beautiful place which had been discovered 
in such a delightful way we called Paradise 
Valley. Our route will never be popular ex- 
cept with mountaineers, and comparatively few will 
see this valley from the Mitre col. The lower end 
of Paradise Valley can be seen to better advantage 
from an elevated place called The Saddle, a part of 
Fairview Mountain, east of Lake Louise. An excel- 
lent trail has been made and you may now ride there 
on the back of an Indian pony in an hour. The 
Saddle is an upland meadow between a craggy ele- 
vation on one side and the great conical mass of 
Fairview Mountain to the north. This alp, beautified 
by waving grass and bright flowers, alternating with 
scattered groves of LyalLs larch, is so elevated that 

54 



Hn inplanfr flDeabow 55 

it commands an inspiring view of the Bow valley 
and of Mt. Temple. The latter is a splendid mount- 
ain (the highest seen from the Canadian Pacific 
Road), and is surpassed only by the giant Mt. As- 
siniboine to the south, and by those great snow 
mountains, Forbes and Lyell, near the source of the 
Saskatchewan. 

The meadow dips gently southwards, suddenly 
breaks up into rocky crags, and then drops abruptly 
fifteen hundred feet to the bottom of Paradise Valley, 
where the stream resembles a narrow band of silver, 
winding in sinuous course through the forests. 
Standing on one of these flat-topped ledges, where a 
stone from the hand drops one hundred feet before 
touching the cliff, you may enjoy one of the most 
inspiring views in the Rockies of Canada. A small, 
blue lake rests against the base of Mt. Temple, some- 
what elevated above the valley, hemmed in by forests, 
and sparkling with diamonds when the sun is south. 
It is more than five thousand feet from the water of 
this lonely pool to the top of Mt. Temple. A glacier, 
free of all dirt-bands and stones, for there are no 
cliffs above to scatter rock-falls upon it, crowns the 
mountain summit and, at intervals, makes ice ava- 
lanches when its hanging edge breaks away. These 
avalanches are infrequent, but the roar of ice in its 
fall of several thousand feet may be heard at Laggan, 
six miles distant. 

One route to Paradise Valley lies over this Saddle, 
but a far shorter way is through the forests from Lake 



56 Zbe IRocfUes of Cana&a 

Louise to the mouth of the other valley, which is 
only three miles distant and on about the same level. 
We decided to make a camping expedition into this 
region and explore it at leisure, so we procured three 
or four horses at the chalet and made ready some pro- 
visions and blankets. It would not have required a 
very large book to contain all we knew about packing 
horses at that time. They say the Bedouins pack 
their camels in a singular manner by winding thongs 
round the animals' bodies, packs and all, and at their 
journeys' end simply cut the fastenings, whereupon 
everything comes loose. Our horses must have been 
packed in a similar manner, but at all events we knew 
absolutely nothing about the " diamond hitch." 

Allen and Henderson said they would go ahead 
and get a camp settled near the end of Paradise Val- 
ley. To help drive the horses, two Indian boys were 
engaged, but on the second day, after a hearty break- 
fast, they deserted. Frissell and I came along in two 
days with another horse and some auxiliary supplies. 
I shall never forget that night when we were search- 
ing for the camp. We had been leading the horse, 
an obstinate old brute, more than six hours through 
the pathless forest, and had arrived at length not far 
from the valley end, where, however, there was no 
sign of a camp. A stormy night was coming on and 
a fine drizzle commenced to wet the underbrush. 
We untied the rifle and fired several shots as a signal 
of distress. Hollow echoes from the forest gloom 
and the long-drawn repetitions farther and farther 



Gravereing tbe patbless forest 57 

away mocked our despair. The poor old cayuse 
was a picture of silent misery with his head hanging 
down, the rain dripping in streamlets from ears and 
mane, and his body steaming with moisture. We 
prepared to make a night of it in the wet forest with 
no tent to protect us, no axe to cut fire-wood, and 
little chance of cooking anything, though there were 
some cold canned provisions somewhere on the 
horse unless they had fallen out of his packs. I put 
on a "slicker" and made a last search for the camp 
in a rapid excursion up the valley. Some large 
whitish stones loomed through the darkness and 
several times deceived me into the idea that they 
were our tent. At length 1 found the place on the 
farther side of a stream and gave a shout. There 
was no fire before the camp, which made it so diffi- 
cult to find. In another hour the horse had been 
brought up and a fire made, large enough to dry our 
clothes and cook a fine dinner. The next day was 
spent in cutting fire-wood and boughs for beds, to 
say nothing of making camp generally comfortable. 
Several trips were made afterwards between the 
lake and camp to replenish our stock of blankets and 
provisions. As might be supposed where the ex- 
plorers were inexperienced and the country unusually 
rough, some remarkable things happened on these 
journeys. There was a spot about two miles within 
the valley entrance that always put our patience to 
a severe test. On one side of the stream was a place 
made fairly impassable by fallen trees crossed two or 



58 Zhe TRocfcies of Cana&a 

three deep. The other bank, which we were com- 
pelled to take, was covered by an unusually dense 
forest, where a tangled underbrush and fallen timber 
partially concealed the pitfalls of a moss-covered 
rock-slide. There were deep holes between the 
stones, and in many places underground streams, 
which we could hear gurgling beneath our feet, had 
washed out the soil. To lead a horse through this 
place required considerable skill and courage. With- 
out guidance the poor beast would stand motionless, 
but to choose a path while leading him was a pre- 
carious occupation, for the very first hole was enough 
to frighten the animal so that, instead of going more 
carefully, he usually commenced a wild rush till he 
fell. In these frantic struggles we were occasionally 
trampled on, while the packs were smashed against 
the trunks of trees or torn off altogether. 

Our usual manner of procedure was to have one 
of our party ahead to select rapidly open places in 
the forest, while about twenty-five yards behind 
came another whose duty it was to find the path- 
finder, and if possible improve on his route. Then 
came the horse led by a third, while the rear of our 
little procession was brought up by two others 
charged with the responsibility of picking up what- 
ever articles fell out of the packs. 

The following incident, which is related merely 
for the sake of historical accuracy and to show the 
possibilities of the country, is offered with no fond 
hope whatsoever that anyone will credit the tale. 



H fll>an>ellou6 Somersault 59 

It happened that we were pursuing our way through 
the woods in our usual manner, when the leader 
came to a tree which leaned over the trail at an 
angle. It was small enough to be limber, and large 
enough to be strong. Moreover, it was too low for 
the horse to pass under, and too high for him to jump 
over. Approaching the slanting tree, the leader saw 
the pack-horse rear in the air and prepare for a jump. 
He thought it best to get out of the way, but in his 
haste stumbled and fell headlong into a bush. 
Meanwhile the horse, a stupid old beast, prepared 
for the effort of his life, and with a tremendous 
spring jumped high in air, but unfortunately his fore- 
feet caught in the tree, which swung forward a little 
with his weight, and then returning like a spring, 
turned the animal over in mid-air. The poor beast 
fell on his back about five yards farther on, and re- 
mained motionless as death, with his four legs point- 
ing towards the sky. But this was not all, for the 
tree swung back violently and caught one of our 
party on the nose, fortunately at the end of its 
swing, but with sufficient force to knock him down. 
When our two friends had recovered, we turned our 
attention to the horse, which had not yet moved. 
" He is dead," cried a voice. We rolled him over 
nevertheless, whereupon he got up and seemed 
none the worse for his experience except for a more 
than usual stupidity. 

Though our camp life was not so comfortable as 
further experience has shown to be possible in these 



60 Gbe IRockies of Canafca 

mountains, still there was the enthusiasm of early 
exploits and a certain romantic atmosphere to all we 
saw and did that perhaps lessens with riper experi- 
ence. In the first place our surroundings would 
have appealed to any lover of nature. The upper 
part of this valley is hemmed in by an encircling line 
of mountains, and abruptly terminated to the south 
by a bare precipice which rises in a wedge-shaped 
peak called by us " Hungabee," or the chieftain. 
Falling away into a moderate depression, the cliffs 
rise again on the right into the lofty summit of Mt. 
Lefroy. A curious glacier, shaped like a horseshoe, 
lies at the base of this semicircle of mountains. 
The glacier ends in a high moraine ridge, and below 
this for a mile or more the valley abounds in de- 
lightful meadows and open groves, interrupted at 
frequent intervals by level tracts, pools of water, and 
quiet rivulets, or, where the country is more broken, 
by noisy glacial streams. The meadows were at the 
height of summer glory and bright with the scarlet 
painted-cup and red-purple epilobiums mingled in a 
wild clash of colours. 

There are several species of epilobium in the 
mountains, of which the commonest is a tall plant 
with a long raceme of flowers. It is called the fire- 
weed, for it appears most abundantly in the desolate 
wastes of burnt timber lands, where its bright flowers 
enliven the black and grey monotony of charred 
trees. In late summer it sends forth a multitude of 
cottony seeds, which are borne away through the 



nnpr 




Gbe Tripper Ent> of parabiee Dalles 61 

air for miles, sometimes over high mountain ridges, 
to other valleys. There is a smaller and more 
beautiful plant of the same genus, which is only a 
few inches high and bears a few conspicuous flow- 
ers, magenta-purple coloured, that harmonise with 
nothing except perhaps the green of its own pointed 
leaves. It prefers the pebble-lined borders of mount- 
ain streams, or the dry bed of some old channel where 
a little gravel offers a foothold between water-worn 
stones, to the rich soil and verdure of meadows. 
This flower, like Grieg's music, recalls mountain 
pastures, and suggests in its discordant beauty of 
colour tones his wild, bitter-sweet harmonies. 

The altitude of all the upper part of Paradise Val- 
ley is approximately seven thousand feet above sea- 
level, which, in this part of the Canadian Rockies, is 
the normal tree-line. The terms tree-line and snow- 
line are inexact, and vary greatly according to situa- 
tion. In secluded valleys that face north, the upper 
limit of tree growth is sometimes below seven 
thousand feet. But where the valleys are broad and 
sun-exposed, spruces and larches grow as high as 
seventy-five hundred or even seventy-six hundred 
feet above sea-level. 

All the valleys of these mountains are covered 
with heavy coniferous forests. There is a certain 
dignity in these tall, straight trees, which seems suit- 
able to the cold northern wilderness, though the 
effect is monotonous as compared with the variety 
of tree forms found in the deciduous forests of the 



62 £be iRockies of Canaba 

Appalachians, the Green, and the White mountains. 
Only five kinds of trees compose by far the greater 
part of the forests in the summit range of the Cana- 
dian Rockies. 

The white spruce (Picea Engelmannii) is found 
everywhere throughout the mountains from the low- 
est altitudes to the highest limits of tree growth. It 
is from forty to one hundred feet in height and from 
one to three feet or more in diameter. In heavy for- 
ests the outline of this tree is very narrow, as the 
higher branches, especially, project but a little way 
from the tapering stem. These lateral branches show 
a tendency to slope downwards, possibly the better 
to shed the burden of winter snow. In dark forests 
the lower branches die away and are often hung 
with black and gray beard-lichens. In places where 
the forests are somewhat open and protected from 
snow-slides, the spruce has live branches from the 
ground to the terminal bud, and the tree then as- 
sumes the form of a symmetrical spire. I counted 
four hundred rings in an old spruce stump near Lake 
Louise. This tree was less than three feet in dia- 
meter, but it sometimes exceeds four feet, and by the 
same ratio of growth such trees should be between 
five hundred and six hundred years old. 

The balsam spruce {Abies subalpina) has about the 
same range as the white spruce, but is less common. 
At a distance it is hardly to be distinguished from 
the spruce, but the bark on branches and young 
trees is raised in blisters which contain a drop or two 



XTbe Spruce ant> Balaam 6 3 

of balsam. This balsam exudes from the bark wher- 
ever it is bruised. At first it is a very clear liquid, 
regarded by old trappers and woodsmen as a certain 
cure, when brewed with hot water, for colds and 
throat trouble. On exposure to air it slowly hardens 
into a brittle resin, which the woodsman melts into 
pitch to seal boxes or mend leaky canoes. The 
camper-out makes his bed from balsam boughs, as 
they are more springy and less rigid than those of 
the spruce. The blunt and soft leaves of the balsam 
are likewise much pleasanter to the touch than the 
sharp spruce needles. 

There are two kinds of pine — the black pine 
(Pinus Murrayana), a small and slender tree which 
cannot endure very high altitudes, and the white- 
barked pine {Pinus albicaulis), which is found on 
rocky slopes at greater heights. The black pine ex- 
tends over considerable areas, and alternates with 
spruce when fires destroy one or the other forest. 
The white-barked pine has an open branching trunk 
and is rather scarce in these mountains. 

The most interesting and by far the most beauti- 
ful conifer is Lyalfs larch {Larix Lyallii). It resem- 
bles the eastern tamarack, but is restricted to the 
summit range of the Rockies, and its southern limits, 
probably in Montana, have not yet been determined. 
I have never seen the larch in any of the Saskatche- 
wan or Athabasca valleys, and the farthest north that 
1 have observed it was on the slopes of Mt. Hector, 
eleven miles from Laggan. It rarely lives at altitudes 



64 Gbe IRocMes of Canafca 

below six thousand feet above sea-level. The ex- 
treme range of altitude of this tree might be safely 
placed between 5600 and 7600 feet. Lyall's larch is 
very beautiful, having a rough, grey bark, irregular 
and heavy branches, and a foliage of soft needles 
arranged in tufts like green brushes. Its appearance 
among the spruces as you ascend is a certain indica- 
tion that you are approaching tree-line, where it 
forms scattered groves on all the higher ridges and 
meadowy uplands. Its growth must be extremely 
slow, as I have counted thirty rings in a branch only 
three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The wood is 
hard and brittle, and after a heavy snowfall the 
branches often strew the ground in a painful ruin. 
Thus the tree has an irregular and gnarled appear- 
ance as a result of its ceaseless battle with snow- 
storms and gales. Probably no other tree in the 
world endures such stress of weather. Not till June 
or July does the snow entirely disappear from the 
ground in its usual habitat, and if the winter has 
been unusually severe the drifts may remain all sum- 
mer. Its tender buds burst in June and the needles 
are fully developed in early July, but they are fre- 
quently covered with ice or snow during the summer, 
and in fact I have seen them covered with light 
snow in a freezing atmosphere for nearly three suc- 
cessive weeks in July and August. Then, no matter 
how hot the summer has been, the snow begins to 
fly again in September at these high altitudes, so 
that the larch has an active growing period of only 



Zbe Igall'a Xarcb 65 

two or three months in the year. Nevertheless their 
trunks are frequently more than two feet in diameter, 
which seems to indicate that they attain a very great 
age in spite of the vicissitudes of climate. Those 
larches that grow at the highest altitudes have a 
curious development not found on trees a few hun- 
dred feet lower. The tufts of needles spring from a 
hollow woody sheath, which is sometimes more than 
an inch long on the high-altitude trees, while else- 
where this development is not present. 

In October the larch needles fade, and during 
autumn mark a band of pale yellow on the mount- 
ains. The Lyall's larch is a constant source of de- 
light to the mountaineer, and adds much beauty to 
those higher valleys and slopes where the deep for- 
ests end and the perpetual snows first appear. Its 
rough bark and crooked branches, adorned with a 
scanty foliage, make a light shade and show the 
blue sky beyond. In such places, contrasted with 
the cliffs and snow fields of the mountains, it lends a 
charm to their grandeur. 

The Douglas fir (JPseudotsuga Douglasii) is the 
largest conifer of the eastern or summit range, but is 
only found on the foothills east of the mountains or 
in valleys which are less than five thousand feet 
above tide. Here it is found in company with the 
aspen poplar (Populus tremuloides), and the cotton- 
wood (P. balsamifera), which when well seasoned 
makes the finest camp-fire possible and gives out no 
smoke or sparks whatsoever. 



66 Gbe IRocMes of Canada 

There was not much game around our camp in 
Paradise Valley, though we saw tracks of mountain 
goats while on our various excursions. There were, 
however, numerous small animals, one of which, a 
kind of rat with a bushy tail, tried to run off with 
various metal articles and did considerable damage 
during our absence from camp by gnawing our cam- 
era cases and leather straps. We frequently saw 
and heard the great hoary marmot, or whistling 
badger, which always remains at a safe distance, but 
startles the solitary wanderer by its sudden and ex- 
ceedingly shrill whistle. Porcupines also lived in 
the open woods, one of which we killed and ate 
when we were hard up for provisions. They are 
hardly eatable, though the Indians regard them 
highly as an article of food. A most interesting 
little rodent is one that, at first, we called the 
seven-thousand-foot rat, because he invariably puts 
in an appearance at this altitude. This is the pica, or 
tailless hare, a squirrel-like animal, which infests dry 
meadows and the tumbled masses of rocks where 
slides have come down from the mountains. They 
have sufficient curiosity to make them narrowly 
watch your approach, till at length, overcome by 
fear, they dart away among the stones. The pica's 
only music is a dismal squeak, but they are so char- 
acteristic of upland parks and lonely though beautiful 
valleys, that the mountain climber comes to associate 
them with some of his finest experiences and so to 
love them. 



Gbe IDalles in "BClinter 67 

Our chief adventures in Paradise Valley were the 
successful ascent of two unclimbed peaks, Mt. Aber- 
deen and Mt. Temple, an account of which will be 
given elsewhere. At the end of summer we had 
pretty well explored about fifty square miles around 
Lake Louise and were enabled to make a map of this 
beautiful region. 

One by one the members of our party were com- 
pelled to bid farewell to the glories of the Rockies. 
I remained later to finish some details of survey 
work, and early in October made a final expedition 
with Mr. Astley to bring back our tent from Paradise 
Valley. A light snow covered the ground in pro- 
tected places, and the large stream of Paradise Valley 
had fallen so much that its rocky bed proved the 
safest route for our pack-horse. On our way we saw 
a fine herd of mountain goats, a species of antelope 
like the chamois of Switzerland. 

Our camp was buried in snow, the ridge-pole of 
the tent broken with the heavy burden, and every- 
thing so much changed in appearance that we had 
trouble at first in finding the place. The murky air 
was filled with falling snow as we rolled up the 
frozen canvas and blankets, while the mountains, 
half concealed by the approaching storm, showed 
vague outlines, and from the thickening gloom came 
the indefinite roar of distant snow-slides. 

We reached the lower end of the valley by night- 
fall, where in this altitude a fine rain was sifting 
through the spruce needles, and here we made camp 



68 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

in a dense forest. A crackling camp-fire, built of 
great logs, drove away the chill and dampness of a 
rainy night. The tent, our clothes, and the mossy 
ground were soon steaming, while the glare of our 
fire gave a cheerful light to the dark forest. Snow 
was falling in the morning, and squalls were sweep- 
ing through the valley and across the flanks of Mt. 
Temple, but three hours' travel through the cold 
swamps and snow-covered underbrush brought us 
to the chalet. 

A few days later I climbed to Lake Agnes to hunt 
the mountain goats which frequent the place. The 
lake was nearly covered with ice, while the snow 
was already two feet deep, and I was compelled to 
seek shelter behind a cliff, for there was a driving 
wind, bitterly cold, and full of hail. 



CHAPTER V 

MT. ASSINIBOINE— OUTFITTING FOR A CAMPING TRIP— ANEC- 
DOTES ABOUT THE EARLY SURVEYORS — ROUTE TO ASSINI- 
BOINE — A RAINY CAMP — DEEP SNOW ON THE SIMPSON PASS 
— WOODS OF THE SIMPSON VALLEY — DEATH OF A PACK- 
HORSE — END OF AN EXHAUSTING MARCH — FIRST VIEW OF 
ASSINIBOINE — A BURNT TIMBER CAMP — MUSIC OF THE WIL- 
DERNESS — IMPRESSIVE VIEW OF ASSINIBOINE — ENVIRON- 
MENT OF OUR CAMP — A STRANGE LAKE — UNDERGROUND 
STREAMS— MEASUREMENT OF THE MOUNTAIN — WE COM- 
MENCE A TOUR ROUND IT — DISCOVER A DEEP VALLEY AND 
THREE NEW LAKES— A WASTE OF FALLEN TIMBER— OUR 
FIRST BIVOUAC — ASCENT OF AN UNKNOWN STREAM — FOILED 
BY A CUL-DE-SAC— HOPE AND DESPAIR— SUCCESS AT LAST 
— DESCENT INTO THE NORTH FORK VALLEY — AN EXHAUST- 
ING MARCH 

ONE of the highest mountains of southern 
Canada is Mt. Assiniboine, which lies 
about twenty-five miles south of Banff. 
This remarkable peak attracted the surveyor's atten- 
tion very early and its position was determined as a 
prominent landmark long before it was visited. Dr. 
Dawson saw it from the White Man's Pass and 
named it after a tribe of plains Indians. So far as 1 

have been able to discover, the first person to reach 

6 9 



yo Zhe IRockies of Canaba 

the base of the mountain was Mr. R. L. Barrett, who 
visited it with Tom Wilson in 1893. 

The reputed interest of the mountain, and the sur- 
rounding region, which was said to be dotted with 
numerous lakes, made me decide to arrange for a 
visit during the summer of 1895. Fortunately it was 
the intention of Mr. Barrett, who was then at Banff, 
to revisit Assiniboine with his friend Mr. J. F. Porter, 
and upon comparing plans it was evident that mutual 
advantage would come from combining our forces. 
There were to be two separate parties, with men 
for each, travelling as one. Thus we were ready 
at any time, in the event of disagreement as to 
routes or plans, to separate and take our several 
ways. 

The sixth of July was the date determined upon 
for our departure. In the meantime we made fre- 
quent trips to the log house of our outfitter, Tom 
Wilson, who was to supply us with pack-horses, 
guides, and our entire camping outfit. Many years 
previously Wilson had packed for the railroad sur- 
veyors and was regarded one of the best packers in 
the North-west. He has a remarkable memory for 
the details of any country that he has ever seen and 
is, moreover, peculiarly alive to special points of 
interest or attractive scenery in the mountains, a 
quality that is conspicuously absent in the majority 
of the people connected with the North-west. 

July commenced rainy and cold, but our arrange- 
ments went forward without interruption. Wilson's 



Hnecbotes about JEarl? Surveyors 71 

place was a scene of busy preparation during the last 
two or three days. Pack-saddles, piles of blankets, 
tents, and ropes were to be seen here and there, 
while bags of provisions and canned goods of all 
kinds were ready for final assortment. Rashers of 
bacon and bags of flour made the bulk of our pro- 
visions, while the smaller packages contained dried 
fruits of several varieties, cereals, sugar, tea, and 
coffee. Pots and pails, knives, forks, and spoons 
were collected in other places, while our men, who 
were already engaged for the trip, were bringing 
order from a chaos of articles, and making sure that 
the saddle-girths, head-ropes, and hobbles were in 
good condition, the axes sharp, and the rifles bright 
and clean. 

" It is all very well," said Wilson one night after 
we had been talking over the possibilities of our trip, 
"to travel with maps, or a guide, and you will have 
no trouble, but I remember some strange things that 
have happened in these mountains. When the sur- 
veyors were searching for the best route across the 
Rockies, Major Rogers sent a party to explore the 
Kananaskis Pass. The man in charge of this party 
was to find, if possible, a way to the Columbia, but 
at the summit of the pass he came to a stream which 
flowed in a direction east of south. He retreated 
after he had followed the stream a short distance, as 
its course made him certain that he was still on the 
eastern slope of the range. But he was at the head 
of the Elk River, which flows into the Columbia by 



72 Zbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

way of the Kootenay, and so, without realising it, 
had crossed the divide. 

"Major Rogers himself," Tom resumed, " was 
upon one occasion more completely turned round 
than that, trying to cross the Selkirk Range. He 
started up the Beaver River from the Columbia and, 
turning up Grizzly Creek, struck the headwaters of 
the Spilimichene, till at last he came out again on the 
Columbia, seventy miles from where he started in, 
and on the same side of the range." 

Our route to Mt. Assiniboine lay through the 
Simpson Pass, and thence down the Simpson River 
to a certain place where an opening in the mountains 
to the south would lead us to this giant of the 
Rockies. Our journey began on the sixth of July, 
though the day was wet and showery. Our four 
men with nine horses started before noon for our 
first camp at Healy's Creek, about six miles from 
Banff. Barrett, Porter, and I came later, on foot, and 
after a mile or so of good road, plunged into the 
difficulties of a bad trail in a burnt timber country, 
and left the last sign of civilisation behind. In a 
drizzling rain we made our way over charred logs 
and through wet brush, hunting for the trail most 
of the time. 

We came at length to Healy's Creek, a large 
stream that comes roaring out of the mountains from 
the west and drains the Simpson Pass to swell the 
Bow River. We shouted across and soon saw Peyto, 
one of our packers, coming at a gallop through the 



a IRain? Camp n 

brush. Chiniquay, an Indian cayuse which he rode, 
had to carry us one by one across the creek, which 
was rather deep and swift. The three tents of our 
camp had been prettily grouped under some spruces. 
Everything was in order and the cooks were prepar- 
ing supper upon our arrival. We were labouring 
under many of those imaginary evils which by some 
are supposed to make camp life intolerable, soaked 
through by a long tramp in wet brush to reach 
a rainy camp. Nevertheless we were all happy, as 
our clothes were soon drying around open camp- 
fires, where a fine supper was served. Then we 
rolled up in blankets laid on balsam boughs and 
realised that, at last, our journey to Assiniboine was 
begun. 

" Breakfast is ready," was the cheery shout that 
interrupted our dreams the next morning. The ris- 
ing sun was struggling through uncertain bands of 
clouds and all the meadow flowers and grass were 
sparkling with pendent diamonds of rain and dew in 
the early light. Peyto and Edwards had long since 
driven our horses into camp and in an hour the men 
were busy packing. Our march commenced at 
eight o'clock, Peyto leading, the bay and Pinto — our 
best pack-horses — next, and then our several men 
interspersed among the animals in Indian file. 
We crossed a mile of flat country and, turning 
southwards, commenced to ascend among the high 
mountains. 

The interest of our march was much increased by 



74 Zbc IRochiee of CanaDa 

the number of flowers that were to be seen as we 
went along. In damp, mossy woods we saw the 
round-leafed orchis, a very pretty plant with a single 
green leaf and a raceme of rose-purple flowers. It is 
quite common throughout the mountains. A rarer 
flower and one of exquisite beauty was also seen, 
the Calypso, a northern orchid named for the beauti- 
ful goddess who fell in love with Ulysses. The 
single blossoms are shaped somewhat like those of 
the species called lady's -slipper, and combine a 
showy display of pink, purple, and yellow colours. 
There is a small patch of green timber half a mile 
east of Laggan station where this flower may also 
be found, but it is very scarce elsewhere. 

After a march of six hours we made camp in the 
deep valley of the north fork of Healy's Creek. While 
the men were putting things in order, it was dis- 
covered that Edwards's axe had been lost some time 
on the day's march. In view of the long journey 
before us and the possibility of considerable trail cut- 
ting, this axe was indispensable to our progress. He 
saddled his horse and started back, saying that he 
would not return till it had been found. Contrary 
to our expectations, he did not return that day nor 
for a period of nearly two weeks. 

Our camp was only a few miles from the Simpson 
Pass, and the next day we reached it in an hour. 
The summit was covered with snow, and many of 
the drifts were fifteen or twenty feet deep. The alti- 
tude of this pass is 6884 feet, and the entire summit 



Beep Snow on tbe Simpson pass 75 

and the mountains several hundred feet higher 
are covered with trees. The unusual amount of 
snow in July was the result of a long and stormy 
winter followed by a backward spring. The day of 
our visit was warm, and the snow was being fast 
reduced to slush, under the influence of a mild south 
wind. The pass has no decided slope for a mile or 
more, but is broken up by rocky ridges and inter- 
spersed with small lakes. When our descent began, 
the first warm southward slopes were already free 
of snow and covered with banks of beautiful Alpine 
flowers. There were only two or three species in 
these snow-lined flower-gardens, but the multitude 
of blossoms made up for the lack of variety. The 
great white anemone and the yellow Alpine lily 
{Erythronium grandiflorwri) were in all stages of 
bud and blossom, revelling in the balmy breezes and 
a wealth of sunshine. Our heavy-footed horses 
trampled down myriads of blossoms in a ruthless 
destruction, regardless of the beauty round them, 
but glad to get into a place where there was hope 
of grass. We had crossed the great divide and 
passed from Alberta to British Columbia. An Indian 
trail led us down by a stream which, at first a mere 
rivulet from melting snow, had now become a brawl- 
ing torrent. This stream ran into the Pacific Ocean. 
The woods became deep and dark with sombre 
trees of great height, among which the trail wound 
deep cut in the loamy soil, and led us at length 
away from the noise of falling water into the forest 



76 Zhc IRocfues of Cana&a 

silence. The day's march ended at the Simpson 
River, where we camped in a level place beside many 
Indian teepee-poles. 

July 9th. The entire Simpson valley in this part 
is an unbroken forest. Several thousand feet higher, 
bare limestone cliffs rise above the mass of green, 
making a picturesque contrast, but there is little per- 
petual snow in sight from the depths of the valley 
bottom. Our line of march lay near the Simpson 
River, which is a very rapid stream, and we followed 
its banks for several hours. During one of several 
river crossings one of my pack-horses was lamed in 
a mysterious manner, but no attention was at first 
paid to what seemed a trivial accident. However, in 
a few minutes we made a final crossing before we 
should ascend the opposite mountain side to a dis- 
tant valley opening. Barrett said this was the route 
he had followed with Wilson in 1893. The stream 
had been safely crossed, and we were trying a short 
cut to the trail which Peyto had located just previ- 
ously on a trip of reconnaissance, and while flounder- 
ing through a soft, mossy wood, the horse recently 
lamed fell in a rough place. The poor beast could 
not get up till his packs were removed, and then it 
was seen that his leg was broken. It required but a 
few minutes to remove his saddle, and then, after the 
other horses were led away a short distance, Peyto 
ended the unfortunate animal's life with a rifle 
bullet. 

Barrett said it was not far to a pretty lake where 



j£nfc of an JEybausting fIDarcb 77 

there was an excellent camping place and good feed 
for the horses. Leaving the river at an altitude of 
about forty-five hundred feet, the trail ascended by 
a succession of steep pitches through a green forest 
of pine and spruce. After we had been on the 
march for six hours we found ourselves entering a 
high valley much encumbered by rock-slides which, 
though easy enough for us to walk over, were very 
trying and dangerous to the horses. It was impos- 
sible to camp in this vicinity, and after an exhaust- 
ing march of three hours more and an ascent of fully 
two thousand feet from the Simpson River, we made 
camp in a delightful place near a stream. Some 
bushy meadows promised fine feed for our horses 
and the adjacent woods gave us fire-wood. Even 
our weary pack animals when their saddles were re- 
moved rolled on the ground in delight and scratched 
their backs before running off to the meadow. Axes 
were at work cutting fire-wood and poles, so that in 
the hour while our cooks were preparing dinner the 
three tents were placed in position and camp put in 
order for the night. 

Our valley was hemmed in by mountains which 
presented a continuous barrier on either side for 
many miles. The scenery resembled that of the 
Sierra Nevadas — smooth cliffs dotted here and there 
with trees or clumps of bushes, and ornamented by 
waterfalls so high, and so distant from us, that they 
resembled silver threads waving from side to side in 
the changing breezes. Sometimes a stronger wind 



78 Zbc TCocfciea of Cana&a 

held them suspended for a time in mid-air, or swept 
them away altogether in a cloud of spray. 

Opposite our camp, and at a considerable height 
above it, there was a formation upon the mountain 
like a rock fortress, where nature had built a nearly 
perfect representation of a mediaeval castle. One 
might easily imagine that these sharp pinnacles and 
rocky clefts were ramparts, embrasures, and turreted 
fortifications. But the wild goats, marmots, and 
picas were the sole owners of this castle. 

July ioth. From a small lake near our camp we 
caught a dozen trout in the morning while our men 
were coming up the valley. It appeared that a few 
miles would bring us to the valley's end, where a high 
pass seemed to terminate the ascent. Filled with 
hope of getting our first view of Mt. Assiniboine 
during the day, we were on the march at an early 
hour. Lyall's larch and scattered snow-drifts indi- 
cated our increasing altitude. The snow soon became 
so deep that only with the greatest difficulty could 
we make any progress whatsoever. On several 
occasions our horses had to struggle through long 
stretches of snow, five or six feet deep, and in such 
places we all went ahead and trampled out a pathway 
for them. Finally a long bare ridge, well exposed 
to wind and sun, offered us a fine route through 
the unbroken snow fields and led us to the summit. 

As the slope began to fall away in the opposite 
direction a new world lay before us. It was a deso- 
late valley of burnt timber, beyond which appeared 



a Burnt timber Camp 79 

a richly coloured lake, girt by green forest and over- 
hung by a barrier of snowy peaks. Above this 
rough range, the sharp crest of Mt. Assiniboine was 
faintly seen through the smoky atmosphere, for 
forest fires were raging somewhere in spite of the 
rainy season. We descended into the valley and 
camped in burnt timber near a small stream. 

That our men and horses might rest after the 
long marches of the last four days it was decided 
to spend an entire day at this place. There was 
little of the picturesque in our environment of burnt 
timber. However, this camp has for some reason 
made one of the pleasantest impressions upon my 
memory. 

Our tents were placed among some trees killed by 
fire. The ground was made comparatively smooth 
by rolling away the charred logs, cutting the bushes 
that had grown up in recent years, and strewing 
upon the ground branches from trees of the new 
generation. In a swamp near us a number of birds 
were nesting and calling their mates. The camp 
was upon the edge of a bluff overlooking a bare 
ravine, where a stream ran swiftly in a timber- 
choked channel, and gave the encroaching bushes 
endless rhythmic movements, as the splashing water 
touched them. A gentle south wind coming up the 
valley soothed us to dreamy slumbers. The stronger 
gusts awakened shrill vibrations in the dead and 
splintered trees, or carried away the torrent's roar in 
frequent alternation of sound volume. The smoke 



80 Gbe IRockies of Cana&a 

bathed the mountains in hazy blue, and once, com- 
ing in greater thickness, nearly concealed them alto- 
gether and softened the sunlight to a mellow glow. 

The thunder of repeated ice avalanches, or the 
loud reports of stones falling upon the mountains, 
where summer was loosening the frost, several times 
disturbed my siesta. The dreamy rustle of wind- 
blown grass and the varying sound of the torrent 
were, however, like an endless slumber song. From 
a bushy copse in the swamp near our camp two 
white-crested sparrows sang the entire day and part 
of the night a plaintive little air of five notes 
(C, D, E, E, C, of which the two E's are eighth notes, 
while the rest are quarters) repeated six or seven 
times a minute. The last note is somewhat faint 
and flat. This feeble and pathetic outpouring of 
music from happy creatures seemed to accord with 
the barren forest ruin. It is difficult to understand 
the exquisite pleasure that often comes from such 
chance associations. There is something wonderfully 
beautiful in the idea of a pretty melody repeated 
throughout the long summer in the heart of a wilder- 
ness where, in the waste of charred trees and waving 
fireweed, the music of one little bird stirs the heart- 
beats of but one other creature, its mate. 

July 1 2th. We marched east for two hours, find- 
ing a route among the fallen timber as well as we 
could. At length a steep ascent brought us by a 
waterfall to a grove of larches beyond which a beau- 
tiful lake appeared. The transformation from the 



1Impres$it>e IPiew of assiniboine 81 

waste of burnt timber was immediate and complete. 
A well-marked trail led around the winding shore on 
our left, the other side of the narrow lake being 
hemmed in by rock-slides and cliffs. The last ice of 
winter was drifting before the wind, and the water 
was covered in several places with a kind of slush, 
made of innumerable slender ice-needles. These 
gave a faint sound like the rustle of silk as they 
rubbed one against another in the ripples. The 
trail led us by the lake for half a mile and then, leav- 
ing it, ascended a rocky ridge through a grass-lined 
opening. Another lake was immediately disclosed, 
and beyond it mighty Assiniboine. 

The majestic mountain, which is a noble pyramid 
of rock towering above snow fields, was clearly re- 
flected in the water surface. Such a picture so sud- 
denly revealed aroused the utmost enthusiasm of 
all our party, and unconsciously everyone paused in 
admiration while our horses strayed from the trail 
to graze. Continuing once more, we traversed some 
open places among low ridges covered with beautiful 
larches. We passed through a delightful region 
which descended gently for half a mile to a treeless 
moor, where we pitched camp. Behind us was a 
clump of trees, before us Mt. Assiniboine, and on our 
left a lake of considerable size, which washed the 
very base of the mountain and extended northwards 
in the bottom of a broad valley. 

We remained here for a period of two weeks. 
The altitude of this place is seventy-four hundred feet. 



82 Gbe -Rockies of Cana&a 

This is considerably above the usual tree-line of these 
mountains, though there were a considerable number 
of spruces and larches not only at the level of our 
camp but several hundred feet higher. I attribute 
this to the open character of the valley, which receives 
a considerable amount of sunshine, and so collects 
sufficient heat to raise the level of possible tree 
growth above the normal. Mt. Assiniboine was al- 
most due south from our camp. The distance in a 
straight line was more than a mile to its base and 
nearly three to its summit. Two diverging spurs 
from Assiniboine enclose this valley. To the north 
it expands into open places, interrupted in part by- 
scattered tree clumps, but covered generally with a 
low, bushy growth. The smaller trees which grow 
in the open are dwarfed and distorted by their cease- 
less struggle with cold. Even at the borders of thick 
groves the spruces often show a regular line of 
branches, like a trimmed hedge, as though no single 
branchlet would venture into the cold air beyond its 
company. 

The higher dry ground is uneven and hummocky 
from the burrowings of innumerable picas and mar- 
mots. These are a variety of Parry's marmot, some- 
times called the red-bellied ground squirrel, which is 
considerably smaller than the siffleur, or great hoary 
marmot, so common in these mountains. The wolve- 
renes have dug into their burrows and by throwing 
out piles of dirt and great pieces of turf have added 
to the roughness of the region. In the meadowy 



H Strange Hake 83 

and swampy places where our horses pastured, two 
miles north of camp, some curious action of frost has 
converted the ground into a mass of low grass- 
crowned hummocks with bare soil between. Alto- 
gether I have never seen a region which is more 
tiring to the pedestrian than this, because of these 
endless inequalities of the ground, which are half 
concealed by dwarfed trees and a tough underbrush. 

The large lake near the position of our camp has 
some peculiar features. At the time of our arrival a 
strong wind was driving cakes of ice down the lake 
amid whitecaps. The lake seems to rest against a 
small glacier at the foot of Mt. Assiniboine where it 
gets a large part of its water-supply. A large stream 
enters it at the opposite or north end, and several 
others come in at various points, but we were sur- 
prised to find no outlet. This, however, explained 
the rapid change in water level which we had no- 
ticed. The lake was rising at the rate of several 
inches every twenty-four hours. There were indi- 
cations on the shore that the water had at some 
comparatively recent period been ten or twelve feet 
higher. Where do the subterranean waters escape ? 
Perhaps the curious nature of a valley north of our 
camp may throw some light upon this subject. 

Peyto had put our horses in a meadow two 
miles from camp. He made frequent visits to the 
place while looking after the horses, and upon one 
occasion made a trip of six or seven miles down the 
valley. The streams from these meadows run north- 



84 Gbe IRocMes of Canada 

wards, disappear into the ground, reappear several 
times, and finally vanish altogether. In this valley 
a mile or so farther on is a curious lake set in a lime- 
stone basin. One or two small streams enter it, and 
a number of air bubbles rising through its clear wa- 
ter in several places indicate subterranean springs, 
but there is no outlet. Then for three miles no 
stream or sign of water is visible in this weird valley 
of curious limestone hills covered with a few trees. 
At the base of a great hill, however, where the 
valley bottom drops suddenly six or seven hundred 
feet, a number of springs gush out, and this we dis- 
covered later was the source of the Simpson River. 
Everything seems to show that the waters of the 
last lake, the meadows beyond, and perhaps also the 
large lake at the base of Mt. Assiniboine are carried 
in underground passages to make these springs. 
The whole region is a limestone formation and 
abounds in caves and sink-holes. 

It has been mentioned that on the second day's 
march one of our packers, Edwards, had gone back 
to find a lost axe. At every subsequent camp, there- 
fore, we had left a supply of provisions and infor- 
mation about the route we were going to pursue. 
More than ten days had now elapsed and nothing 
had been heard from him. Peyto's fertile imagina- 
tion conjured up visions of his having been drowned 
in Healy's Creek, and I must confess that we were 
all somewhat worried. It seemed best to send Peyto 
back on a fast saddle-horse, to make inquiries at 



measurement of tbe fIDountain 85 

Banff, and improve the opportunity of bringing out 
another horse to replace the one that had been shot. 
Meanwhile, as Mt. Assiniboine seemed a serious 
problem for even a well-equipped Alpine party, we 
made no attempt to climb the mountain. We con- 
tented ourselves with a number of lesser mountain 
ascents, and from several points between eight thou- 
sand and nine thousand feet high obtained splendid 
views of the giant of the Rockies. 

There were, unfortunately, no surveying instru- 
ments in our outfit, but I determined to get a rough 
approximation on the height of Assiniboine. I used 
my camera tripod for a plane table and made a 
little alidade by adjusting two upright sticks to an- 
other with a straight edge. The upright sticks were 
threaded with horse-hairs. Taking a piece of linen 
thread about fifteen yards long 1 set up stakes and 
laid out a base line. This thread was carefully meas- 
ured when 1 reached Banff. With these crude in- 
struments I plotted out and found the horizontal 
distance to the top of the mountain, and repeated 
the operation several times. For the vertical angles 
I set up a table and a basin of water. I had a large 
piece of celluloid as a substitute ground glass for my 
camera, and on this a straight line was ruled and 
made to coincide with the water surface. Then two 
needles were used as sights, and the vertical angle 
to the mountain top was indelibly scratched on the 
celluloid and measured later. By adding the result 
thus determined to the altitude of our camp, 1 got 



86 £be TRocftiee of Cana&a 

1 1, 680 feet for the total height of Mt. Assiniboine. 
The result obtained by the Topographical Survey 
of Canada from angles taken at a distance is 11,830 
feet. This, no doubt, is very nearly the exact height, 
and the comparative agreement of my result is 
probably due to several errors cancelling themselves 
out and so giving a better result than the instru- 
ments deserved. 

One day, about a week after leaving us, Peyto 
galloped into camp with another horse, some addi- 
tional provisions, and our guide Edwards. The lat- 
ter said he had followed us for four days' march, 
when he lost our trail and returned to Banff. 

Shortly after Peyto's arrival, Barrett and I pro- 
jected a plan to see the south side of Mt. Assini- 
boine. As the country was very rough, it was 
impossible to make the trip with horses, so we pre- 
pared to try it on foot. We were going into a coun- 
try that in all probability had never been visited by 
any white man. We each carried a single blanket 
and food enough to last three days. These burdens 
were made as light as possible, for the success of our 
expedition would depend in a large measure on the 
rapidity of our movements. My camera, several 
cups and knives, a small hand-axe, and a few other 
articles which seemed absolutely necessary were 
distributed among our packs. 

On the 26th of July, Barrett, Peyto, and I started 
on this expedition, which, though attended by con- 
siderable hardship, eventually proved most valuable 



a Deep IDalle? 87 

and interesting. At eight o'clock we bade farewell 
to those at the main camp and said we should return 
on the third or fourth day. We walked three miles 
to the north-east, through open country, which rises 
gradually to a pass eight thousand feet above sea- 
level. On the summit of this a deep valley lay before 
us, very heavily wooded and nearly filled by three 
lakes, one of which is three or four miles long, while 
the two upper ones are smaller. The water of each 
is differently coloured, one yellowish green, another 
blue-green, and the other blue. All are fed by a 
stream coming from a glacier on Mt. Assiniboine 
which presently appeared on our right. 

We descended two thousand feet into the valley 
and took a short rest by the blue waters of the mid- 
dle lake. The air was oppressively hot and we 
struggled amid the pitfalls of very large timber, mak- 
ing slow progress and tormented by myriads of mos- 
quitoes. We crossed this narrow valley between 
the two upper lakes and found a fallen tree that 
served for a bridge over the stream. Then ensued a 
difficult scramble up the opposite side of the valley, 
which made us climb again nearly the entire two 
thousand feet of our first descent. This hard work 
ended suddenly when we found ourselves in a com- 
paratively level valley, beautified by meandering 
streams, open meadows, and a few small lakes. On 
the summit of a pass where the water turned in the 
opposite direction we ate lunch and took an hour of 
rest beside a rock-girt pool. 



88 £be IRocFues of Canaba 

This was the end both of the green timber and of 
our pleasant surroundings, for shortly after resuming 
our journey we came to a burnt forest. It seemed 
that the entire valley had been utterly devastated by 
afire which had swept through this region apparently 
not many years before. Many of the trees had been 
completely destroyed, while the youngest had been 
charred and warped into arched poles with their tops 
touching the ground. Ledges of sandstone and 
quartz had been splintered by the intense heat into 
sharp-edged fragments which covered the ground. 
The direction of this desolate valley soon changed 
sharply to our right and we felt that a corner of Assini- 
boine had been turned. There was no sign of any 
trail and it is very doubtful if the Indians ever used 
this route among the mountains. The fallen timber 
became denser as we progressed. The monotony of 
our travel was interrupted by our coming to a sudden 
pitch or descent of the entire valley where there was 
an abrupt fall of about five hundred feet. Arrived 
at the bottom of this, we had not walked far before 
another appeared, similar to the first, only far deeper. 
The mountains, which were very high on either side, 
seemed to rise above us to far greater altitudes as, in 
rapid descent, we reached lower levels. 

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 





MT. ASSINIBOINE FROM THE EAST 



a Waste ot fallen timber 8 9 

work lasted 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 consider- 
able forethought. At five o'clock our labours ended. 
We made camp by a stream which seemed to take its 
source near Mt. Assiniboine. The only good thing 
about this place was the abundance of fire-wood, 
which was well seasoned, required but little chop- 
ping, 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 un- 
couth garments torn and discoloured, 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, 
hardtack, and tea. Large flat stones placed on a 
gentle charcoal fire served to broil our bacon quite 
successfully, though the heat soon cracked the stones 
in pieces. 

We were now on the Pacific slope and, as we be- 
lieved, on one of the tributaries of the north fork of the 
Cross River, which flows into the Kootenay. The 
aneroid indicated that our altitude was only forty- 
seven hundred feet above the sea, and showed that 



9Q ftbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

we were nearly three thousand feet below the level 
of the camp we had left nine hours before. At eight 
o'clock, though it was still light, we retired to the 
rough protection of our shelter with a fire burning 
near us. Overhead the starless sky threatened rain, 
which fortunately did not come, while the clouds 
and our lower altitude made the night comfortably 
warm. 

On the following day everyone was ready to pro- 
ceed at an early hour. Hitherto in our journey around 
Assiniboine we had turned to the right wherever any 
valley or pass gave us the opportunity. Thus we 
were making a circuit of its several spurs and keeping 
as near the great mountain as possible. However, 
no view had been obtained of the main peak after 
leaving the valley of the three lakes, where we 
looked upon its north-east face. This first bivouac 
was beside a stream of moderate size, coming out 
of a valley at right angles to the one we had re- 
cently followed. It seemed altogether better to 
explore this, that we might keep as near as possible 
to Assiniboine and not find our view cut off by any 
intervening mountain range. With practice a very 
fair idea of the length of these mountain valleys may 
be had by observing the size of streams and the 
amount of water they carry. This one seemed to 
indicate a valley between eight and ten miles in 
length. 

We were on the march about seven o'clock and 
began to ascend the stream. Our plan was to follow 



Ifoileb t>s a Cul*t>e*Sac 91 

the valley as far as practicable and see what would 
develop, but beyond that everything was indefinite. 
Clouds covered the entire sky and touched the 
mountain tops, but the worst sign of bad weather 
was that they constantly settled to lower levels. 
We had this one day, however, to see the south side 
of Assiniboine, and were resolved to take our chances, 
though they seemed much against us. 

We traversed the unending burnt timber by first 
scaling far up to avoid a canyon and then coming 
down to the stream, where at length there was 
better walking. About ten o'clock we sat down on 
the bank to rest a few moments and to eat a lunch 
of hardtack and cold bacon. In the fresh mountain 
air even this rough fare was most appetising after 
our tramp of three hours amongst fallen trees. 

A most encouraging change of weather now took 
place, for a sudden gleam of sunlight called our at- 
tention upwards, where to our great relief blue sky 
appeared and the clouds seemed to be dissolving 
away. 

Once more taking up our various packs, we pushed 
on with renewed energy. On the left or south, was 
a long and lofty ridge of nearly uniform height, on 
the right a stupendous mountain wall of great height, 
the top of which was concealed by the clouds. This 
impassable barrier seemed to curve around at the 
head of the valley, and, turning to the south, join 
the ridge on the opposite side. This then was a 
cul-de-sac, or " blind' 1 valley without an outlet, 



92 Gbe IRochiea of Canaba 

There were two courses open to us. The first was 
to wait a few hours, hoping to see Mt. Assiniboine, 
and return to camp the way we came. The second 
was to force a passage, if possible, over the mount- 
ain ridge to the south and so descend into the North 
Fork valley, which we were certain lay on the other 
side. The latter plan was preferable, as we would 
have a better chance to see Mt. Assiniboine, and the 
possibility of returning to camp by a new route. 
After a short discussion, we selected a favourable slope 
and began to ascend the mountain ridge. In memory 
a great number of obstacles loomed behind us — two 
high passes, dense forests, and that endless valley of 
dead timber where the trees were crossed in be- 
wildering confusion. Hope built a pleasing air-castle 
in striking contrast to this picture. We were now 
climbing to its outworks and, should we succeed in 
capturing the place, a new and probably interesting 
route would lead us back to camp — so extravagant 
is hope — perhaps by nightfall. Thus with a repel- 
lent force behind us and eager desire to complete our 
circuit of the mountain, we were resolved not to 
retrace our steps. 

The slope we were now ascending was at first 
comparatively gentle. We passed several red-col- 
oured ledges containing deposits of iron ore, while 
calcite and carbonate of iron were visible everywhere 
and made a brilliant surface of sparkling crystals 
over the dull limestones. In the valley below, two 
lakes appeared as we ascended, one of which was 



1bope an& despair 93 

literally covered with floating trees, the result, no 
doubt, of a winter snow-slide. 

In an hour we had come to the apparent top of 
our ridge, though hope hardly dared suggest that it 
was the true summit. As one after another we 
reached a commanding spot, a blank look of despair 
stole over the face of each. No word was spoken, 
but that silent gaze meant our defeat. To our dis- 
may, a vertical wall of rock appeared and rose five 
hundred feet above us. Thus all our fond hopes 
were suddenly defeated and we turned perforce, in 
imagination, to a weary retreat over the many miles 
of prostrate tree trunks that intervened between us 
and our camp. 

The main object of our long journey was, how- 
ever, at this time attained, for the clouds lifted and 
revealed the south side of Mt. Assiniboine, a sight 
that probably no other white men have ever seen. 
I took my camera and descended on a rocky ridge 
for some distance in order to get a photograph. Re- 
turning to where my friends were resting, I felt the 
first sensation of dizziness and weakness, resulting 
from unusual physical exertion and a meagre diet. 
I joined the others in another repast of raisins and 
hardtack, taken from our rapidly diminishing store 
of provisions. 

Some more propitious divinity must have been 
guiding our affairs at this time, for while we were 
despondent at our defeat, and engaged in discussing 
the most extravagant routes up an inaccessible cliff, 



94 Gbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

our eyes fell on a well-defined goat trail leading 
along the mountain side on our left. It offered a 
chance which we accepted. Peyto set off ahead while 
we were packing up our burdens. Having already 
passed several places that appeared very dangerous, 
what was our surprise to see him now begin to 
move slowly up a slope of snow that appeared nearly 
vertical. We argued that if he could go up such a 
place as that, he could go anywhere, and that where 
he went we could follow. We hurried after him 
and found the goat trail wide and the worst places 
not so bad as they seemed from below. The snow 
ascent was very steep but safe enough, and after 
reaching the top, the goat trail led us on, like a faith- 
ful guide, showing us the way. We could see only 
a short distance ahead because of numerous ridges 
and gullies. Below us was a steep slope roughened 
by projecting crags, while, as we passed along, 
showers of loose stones rolled down the mountain 
side and made an infernal clatter, ever reminding us 
not to slip. At one o'clock we stood on the top of 
the ridge nine thousand feet above sea-level, having 
ascended forty-three hundred feet from our last camp. 
The valley of the north fork of the Cross River 
lay far below, covered with green forests, which 
gave a pleasant invitation for us to descend. Gallop- 
ing down a long slope of loose scree, with a shower 
of rocks following us, we came to rough limestone 
gullies where unstable footholds suggested caution. 
Then ensued several hundred feet of bare rock-slides, 




SOUTH SIDE OF MT. ASSINIBOINE 



Descent into IRortb Jforft Dalle? 95 

where among the lichen-covered stones the highest 
Alpine flowers appeared, and then very soon tufts of 
grass and green slopes, with a few dwarfed trees. 
Their increasing size, the warm air, and at length a 
deep forest indicated our rapid descent. A final 
slope, where copses of birch and a few small maples 
showed that we were on the Pacific side of the 
range, led us through a garden of bluebells, asters, 
and painted-cup to a meadow by the river. Here 
we paused to admire our surroundings and feast on 
wild strawberries. In this place we were four thou- 
sand feet below the ridge from which we had re- 
cently gazed on Mt. Assiniboine. 

This was the north fork of the Cross River, no 
doubt the same stream by which we had camped on 
our journey to Assiniboine, and the same that takes 
its source in small lakes near our camp. 

Near the river we found a trail, the first we had 
seen so far on our way 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, Messrs. Allen and 
Smith, 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 pleasant half-hour was spent at this place while 
we enjoyed their hospitality and related our adven- 
tures. Then, "hitting the trail" once more, we 
walked rapidly in a supreme effort to reach camp 



96 £be IRockies of Canada 

that night. The valley held a straight course for 
about six miles and then swung round to the north. 
We had turned three corners of Assiniboine. Burnt 
timber now came again in evidence. As we had 
been walking almost continuously for the past fifteen 
hours, we were so fatigued that a very slight obstruc- 
tion was sufficient to cause a fall, and every few min- 
utes some one of the party would tumble headlong 
into the burnt timber. We were too tired to lift 
our feet over roots and sticks, but there were barely 
enough provisions to last another meal and we were 
anxious to get as near headquarters as possible. At 
ten o'clock the light in the northern sky failed us, 
and further progress being impossible, we selected a 
fairly level place among the charred logs for a biv- 
ouac. After a last meal of bacon and hardtack, we lay 
on the ground round a large fire. Thanks to a mild 
night and extreme weariness, we slept soundly during 
the few hours of darkness, but were again on foot at 
four o'clock. We marched into camp at half-past 
six and found the cooks building the morning fires 
and ready to prepare breakfast. 

This was without doubt the first circuit of Mt. 
Assiniboine. By pedometer, which, however, meas- 
ured every one of the countless logs we had jumped 
and a thousand devious turns, the distance was fifty- 
one miles, and this we had done in less than forty- 
eight hours. 

After a day of needed rest, our winding train of 
horses left the beautiful site of Mt. Assiniboine to 



an jEybausting flDarcb 97 

commence our homeward journey, and there were 
many unexpressed feelings of regret at saying fare- 
well to these scenes of beauty and grandeur. We 
followed the Simpson to the Vermilion River and 
the latter to the Vermilion Pass, and after seven days 
reached the Bow River at Castle Mountain. 






CHAPTER VI 

ANOTHER ROUTE TO ASSINIBOINE — MEADOWS ON THE 
CONTINENTAL DIVIDE — A MIDSUMMER SNOW-STORM — A 
MARCH THROUGH FOG AND SNOW — A VISION OF STRANGE 
MOUNTAINS — A PERILOUS DESCENT — VALLEY OF THE 
GNOMES — A TREMENDOUS LANDSLIDE — SECOND CAMP 
AT ASSINIBOINE — A PARTIAL ASCENT — GENERAL FORM 
OF THE MOUNTAIN — FOUR DIFFERENT ROUTES TO THIS 
REGION 

IN the summer of 1899 I made another visit to 
Assiniboine. Messrs. Henry G. Bryant and 
Louis J. Steele were anxious to see this noble 
peak, and for my own part, the exploration of new 
routes to and from the mountain was a sufficient 
incentive to make the trip. It was first proposed to 
take a Swiss guide and make some attempt to climb 
Assiniboine, but we were unable to obtain the serv- 
ices of one for such a length of time as our jour- 
ney would require. Nevertheless, we carried in our 
outfit some rope and three ice-axes, with the idea 
of making at least a reconnaissance of its lower 
slopes under our own guidance. Wilson suggested 
a shorter route than by the Simpson Pass, one that 

should follow a branch of Healy's Creek and lead to 

98 



flDeafcows on tbe Continental Divnfce 99 

the summit of the continental divide, where there 
is a level and open expanse above tree-line. On 
these elevated meadows, it is possible for horses to 
travel with ease in any direction. 

On July 23rd, about noon of the second day out 
from Banff, our party might have been seen on an 
Indian trail that runs through a dark forest, over- 
looking a narrow valley, and commands, through 
the trees, inspiring views of the height and depth 
of mountain grandeur. The trail led persistently 
upward, sometimes in pitches so steep as to worry 
our heavily burdened horses, till at length the 
larches began to appear, and gave a sure sign that 
open country was near. Presently the slope be- 
came gentle. Marching through open meadows and 
between larch-crowned ridges, we soon entered a 
delightful upland. We could see the peaks of dis- 
tant mountains rising above the open country, while 
all the low regions were hidden from view. An ex- 
cellent trail (as is always the case when there is no 
urgent need for one) led us gradually above the re- 
gion of larches till we were surrounded by banks 
of Alpine flowers, and snow-drifts lingering from a 
stormy winter. Far to the south a sharp mountain 
of striking outline rose above the meadowy expanse. 
It was Mt. Assiniboine. 

We made camp by a small lake which was dot- 
ted with several rocky islands and enclosed by stern 
cliffs where a few half-dead larches were standing, 
or their ancient hulks, bare of bark and bleached 



l.tfc. 



ioo Gbe IRocMes of Canaba 

by the exposure of centuries, covered the ground. 
Bryant, who was familiar with the interior of La- 
brador and Greenland, said the place recalled those 
barren regions. The day of our arrival was one of 
brilliant sunshine, while great cumulus clouds were 
suspended in the blue vault above. The green 
meadows and rolling hills from which we seemed to 
command a view of the entire world were veritable 
gardens of wild-flowers growing near drifts which 
nearly gave us snow-blindness. Summer was just 
coming to this upper world, and all nature was alive. 
Springs and streams were carrying away the snow- 
drifts and turning to snow-white foam again, as they 
fell over ledges to lower levels and other meadows. 
Butterflies floated across our paths, flies and bees 
were gathering honey from the flowers to scatter un- 
consciously the pollen of the anemones and the 
heaths, while even a few birds visited this high re- 
gion to prey upon the innumerable insects which 
were enjoying their brief summer. 

Brief indeed it was, or at least interrupted for a 
time. Clouds gathered in the night, and the next 
morning a cold rain was falling and soon turned to 
snow. The upper hills began to whiten, and pres- 
ently, the snow remained upon the ground near our 
upland camp. The storm increased and shrouded 
the nearer hills in gloom, shutting out our land- 
marks, for we were to travel that day in spite of the 
weather. It was cold and cheerless work for our 
men and us to roll up our wet and slushy tents and 



H fHM&summer Snow-storm 101 

keep our blankets dry while the shivering horses 
were packed. Some were refractory and wild, so 
that an hour was wasted in patient and artful 
effort in the wet brush to catch two of them. A 
large fire was kept blazing to bring back life and 
warmth to our half-frozen fingers. We should never 
have undertaken a march through a country un- 
known to every one of the party, had we not carried 
an excellent contour map of the Topographical Sur- 
vey, besides a compass and an aneroid. We were 
like a mariner with an excellent chart, steering his 
storm-beaten ship through unknown dangers. 

At the very commencement of our march, all 
spread out and tried to locate the trail, but the snow 
was now deep enough to conceal every evidence of 
this valuable guide. Regardless of this setback, 
our horses were assembled and a plan made to pur- 
sue our way, relying on the compass and aneroid. It 
fell upon me to take the responsibility of leadership, 
so with map in hand, 1 preceded at some distance 
and on foot, so that whenever a mistake was made 
I could run back and direct the men and horses else- 
where. Our route, according to the map, lay for 
several miles through an undulating country, which 
was, in fact, the very backbone of the continent. 
On one side was the deep valley of the Simpson, 
three thousand feet below, and on the other side, 
the streams which unite into Healy's Creek. It soon 
appeared that with every mountain concealed from 
view, and every high hill, even to the narrow circle 



102 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

of snow-covered ground near us, shrouded in mist 
and flying snow, the task of keeping a certain direc- 
tion through the maze of ridges and impassable 
snow-drifts was not easy. Several times we found 
ourselves on the crest of a precipice, overlooking 
the blackness of unknown depths, or, still more dis- 
heartening, near a lake or a stream that looked 
remarkably like what we had passed long before. 
Crossing many ridges of moderate height, we were 
often caught between deep snow-drifts, when a re- 
treat was necessary, or sometimes a perilous passage 
over the snow was tried, but fortunately these great 
snow-banks were hard in the middle and bore our 
horses up, though they usually broke through at the 
edges where the snow was only three or four feet 
in depth. Thus we marched, closely surrounded on 
every side by a thick and impenetrable gloom, in 
which various forms of strange hills and cliffs contin- 
uously loomed before us, passed by, and disappeared. 
At length, according to our map, we should come 
to a ridge or pass about 7800 feet in height, where 
certain landmarks, one of which was a small lake, 
would appear if we were right in our calculations. 
Hitherto the rolling nature of the country gave 
no certain clue, nor offered determinate landmarks, 
while our altitude was nearly uniform. Owing to 
countless reverses and delays, we might have been 
now quite turned round. It was therefore with the 
greatest interest that we found ourselves ascending 
to the crest of a ridge, seemingly like one shown on 



H IDieion of Strange flDountaine 103 

the map, for the whole question would be settled 
upon looking into the basin beyond. 

Whatever interest there may have been to learn 
our whereabouts was absorbed upon reaching the 
ridge crest by a revelation of wild and gloomy grand- 
eur that I have never seen equalled. Our little 
band of men and horses were standing upon a 
craggy ledge, where splintered rocks, frost-rent and 
rough, rose through perpetual snows, making a 
tower of observation, whence we looked out on a 
mountain wilderness. Shifting winds were sweep- 
ing fog-banks and clouds far above the highest 
trees of a forest-clad valley, now faintly discernible 
through the storm. Yet they were below the crest 
of our lofty pinnacle, where our storm-beaten band 
of horses, steaming in moisture, stood darkly out- 
lined against the pale mists. No gleam of light 
broke through the lurid sky. The monotonous grey 
of falling snow had given place to heaving bands of 
clouds, for the storm was breaking. Then slowly 
and mysteriously beyond a dark abyss rose a beauti- 
ful vision of mountains clad in new snow. Their 
bases rested on unsubstantial fog, their tops were 
partially concealed by clinging mists, and they were 
apparently so far away as to seem like the highest 
mountains in the world. 

Overawed by these wonders of the breaking 
storm, the nature of the immediate country was, for 
a moment, forgotten. Then we formed a group 
around the map, its folds now broken, and the paper 



104 Zbe IRocMes of Canada 

a mass of pulp from melted snow, and with com- 
pass upon it, we hoped to prove that so far no mis- 
take had been made. Some of the ridges appeared 
as they should, according to the map, but a certain 
lake was missing. We knew about where it should 
be, but unfortunately no lake appeared. Descend- 
ing a short distance to command a better view, I 
saw a lake and shouted back the glad tidings. Bry- 
ant and Steele said it was a lake too, but they did it 
so as not to hurt my feelings. 1 had been working 
pretty hard for the success of the day's march, and 
they wished to encourage me. What a lake that 
was, to be sure ! It seemed about ten feet across. 
Two hot days might dry it away, or a bunch of 
ponies could easily drink it up. So we had made a 
huge blunder, and it was best to go down to the 
woods and strike camp till another day. A last de- 
spairing effort led me to reconnoitre several hundred 
feet below, when 1 came to an overhanging ledge, 
and with wild joy beheld a fine little lake, nestling 
dark and blue on the whitened mountain side. 

Rapidly descending, our route lay along the shore 
of the coveted lake, which was located at the level 
of tree-line and was surrounded by the highest skir- 
mishers of the forest. Thence we marched through 
long, rolling meadows, in gentle descent to places 
quite free of snow. Here the trail appeared, and led 
us for miles along the very crest of the continent, by 
other lakes and streams, some flowing to our right 
into the Pacific, others, to our left, into the Atlantic. 



H perilous descent 105 

Here each swamp and ridge marked the sinuous 
border line between East and West ; between two 
oceans ; between British Columbia and the North- 
west Territory. 

The storm was rapidly breaking. Distant mount- 
ains were disclosed, and their snow-clad slopes were 
flashed with beams of sunlight through dark clouds. 
A sharp-crested mountain arose on our right, and at 
its base was a fine lake three-quarters of a mile long. 
Leaving this behind, we came to a desolate pass, 
filled with great stones, snow-covered and barren. 
This was the highest point of the day, and then 
ensued a continuous descent into the Simpson valley. 
Here we got beyond the limits of our map and like- 
wise of the visible trail. After long and tedious 
delay, we took our horses down a slope, not at all 
to their liking. Our route lay through a gulch filled 
with burnt timber, where the poor animals slipped 
and rolled their packs over their heads in a desperate 
descent of two thousand feet, until at length we 
fairly tumbled into the Simpson valley. However, 
an abundance of succulent grass for our horses, and 
hot Scotch for us, soon mended things. We were 
absolutely soaked through from our long march in 
the storm and made a late camp in burnt timber. 

The next day, which was sunshiny and warm, 
found us at noon near the great ascent in the Simp- 
son valley. At the base of this the river gushes out 
in springs. At the top there is no water. Ascend- 
ing the steep slopes of this abrupt hill, we entered 



106 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

a valley that is almost unique in these mountains. 
The whole place for three or four miles is a succes- 
sion of weird hillocks of grey and whitish limestone 
of fantastic form and outline. No springs or streams 
water this "valley of the gnomes," as we called it, 
though a struggling growth of small spruces adorns the 
place and takes away its barren aspect. Our spread- 
ing line of horses appeared very picturesque as they 
followed the winding trail, which makes many little 
turns, or sudden pitches and ascents, among these 
extraordinary mounds and copses. The termination 
is at a small limestone-girt lake, which is about four 
miles from our old camp at Mt. Assiniboine. 

It seems to me that this strange valley has been 
made by a tremendous catastrophe of nature. Op- 
posite the great pitch where the whole level of the 
valley suddenly rises nearly a thousand feet, and 
also opposite the little limestone lake, where the 
character of the country changes again, are notches 
in the mountain ridge to the north, and it appears as 
though a massive fragment of the mountain, three 
miles long and from three hundred to five hundred 
feet thick, had scaled off and fallen into the valley. 
Above this lake the valley is lined with meadows 
where deep streams flow over beds of black gravel 
and then sink away and disappear. These waters 
probably pass under the broken masses of limestone 
only to reappear where the landslide ends. 

Mt. Assiniboine suddenly appeared as we reached 
the lake. The distant peak was reflected in placid 



Seconfc Camp at Bssiniboine 107 

waters, which our thirsty horses disturbed as they 
drank. It was now late afternoon and there would 
have been suggestions of making camp were we not 
so near Assiniboine. So we plodded on through 
weary miles of beautiful meadow land upheaved in 
countless hummocks, very tiring to ourselves and 
horses. I kept far ahead of our party, and at night- 
fall lit a fire on the site of our old camp, shouting 
back to their answering cries as they drove our horses 
at a gallop through the woods. 

The period of four days which we spent here 
was full of interest to every one of our party, though 
certain minor accidents had changed our plans. One 
of our ice-axes had been broken by a horse falling 
against a tree, and moreover, my knapsack, contain- 
ing all my personal effects and various scientific 
instruments, had totally disappeared. Campbell, 
our packer, went back eight miles the next day, but 
failed to find it. " Did you search carefully the long, 
steep pitch," 1 inquired. " That is the only place I 
did not go over," said he, "because I found the 
trail on the other side and thought 1 would take the 
chance on this one place." So he and I spent 
the next day in further search and found my roll 
upon the long slope, with a small burnt tree caught 
in the straps, showing how it had been torn from the 
pack. 

While Bryant and Steele were climbing the neigh- 
bouring mountains, which were familiar to me, I spent 
the day in photographic work near the two summit 



Civ KocMes of (Uuiaba 

lakes, ch, Lake Aline. 1 was particu- 

larly anxious to succeed This pretty sheet of \\ al 
s typical &f nanj n - itain lakes. They are fou 

aur tree-line in a setting of larch trees and snow- 
c latter remain until July. Fed by melting 
and cold sp igs their waters are remark- 
ten shallow, and usually not so highly 

as akes of lower altitudes. Their chief 

es in their mountain surroundings, their 

>le banks li ith heather and larch trees. 

rt st c sh res Only on the 

stormier s they without calms and reflec- 

The ripples on such lakes of small extent 

aire but a brief respite from wind to settle hn 

pei I that more delightful stage, when 

, water, still tremulous yet generally smooth, gives 

soft reflc ct - of tree- and d 

T! return for the lost knapsack \ 

! nt by E i Steele in an interesting manner. 

The ascc I of Mt. Assiniboine. reach- 

ght of I md fee: expl ring the 

s w fields I . se I le steep cliffs of the 

Turning southward from our camp. 

_ y walked thi _ c untry to the base o\ the 

are, with rope and the two remaining 

ce-; ces, they commence ias ascent of the snow 

3 from the upper glacier 

and rests n the lower. This I of seven or 

t ght hundred fee; ace nplished and rt but 

e over a water-worn cliff, led them to 



H (Partial Hecent 109 

a wide expanse of unbroken snow, which they 
traversed southward for two miles to the very base 
of Assiniboine's highest pinnacle. A projecting spur 
on an arete to the west offered an opportunity to 
reach easily a considerable altitude and command a 
view to the south. This they accomplished after 
several hours' work and attained a height of ten 
thousand feet. The forenoon of that day was nearly 
perfect. There were clouds and signs of thunder 
toward midday, and in the early afternoon they saw 
a storm in the south, and another in the north-west, 
which seemed to approach the mountain rapidly. 
Descending in haste, they had just come to the top 
of the last ice slope, when Steele's foothold gave 
way, and he fell, dragging Bryant after him. There 
was but one possible escape from a terrible fall. A 
projecting rock of considerable size appeared not far 
below, and Steele, with a skilful lunge of his ice- 
axe, swung round to it and anchored himself in a 
narrow crevice, where the snow had melted away. 
No sooner had he come to a stop than Bryant shot 
over him from above and likewise found safety. 
Otherwise, they would have fallen about six hundred 
feet, with serious, if not fatal, results. 

The storms which were promised gathered in the 
late afternoon and were followed by a night of rain 
and wind. Next morning was one of foul and fickle 
weather. Showers of hail and snow and gusts of 
wind swept wildly through the valley and shrouded 
the mountains from view. Mt. Assiniboine seems 



no Gbe IRocftfes of CanaDa 

to be a gathering place for storms. During our visit 
in 1894, we had a week of bad weather at this place, 
in the middle of July, and now again, at the same 
period of the year, fresh snow covered the ground. 

Before saying farewell to Assiniboine, some gen- 
eral remarks on this great peak would be in order. 
Mt. Assiniboine is the culminating point of a part of 
the mountains on the continental watershed. Five 
spurs reach out from the central peak and cover an 
area of about thirty square miles. Fourteen or fif- 
teen lakes, small and large, nestle around its imme- 
diate base and supply the waters of three rivers, the 
Simpson, the Cross, and the Spray. Above two of 
the valleys the mountain rises abruptly six thousand 
feet, but above the one on the north the total ascent 
is only five thousand feet. Every side of this mount- 
ain is exceedingly steep, the east face being an abso- 
lute precipice, and the other two having slopes that 
average fifty degrees. The rock strata are nearly 
horizontal, and are eroded into many precipitous 
bands which girdle the mountain, and these, together 
with the disintegrated limestone and frequent fresh 
snow, will make it a difficult prize for the climber. 
In my opinion, the south face offers the best chance, 
but it will require heroic effort to bring horses into 
that waste of burnt timber, where in 1894 Barrett, 
Peyto, and I made our foot journey. The north side, 
where the mountain has the most striking appear- 
ance and has a remarkable resemblance to the Mat- 
terhorn, will no doubt be the point of attack. This 



Ifour Different "Routes m 

side, moreover, offers the pleasantest position and 
surroundings for a camping-ground. 

Of the four routes to Assiniboine which are fa- 
miliar to me, the one by which we returned to Banff 
in 1899 is the easiest, and at the same time most 
uninteresting. A gap in the mountains north-east of 
Mt. Assiniboine leads to the headwaters of the Spray 
River, and a rapid descent from the elevated plain 
where our camp was to the bottom of the deep val- 
ley is the most attractive part of the journey. On 
the right, one of the most stupendous cliffs in the 
mountains towered above us as we followed the 
trail through the forest. Then after a few miles we 
came to burnt timber, which we traversed uninter- 
ruptedly for two days. Part of our route was through 
the White Man's Pass, and the white men have 
burnt up all the woods. However, the timber is all 
standing between Assiniboine and the Spray lakes, 
so that the travelling is excellent. 

From the Spray lakes to Canmore the miners 
have kept the trail in excellent condition for the sake 
of the fishing, and in proof of this we marched 
twenty miles on the last day of our journey. 

The route over the Simpson Pass and down the 
river is by far the longest and hardest way and re- 
quires five or six days' travel. By the Simpson and 
up the river, through the weird and waterless Gnome 
Valley, is shorter, but not advisable. Our route 
along the high plateau region on the summit of the 
Rockies is the most varied and interesting way to 



H2 £be IRocMea of Cana&a 

Assiniboine, but there is a very difficult descent of 
two thousand feet into the Simpson valley. 

There is another possible way to reach Mt. Assin- 
iboine from Banff, by following the south fork of 
Healy's Creek. 1 saw a gap in the mountains as we 
were descending the Spray, near its source, which 
appears to offer a low pass into the region where 
Healy's Creek rises. No trail is known to go up this 
fork of Healy's Creek and 1 have never been able to 
get any information from the Indians about a pass. 
Theoretically this should be the shortest possible 
route to Mt. Assiniboine, and the problem is a tempt- 
ing one to some enterprising explorer with a week 
to spare. 



CHAPTER VII 

EFFECT OF ENVIRONMENT ON CAMP LIFE — PASSING OF OLD 
CUSTOMS — HOW TO COMMENCE A CAMPING TRIP — THE 
CAMPER HIS OWN GUIDE — PITCHING CAMP— THE WESTERN 
PACKER — BILL PEYTO — A CHARACTER SKETCH — A DAY OF 
CAMP LIFE — DRIVING IN THE HORSES — BREAKFAST ON THE 
FROSTY GRASS — SADDLING UP AND PACKING — GLORIES OF 
EARLY MORNING — ON THE MARCH — FOREST DEPTHS — OPEN 
MEADOWS AND BURNT TIMBER — FORDING TORRENTS — 
SILENCE OF HIGH ALTITUDES — ORIGIN AND DEGENERATION 
OF INDIAN TRAILS — AGILITY OF PACK-HORSES — CHOOSING 
A CAMP SITE — THE INDIAN CAYUSE — SOME UNUSUAL PACK- 
HORSES — EVENINGS ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE — PEYTO'S EX- 
PERIENCE ON THE PIPESTONE PASS — ADVENTURE OF TWO 
PROSPECTORS — STARVATION IN THE WILDERNESS — WON- 
DERFUL INDIAN TRAILING 

CAMP life in every part of the world is affected 
by environment. The kind of animals used 
to carry the provisions and equipment de- 
pends on the country. In the Rockies of Canada the 
only animal suitable to convey the explorer and his 
outfit through the mountain forests and over the 
swelling rivers that oppose his progress is the Indian 
pony. Mules cannot be used in these mountains as 
they are farther south because they lack courage in 
water, and their small feet allow them to sink deeply 

8 

113 



n4 Zbc IRockies of Cana&a 

in those swamps that the larger hoofed horse can 
barely pass over. 

Many customs of camp life in the North-west are 
derived from the fur traders. The earliest explorers 
and railroad builders have handed them down to the 
sportsmen and mountain climbers of to-day. But a 
new element is being introduced with the rapid in- 
crease of camping parties in the Rockies of Canada. 
While bacon and beans continue to be the main- 
stay of camp fare, as of right they should, campers 
are getting into the habit of carrying preserved fruits 
and vegetables, and such other luxuries as make the 
old-timers wonder at the change of customs. The 
rugged simplicity and semi-starvation of old days are 
passing. A guide once told me that upon a certain 
occasion he called at a wayside house for a meal. 
Seeing no pepper and salt to season the coarse fare, 
he ventured the polite suggestion that they would be 
appreciated, but was considerably startled when the 
old woman held up her hands in surprise. "What 
— luxuries ! " she cried ; " pepper and salt — luxuries, 
and all for two bits ? " An instance of a similar na- 
ture concerns a hungry traveller who was invited to 
share a simple meal with a lone prospector. Nothing 
appeared on the festive board but a generous supply 
of bacon and mustard. The unfortunate guest, being 
unused to the ways of the country, declared that he 
did not eat bacon. "Ah, well," said his host, "1 
am very sorry. Help yourself to the mustard." 

Camp life in the Canadian Rockies now affords a 



fhovo to Commence a Camping Grip 115 

much greater refinement of comfort and variety of 
eatables than ten years ago, just as camping out in 
the Adirondacks and eastern Canada suggests steak 
for breakfast, and even a newspaper not more than 
three days old. 

The number of camping parties that travel among 
the Canadian Rockies every year is rapidly increas- 
ing. This manner of spending a vacation will soon 
become more popular as the great pleasure-grounds 
become better known. About one-half the number 
of campers are sportsmen, and the rest are either 
mountain climbers or explorers. Many, of course, 
wander among these wilds for the mere love of na- 
ture, and for the simple and healthful life in the 
evergreen woods, surrounded by mountains, running 
streams, or placid lakes. 

Imagine, then, that you intend to make a trip into 
the mountains. You must first engage your packer 
and cook, and procure saddle-horses and a full out- 
fit of blankets, tents, and general camp necessaries. 
There are agents at Banff, the general starting-place 
for all expeditions in the eastern range, who will fur- 
nish you with horses, men, and everything needed 
for trips of whatever length or nature, and thus re- 
lieve you of all responsibility. One of the most ex- 
perienced outfitters is Tom Wilson, who packed for 
the railroad surveyors many years ago. During the 
summer season " Wilson's " is frequently the scene 
of no little excitement when some party is getting 
ready to leave. Then you may see ten or fifteen 



n6 Gbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

wicked-eyed ponies, some in a corral and the rest 
tied to trees ready for packing. If the horses are 
making their first trip for the season there will be 
considerable bucking and kicking before all is ready. 
Several men are seen bustling about, assorting and 
weighing the packs, and making order out of the pile 
of blankets, tents, and bags of flour or bacon. The 
cayuses are saddled and cinched up one by one, with 
many a protesting bite and kick. The celebrated 
" diamond hitch " is used in fastening the packs, and 
the struggling men look picturesque in their old 
clothes and sombreros as they tighten the ropes, 
bravely on the gentle horses, but rather gingerly 
when it comes to a bucking bronco. 

A crowd of the business men of Banff, who usually 
take about 36s holidays every year, stands around to 
offer advice and watch the sport. Then the pict- 
uresque train of horses with their wild-looking drivers 
files out through the village streets under a fusillade 
of snap-shot cameras and the wondering gaze of new 
arrivals from the east. But these evidences of civili- 
sation are soon left behind and after a few miles the 
primitive wilderness is entered. Some parts of the 
mountains are more easily reached from other points 
than Banff. Thus you leave the railroad at Castle 
Mountain for the Vermilion Pass, at Laggan for the 
Pipestone and sources of the Bow, and at Field for 
the Ottertail and Kicking Horse rivers. In such cases 
it is easier to meet guides and horses at these stations 
and commence camp life there. The maps of this 



Gbe Camper bis ®wn (Buibe 117 

part of Canada give only a rough idea of the country 
at best, while many parts of the mountains are even 
yet a geographical blank. Then, too, the maps are 
on a scale which does not permit of much detail, so 
that what seems a short and easy journey on the 
map often proves a struggle amongst bewildering 
ranges of mountains when the trip is commenced. 
Moreover, there are as yet no guides for these mount- 
ains, and the explorer must depend in general on his 
own judgment in finding a way. This is done by 
following the great rivers which, by their relative 
position and direction, are always a certain clue. 
The several ranges of the Rockies have an almost con- 
stant trend north north-west, and south south-east. 
This fact, along with a general knowledge of the 
streams and lakes, or information picked up from the 
Indians, is the main reliance of the camper. Every 
year the packers who go on such trips gain know- 
ledge of the passes and trails, so that the day is 
not distant when there will be efficient guides for 
many of the most interesting excursions. However, 
the necessity for self-reliance and the use of one's 
own judgment in picking a way through the count- 
less obstacles of these mountains are great sources 
of pleasure. 

The camper inexperienced in the methods of the 
North-west, has much to learn. It is quite possible 
that until the first camp is made he is quite ignorant 
of what all those mysterious bags and boxes contain 
which have been transported at great expenditure of 



n8 Zbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

horse-flesh and bad language a day's journey into the 
woods. The pitching of the first camp is a revela- 
tion to the inexperienced. After a suitable site 
has been chosen, with fire-wood and water con- 
veniently near, and a meadow not far away where 
the horses may find pasture, the men cut tent-poles 
and the cook spreads his pots and pails round a 
crackling fire. The pack-saddles and blankets are 
usually piled beneath some large tree and covered 
with a canvas sheet, — while another sheet covers 
the bags of provisions. The cook soon has several 
pots on the fire, stewing apples or apricots, making 
hot water for tea or cocoa, or perhaps cooking the 
omnipresent bean. Two boxes, called cook boxes, 
stand near at hand, and they contain cans of con- 
densed milk, all the spices and condiments, the small 
tins of preserves and pickles that have been opened 
or are in constant use, as well as the table dishes, 
plates, knives, forks, and spoons, which are no less 
necessary. It may be a week or more before the 
numerous small bags tucked away in larger ones 
have been sampled. 

While dinner is preparing and the delicious odour 
of frying bacon blends with the pungent smoke of 
the spruce-wood fire, there is time for a little study 
of our packers and cook. Who are they and whence 
did they come ? Perhaps no more interesting char- 
acter has ever appeared in this region than my old 
packer, Bill Peyto. I made my first excursion to 
Assiniboine with him and have travelled several 




;,' 



BUI fl>e$to 119 

hundred miles under his guidance. Bill is very quiet in 
civilisation, but becomes more communicative around 
an evening camp-fire, when he delights to tell his 
adventures. His has been a roving life. The story of 
his battle with the world, his escapades and suffer- 
ings of hunger and exposure, not to mention the 
dreams and ambitions of a keen imagination with 
their consequent disappointments, has served to 
entertain many an evening hour. Peyto assumes a 
wild and picturesque though somewhat tattered at- 
tire. A sombrero, with a rakish tilt to one side, a 
blue shirt set off by a white kerchief (which may 
have served civilisation for a napkin), and a buck- 
skin coat with fringed border, add to his cowboy 
appearance. A heavy belt containing a row of cart- 
ridges, hunting-knife and six-shooter, as well as the 
restless activity of his wicked blue eyes, give him an 
air of bravado. He usually wears two pairs of trou- 
sers, one over the other, the outer pair about six 
months older. This was shown by their dilapidated 
and faded state, hanging, after a week of rough 
work in burnt timber, in a tattered fringe knee-high. 
Every once in a while Peyto would give one or two 
nervous yanks at the fringe and tear off the longer 
pieces, so that his outer trousers disappeared day by 
day from below upwards. Part of this was affecta- 
tion, to impress the tenderfoot, or the "dude," as 
he calls everyone who wears a collar. But in spite 
of this Peyto is one of the most conscientious and 
experienced men with horses that I have ever known. 



l2 o Gbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

In camp, Peyto always goes down to see his 
horses once or twice a day even if they are several 
miles distant, and 1 have even known him to look 
after them in the depths of night when he thought 
they might be in trouble. When the order to march 
has been given the night before, our horses are 
in camp at dawn. Quick and cool in time of real 
danger, he has too much anxiety about trouble ahead, 
and worries himself terribly about imaginary evils. 
He sleeps with a loaded rifle and a hunting-knife by 
his side. " Bill," said I, one night, upon noticing a 
row of formidable instruments of death near me, 
''why in the mischief do you have all of those 
shooting-irons and things here ? " "I tell you," said 
he, with an anxious look, " 1 believe this country is 
full of grizzlies ; I heard a terrible noise in the woods 
this afternoon, and besides that, they say the Koot- 
enay Indians have risen. They may come into the 
valley any night." 

A picture of a train of horses crossing an angry 
stream comes to my memory, and one animal has 
put his forefoot through the head-rope and fallen 
helpless as he is swept away by the torrent. Sud- 
denly a man leaps from his saddle, and with a sharp 
knife in hand, rushes out into a foaming swirl of 
waters whence it seems impossible for anyone to 
return alive. A flash of steel in the sunlight shows 
the rope has been cut, and after a struggle the horse 
regains the shore, dragging the man after. It was 
Peyto ! On another occasion a fast freight, coming 



H 2>as of Camp Xife 



121 



suddenly around a curve, surprised two pack-horses 
at a few yards' distance, but Peyto struck one on 
the head, and seizing the rope of the other, pulled 
the beast from the rails as the engine rushed by, 
while everyone else stood immovable in a paraly- 
sis of fear. 

The best idea of Rocky Mountain camp life might 
be had by following in imagination the events of an 
ordinary day. The first sound that usually awakens 
you is the tramping of horses, the approaching shouts 
and curses of the packer, and the tinkle of the bell 
mare's bell as the ponies are driven to camp. The 
packer's first duty is to get up at dawn and go after 
the horses. They may be miles away or they may 
have crossed a deep stream. After one of the tamest 
animals has been caught, the packer rides bareback 
and drives the others in at a gallop. 

By this time the imperturbable early riser has 
begun to make life miserable for his companions, 
though it may be an hour before breakfast. There 
is often found in camping parties one of those cranks 
with an old saw — as false as was ever written — 
about, "Early to bed," etc., to back him in his evil 
ways. He is up at the crack of dawn, even in these 
northern mountains where the sun shines eighteen 
hours a day. The evening camp-fire, the hot punch, 
and the good stories of adventure are all lost on him 
that he may prowl around alone in the darkness and 
frost of early morning, to the worriment of his 
friends. 



122 £be IRocfues of Canaba 

At length, however, the cook shouts— " Break- 
fast is ready" — an announcement that was heralded 
by the sound of the axe, the crackling of fire-wood 
and the sizzling of bacon. A cold wash in a neigh- 
bouring stream or lake is a good awakener. Presently 
everyone gathers around the "table," a piece of 
canvas spread on the frosty grass and flowers. Por- 
ridge and milk, bacon and beans, hot coffee and 
bannock or camp bread, with possibly some kind of 
stewed fruit, compose the ordinary fare. The hour 
immediately after is busy for all. While the packer 
is "saddling up" the cook washes the dishes and 
packs the small articles in his cook boxes. Open 
tins are provided with rough-and-ready covers and 
placed so their contents will not spill while on the 
horse's back. The large bags are tied up and every- 
thing gradually becomes ready for packing. Mean- 
while, you roll up your personal effects, toilet articles, 
changes of clothes, and make ready your camera 
and such scientific instruments as you carry. The 
tents, which have been standing so that the morning 
sun and wind may dry the dew or rain, come down 
last of all, and are rolled up as side packs. Then 
commences the real work of packing, which after 
the first day or so becomes easier. The particular 
pack for each horse is known, and everything is 
systematised. However, the constant change in the 
weight of bags, as provisions are used, requires 
some little attention on the part of the packer, be- 
cause one of the most important essentials of good 



(Stories of i£arl\> flDorniitQ 123 

packing is to have the two side packs of equal 
weight. 

While the men are at work there is an opportu- 
nity to write up notes of the previous day. Fre- 
quently the frost or dew remains on the grass in 
these deep valleys till marching time, though the sun 
may have been shining for hours on the bare rocks 
and snow fields of the mountain tops. The slowly 
approaching rays creep over the forest, and at length 
the sun appears above some mountain ridge and 
pours a sudden flood of light upon the camp. 1 
once saw the morning sun thus suddenly strike 
upon an upland flower-garden. A moment before 
the white anemones were hanging their blossoms 
and shrivelled leaves under the death-like touch of 
frost. A sudden splendour of illumination poured 
over the field as the sun rose above a mountain, and 
in a moment, as if by magic, the frost crystals melted 
away into pendant drops of heaven's own distillation. 
Beads of clear water dripping from leaves and tinted 
petals, made tremulous light flashings like the sparkle 
of diamonds and rubies. The calm of night still 
rested upon the field, and there was not the slightest 
air motion. But the sunlight was at work, and in a 
moment a leaf quivered, then another, and a droop- 
ing blossom made a scarcely sensible movement. 
This was the commencement of a marvellous change, 
for the hanging leaves began to straighten, the closed 
petals of numberless blossoms expanded in the sun- 
light, and in a short time the whole field of nature's 



124 Ztoc IRocfcies of Canafca 

wild flowers was full of motion, and every plant 
was quivering and leaping toward the life-giving 
warmth. What an illustration of the power of sun- 
light ! And what vitality these Alpine plants must 
have to survive several hours of frost in their mid- 
summer nights ! 

The day's journey means many new experiences. 
As the horses file along the narrow trail, the mount- 
ains seem to move majestically, changing their out- 
line at every new point of observation, and showing 
new glimpses of snow fields and rugged cliffs. 
With every great bend in the valley, or upon each 
pass ascended, there comes a long vista of strange 
mountains into view. During the five or six hours 
of the average day's travel, many incidents occur to 
add interest to the marvels of scenery. Except 
where the trail is very good the train of horses is not 
driven without the exercise of patience. In bad 
places their efforts are accelerated by torrents of pro- 
fanity that shock the tenderfoot. The men claim 
that pack-horses will not travel well unless roundly 
cursed, because it is the only language they under- 
stand. 

The monotony of riding an Indian pony during 
the slow march of five or six hours as the poor beast 
struggles over logs and through swampy places, 
fighting bull-dog flies and grey gnats, is broken by 
that endless variety and change of surroundings, 
that are a source of delight in every part of these 
mountains. Sometimes the trail leads for a time 



©n tbe flDarcb 125 

through deep forests where the mountains are lost 
to view. In the cool depths of forest shade the 
rhododendron grows, and the moist and mossy 
ground is often dotted with the wax-like blossoms 
of the one-flowered pyrola, or the pretty violet-like 
butterwort, with its cluster of root leaves smeared 
with a viscid secretion. Some stupid fool-hen, a 
species of grouse, is more than likely to be seen in a 
tree near the trail, and proves that her name is de- 
served, when the bullets fly. She merely cranes 
her neck in stupid wonderment, till at last her head 
goes off, and then there is a great flapping of wings, 
but it is too late. The bird will, however, make a 
fine dinner to-night. 

From silent forest depths the trail no doubt leads 
alongside a noisy stream, boulder-strewn, and 
hemmed by willows and birch, or across some 
meadow, gay with scarlet painted-cups, tiger lilies, 
or forget-me-nots. Here the horses take hasty 
mouthfuls of the rich grass, as they are hurried along 
to the other side. Perhaps the border of a lake is 
traversed, and while the splashing horses move will- 
ingly, there is time for glimpses of new beauty in 
water colouring and reflected mountains and trees. 
Stretches of burnt timber break the monotony of 
the unending panorama at more or less frequent 
intervals. Burnt forests, where the trees still remain 
standing, are easy to travel, but usually the fallen 
trunks are crossed three or four deep, and every 
year adds to the number. The procession comes 



126 Gbe IRocfciee of Cana&a 

to a halt after a few yards of progress in such places, 
and you often wonder what is going forward, but 
hear only the sound of the axe for answer. " We 
were surrounded," says one writer, "by muskegs, 
burnt timber, and bad language," in speaking of 
such a place, and it is impossible to travel far in the 
Rockies without finding a similar environment. 

The excitement of fording deep streams or noisy 
torrents of the lower valleys is in greatest contrast 
to quiet travel through some mountain pass where 
an eternal silence reigns. Here, perhaps, there are 
bare limestone cliffs, guarding a turf-lined pass, far 
above the limits of trees. Scattered pools are col- 
lected in the inequalities of rocks. No sound of 
bird or insect, of running water or woodland breezes, 
breaks the oppressive quiet. The tinkling of the 
bell and the tramp of horses give the only sign of 
your passing through these desolate high valleys. 

But when trails , either good or bad, penetrate it, 
how can a country be unmapped or unknown ? 
Perhaps in the same way that the natives have made 
foot-paths through the deserts of Australia and the 
jungles of Africa, the Indians of the North-west have 
made trails through all the larger valleys of the 
Rockies. These trails which, for aught we know, 
may date from the era of primitive man, and so 
represent some of the oldest of human foot-paths, 
are used by the Indians on their hunting expeditions. 
Before the coming of white men, they were used as 
a means of communication between the Kootenay 



flnMan Grails 127 

Indians and the tribes that inhabit the plains, for the 
bartering of fur, game, and horses. So all the im- 
portant valleys and passes have well-marked trails 
and the side valleys inferior ones, though it is not 
always easy to find them or stay on them when 
found. A trail is subject to constant degeneration, 
for several reasons. Avalanches and snow-slides 
sweep over it, and sometimes cover a long stretch 
with broken trees and great masses of rock. New 
areas of timber are burned over every year, and the 
charred trees, after standing a few years, begin to 
yield to the wind and storms and fall across the trail. 
Rapid mountain streams often change their courses, 
cutting away new banks and undermining many 
places where trails were made. Even in the prime- 
val forest the underbrush has a constant tendency 
to choke these pathways, and aged monarchs of the 
forest die and fall across them. No one ever cuts a 
tree, if there is a way around, because every one 
assumes, very selfishly, that he may never come that 
way again. Thus the Indian trail is a narrow path- 
way, worn by the hoofs of horses, clearly marked in 
open meadows or deep, mossy forests, but ever 
winding and retreating to avoid a multitude of 
obstacles and usually disappearing altogether when 
most needed, and some steep cliff or avalanche track 
or burnt timber seems to block the way. 

A day's march is often attended by incidents 
that give zest to the work of making progress. 
Bucking ponies try to rid themselves of their packs 



128 Gbe IRochies of Canada 

or riders. Packs come loose and must be adjusted, 
and sometimes a panic is caused among the horses 
when a hornet's nest is disturbed. Horses some- 
times get beyond their depth in crossing rivers, fall 
into muskegs up to their ears, or break a leg in fallen 
timber. Familiarity breeds no contempt for these 
agile Indian ponies, and new difficulties only cause 
renewed admiration of their wonderful skill, in jump- 
ing logs with heavy packs on their backs, threading 
the obscure trails and pitfalls of burnt timber, or 
fording the icy rapids of mountain streams. 

The length of the march necessarily depends on 
various circumstances, though "camp rules" say 
that six hours of trail work is all that should be done 
in one day. There must be a swamp or meadow 
not far distant, where the horses may pasture, with 
fire-wood and water near the camp site. Happily 
the two latter requisites are almost invariably pres- 
ent in the Rockies of Canada. First the horses are 
tied to trees, quickly unpacked, and sent off to their 
well-earned liberty. While they are rolling on the 
grass, joyful that another day's work is ended, the 
cook builds a fire, and soon has hot water for tea 
and other refreshments, of which the details are 
unimportant, if things are served quickly, and many 
times. What is the use of putting a man in a glass 
cage, and taking his temperature and weight to find 
the heat- and energy-value of various foods ? Let 
him come to the mountains, walking and climbing 
ten or twelve hours a day, and observe for himself. 



i 9 ii - 



fe«Stv ■ * !" 



HilBWff 






(tbooeing a Camp Site 129 

After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal (a splendid food 
for the sedentary) he will be ravenously hungry in 
two hours, of cornmeal, after three hours, of bacon 
and bread, in four or five hours, while pork and 
beans will sustain him from six to ten hours and 
give the utmost physical buoyancy and strength. 
Tea has the greatest stimulating effect on utterly 
weary muscles and nerves. Coffee, however, is 
better in cold weather, and cocoa for an evening 
drink around the camp-fire. In my opinion alco- 
holic stimulants should be used in camp life only for 
their reviving effect after exposure to cold and 
exertion, and never before or during any physical 
undertaking. 

One of the chief essentials of a camp, after the 
question of wood and water has been settled, is a 
piece of level ground. In certain meadows and 
open places, the rich grass will afford sufficient bed- 
ding on which to spread the blankets, but usually 
some bushes or stones must be cleared away, and 
balsam boughs laid on the ground, to give the re- 
quired comfort. The cook boxes, extra blankets, 
cameras, scientific instruments, and small articles are 
tucked away in the tents, where rain cannot injure 
them, but most of the provisions are piled under 
some tree and protected by a large canvas cover, 
along with the pack-saddles, cinch ropes, and other 
camp necessaries. 

No one can travel far on a camping expedition 
without feeling an interest in the Indian pony, upon 



130 Zbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

which so much depends. The Indian pony, or 
cayuse, probably owes its origin to a cross between 
the mustang and the horses introduced by the 
Spaniards in the conquest of Mexico. They are 
small horses with very great endurance and ability, 
combined with sufficient strength for all needful 
purposes. Some of them have "glass eyes," or a 
colourless condition of the retina, supposed to be 
the result of too much in-breeding. They are raised 
on the plains chiefly by the Indians, and their only 
food throughout their days is grass. In winter, most 
of the horses are driven from the mountains and pas- 
tured among the foothills, where they paw away the 
snow and find abundant nourishment in the " bunch 
grass." The hardest time comes at the end of win- 
ter, when the snow melts and freezes alternately. 
Then the ponies must starve unless they are driven 
in and fed by their owners. 

There is as much diversity of temperament among 
horses as among men. Some are nervous and intelli- 
gent, while others are stupid and obstinate. Horses 
do not seem to do as much independent thinking as 
mules, and are slower in many feats of intellect. A 
mule may be taught to travel miles alone over a beaten 
route, but a horse will stop and eat grass at the first 
meadow. They say a mule will walk over a trestle 
bridge like a dog, while a horse will invariably fall 
through before he has gone ten yards. But in swamps 
and deep water, the horse is far superior. Almost 
all cayuses are liable to buck and kick after a long 



Some ^Unusual pacMborses 131 

period of rest. These bad habits may have de- 
scended from their primitive ancestors, in efforts to 
throw off wolves or panthers, but are now used 
with effect on riders and packs. I have seen a horse 
stand up and fight with his forefeet, and an old 
bronco-buster once told me that he had had horses * 
rush upon him and try to kill him by Siting and y 
striking. 

Two of the most interesting pack-horses that I 
have ever known are the "Pinto "and the "Bay." 
The Pinto is a well-formed, graceful pony, with a 
light chestnut coat and irregular white patches on his 
flanks and chest. He has a long, beautiful tail and 
well-formed head, but he is so quick and nervous 
that I have never yet succeeded in getting a good pho- 
tograph of him. This Pinto is tame and affectionate, 
but afraid of any sudden movement, because, no 
doubt, some former owner had abused him. The 
Pinto is wonderfully intelligent, and as Peyto says, 
"knows more than anyone else about the trails." 
Sometimes we placed Pinto ahead and let him lead 
the procession for hours. Anyone seeing such a feat 
for the first time would find it quite incomprehensible. 
Once Pinto, when thus leading, took a small branch 
trail and left the well-defined open path. "You are 
wrong for once, Pinto, and have been caught napping 
at last," said I to myself. While the procession 
moved on, I followed the main trail, and soon came 
to a tree that had fallen across the trail and had caught 
about four feet from the ground. While I was 



132 Gbe IRockiee of Canafca 

examining this Pinto was about a quarter of a mile 
ahead, once more on the main trail, having gone 
round this unseen obstacle, unknown to any of us, 
but probably remembered by him from some previ- 
ous year. The Bay is Pinto's inseparable companion 
and friend. The two horses are always at the head 
of the line, and rarely allow any others to precede. 
The Bay defers only to Pinto's unusual intelligence 
and gives first place to him. Each of these horses 
carries two hundred and fifty or three hundred pounds 
on his back, while the smaller animals struggle with 
less by an hundredweight. 1 once saw the Bay 
clear a log three feet and ten inches from the ground, 
of his own will, under a heavy pack. These intelli- 
gent animals know all the obstacles of the trail, what 
two trees their pack will go between, what low 
branches they cannot pass under, and at a gentle 
word they hurry along, where an ordinary cayuse 
will stop to feed, or when shouted at, will run off 
into the bush. The Bay is the tamest animal 1 have 
ever known, and often loiters about the camp and 
pokes his head over one's shoulder as a gentle hint 
for a taste of salt or sugar. His feet are never insulted 
with hobbles, nor his head with a rope, for you may 
walk up to him any time in the pasture and place 
your arm round his great neck. 

Old Denny is a horse of another colour, a shaggy, 
thick-set cayuse, with a long coat and trailing fet- 
locks. No ambition ever stirs him to be in front, but 
on the contrary, Denny never allows any animal to 



©lb 2)ennt> 133 

be behind him, except the saddle-horse of some 
swearing packer who is hunting him along. Denny 
was born with an unconquerable tendency to be 
slow, and though you shout till you are hoarse, old 
Denny pursues his dignified way regardless. The 
result is that this singular animal always gets behind 
the procession, which he follows at his own sweet 
will. I have seen old Denny come strolling into camp 
half an hour after the other horses were unpacked. 
However, he is a conscientious old fellow, and never 
kicks or bucks or crushes his pack against trees. So 
he was selected to carry the most perishable packs, 
and has safely transported my valuable cameras hun- 
dreds of miles through the mountains. Peyto told 
me that Denny once had a brute for a master, who 
used to beat him terribly with a stick, till the poor 
animal would fall to the ground. After that he was 
taken to the coal mines at Anthracite, near Banff. In 
the perpetual darkness, however, Denny refused to 
work, in spite of the beatings and horrible cruelty 
that the miners practice on their horses. He next 
appeared as a pack-horse, and under the influence of 
kind treatment, became one of the tamest of the 
horses. Besides salt and sugar, which nearly all 
horses like after a few tastes, he would eat bread, 
flour, and even corn-meal, which, strange to say, 
these Western ponies do not consider proper food for 
horses. 

No matter how wild your horses may be at the 
commencement of' the journey, they will become 



134 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

gentle and tame with kind treatment. A little salt 
every morning for a week will gain their confidence, 
and will save, in many ways, far more than the 
outlay. 

The afternoon after a day's march may be occu- 
pied in short excursions to adjacent valleys or points 
of interest in the neighbourhood, so that the period 
after dinner, when the long day ends and the camp- 
fire lights up the forest, is the best time for stories of 
adventure and for sociability. The best camp-fire is, 
in my opinion, a big one, with great dry logs that 
crack and blaze brightly and make but little smoke. 
The Indians laugh at us and say, " White man make 
big fire — sit far off. Indian make little fire, — sit close" 
— right over it, in fact, with a few sticks, like a pile of 
jack-straws — for a fire. The advantages are that there 
is but little smoke and not much of a wood-pile to 
cut. Of course there is a limit to size, and I have 
seen fires where you had to make toast or broil a 
grouse on a twenty-foot pole. A camp-fire on a dark 
night always seems most cheerful in a deep forest, 
when the cheery sparks soar away to meet the stars 
and a ruddy glow illuminates the sombre trees and 
picturesque figures grouped before the tents. 

As the chill of night came on, we often had a 
light supper, or in any event made a pot of hot cocoa, 
and under the cheering influence of this, Peyto used 
to harangue us on his adventures. With a jerk, 
sailor-fashion, at his trousers, and a playful kick at 
the fire, 1 can imagine him, standing in picturesque 






— \ JP 

•**fii 

3S 








- 





OUR CAMP AT MORAINE LAKE 



peso's JEyperience 135 

attitude to warm himself. " Well," says he, <c did I 
ever tell you about my journey up the Pipestone ? " 
To our negative replies, he gives the story. "Some 
years ago a fellow by the name of S., and I, thought 
we would put in the winter on the Saskatchewan 
and trap marten. I had got three hundred dollars 
ahead, the only luck 1 ever had, and blew it all in on 
an outfit. You see we had a pretty big grub-pile 
besides a lot of traps, and it took a good many horses 
to tote it all. 1 thought we would make a pretty 
good haul by the way we sized up the country when 
I was there two years before. So we started from 
Laggan and struck for the head of the Pipestone. It 
was late in October, and there was some snow in 
the valley, but we could n't savey any such snow- 
drifts as we ran into near the summit. You know 
they say the Pipestone Pass is the highest in the 
mountains, and we were a long way above timber, 
when it came on to snow and blow worse than any- 
thing 1 ever saw before. The snow was five feet 
deep, and as it was our first time through, we did 
not know that we could ever reach the pass. I got 
out the shovel and cut a path for the horses, but I 
give you my word, before we had gone a hundred 
yards, the whole thing was blown full of snow again. 
I threw down the shovel and we started for Laggan, 
but by this time you could not see anything for the 
snow and wind. Neither of us could tell where the 
trail was. 1 was riding Pinto, and says I to myself, 
' I guess the cayuse knows where we are better than I 



136 Zbe IRocMes of Canada 

do,' so I let him have his head and never said a 
word, and you may not believe it, but that horse 
took us right back to Laggan in two days." 

"Some fellows did n't have such luck as you did, 
Bill, " said one of our men, ' ' for an old prospector told 
me he was coming down the Canoe River, and was 
somewhere near the Big Bend of the Columbia, I 
think it was, when he ran across an old camp, with 
everything lying around loose, and three skeletons 
on the ground." 

This recalled the story of an expedition that went 
out into the mountains and was never heard of again, 
men and horses having apparently perished together. 
Nothing less than a great snow-slide could so com- 
pletely have annihilated an entire party. 

One of the most exciting incidents of adventure 
in these mountains occurred in the summer of 1896. 
Two prospectors, named Temple and Smith, started 
from Canmore by way of the White Man's Pass to 
reach the Kootenay country. Having come to the 
gorge of the Vermilion River, their two pack-horses, 
overloaded and exhausted by long marches, could 
proceed no farther. As a last effort, they built a 
raft, and with their entire outfit commenced a voyage 
down the river, after abandoning the poor horses to 
their fate. It was not long before the raft came to 
very rough water and was wrecked in the rapids of 
the treacherous stream. The men reached the shore 
after the greatest effort, but, unfortunately, each 
on opposite sides of the river. After considerable 



H&venture of Zvoo prospectors 137 

shouting, one to the other, neither would consent to 
attempt to cross it, and the two separated in the heart 
of the wilderness, having saved neither food nor 
blankets from the wreck, nor firearms to procure 
game. Leaving Temple to proceed west, Smith en- 
deavoured to retrace his steps and find the horses, 
but he soon lost all idea of locality and direction. 
He wandered ceaselessly through the forests, slowly 
dying of starvation, though after several days he 
managed to kill a single grouse, which he ate raw. 
At length after eleven days, overcome with weak- 
ness, his courage failed, and he lay down to die. 
Just then he was startled by the loud whistle of a 
railroad engine, a sound that restored for a time his 
hope and strength. He came to a large river, which 
was in fact the Bow, and on the farther side saw 
some section men at work on the railroad. They 
came over in a boat in answer to his shouts and res- 
cued him from death. 

At Banff, where he was taken to recover his 
strength, he related the story of his sufferings and of 
his lost companion, about whom nothing had been 
heard. A relief party was hastily organised, consist- 
ing of the Rev. William Black of Banff, and a Stony 
Indian (our old friend) William Twin. William, with 
that wonderful power that the Indians alone seem to 
possess, of observing the faintest signs, followed the 
track of the rescued prospector up Healy's Creek, 
over the Simpson Pass to the Vermilion River, and 
thence to the place where the fatal raft had been 



138 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

wrecked. One of the horses was found here, and 
then, crossing the river, he took up the trail of the 
other prospector. With marvellous skill he led the 
way, even where the hard ground or solid rock pre- 
served no apparent footmarks. In one place he 
crossed a river on a log-jam, saying, as he pointed to 
the smooth logs : "Me see him trail — he go here — 
he go here," and in fact footprints appeared in the 
sand on the other side. The trail led them in two days 
more to the stage road on the Columbia, and they sur- 
mised that Temple had reached safety, as indeed 
was the case. Strangely enough, he had not men- 
tioned their adventure or told about leaving his com- 
panion, who came so near perishing, and only escaped 
death by the merest chance. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE WAPUTEHK RANGE — BURNT TIMBER OF THE BOW 
VALLEY — RELICS OF OLD TIMES — THE LOWER BOW 
LAKE — MUSKEGS — THE COLD WATER LAKE — DESCRIP- 
TION OF ITS SHORES — THE GREAT BOW GLACIER — 
APPROACH TO THE LITTLE FORK PASS — INSPIRING 
MOUNTAIN SCENERY — A SURVEYOR'S MISTAKE 

THE Summit Range of the Rocky Mountains as 
it extends north from the deep and narrow 
valley of the Kicking Horse Pass, has a spe- 
cial name, the Waputehk Range, derived from a 
word which, in the language of the Stony Indians, 
means the White Goat. From the top of a mount- 
ain in this range the climber has on every side a vast 
extent of ridges. In some places they rise into 
peaks of great height, and in others they subdivide 
into numerous spurs of lesser altitude. As usual 
throughout the Rockies, each ridge has a precipitous 
escarpment on the east, and a more gentle slope on 
the west. No passes cross the range between the 
Kicking Horse Pass, used by the railroad, and the 
Howse Pass, thirty miles to the north. Then an- 
other long interval northwards to the Athabasca 
Pass is said by the Indians to offer no route avail- 
able for horses. The ridges and peaks of these 

139 



140 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

mountains reach a height of between ten and twelve 
thousand feet. 

Among them there are many large snow fields, 
some of which are continuous for ten or fifteen miles 
or more. This results from a very heavy snowfall, 
as the westerly storms sweep over the lofty and con- 
tinuous range, and also from the existence of exten- 
sive level benches and elevated regions. From these 
snow fields glaciers descend into the valleys and 
carry away the surplus precipitation from the higher 
altitudes. The Bow River or south branch of the 
great Saskatchewan takes its source in two lakes 
which lie among the valleys of the eastern side of 
this interesting range. I had learned about the won- 
ders of this region from Tom Wilson, and my inter- 
est to see them was further increased by the fact 
that few, if any, tourists had as yet been to the 
Bow lakes. 

1 left Laggan on the fourteenth of August, 1895, 
with Bill Peyto, Harry Lang, and five horses in our 
outfit. The less said about the first eleven or twelve 
miles the better. It is nothing but a continuous 
burnt forest where much of the timber has fallen 
and become inextricably crossed, and where the trail, 
when most needed, invariably disappears under a 
pile of logs. Though 1 had had two men cutting 
out the trail for several days, it required two days' 
march to reach the first Bow Lake, only a little more 
than ten miles in a straight line from Laggan. 

The trail leaves Laggan and winds through burnt 



IRelics of ©R> Zxmce 141 

woods on the east side of the Bow. This valley 
was once a proposed route for the railroad which 
should cross the range by the Howse Pass. I be- 
lieve the work progressed so far as the making of a 
general survey to that pass, and building a tote-road 
about twenty miles up the Bow. The trail, which 
is the worst in the mountains, follows the old road 
part of the time, and then wanders off into a track- 
less waste of burnt timber, for among other things, 
the railroad men, no doubt, set the woods on fire. 
The date of the fire can be pretty accurately de- 
termined by the age of the growing trees which 
have since sprung up. There is very little left of 
the old tote-road, and it is only evident in corduroy 
places and old tumbled-down bridges over streams, 
or the relics of former camps where wooden boxes, 
tin cans, and rusty iron stoves have outlived storms 
and weather to bear silent witness to the glories of 
the past. 

We had an excellent camp by the river, where 
we caught all the trout that we could eat. The 
river there is less than one-half its size at Laggan. 
The next day Peyto and I visited the lake. We 
caught the Bay, and made the intelligent old horse 
carry us both at once across the river without saddle 
or bridle. We then scrambled through the woods, 
and over the gullies of former stream channels to 
the lake. One branch of the Bow flows into the 
lake and comes out a quarter of a mile below, while 
the other continues straight on at some distance. 



142 Zbc IRocfties of Canaba 

We followed the west shore of the lake, which is 
about four miles long, and after a hard walk, came 
to the other end about noon. At the upper end, 
there is a flat gravel delta, sparsely adorned with 
purple fireweed and scattered bushes, the seeds of 
which must have come down in former floods. 
The delta has a straight edge across the lake. 
The muddy stream from the upper part of the val- 
ley apparently changes its course from time to time, 
and so preserves a level gravel wash. We traversed 
the delta and continued up the valley to a fine glacier, 
where we made hot coffee and ate lunch. From 
this point we could see Mt. Balfour, one of the high 
mountains on the backbone of the continent, which 
was literally covered with perpetual snow and glac- 
iers. It was difficult to realise, as we looked up the 
long and gentle slope of this mountain, that it rose 
five thousand feet above us. The glaciers showed 
the lines of flow very clearly. Six converging 
streams of ice united to form the part on our right, 
while that on the left descended steeply and made a 
fine ice cascade. A waterfall poured gracefully over 
a dark precipice on the opposite side of the valley, 
and added a little life and motion to the dazzling 
expanse of snow. 

On the next two days we continued our journey 
up the Bow. A feature of the Bow valley, in this 
part, is the presence of swamps of a peculiar nature, 
called "muskegs." The boggy ground, where the 
peat-moss reeks with moisture, trembles under the 



flCmafcegs 143 

footsteps of men and horses. Some of these mus- 
kegs are half a mile across and from a distance 
appear to be flat meadows, where coarse grass and 
reeds grow luxuriantly, and the monotony of the 
level expanse is interrupted by clumps of scrub birch 
and willow bushes. Men can traverse these in com- 
parative safety, but horses have the greatest fear of 
them, and with justice, because wherever the upper 
surface of vegetation is broken through, there is no 
foothold in the soft mud and water underneath. 
Sometimes it is impossible to get the poor animals 
out, though with encouragement and urging they 
will struggle indefinitely, and in this respect they 
are far superior to mules. The latter is a dry mount- 
ain animal, unfit for swamps and rivers. We had 
considerable trouble in crossing parts of such mus- 
kegs, and in some places were compelled to cut 
branches and corduroy a path for our horses. 

Above the first Bow Lake the river sweeps around 
the base of a long and partially isolated mountain, 
called, on Dawson's map, Goat Mountain, which is 
one of many others of the same name. The endless 
repetition of such names as Castle, Cathedral, and 
Goat mountains on the maps of this part of the 
world, shows among other things the form or na- 
ture of the mountains and the lack of imagination in 
those who gave the names. The altitude of the 
first lake is about fifty-five hundred feet. From this 
the valley ascends constantly, and the second lake 
is probably eight hundred feet higher. The green 



144 Gbe ItocMes of Cana&a 

timber commences near the lower lake and con- 
tinues beyond the source of the Bow, which is about 
fifteen miles distant. 

The approach to the Cold Water or Upper Bow 
Lake is full of interest. The trail leads out of a 
stunted wood into open moors, diversified by rock 
ridges and dry meadows in alternation. Above this 
comparatively level place a precipitous mountain 
stands on the west and shows a very fine escarp- 
ment which rises over three thousand feet from the 
valley. One of those glaciers, characteristic of this 
range, clings to the less precipitous parts of the cliff 
and descends in a three-pronged mass, resembling in 
outline the claws of an eagle. Soon after the open 
country is reached, the Cold Water Lake appears in 
the distance. In shape, size, and situation, it bears a 
striking resemblance to the Lower Bow Lake, but 
while the latter is comparatively uninteresting, the 
upper lake is one of the noblest and most beautiful 
of all those so far discovered in these Canadian 
Rockies. 

We crossed a wide meadow which led by a gen- 
tle slope to the shore. The beauty of water, trees, 
and rugged mountains is here combined to make 
one of the most charming situations. Our camp 
was pitched on the border of a small lake, less 
than half a mile in length, which proved later to be 
a landlocked cove of the main body of water, and 
separated from it by a narrow channel. In the dis- 
tance, through this connecting waterway, a glimpse 



Gbe Colfc Mater Xafce 145 

of the larger lake appeared. Toward the east, the 
small lake, upon which our camp was placed, con- 
tracts into a shallow stream, which falls a few feet 
by a succession of gentle rapids and enters another 
lake about three-quarters of a mile long. This rests 
against the very base of the glacier-bearing mount- 
ain west of our camp. The shores of these smaller 
lakes are very beautiful and varied. In some places 
they are wooded rock banks, which rise a few feet 
above the water, and are partially covered with the 
drier kinds of mosses, huckleberry bushes, and vari- 
ous heaths. In such places the water is very deep, 
and though quite clear, has a dark appearance. 
Then, in other parts, the meadow lands come down 
to the water by gentle inclination and terminate in a 
low and sandy beach. Reeds and water sedges 
grow in the shallows opposite such shores, and their 
coarse leaves almost conceal the water by their lux- 
uriant growth. The wind-swept grass of these 
swampy shores flashing in the sunlight adds another 
element of beauty to this interesting place. 

For the purpose of fishing, we visited the nar- 
rows, where a deep channel connects with the main 
lake. The winding and irregular shores present a 
combination of swamp land, wooded banks and 
stretches of water, which wonderfully enhance the 
effect of the surrounding mountains. Opposite the 
narrow channel lies a long point of land partly 
dotted with small spruces and underbrush. It ex- 
tends some distance into the lake and dissolves in a 



146 Zbe 1?ocfcies of Cana&a 

chain of small rocky islands, some of which have 
only two or three trees upon them. 

This lake is between three and four miles in 
length. The trail traverses the woods at some dis- 
tance from the water to avoid a number of muskegs, 
which make the bank very unpleasant for travelling 
upon. The streams and springs spread over the 
mossy ground and, following no definite channel, 
convert the place into a muddy slough, which is 
very tiring to horses. We did better by walking 
along the narrow beach, sometimes, with our 
horses in the shallow water for half a mile or 
more at a time. The bottom is a fine, smooth 
gravel, however, and gave the horses an excellent 
footing. 

We made camp about a mile from the upper end 
of the lake. Peyto came back to camp that evening 
with a five-pound trout which he had caught from 
the shore. A stream which may be considered the 
source of the Bow comes from a pass to the north- 
west, and enters the lake near the place where our 
camp was situated. Here we caught a number of 
bull-head or lake trout, but the largest weighed only 
two pounds. There are probably fish of very large 
size in this lake, and excellent sport could be enjoyed 
with a raft or a boat. During the last fifteen years 
this region has been almost unvisited. A large glacier 
is seen to the west. It sends a muddy stream into 
the lake, over a delta very similar to that of the lower 
Bow Lake. Peyto and I spent an entire day exploring 



Gbe Xittle fforfc pass 147 

the glacier and its immediate vicinity. Not far 
from the glacier the stream flows in rapids, through a 
limestone canyon which is bridged in one place by a 
great block of stone about twenty-five feet long. 
The glacier has no terminal moraine, but comes down 
to a thin knife-edge on level gravel. The lower part is 
about half a mile in width, but it is a mile or two in 
breadth higher up, where it descends, from more or 
less continuous and extensive ice-fields, thirty or 
forty square miles in area. 

Open, treeless moors, abounding in irregular 
mounds and depressions, covered with a scant growth 
of grass, stunted willows, and a dwarfed underbrush, 
extend in a gradually rising valley to a pass about 
three miles north-west of the lake. Woods border 
the valley on either side, but the lower parts, possibly 
because they are too wet, are bare of forest, and a 
broad and meadowy lane leads nearly to the pass. 
The pass itself is a delightful region sixty-seven hun- 
dred feet above sea-level. The broad valley slopes 
upwards in grand sweeps to the mountains east and 
west, and insensibly downward to the valleys north 
and south. Some very old spruces grow in scattered 
clumps or singly throughout pleasant meadows where 
myriads of mountain flowers make a bright colouring. 
Rivulets come from melting snows on the higher 
slopes or else burst from the ground in sparkling pools. 
One of these springs poured forth a constant stream 
of air bubbles, like a mineral spring. The trees are 
symmetrical, especially those that grow in the open, 



148 Zbe IRockies of CanaDa 

and the place resembles a carefully tended park rather 
than a bit of the wilderness. 

The view on the other side of the pass is one of 
the most inspiring in the mountains. The slope 
drops suddenly a thousand feet and discloses the 
entire length of Bear Creek valley, or the Little Fork 
of the Saskatchewan. This river takes its source in a 
fine glacier, enclosed by high and rough mountains, 
among which there are immense snow fields. From 
two arched caverns in the ice at the end of the 
glacier, a milky torrent issues, and after crossing a 
gravelly flat, enters a large lake which lies below 
your feet as you stand on the pass. This is Peyto 
Lake. Its blue waters are closely girt by a very 
densely wooded shore on every side. To the north- 
west a narrow valley stretches away in a straight line 
nearly sixty miles, which leads the North Fork and 
the Little Fork in opposite directions into the great 
Saskatchewan. The course of the Little Fork or Bear 
Creek is marked by a chain of ponds or lakes, which 
carry the eye away in a grand perspective. 

During the times of railroad building, or more 
exactly, in the fall of 1884, James Ross, the chief of 
construction, sent a surveyor up the Bow River to 
ascertain if the Howse Pass would not be better 
than the Kicking Horse Pass, which seemed rather 
rough. About one week later, the surveyor sent 
back word that he had struck the Columbia River, 
thirty-five miles from the head of the Bow, with 
easy gradients and everything favourable for the 





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a Surveyor's fllMstafte 149 

railroad. The enthusiastic surveyor, however, had 
reached the main Saskatchewan River, which is fully 
fifty miles from the Columbia and on the eastern 
side of the range. 



1 



CHAPTER IX 

THE ATHABASCA PASS — DAVID DOUGLAS NAMES MT. BROWN 
AND MT. HOOKER — COLEMAN AND STUART'S EXPEDITION — 
ANEW ROUTE PLANNED — OUR HORSES FALL IN A MUS- 
KEG — DISCOVERY OF FIRE IN THE FOREST — TAMENESS OF 
A WILD BIRD — SURROUNDED BY BURNING TREES — CAUSES 
AND NATURE OF FIRES — EVIDENCES OF PREHISTORIC FIRES 

— WE REACH THE SASKATCHEWAN RIVER — INDIAN SUPER- 
STITION ABOUT THE NORTH FORK — THE STREAM DIVIDES 

— DIFFICULTIES OF FORDING RIVERS — SPLENDID WATER- 
FALLS — EXPLORATION FOR A ROUTE — DISCOVERY OF A 
PASS INTO THE ATHABASCA COUNTRY 

ABOUT one hundred miles north of the railroad 
lies the Athabasca Pass, famous in the early 
days of the enterprising North-west Fur 
Company. Alexander Mackenzie discovered in 1793 
a pass across the Rockies by following the Peace 
River farther north, but the Athabasca and Yellow 
Head passes were apparently more popular, as they 
were in the line of general travel, and offered a route 
between the headwaters of the Athabasca and Col- 
umbia Rivers. In fact, no other passes were known 
across the Rockies in those early times. For many 
years two very high peaks, Mt. Brown and Mt. 

Hooker, were supposed to stand on either side of 

150 



flDt Brown an& flDt. Iboofter 151 

the Athabasca Pass, and were believed to be the 
highest mountains in North America. Even to-day 
our best atlases place their height at about sixteen 
thousand feet. When Ross Cox, in 1817, was beat- 
ing a retreat through this region, from the little col- 
ony of Astoria near the mouth of the Columbia, his 
motley crew, embracing many strange nationalities 
and characters, found themselves surrounded by all 
the grandeur of the Athabasca Pass. One of the 
voyageurs, after a long period of silent wonder and 
admiration, exclaimed: "I'll take my oath, my 
dear friends, that God Almighty never made such a 
place." 

The botanist, David Douglas, travelled through 
the Athabasca Pass in 1827 and gave the names and 
the estimates of height to Mt. Brown and Mt. Hooker. 
Of this region he writes as follows: "Being well 
rested by one o'clock (May 1, 1827), 1 set out with 
the view of ascending what seemed to be the highest 
peak on the north. Its height does not appear to be 
less than 16,000 or 17,000 feet above the level of the 
sea. The view from the summit is of too awful a 
cast to afford pleasure. Nothing can be seen, in 
every direction far as the eye can reach, except mount- 
ains, towering above each other, rugged beyond 
description. The majestic but terrible avalanches 
hurling themselves from the more exposed southerly 
rocks produced a crash, and groaned through the 
distant valleys with a sound only equalled by that 
of an earthquake. This peak, the highest yet known 



152 Zbe IRockies of Cana&a 

in the northern continent of America, I feel a sincere 
pleasure in naming Mt. Brown." 

The investigation of the true height of such mount- 
ains in a region of which there are only vague re- 
ports, has a fascination to the explorer, and in 1893 
Messrs. Stuart and Coleman made a journey from 
Edmonton, by way of the Brazeau to the Athabasca, 
in an effort to solve the problem. They encountered 
great obstacles in the way of fallen timber, but suc- 
ceeded, after heroic efforts, in reaching the pass. 
There they ascended one of the two mountains which 
were assumed to have such an unusual altitude, to 
within a short distance of the summit, and found 
that its height was only about 9000 feet ! 

The subject seemed worthy of further investiga- 
tion, and in July, 1896, I started with Mr. R. L. Bar- 
rett with the purpose of visiting and measuring those 
mountains. In order to add interest to our explora- 
tion, the route chosen was by way of the Bow, the 
Little and North Forks of the Saskatchewan, which 
was practically a new country, and thence, if possible, 
by some pass available for horses to the Whirlpool 
River, which flows into the Athabasca. The success 
of our expedition depended on finding such a pass. 
We could get no information about the region, as no 
white man had been up there, and the Indians are 
very indefinite in geographical matters. Moreover, 
they have a superstition concerning the North Fork 
of the Saskatchewan, and never hunt in that country. 
We made preparations for a trip of at least sixty days, 



©ur Iborses Jfall in a fIDusfceg 153 

and took five saddle-horses and ten pack-horses to 
carry our tents, blankets, and provisions. Our men 
were Tom Lusk, a Texan and an excellent packer, 
Fred Stephens, a Michigan wood-cutter, who acted 
as second packer, and Arthur Arnold, our cook. 

We carried in our outfit, besides thermometers 
and aneroids, a steel tape for base lines, and a tele- 
scopic gradienter to measure vertical and horizontal 
angles, and an excellent camera. 

We left Laggan on the twelfth of July, and in 
seven hours traversed all the burnt-timber country, 
which makes a ruin of this part of the Bow valley. 
Fred Stephens had been telling us of the terrors of 
muskegs among the foothills east of the mountains, 
where, he said, "a forty-foot pole would not reach 
bottom," but on the second day of our journey the 
muskegs of the Bow proved nearly as bad, if not 
worse. We had been trying to cross one of these 
in vain, and were beating a retreat. Barrett found a 
short cut acrtiss a narrow swamp, and said it was 
safe. Our horses followed, and before they had gone 
fifty yards, four of them were down in the bottomless 
swamp, with their heads and ears alone visible. We 
headed off the rest in time, and then rushed to the 
rescue of these poor beasts. They were all safely 
recovered after half an hour's work, but we had to 
make camp almost immediately in order to dry out 
the various packs that had gone under water. The 
accident, which seemed trivial at first, proved more 
serious when the amount of damage was fully 



154 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

understood. More than half our entire supply of sugar 
had been dissolved, our tea and coffee soaked so as to 
lose their flavour, and most of our baking powder, 
which was to make bread of three hundred pounds 
of flour, was absolutely ruined. The next day we 
reached the Cold Water Lake, and from this camp, in 
order to sketch out this region, Barrett and I climbed 
Goat Mountain between the two lakes. We saw 
a column of smoke in Bear Creek and were ap- 
prehensive that a serious forest fire had started in 
that heavily timbered valley. To learn more of the 
state of affairs, we only advanced our camp to the 
summit of the Little Fork Pass, five or six miles dis- 
tant. There it was plainly evident that a very ex- 
tensive forest fire had started, and was sweeping up 
the mountains under the influence of a strong wind. 
There was no doubt in our minds that two prospect- 
ors, whom we had met a few days before, were re- 
sponsible for the fire. 

The apparent distance to the fire was about five 
miles. The next day Barrett and Stephens took sad- 
dle-horses and went down the valley to investigate. 
They returned late in the evening, much exhausted 
from the long trip, but reported that the fire was 
much farther away than it appeared, and that they 
had not reached it. This valley of the Little Fork is 
so straight, and is seen from such a height, that its 
length is very deceptive. There was a line of retreat 
possible to us by following a trail behind Mt. Hector 
into the Pipestone and then down the Siffleur to the 













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Sameness of a Wilt) Birfc 155 

Saskatchewan ; but this would involve a loss of nearly 
a week's time. It seemed better, if possible, to force 
a passage through the fire. So we descended into 
the Little Fork valley and made camp near the stream. 
While we were making this march an interesting in- 
cident occurred, which I will quote from my article on 
u The Sources of the Saskatchewan," which appeared 
in April, 1899, in the Journal of the Royal Geograph- 
ical Society, and also in the National Geographic 
Magazine of the same month. 

"As our horses were winding through a deep 
forest, a bird appeared which resembled a pine bull- 
finch, flitting from tree to tree and following us 
closely. Somewhat later, it gave the most remarka- 
ble instance of tameness that 1 have ever seen. Hav- 
ing followed us for about two miles, it waited in a 
tree during the bustle and confusion of making camp, 
but in the afternoon, when all was quiet, and some 
of our men were asleep, the bird became exceedingly 
familiar, walking on the ground near us and finally 
perching on our extended hands. It was soon evi- 
dent that the object of our visitor was to catch mos- 
quitoes, which were hovering in swarms around our 
heads. It pecked at a ring on my hand, at our needles, 
and in fact any metal article ; but the climax was 
reached when by accident the bird saw its own image 
in a small looking-glass which lay on the ground. 
Then, with extended wings and open bill, it uttered 
cries of rage and pecked madly at the glass in which an 
enemy appeared. Among the solitudes of mountain 



156 Gbe IRockies of Canaba 

forests, squirrels, finches, and whiskey-jacks often 
show unusual confidence in man, but this particular 
instance was remarkable, because the bird would 
alight on our persons even after it had been 
momentarily though gently detained several times 
as a prisoner in my hand. 

1 ' Further investigation showed that it was possible 
to get our horses through the fire, which had spent 
its energy on a large extent of green timber ; so after 
three hours' travel from camp we came to the burn- 
ing trees, where the fire was advancing slowly, as 
there was a calm. Then came several miles of the 
recently burned area, now changed to a forest of 
blackened sticks, some of which were already fallen, 
with here and there a column of smoke rising from 
smouldering moss, and everything half concealed in 
a snowy covering of ashes. At the other edge of the 
fire there was more danger, and frequently some tree 
would flash up and send a scorching heat toward us. 
We were chiefly anxious that the packs should not 
take fire and cause a stampede among the horses ; so 
for a considerable distance we drove our animals 
along the edge of a lake and frequently waded deep 
in the water to avoid the heat of blazing trees. 

" After an exhausting march of six hours we made 
our camp in a muskeg, or swamp, about half a mile 
from the fire. The wind, however, which had been 
increasing for a time, began to carry the fire toward 
us, and our situation soon became alarming when 
some heavy timber began to blaze and the columns 



Surrounbefc b\> Burning Zvccb 157 

of flame, shooting hundreds of feet into the air, made 
a terrifying roar, which caused our horses to stop 
feeding. At one time a funnel-shaped whirlwind 
about two hundred feet high formed over the heated 
area and remained there a few moments. 

" At the rate of progress the fire was making, we 
should soon have been surrounded had we not packed 
up and moved a mile farther down the valley. The 
second camp was made by the side of a considerable 
stream, wide enough to stop the fire ; but toward 
evening cloud banners began to form at the peaks of 
the mountains, and next day, after many weeks of 
drought, rain fell steadily for ten hours and fortunately 
extinguished for a time the fires that were destroying 
this beautiful valley." 

Forest fires have consumed about one-quarter of 
all the timber land in the Canadian Rockies. Such 
fires have of course been more frequent since white 
men have visited the country, many of whom have 
been indifferent about putting out their camp-fires, 
or have, as is often charged to prospectors, criminally 
set fire to these beautiful virgin forests for their own 
private advantage. Such indifference to the incalcul- 
able loss in the destruction of magnificent forests, 
and conversion of them into barren wastes of charred 
timber, is incomprehensible to the lover of nature. 
During the dry summer months, from the first week 
in July to the end of September, the woods burn easily, 
and the utmost care should be taken with camp-fires. 
Most of the forests are very dense, and consist entirely 



158 Gbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

of coniferous trees, their lower branches dead and 
seasoned, hung with grey moss and bristling with a 
multitude of dry needles. The rough tree trunks 
drip with balsam, and their scars are coated with 
accumulations of resin. 

Forest fires usually progress slowly, the moss and 
underbrush carrying the fire along from one tree to 
another. As the fire catches among the dry branches 
of a fresh tree it sweeps rapidly upward with a loud 
roar and sends a sheet of flames one hundred 
and fifty or two hundred feet into the air for 
two or three minutes. After the branches and 
foliage have been consumed the fire smoulders 
for a long time. In light forests and a calm atmos- 
phere such fires are not very dangerous, but where 
the trees are close and a high wind prevails, the 
flames leap from tree to tree in great tongues of 
flame. Sparks and brands carried heavenward by 
a furious draught, created in great part by the fire 
itself, start the flames in a thousand new places in 
advance of the main column and accelerate its terrible 
speed. Clouds of dense smoke and blasts of air, 
like the breath of a furnace, precede the flame and 
wither up the green vegetation in preparation for its 
burning. Fires sometimes travel forty or fifty miles 
an hour, and from them there is no escape for any 
living thing — man, the wild animals, and even birds 
all perishing together. Though the forests have been 
more frequently burned since the arrival of white 
men, there are abundant proofs that fires occurred 



j£t>tt>ence$ of prehistoric ifiree 159 

even before primitive man came among them. Traces 
of charcoal often appear where old trees have been 
uprooted by storm in a virgin forest. Charcoal may 
be found under the roots of trees near Lake Louise, 
some of which by actual count of their rings are three 
or four centuries old. I discovered a gravel bank 
near the station of Cascade, a few miles from Banff, 
which gave evidence of prehistoric forest fires. The 
river has cut under the bank and left a vertical face 
of clay and gravel, in which there are several thin 
layers of charcoal fragments, and under each a band 
of clay turned red by heat. These ancient fires were 
no doubt, as is often the case nowadays, started by 
lightning. After the forests have been burned over, 
the trees begin to fall and soon make hopeless ob- 
stacles to travel. A crop of purple fireweed, rasp- 
berries, willows, and other deciduous bushes springs 
up in a year or two in the dead timber. Young trees 
also appear very soon, sometimes growing spon- 
taneously throughout the burnt tract, or else en- 
croaching from the borders of the green forests. 
Pines replace spruce, and spruce replace pines almost 
invariably, and make a rotation of species. How- 
ever, in some regions the altitude is too great for pine, 
and when the spruce forests are burned they neces- 
sarily replace themselves. 

I will quote again from my article on the Sas- 
katchewan as follows : 

: 'We were now two days' journey down the 
Little Fork valley, a distance of about eighteen miles 



160 Zbe T?ocMe0 of Cana&a 

in a straight line. We remained in camp the next day 
to do a little survey work from a mountain to the east. 
From this point, at an altitude of eight thousand feet, 
the Little Fork valley appears straight, deep, and 
comparatively narrow, with a number of lateral 
valleys coming in from the west side and cutting the 
mountain masses into projecting spurs. The strata 
of the mountains are for the most part nearly hori- 
zontal, and the cliffs are frequently almost vertical. 
There were six lakes in view from our survey point, 
of which two, each about a mile long, were merely 
expansions of the river, three were in lateral valleys, 
and one lay far up the valley where the river takes its 
source. The lateral valleys head in the summit range 
to the west and probably have never been visited. 

"The scenery is very grand near the lakes. A 
striking peak about ten thousand feet in height, with 
a precipitous rock face and wedge-shaped summit, 
stands guardian over these lakes and, together with 
the jagged mountains near it, helps to give a gloomy, 
fiord-like appearance to the region. 

" On July 22 we marched six hours, and reached 
the Saskatchewan River. The trail is very good, 
and runs for many miles through forests of splendid 
timber, especially in the great valley of the Saskatche- 
wan. At the forks or junction the Saskatchewan is a 
rapid stream about 150 yards wide and apparently 
quite deep, and the pure blue waters of the Little 
Fork are soon lost to view in the muddy volume of 
the main river. The Saskatchewan valley is about 



We IReacb tbe Saskatchewan IRiver 161 

four miles wide at this point, the river itself flowing 
between bluffs of glacial drift, and while the massive 
mountains on every side are between ten thousand 
and twelve thousand feet high, they are less imposing 
than usual because of their distance. The main river 
runs about north-east, cutting through the mountain 
ranges, and taking its source to the south-west among 
the highest glacier-bearing peaks of the summit 
range. 

"A very large tributary, which we called the 
'North Fork,' comes in from the north-west and 
joins the main river about one mile above the 
Little Fork. This river is not correctly placed on 
Palliser's map, nor was there any available informa- 
tion about the region whence it comes. Even the 
Stony Indians who travel through these mountains 
know little of this river, because, it is said, many 
years ago one of their tribe was lost while hunting 
in that region, and they think he was destroyed by 
an evil spirit dwelling there. At all events, they will 
take no chances in visiting that part of the country 
now. 

"Our route to the Athabasca, however, lay up 
this river, and our first duty was to find a ford 
across the Saskatchewan. A day was spent in find- 
ing a safe place, as the river was in summer flood, 
though not at its highest stage. Mr. Barrett, with 
characteristic energy, discovered a ford about one 
mile upstream, where the river spreads out among 
low sand islands to the width of nearly half a mile. 



1 62 £be iRocfties of Canaba 

" A sense of relief came when, the next day, 
after fording the turbulent Little Fork, we had 
crossed the main river, which is of great size at this 
point, only thirty miles from its most distant source, 
and were safely on its north side. Turning north- 
ward along a high bluff, we came in a short time to 
the North Fork, which appears to equal the so- 
called Middle Fork, or main river. About one mile 
above its mouth the North Fork flows between 
rocky banks, and there is a foil or rapid in a con- 
stricted channel blocked by immense masses of 
fallen cliff, where the water surges in foaming 
breakers and dark whirlpools. For a mile or so 
above this fall there is a fine trail through a light 
pine forest, and then comes a burnt area with trees 
crossed in such confusion that it required two hours 
to make half a mile, and we were so much delayed 
here that our progress for the day could not have 
been more than three miles in nearly six hours. 

" On the following two days we advanced about 
ten miles up the valley, having a trail wherever 
there were green forests, but suffering much delay 
from burnt timber and muskegs. On one occasion, 
when marching along a steep bank of the river, a 
pack-horse stumbled among loose logs and rolled 
over into a deep pool. The horse was carrying over 
two hundred pounds of flour, a burden that kept it 
for a short time at the bottom of the river, but after 
some violent struggles it came right side up and 
climbed out. No damage was done, however, as 



Gbe Stream Bivibes 163 

flour absorbs water only to a slight depth, and very 
soon makes an impervious layer on the outside. 

"Ten miles up the river a stream from the west 
unites with the North Fork. As the two streams 
are about equal in size, we were at a loss which one 
to follow in order to reach the Athabasca. In order 
to get a more extended view of the country, an 
ascent was made of a mountain which lies between 
the two rivers. On the summit, at an altitude of 
eighty-four hundred feet, it was seen that the west- 
ern stream takes its source in a large glacier about 
twelve miles distant. A fair idea of the branch 
streams was given by the valley openings, but it 
must be confessed that less is known about this river 
than of any other source of the Saskatchewan under 
discussion. As a result of this ascent, we were firm 
in the belief that our route did not lie up the west- 
ern branch. The other valley, however, seemed 
exceedingly deep, and canyon-like, in the very short 
distance that it was visible at all. Though the air 
was smoky from forest fires, in spite of considerable 
rainy weather of late, I tried some photographic 
work, and during a brief but fatal moment, when I 
was reaching for a plate-holder, the strong wind 
blew my camera over and broke it badly on the 
rough limestone rocks. The most fragile parts, the 
ground glass and lens, fortunately escaped, while 
the wood and brass work were in pieces. With a 
tool box carried for such emergencies, the camera 
was reconstructed after a few hours' labour, and did 



1 64 Gbe "Rockies of CanaDa 

excellent work later in the trip. Our men returned 
in the evening, and reported that there was a trail in 
the deep valley to the north-west. 

" The next two days we advanced only about ten 
miles because of the uncertainty of the trails, the 
rough nature of the forests, and repeated crossings of 
the river. Our progress was slow, in spite of our 
custom of having one or two men explore and cut 
out the trail for the next day as far as possible each 
afternoon. In this place, the river is at the bottom of 
a narrow valley, the sides of which are smooth prec- 
ipices, adorned here and there by clumps of trees 
clinging to the ledges. Streams and springs from far 
above came down in delicate curtains of spray or 
graceful waterfalls wafted from side to side by every 
breeze. The flood of glacial waters sweeps over a 
gravel-wash in a network of channels, with the main 
body of water swinging from one side to another of 
the valley and washing against steep or inaccessible 
banks. This condition of things caused us to cross 
and recross the stream almost constantly, and, though 
the fords were in general not more than three feet 
deep, the icy waters ran with such force that our 
crossings were not without excitement. In spite of 
the best judgment and care of the packers, our horses 
got beyond their depth several times and had to swim 
across. As the saddle-horses are guided by riders, 
they rarely lose their footing, but the pack-animals, 
coming along in a bunch, confused by the shouting 
of the men and the roar of the rapids, hesitate and 



Difficulties of for&ing IRivers 165 

often enter the river a little above or below the best 
ford, and so get into deep water. Dangerous rapids 
or a logjam below make such occasions critical, not 
alone for the safety of the horses, but even for the 
success of an expedition in case a large quantity of 
provisions is lost. Pack-horses cannot swim very 
far with their tight cinches ; and moreover the icy 
waters of these mountain streams paralyse their 
muscles very quickly. 

" The trail at length leaves the river, and makes a 
rapid ascent through forests on the east side of the 
valley, so that in an hour we had gained a thousand 
feet. Through the trees we caught glimpses of mag- 
nificent scenery : the uniting streams in the canyon 
bottom, the mountain sides heavily timbered or rising 
into snow summits, and to the west an immense 
glacier, which was the source of the largest stream. 
The North Fork was rapidly dividing into its ultimate 
tributaries. The sound of mountain streams falling in 
cascades, the picturesque train of horses, each animal 
cautiously picking a safe passage along the rocky 
pathway ; the splendid trees around us, our great 
height, and the tremendous grandeur of the mountain 
scenery, all helped to make our surroundings most 
enjoyable. Above the sound of wind in the forest, 
there was presently heard the roar of a waterfall, and 
half a mile beyond we saw a large stream apparently 
bursting from the top of a fine precipice and falling in 
one magnificent leap down a great height. Through 
a notch in the mountains, there was another fall visible 



1 66 Zbc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

some miles distant fully twice as high as the one 
near us. It was learned later that every stream de- 
scended into the canyon by a fall and succession of 
cascades. 

u We camped in a beautiful wooded valley with 
much open country at an altitude of sixty-three hun- 
dred feet above the sea. Near our tents was the 
river, which at this place is a comparatively small 
stream of crystal clear water. In the afternoon 1 as- 
cended, with one of the men, a small mountain 
which lay to the west of our camp. From this sum- 
mit two passes were visible, one five miles to the 
north and the other more distant and toward the 
north-west. The view to the west was more ex- 
tended. There was a large straight glacier directly 
before us, the one we had seen earlier in the day, 
which supplies the greater part of the water of the 
North Fork. At least six or seven miles of this 
glacier is visible, and it may extend much farther be- 
hind the intervening mountains. The glacier has no 
terminal moraine, and slopes by a very even grade 
to a thin knife-like edge, in which it terminates. 

" The next day Mr. Barrett went off to climb, if 
possible, a mountain over eleven thousand feet in al- 
titude, north of our camp, while one of the packers 
and 1 started to explore the pass to the north-west. 
The other packer spent part of the day investigating 
the other pass. This division of labour was a great 
saving of time. At our conference that evening, 
which did not occur till midnight, when the last 



H fl>a$0 into tbe Htbabasca Country 167 

member came into camp, it was decided that the pass 
to the north seemed unfavourable as a route to the 
Athabasca. Mr. Barrett failed in his ascent because 
the mountain was more distant than it appeared. 
The pass to the north-west was more favourable, and 
on the next day we moved our camp so as to be al- 
most on the summit. The last and longest branch 
of the North Fork comes from a small glacial lake on 
one side of a meadow-like summit and at the base of 
a splendid mountain, a complex mass of rocky aretes 
and hanging glaciers. 

" Upon further inquiry we learned that the valley 
as it descended to the north-west was blocked by a 
glacier that came into it, and beyond that a canyon, 
which made this route altogether out of the question. 
A high valley on the right, however, offered the last 
and only escape for us, and after reaching an altitude 
of eight thousand feet our descent began into a valley 
that we knew must be either the Athabasca or the 
Whirlpool River, which flows into the Athabasca. 
Thus the most critical part of our expedition, the dis- 
covery of a pass from the Saskatchewan to the Atha- 
basca, was safely accomplished." 



CHAPTER X 

WE ENTER THE ATHABASCA COUNTRY — SLOW JOURNEY 
DOWN THE WHIRLPOOL — REACH THE MAIN RIVER — GREAT 
VOLUME OF WATER IN THE ATHABASCA— TURN SOUTH AND 
REACH FORTRESS LAKE — SITUATION OF OUR CAMP— VIEW 
FROM A HIGH MOUNTAIN — BUILDING A RAFT — MEASURING 
MT. HOOKER — AN INTERESTING VOYAGE DOWN THE LAKE 
—MEASURING A HIGH MOUNTAIN TO THE WEST— A FOOT 
JOURNEY TO BASE OF THE GREAT PEAKS — FORCED MARCHES 
AND SHORT RATIONS 

TO the south-west of the pass we had dis- 
covered was a group of very high mountains. 
They were dome shaped and covered with 
immense snow fields. We were now so far north 
that a hope was entertained that Mt. Brown and Mt. 
Hooker might be among them, but a rough measure- 
ment of one of the highest peaks gave an altitude of 
only i i,soo feet. A rugged valley lies among them 
and discharges a stream into the Whirlpool River. 
It is surrounded by cliffs on every side, and at the top 
there is an unbroken wall of glacier ice several miles 
in length in the form of a horseshoe. 

We had now been travelling nearly a month, and 
on August 9th made our entry into the Athabasca 
country. On this date, sending our men and horses 

168 



Slow 3ourne? 2>own tbe THHbirlpooi 169 

ahead, Barrett and I remained behind in the hope ot 
climbing a mountain to the north about ten thousand 
feet high. The weather, however, was squally, with 
frequent snow showers, while the higher mountains 
were concealed by clouds. At noon we gave it up 
and followed after our men, making a very steep 
descent of two thousand feet into the Whirlpool 
valley. Violent gusts of wind made the forests roar, 
and carried clouds of dust over the gravelly valley 
bottom. The scenery in this region is magnificent. 

On the 10th we marched down the valley in a 
north-westerly direction. On one occasion, while 
debating the best route, some of our horses com- 
menced to drink at the river edge, while the others 
crowded them into the water, whereupon they all 
swam across. They then began to graze uncon- 
cernedly on the other side. It was some time before 
we could find a ford, and then we travelled a long dis- 
tance on that side, for the country was as open as on 
the other. I ascended to the top of a mountain about 
three thousand feet above the valley in the afternoon. 
From this I saw that the Whirlpool valley turned 
slightly to the west between two long and monoton- 
ous ridges, and was much disappointed to learn that 
it was at least twenty miles farther to the main 
Athabasca. 

August nth. We marched five hours down the 
valley through a desolate region of gravel washes 
where the river flows in many channels. The burnt 
timber is mostly standing and easy to travel, but 



1 70 Zhe IRocfttes of Cana&a 

uniform and unbroken ridges on either side of the 
valley made our progress seem painfully slow. We 
found great numbers of wild strawberries and saw 
many bear and moose tracks. The cold weather of 
the last ten days had lowered the rivers suddenly. 

August 12th. The weather is clear and fine. 
Marched five hours and made good headway, as the 
Indian trail is well defined and the country pretty open. 
We saw a bear and two cubs across the river, and 
Barrett killed one of the cubs at long range. The old 
bear got away, however. After camp was made I 
ascended a mountain to the north, and got a fine view, 
seeing the main Athabasca at last to the north-west. 

August 13th. We were now on Coleman and 
Stuart's trail, as they had come into this valley by 
following a stream which enters from the east. They 
had done an immense amount of cutting in the fallen 
timber, and must have been greatly delayed. Many 
trees have fallen since, and we had two men chopping 
all the time. We got on the wrong trail after a two 
hours' march, and made a vain attempt to cross the 
river, but were finally compelled to pitch camp so as 
to spend the afternoon in a reconnaissance. The 
Whirlpool River has gained an immense volume of 
water within the last ten miles, though no streams 
of large size have entered it. The river is a roaring 
rapid, fifty yards across and three feet deep. The 
bottom is made of large quartzite boulders, a yard or 
more in diameter and smooth as glass. No horse can 
stand among them or even walk along the shore. 



IReacb tbe flDatn IRwer 171 

We found it impossible to cross, because in event of 
a horse falling in midstream there would be no pos- 
sible escape for the rider. In the afternoon our men 
found a ford near the junction of the Whirlpool with 
the main Athabasca. 

August 14th. After exasperating delay and 
trouble in fallen timber we were compelled to give 
up Stuart and Coleman's trail. In six hours we 
reached the Athabasca River. The heat was very 
great and myriads of grasshoppers rose in clouds as 
our horses tramped along through the burnt timber. 
The country is overrun by a small growth of pines 
which have been repeatedly killed by fire. The 
slender, pointed poles lie crossed in every direction 
and are very trying to the horses, as one end often 
flies up and prods the horse, thereby making the 
animal jump and run in terror. 

We got our first view of the great muddy Atha- 
basca from the top of a level terrace, of which there 
are three in this valley. We descended a steep bank 
near the junction of the Whirlpool and Athabasca. 
As we approached the ford a large raven circled over 
our heads, croaking dismally. We got across safely 
in spite of the ill omen, and made camp in a small 
patch of green timber. Our altitude here, according 
to the aneroid, was only thirty-eight hundred feet. 
Though it is difficult to estimate relative volumes of 
water by the eye alone, it was evident that the 
Whirlpool River is probably only one-fourth the size 
of the Athabasca. 



172 Gbe IRocfues of Canaba 

On August 15th and 16th we turned due south 
and followed the main river, marching six hours each 
day. There was no trail, and we made our way as 
rapidly as possible through burnt timber, where, 
however, most of the trees were standing. Barrett 
and 1 went ahead and quickly selected a route while 
the men urged our horses along at a fast pace. Thus 
we plunged along through ravines, up and down 
steep banks, and around impassable wind-falls, but 
were frequently brought to a halt and compelled to 
cut through heavy timber. 

On the second day we crossed a large stream 
which comes from the south-east and runs about 
parallel to the Whirlpool River, from which it is sep- 
arated by a single ridge of mountains. The water 
was three and one-half feet deep and the stream was 
seventy-five or one hundred yards across. This river 
is nearly or quite as large as the main river, which 
we continued to follow. Short pieces of an old In- 
dian trail now appeared along the bank. In about 
three hours after crossing the large branch from the 
south, we came to a large lake, called by Coleman 
and Stuart, " Fortress Lake." The Athabasca is not 
more than half a mile distant. This lake lies in a 
valley running east and west, or nearly at right 
angles to the Athabasca. 

This was the termination of our journey with 
horses, which had required twenty-six days' marching 
to accomplish. Ten days besides had been consumed 
in various delays, incidental to forest fires, finding 



^fortress lake 173 

fords, and exploring valleys and passes through the 
wilderness, parts of which were absolutely unmapped 
and untravelled before our expedition. At Fortress 
Lake we were so near the Athabasca Pass that any 
mountains, such as Brown or Hooker, could be 
seen and measured from the neighbouring heights. 
It remained now to lay out a base line and commence 
triangulation of the surrounding region, but before 
referring to this work, a brief description of the 
neighbourhood is in order. 

Our camp was in a grove of spruces near the lake. 
The shore is flat and rather swampy, while the water 
is shallow for some distance and very much crowded 
with a mass of water-worn tree trunks. Some had 
been stranded on the shore at a time when the lake 
level was considerably higher, and others, having 
become water-logged, were sunk in deeper water, 
where they fairly covered the bottom and projected 
their bare branches and grotesquely shaped roots 
above the surface. The lake is about one mile wide 
and apparently very long. 1 calculated the distance 
to a sand-bank down the lake to be five and one- 
quarter miles. A very imposing mountain lies on 
the south side of the lake, and another on the north 
rises more than five thousand feet above the water. 
But where were Brown and Hooker ? Straight be- 
fore us to the west, a massive glacier-bearing peak 
seemed at first as though it might answer for one of 
them. It was in the right place to be very near the 
Athabasca Pass, and though its height did not seem 



174 Gbe IRocJues of Canada 

great, the amount of ice which covered its entire 
east face and its distance may have deceived us. 

On August 17th Barrett and I set out to climb the 
peak north of the lake in order to discover the loca- 
tion of the highest mountains. We had a long and 
tiresome walk, through a heavy forest, and dis- 
covered a very old trail, so much blocked, however, 
by fallen trees as to be almost useless. After reach- 
ing a point about forty-five hundred feet above the 
valley, the weather became threatening, and I set 
up my camera at once and took a set of views 
around the horizon. The clouds formed constantly 
a few yards above my head, but 1 got the distant 
mountains, though the smoke and gloom made the 
results very poor. Barrett continued up the mount- 
ain, though the climb involved some rather perilous 
work among rotten limestone cliffs. He reached the 
summit, which is about ninety-six hundred feet high, 
where the clouds shut out everything from view. 
From my point, I could see an immense glacier, the 
source of the Athabasca, ten or twelve miles to 
the south. The clouds opened a moment and dis- 
closed what appeared to be by far the highest and 
finest peak that 1 had seen on the entire journey, ten 
miles to the south-west. It was a wedge-shaped 
peak, rising from a very long and precipitous wall of 
rock, which seemed to be over ten thousand feet 
high. 

The next two days Barrett and Stephens were 
occupied in building a raft, on which we hoped to 



(Treasuring flDt Iboofter 175 

reach the other end of the lake. The sound of their 
axes was continually heard among some well-seasoned 
dead trees, about a quarter of a mile down the shore. 
While this work was going forward, I measured a 
base line. The only level place of any length proved 
to be in the lake itself. I laid out a line of stakes in 
eighteen inches of water and set up my gradienter at 
either end. It was bitterly cold work in ice-cold 
water. From my first short base line I calculated a 
longer one, and then found the distance of the high 
mountain, which we supposed might be Mt. Hooker, 
to be a little more than seventeen miles. The work- 
ing out of the final logarithms to get the height was 
very exciting, and everyone waited impatiently, as 
I added up the final figures. "Well, the mountain 
is over twelve thousand eight hundred feet high, 
anyway," said I, much pleased at the result, which 
would make this the highest measured mountain in 
southern Canada. The excitement of the calculation 
must have been too great for accuracy, however, as 
I found a moment later. In wandering around among 
tangents and sines, I had gotten in the wrong column 
somewhere, and after a hasty revision, Mt. Hooker 
fell twenty-three hundred feet and came down to 
ten thousand five hundred feet never to rise again, 
and our enthusiasm fell with it. 

Meanwhile Stephens and Barrett had built a fine 
and seaworthy raft. Leaving Tom Lusk in charge of 
our main camp, on August 19th we piled our luggage 
on the raft and commenced a voyage to the other end 



1 76 Zhe TRoctAce of Canada 

of the lake. The raft was built of about ten large 
logs, fifteen feet long, firmly bound together with 
ropes, which, shrinking in the water, became very 
tight after a short time. Branches were laid cross- 
wise to keep our blankets and provisions above the 
water, and this pile of stuff made a place for two of 
us to sit upon. The other two sat on boxes forward. 
Each of these managed an oar which had been 
roughly hewn by Fred Stephens. Some crosspieces 
nailed together and to the side of the raft with steel 
spikes, which we had brought for the purpose, made 
oar-locks. Our raft, with four of us, carried a burden 
of more than a thousand pounds. Many speculations 
were made as to the time that would be required to 
reach the other end of the lake, and these ranged all 
the way from six hours to three days. After saying 
farewell to Tom Lusk we sailed at 6.40 a.m. Our plan 
was for two men to row in alternate turns of ex- 
actly thirty minutes. The heavy raft moved with 
surprising and pleasing speed, as the logs were 
pointed at both ends. We made a straight course 
and kept near the south shore as a protection against 
the wind. The water of this lake is very clear, but 
there were a number of small cray-fish to be seen as 
we went along, and I have observed that this is 
usually a sign of the absence of fish. It is indeed a 
surprising fact that this splendid body of water has 
no fish. It is only forty-two hundred feet above 
sea-level and abounds in food, for we saw thousands 
of moths and grasshoppers floating on the water. 



an Interesting Dosage Wovon tbe lake 177 

The scenery is very fine, and those of us who 
were not engaged in rowing had an opportunity to 
study the forests and mountains on either side of the 
blue lake. In about three hours we passed the 
mouth of a large stream, which comes from a glacier 
several miles south of the lake. A wind sprang up 
about ten o'clock and roughened the lake, but we 
were well protected by staying close to the shore, 
while on the opposite side, we could see the white- 
caps running. Sometimes our course led us very 
close to the rocky shores, which were covered with 
a growth of immense spruces, or in places, where 
snow-slides had swept the forest away, there was an 
impassable jungle of spreading alder, willow, and 
birch bushes. Our steady progress was a constant 
source of delight, when we thought of the infinite 
obstacles an overland scramble on such a shore 
would have presented. 

After the fourth hour of rowing we approached 
a small island having a single tree upon it. We 
passed through a narrow channel between it and the 
shore. Here the lake makes a turn to the left, and 
so brought us against the full sweep of the wind, 
which was driving a heavy surf through the narrow 
channel between the island and the rocky shore. It 
so happened that Arnold and I had just finished our 
half-hour of rowing and should have changed, but 
the wind and sea had become suddenly so rough 
that it seemed perilous to move around. In fact, for 
a time, we were a little doubtful how the old raft 



178 Gbe IRochies of Cana&a 

would behave. The waves swept over her decks, 
but, fortunately, could not reach our luggage, which 
was on an elevated platform. The end of the lake 
now appeared not more than a mile and a half dis- 
tant, and as we approached, the water became 
quieter. After five and a quarter hours of rowing 
our trusty craft began to glide through a growth of 
water-weeds and rough equisetums, and finally 
scraped upon the sandy shore of the western end of 
Fortress Lake. We were delighted with the place, 
which was a hard, level bank of gravel, covered with 
an open growth of evergreens. 

Circles of Dryas, a rosaceous plant, which spreads 
over the ground from a common centre, and puts 
forth a margin of leaves and blossoms at the outer 
edge of the circle, covered the gravelly ground. We 
caught a number of small frogs and fried their legs 
for luncheon. In the afternoon, I laid out another 
base line in the lake as at the other end, and con- 
tinued survey work on the nearer mountains. 

It rained hard in the night, and though we had 
no tent, and were sleeping on the ground, we man- 
aged to keep dry by covering ourselves with rubber 
and canvas sheets. The weather was so thick with 
smoke and clouds that nothing could be done in sur- 
vey work the next day, and it looked as though we 
should be defeated in this purpose, as our time was 
limited by our provisions, both here and at our main 
camp. 

Friday, the 21st, fortunately broke clear and calm. 



fIDeaeuring a Ibigb flDountain 179 

Arnold and I took the raft and rowed to a point on 
the north shore of the lake, and then ascended a 
mountain 8450 feet high. I carried my camera and 
surveying instruments. On the summit of this 
mountain, which is a long ridge, I built two cairns 
about half a mile apart and took angles on the high 
triangular peak to the south and also on Mt. Hooker. 
The amount of work necessary in signalling, build- 
ing cairns, which should be visible from the valley, 
taking notes of angles and photographing, delayed 
us, so we did not commence our descent of four 
thousand feet until half-past six. We narrowly es- 
caped being overtaken in the woods by darkness, 
but reached the raft just at nightfall. 

I spent the next day triangulating the two cairns 
on the summit of the mountain we had climbed. 
My final results gave me 1 1,450 feet as the height of 
this peak, which is higher than all others within a 
radius of many miles. The other high mountain, 
which we supposed to be Mt. Hooker, proved to be 
10,505 feet. The results from the two short base 
lines at a distance of nine and seventeen miles showed 
a difference of less than two hundred feet between 
them. The results were based on a height of 4175 
feet for Fortress Lake, which depended on compari- 
sons of my two aneroids, with simultaneous observa- 
tions of a mercurial barometer at Lake Louise, one 
hundred miles distant. 

On the 23rd, Barrett and I left camp in a final at- 
tempt to see and photograph these mountains from 



180 Zhe IRocfcies of Canaba 

a nearer point, and for this purpose we set out down 
the Wood River valley. We crossed the Wood 
River, a swift, clear stream, which comes from Fort- 
ress Lake, and we had all we could do to keep our 
footing. A larger, muddy stream comes down a side 
valley, less than a mile from the lake, and joins the 
Wood River. After that it was impossible to cross 
and we remained on the south bank. We walked 
about eight miles down the valley, and encountered 
in some places a jungle, very similar to those of the 
Selkirks. The Oregon grape and mountain ash, 
which are characteristic of the western slope of 
the Summit Range, were abundant, and even the 
prickly Devil's Club appeared, much to our regret. 
There was no path except one about six inches 
wide, and no blaze marks on the trees, so that this 
is, in all probability, nothing but a game trail. We 
reached a place at length where the Wood River be- 
gins to descend into a canyon. Through a valley to 
the south, the great triangular peak rose, dimly out- 
lined in the smoky air, but making one of the grand- 
est mountain views that I have ever seen. Because 
of our low altitude, this peak rose nearly eight thou- 
sand feet above us. May not this be the secret of 
Douglas's false estimates on Brown and Hooker ? 

We reached camp at one o'clock, and made lunch- 
eon of corn-meal, bacon, and stewed apples, which 
were the last provisions we had. Our men had 
rigged up two poles on the raft, and were prepared 
to stretch a large canvas sheet between them. In a 



jforceb fRarcbes an& Sbort IRations 181 

stiff wind we set sail and made wonderfully rapid 
time down the lake, which is about eight miles long, 
so that we reached the lower end in three and three- 
quarters hours without the use of oars. 

We had now been out forty-four days, or three- 
fourths of the time for which our provisions had been 
calculated. Moreover, in the accident to our horses 
in the muskegs of the Bow, much of our food had 
been destroyed. An anxious calculation was made 
of every article of food left, and though we had re- 
quired five weeks to reach this place, we found pro- 
visions enough to last us only fourteen days. Two 
meals a day, and light ones at that, were the regula- 
tions put into effect at once. We marched from four 
to seven hours every day for the next thirteen days, 
and reached the Upper Bow Lake, where, to our 
great joy, we met a party of friends, from whom we 
procured a number of luxuries, of which we were in 
great need. Barrett here left me to join the other 
party in a trip behind Mt. Hector to Banff through 
the headwaters of all the streams entering the Bow 
from the north, an interesting journey of about sev- 
enty-five miles, which I had made some years before. 
After having been two months in the wilderness, I 
reached Laggan on the 8th of September while the 
first autumn snows were falling. 



CHAPTER XI 

A WINTER TRIP TO THE SASKATCHEWAN — GLACIER LAKE 
— AN EXHAUSTING SNOW CLIMB — VIEW OF MT. FORBES — 
ULTIMATE SOURCES OF THE GREAT RIVER — THE HOWSE 
PASS — DESCENT OF THE BLAEBERRY — AN ANECDOTE OF 
THE PIONEERS — DESPERATION CAMP — PITIFUL CONDITION 
OF OUR HORSES — HEAVY SNOWFALL AND A WINTRY CAMP 

OF the headwaters of the Saskatchewan there 
remained but one tributary to be explored. 
Owing to an attack of typhoid, my plans 
to visit this region in the summer of 1898 were post- 
poned till late autumn, in fact when winter had virtu- 
ally commenced. For this trip I had nine horses and 
engaged Bill Peyto and Roy Douglas. 

" It seemed almost foolhardy," to quote again 
from my article on the Saskatchewan, ''when on 
October 12th, against driving snow showers and a 
cold wind, we set out from Laggan and once more 
resumed our toilsome march through the many miles 
of burnt timber northward, as it were, into the very 
teeth of winter. Through constant snow-storms — 
for the headwaters of the Bow are a breeding-place 
for bad weather — we passed the Upper Bow Lake, 
the divide beyond, and got six miles down the Little 

Fork on the third day, as a result of forced marches. 

182 



(Blacier Xafte 183 

During the following night there was a curious 
creaking sound of the tent rope and a sagging of the 
canvas, and in the morning our prospects for a suc- 
cessful trip were very gloomy indeed, with ten inches 
of new snow on the ground. Not wishing under these 
circumstances to get farther away from civilisation, we 
remained in camp all day. By afternoon the snow 
ceased, and the next day we were again on the march. 
The snow was fifteen inches deep in the Little Fork 
valley, but only half that depth near the Saskatche- 
wan, which we reached on the sixth day. 

"On October 18th we crossed the Little Fork and 
turned westward into a region that promised to be 
full of interest. The weather, which had been cloudy 
and threatening for some days, now gave signs of 
improvement by the appearance of blue sky in the 
west, and soon after the high mountains up the 
Middle Fork were bathed in sunlight, the dazzling 
light on the snow-covered landscape being very 
cheering after the days of gloom and storm. The 
trail penetrates a forest on the south bank and, fre- 
quently coming out on the river, allows views of the 
wide, log-strewn gravel-wash, the work of summer 
floods. 

"About five miles up the river a valley comes in 
from Glacier Lake, and our camp was placed on a 
point of land between the confluent streams. The 
Saskatchewan at this cold season is clear as a mount- 
ain spring and shallow enough to be fordable on 
foot. In summer, however, it is a raging flood that 



1 84 Zbc TRocMes of Canaba 

makes the region of Glacier Lake very difficult to 
reach. From our camp I set out in the afternoon to 
see the lake, and found it in an hour, though not 
without a hard scramble through deep snow and 
fallen timber. The view was well worth the labour 
expended. The lake, which is three or four miles 
long, is beautifully set among high peaks, and at the 
farther end a snow mountain sends down a glacier 
nearly to its level. The setting sun, sinking into a 
notch of the distant mountains, poured shafts of light 
through grey, misty clouds and tinged their edges 
with a pale-golden illumination. The lake was nearly 
calm and reflected the beautiful picture of mountain 
and sky from a tremulously moving surface. The 
water, by retreating from its summer level, had ex- 
posed a wide margin of mud-covered boulders and 
slippery logs — the trunks of trees carried into the 
lake by snow-slides,— but in the distance the forested 
banks seemed to press close upon the water. There 
was something wonderfully impressive in the awful 
solitude of such a scene under the spell of evening 
calm. 

" From what had been seen of the country 1 de- 
cided that it was important to reach, if possible, the 
summit of a high mountain that lay to the east of 
the lake, which from its position would command a 
comprehensive view of the whole region and also 
surely reveal Mt. Forbes, which was somewhere 
west of the lake, according to Palliser's map. 

" Accordingly I was afoot the next morning at nine 



an jEybausting Snow Climb 185 

o'clock, with a camera on my shoulders, ready for 
the ascent. The mountain appeared to be about 
seventy-eight hundred feet in altitude, or in round 
numbers three thousand feet above our camp. The 
weather was bright and cold, nor was there a cloud 
in the sky, and it proved by far the best day of the 
trip. It appeared that the walking would be better 
on the other side of the Glacier Lake stream, and 
after some ineffectual attempts to bridge the river by 
felling trees, Peyto carried me across on his back in a 
shallow place, and so the climb was commenced 
with dry boots. In less than five minutes a fine 
trail appeared, which saved a great deal of labour 
and considerable time in getting to the lake The 
trail at length diverged to the east toward the mount- 
ain and went in the right direction until the altitude 
was six hundred feet above the lake, effecting a great 
saving of energy in forcing my way through the 
underbrush. The sunlight was painfully brilliant on 
the snow, which was fully a foot in depth at seven 
thousand feet. At this altitude, in a last clump of 
spruce trees, I hung my camera to a branch and took 
a short rest, as the climb so far had been very 
exhausting. 

" After a pause often minutes the sharp air urged a 
recommencement of the ascent. The brilliant glare 
of an hour previous had given place to a somewhat 
cloudy sky, as a belt of heavy cirrus was drifting 
along over the mountains in a great line running 
north and south. The sun shone through it feebly, 



1 86 z\k IRocMes of CanaDa 

and was surrounded by a halo. I soon began to 
have doubts of my ability to succeed in the ascent, 
as my strength began to fail under so much exertion 
in the deep snow. The bushes, rocks, and other 
inequalities of the ground were buried, so that I 
frequently stumbled and fell. Moreover, it now 
became apparent that the size of the mountain had 
been much underestimated, for the heights on the right 
rose tremendously even after an altitude of seventy- 
five hundred feet had been reached. The inclina- 
tion was very steep, and the glare of the now returned 
sun on the vast expanse of snow, and the absence of 
anything to fasten the eyes upon for relief, produced 
a curious sensation of dizziness, due perhaps in part 
to exhaustion. I felt, however, the importance of 
reaching the summit, as it meant practically the 
success of the entire trip. Moreover, the extraordin- 
arily fine weather on this critical day of the trip 
seemed too providential to be lost from any lack of 
exertion or ambition. 

''Summoning, then, all my resolution, 1 made reas- 
onable progress for a time, but soon, in spite of 
every eager desire for success and ambition to reach 
the summit, the contest between will-power and 
tired muscles became doubtful, as the snow grew 
deeper with higher altitude, the slope steeper, and 
the far-off summit seemed no nearer. Every few 
yards of progress was invariably terminated by a fall in 
the snow, and it seemed better to rest for a moment in 
whatever position chance had it than to get up at once. 



IDiew of flDL fforbes 187 

" A little later a view appeared that in itself well 
repaid the labour of the climb. On the right was an 
expanse of spotless snow, exceedingly steep, vast in 
extent, and dazzling in brilliancy. Its rounded con- 
tours were sharply outlined against the sky, but 
there was no interruption of stone or cliff in the 
monotonous covering of snow, nor any scale by which 
to judge of size or distance. The chief object of 
interest in the view was a snowy, triangular peak 
covered with ice, which now began to appear in the 
west. The colours of rocks and cliffs in the distant 
peaks and precipices seemed absolutely black in 
contrast with the remarkable whiteness of the snow 
surface on all sides. Overhead the sky was intensely 
blue, but marked by distinct wisps of white cirrus 
cloud, spun out like tufts of cotton into shreds and 
curving lines. 

"At an altitude of eighty-eight hundred feet, or 
more than four thousand feet above our camp, I at 
length reached the summit of the mountain crest. 
It was necessary to walk along the crest a quarter of a 
mile to reach a somewhat higher point, which was the 
true summit. The snow along this mountain ridge 
was in many places three or four feet deep, and, mind- 
ful of the terrible Alpine accidents caused by cornices, I 
kept well away from the edge, below which it seemed 
to drop sheer several thousand feet. From intense 
frost my gloves were frozen so stiff that notes and 
sketches had to be done with bare hands. 

" The most conspicuous and interesting part of the 



188 {£be TRochies of Canada 

whole vast panorama was the lofty summit of Mt. 
Forbes, beyond the valley of Glacier Lake. This 
mountain and another about ten miles to the west 
were the two highest peaks in sight, and each is 
probably between thirteen thousand and fourteen 
thousand feet in altitude. Glaciers of very large size 
come from these mountains and terminate a few miles 
above the lake. The whole valley of the Saskat- 
chewan to its upper end and in the opposite direc- 
tion for many miles below the mouths of the North 
and Little Forks was clearly visible. There was a very 
high rocky peak in a group of mountains east of the 
Little Fork that occupies the position of Hector's Mt. 
Murchison, which he calculated to be 13,600 feet 
high. This mountain is hidden away in a group 
that must be seventy-five miles in circumference, 
and so it is rarely seen. There was a fine view to 
the north, where a wild and desolate valley, thou- 
sands of feet below, was dominated by a castle- 
like mountain over eleven thousand feet high, cut 
in ruins like ancient towers and battlements. Of 
four plates exposed on this mountain only one was 
successful, so I had a narrow escape from failing 
altogether in getting a view of Mt. Forbes, which, 
because of its great height, is veiled from view 
by clouds and is frequently invisible for weeks at 
a time. 

" On Thursday, October 20th, the day broke grey 
and unsettled, with the highest mountains touched 
by clouds. We continued our march up the 



^Ultimate Sources of tbe (Sreat IRiver 189 

Saskatchewan valley, and urged the horses rapidly 
over a level gravel plain at such speed as to make in 
all ten miles. On the west side of the valley there is 
a stupendous wall of rock between eleven thousand 
and twelve thousand feet high, which terminates in 
the giant peak of Mt. Forbes, a little to the north. 
About four miles from our camping place there is a 
group of curious rounded hills rising like forested 
islands from the sea of gravel. 

"There was a strong raw wind against us, and 
because of our water-soaked boots, half frozen by 
contact with snow, it was altogether too cold to 
keep in the saddle long, and everyone walked most 
of the time. We made camp in a miserable place 
of stunted timber half killed by gravel which had 
been washed over the place by some change of the 
river's course not many years before. The river 
here divides into three streams. The smallest, near 
our camp, comes from the Howse Pass, less than 
three miles distant ; the other two come from a 
valley to the south-east, each, curiously enough, 
flowing on opposite sides of a flat valley. In the 
afternoon I walked some three miles up the valley to 
where the lesser stream comes in from the west, 
and as it heads at the base of Mt. Forbes, 1 followed 
it a mile or so farther, till presently the current be- 
came rapid, the valley narrow, and the water closely 
hemmed in by rocky banks, so that walking was 
very difficult. The snow was a foot deep in this 
little valley, where the sun and wind could not exert 



190 Zhc IRocMes of Cana&a 

their influence as in the open. The stream on the 
other side of the valley is larger and comes from a 
glacier several miles distant. This whole region was 
very thoroughly examined last summer by Messrs. 
Baker, Collie, and Stutfield, who not only explored 
the large glacier, which is supposed to be ten or fif- 
teen miles long, but went up the other stream several 
miles to the base of Mt. Forbes, in the hope of 
ascending it. The flood of waters that sweeps down 
here in summer from the long glacier has cut chan- 
nels three or four feet deep, lined with immense 
boulders, across the whole bottom of the valley. 
This is the chief stream or source of the Saskatchewan. 

"During the night the wind came up in fitful 
gusts ; the stars were no longer bright points, but 
foggy spots seen through a thin mist ; bands of 
cloud swept along the mountain sides almost as low 
as our camp, and at length the whole sky was over- 
cast. The barometer was much lower at midnight. 
By i a.m. snow began to fall, which was a cause for 
no little apprehension, as we were far from the 
railroad. 

' ' On Friday, October 2 1 st, the sky was still threat- 
ening, though very little snow had fallen. We were 
on the march soon after ten o'clock, and reached the 
summit of the Howse Pass in an hour. This pass 
was made known to the traders of the North-west 
Fur Company about 18 10 by a man of the name of 
Howse or Hawes, and was at onetime much used by 
the Kootenay Indians, who came over the mountains 



descent of tbe Blaeberr? 191 

and bartered with the fur traders at a place 
about three days' journey down the Saskatchewan, 
now known from this circumstance as the Kootenay 
Plain. This route is now impassable, as fire has run 
through the forests in the lower part of the Blaeberry 
valley, and the timber has fallen for many miles. 
The pass itself is about eighteen miles from the 
Little Fork and fifty-three hundred feet in altitude. 

" At this ooint we were seven days' journey from 
the railroad by either of two routes, — the one by 
which we had come, or another, which, by going 
down the Blaeberry one day's march and then over 
a pass to the south-east, would bring us to the Kick- 
ing Horse River, and so to Field, in British Columbia. 
The latter route seemed preferable, as it would be 
through a new region. 

"The descent into the Blaeberry is one of the 
most trying exploits that the mountains offer. We 
commenced to descend rapidly the channel of a 
brawling mountain torrent, crossing from side to 
side constantly, so that our horses were compelled 
to climb up and down steep banks, to scramble over 
immense logs, or sometimes to force a way down 
the boulder-strewn bed of the stream. As there 
was no trail, Peyto had to lead the way by what- 
ever route appeared best, and in several places our 
horses had to slide on their haunches down steep 
banks forty or fifty feet high, jump into the torrent, 
cross it, and then ascend a similar bank on the other 
side at the greatest risk of accident and to the no 



192 Zbe IRoclues of Canafca 

little trial of our own nerves. A trail appeared after 
three hours of such labour, and we camped about 
ten miles down the valley. It rained hard all night, 
turning to snow in the morning." 

This Blaeberry River flows west to the Columbia, 
and was formerly much used as a route across the 
mountains. In 1882, when parties were still explor- 
ing for a good railroad pass across the range, Tom 
Wilson was sent on foot up the Bow to the Sas- 
katchewan and thence by the Howse Pass down the 
Blaeberry. This trying feat was only accomplished 
after the last morsel of food was eaten on the road 
and his clothes torn in the burnt timber. Again in 
1887 Wilson took two gentlemen on a hunting trip 
into the same region and tells the following story of 
their adventures : 

li We lost our axe and got caught in heavy wind- 
fall, where we had a very rough time, as no other 
party had been over the trail for years. On one 
occasion, to get around some bad timber, we had to 
cross along a steep slope at the top of a cut bank, 
where, if a man or horse rolled into the river he was 
gone, as we were only a few feet above a narrow 
canyon. 1 unsaddled the horses and led them over 
one at a time. After the horses were safe, the two 
hunters followed. The last was almost across when 
his feet slipped from under him. He gave a yell and 
grabbed a root that was sticking out of the bank. 
He was stretched at full length and his arm was ex- 
tended so that he had no chance to pull himself up. 



Hn Hnec&ote of tbe pioneers 193 

The rough gravel would have held him even if he 
had lost his grip on the root. So at first we laughed 
at him, but seeing the look of terror in his face I 
shouted 'You are all right. You can't slide down 
there.' ' Who is trying to slide ? ' said he. ' Bring a 
rope.'" 

A few weeks before my own trip, Messrs. Collie 
and Baker had discovered a pass out of this Blaeberry 
valley. It was our purpose to follow it, and under 
Peyto's guidance we turned up a small stream which 
enters from the south. A rough scramble over 
boulders and gravel was followed by an exceedingly 
steep ascent of a wooded slope. Snow lay on the 
ground in shaded places, and as we ascended it be- 
came deeper. It was fifteen inches deep after we 
had climbed twelve hundred feet. Our bearings 
were by compass, as storms during the day shut out 
any view of the mountains. By nightfall we were 
nearly at tree-line and found ourselves surrounded 
by unbroken forests. No suitable place for a camp 
could be found on the mountain side, and in despera- 
tion we unpacked our horses in thick woods. Our 
poor horses were turned loose in deep snow where 
there was nothing to eat. Avalanches of snow fell 
from the trees at every stroke of the axe and several 
times put out our struggling fire. 

In the morning eighteen inches of snow covered 
the ground. Peyto had a hard tramp up the mount- 
ain for our horses, which had fasted the long wintry 
night. Packing up was trying work, as it was 



i94 Zbe TRocMee of Cana&a 

impossible to get thoroughly warm, and even our 
gloves were frozen. Every rope and canvas cover was 
stiff with granular ice, making them weigh twice as 
much as usual. While being packed, our famished 
horses bit off bark and twigs from the neighbouring 
bushes. 

Our camp had been high on a mountain whence 
we could see the deep Blaeberry valley to the west, 
while more to the south lay the pass which we were 
trying to reach. We continued to make a traverse 
of the mountain side, which was heavily wooded and 
intersected by several ravines. We were just started 
on our march when a thick snow-storm commenced 
and shut out every landmark. The general slope of 
the mountain and the compass were our only guides. 
The steep-banked gullies gave us several exasperat- 
ing climbs or forced us to descend long distances to 
find a safe way across, and eventually one of them 
compelled us to descend to the bottom of the valley, 
running, fortunately, in the same direction that we 
wished to go. It led no doubt to the pass, though 
Peyto could not recognise any familiar landmarks in 
the heavy storm. Another twenty-four hours of 
storm would have made our position rather serious. 
The snow was now over two feet deep and increased 
as we approached the pass. Peyto and I went ahead 
and broke a path for the horses, but even then some 
of them lay down in the snow and groaned pitifully, 
for they had had very poor feed throughout the en- 
tire trip and none during the past night. Urging 



1beat>? Snowfall anb a XKIlintr^ Camp 195 

them on, we continued marching and were glad to 
find the slope becoming more and more gentle, till 
at length a level space with the clouds beyond 
showed that the pass summit had been reached. 
We made camp in three feet of snow and turned our 
horses out in a meadow, where they got some grass 
by pawing away the snow. Tall spruces surrounded 
the meadow, which was a uniform white expanse 
unbroken by any projecting branch or bush. Clouds 
and occasional snow-storms made a wintry sky and 
towards evening the sun broke through and cast a 
cheerful light over a massive mountain to the west. 
Our camp at this point was at the head of the 
north branch of the Kicking Horse River, and every 
step would now lead us nearer civilisation and to 
lower altitudes. In three days, after having been ex- 
posed for more than two weeks to nearly constant 
storms, we reached Field, where there was no snow 
and even a few autumn flowers were in blossom. 



CHAPTER XII 

PLAN TO EXPLORE AN INTERESTING REGION — DESOLATION 
VALLEY — UNUSUAL AUGUST SNOW-STORMS — FIRST VIEW 
OF MORAINE LAKE — ITS MARVELLOUS BEAUTY — WE IN- 
VESTIGATE A NEIGHBOURING STREAM — ALPINE LAKES — 
SLOW PROGRESS THROUGH THE PATHLESS WOODS — A 
DESERTED MINING CAMP — FIND SOME USEFUL PROVIS- 
IONS — OUR HORSES DISAPPEAR — ALONE IN THE WILDER- 
NESS — RELIEF AT LAST — MAGNIFICENT VIEW OF THE 
VERMILION PASS — ANOTHER LARGE LAKE DISCOVERED — 
CURIOUS IMPURITIES IN THE WATER — EXPLORE TWO VAL- 
LEYS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA — A PROSPECTOR'S CAMP — 
PEYTO'S HORSES LEAVE HIM — A TREACHEROUS RAFT — 
BAFFLED BY MINERS' TRAILS — REAL SOURCE OF THE 
VERMILION — AN ENCHANTED MOUNTAIN — THE RIVER 
DIVIDES INTO MANY SMALL STREAMS — TRYING DESCENT 
OF THE OTTERTAIL RIVER — A PAINFUL ACCIDENT — A 
TEN-HOUR MARCH — BEAUTY OF o'HARA LAKE 

A REGION that is sure to be popular in the 
near future lies south of Lake Louise. For 
many years it had been an object of my 
ambition to explore this part of the Rockies, which, 
though skirted on two sides by the railroad, was not 
mapped in its interior. My plan to enter this region 
was at length, in 1899, perfected. More precisely it 

might be described as the Summit Range of the 

196 



Go fiyplore an Interesting IRegion 197 

Rockies between the Bow River on the east, the 
Vermilion and Ottertail rivers on the west, the Kick- 
ing Horse Pass on the north, and the Vermilion Pass 
on the south. It was my idea to skirt round the 
outer edge of this nearly rectangular block of mount- 
ains, whose area was about three hundred square 
miles, and to ascend every stream and valley which 
offered a route into the interior. 

To facilitate our progress through an unmapped 
and trailless region, where good nature and patience 
would, no doubt, be put to the final test in over- 
coming countless unforeseen obstacles, I reduced my 
outfit to the minimum size. It consisted of one man, 
Ross Peecock, upon whose good nature I justly 
placed great reliance, and four horses, two of which 
we rode. 

We left the chalet at Lake Louise on the 1 3th of 
August, and crossing the bridge which had recently 
been made over the stream from the lake, left the 
trail and entered the woods. Following a nearly 
level traverse, we reached the mouth of Paradise 
Valley in two hours. Our journey for the next two 
or three hours was through swampy meadows or 
heavy forests, till at length the slopes falling away 
to the south, and glimpses of new mountains appear- 
ing through the trees, showed that Desolation Val- 
ley had been reached. The woods were open and 
easy to travel. As we descended some gently slop- 
ing meadows, the grand range of jagged peaks on 
the south of Desolation Valley came into view. A 



198 Zbc IRocMes of Cana&a 

few minutes later we were at the border of the 
valley stream, which flows in shallow rapids over a 
bed of rusty-coloured stones. We made camp higher 
up the valley, where the stream expands to a width 
of one hundred yards and makes a chain of pools 
decorated with low islands. A strong south wind 
and threatening sky caused us to put our tent up 
quickly, as a storm could be seen coming over the 
mountains, and in a short time a warm summer rain 
was falling. 

Showers fell during the night and developed into 
a continuous downpour all the following day. It 
grew cooler, and in the early evening a slight whit- 
ening of snow appeared on the flanks of Mt. Temple, 
opposite us. About ten o'clock at night the rain 
suddenly changed to snow. 

A foot of snow lay on the ground in the morn- 
ing and the storm continuing all day, added another 
six inches by evening. This August snow-storm, 
at an altitude of less than six thousand feet, is the 
most remarkable freak of weather that 1 have ever 
experienced. 

The snow-storm ceased in the night and by morn- 
ing there were signs of clearing. The snow settled 
rapidly, though there was but little sun. Overcome 
by our enforced idleness of two days, I set out in 
the afternoon for a tramp up the valley. Some years 
before, Allen and I had seen a fine lake in this valley 
from the sides of Mt. Temple, and I hoped now to 
find it. I walked about a mile and a half and came 



flDoraine Xafte 199 

to a ravine, where a roaring cascade, encumbered 
with logs and great boulders, comes out of the valley 
to the south-east. I got across on a slippery log, and 
after another mile, came to a massive pile of stones, 
where the water gurgles as it rushes along in sub- 
terranean channels. Ascending a ridge about fifty 
feet high, there lay before me one of the most beauti- 
ful lakes that I have ever seen. 

This lake, which 1 called "Moraine Lake," from 
the ridge of glacial formation at its lower end, is 
about a mile and a half long. A green forest covers 
the north shore, while the opposite side is overhung 
by a high precipice. Two large piles of debris 
from the mountains dip into the lake and encroach 
upon its surface in semicircular lines. An imposing 
cliff, like a Tower of Babel, makes a grand terminus 
to the range of mountains on this side of the valley. 
Beyond the water is a succession of high peaks ris- 
ing five or six thousand feet above it, with a few 
short glaciers among them. The water is very clear 
and of the characteristic blue-green colour. A num- 
ber of logs were floating on it in various places, 
while others crowded the shore and raised the water 
level by damming up the outlet stream. Part of the 
water escapes by subterranean channels among the 
quartzite and shale ledges of the moraine, and the rest 
flows out at the north-west end through an im- 
mense mass of logs. I think these trees have been 
stripped down by snow-slides and hurled into the 
lake during some recent winter. 



200 Zbe IRocfcies of Canada 

At the time of my arrival the lake was partly 
calm and reflected the rough escarpments and cliffs 
from its surface. No scene has ever given me an 
equal impression of inspiring solitude and rugged 
grandeur. I stood on a great stone of the moraine 
where, from a slight elevation, a magnificent view 
of the lake lay before me, and while studying the 
details of this unknown and unvisited spot, spent 
the happiest half-hour of my life. 

Elated with this beautiful discovery, I followed 
the ridge, and after crossing the outlet stream, went 
back to camp by a different route, firmly decided 
that no time should be lost in moving our camp to 
the shores of Moraine Lake. 1 related my trip to 
Ross while we ate supper and picked the bones of a 
grouse we had killed. 

We were up at five o'clock the next morning. 
The weather was beautifully clear and only six 
inches of snow were left. A potentilla, a bushy 
plant covered with bright yellow flowers, which 
grew inside our tent, had cheered us for several 
stormy days. Out of the thousands of flowers in 
this valley, it alone had escaped the snow by the 
chance of our tent's protection. However, one of 
our hungry horses noticed the plant as the only 
green thing in sight and quickly consumed it. 

We reached the lake in an hour and made camp 
a short distance down the left bank. The snow 
was completely gone near its shore, because, for 
some reason, much less had fallen here than farther 



Its flDarvellous Beaut? 201 

down the valley. We spread our blankets on the 
ground in the bright sun, to dry. While Ross was 
putting things in order I hurried over to the moraine 
ridge with my large camera and photographed the 
lake. The effects were fine, and some misty clouds 
were rolling over the high mountain peaks. While 
I was at this Ross caught a fine trout, which we ate 
for lunch. In the afternoon we walked to the other 
end of the lake and, though the country was open, 
were surprised to find that it required forty minutes. 
From this end a narrow gorge may be seen across 
the lake, above which is a hanging glacier and an 
imposing snow mountain of great height. The 
woods in this part of the valley had been burnt over 
a long time ago. The new trees are about fifty 
years old, so that the general appearance is that of a 
green forest. Some of the trees destroyed by the 
old fire were very large, as is shown by logs three 
or four feet in diameter. 

The mountains roared all day. Repeated ava- 
lanches of snow came from Mt. Temple, and the 
long winding streams could be seen moving among 
the cliffs, attended by a noise like thunder. In the 
evening a considerable rock-slide fell on a slope 
across the lake. Several great masses of stone came 
off the mountain and descended in tremendous leaps, 
making a ripping sound like that of a cannon-ball. 
One of these struck a large stone and burst into 
pieces with a loud report and a cloud of dust. 

The site of our camp was delightful. The ground 



202 £be IRoctaes of Canaba 

was smooth and hard and had a slight slope towards 
the water. The seasoned driftwood along the shore 
made the best kind of camp-fire and the balsam trees 
behind our tent gave us fine flat boughs for our beds. 
From a large log in the lake, just in front of our tent, 
we caught ten trout in the evening. We got a long 
pole and attached two hooks to the smaller end. To 
the other, we tied a line, and then giving the pole a 
shove, it carried the hooks far out into the lake. In 
a moment the pole could be seen to move and then 
to swim away, this way and that, showing a fish 
had taken the bait. We soon had all we wanted 
and a great swarm of hungry fish appeared in the 
clear water under our floating dock. They are a 
kind of speckled trout, and the largest was seventeen 
and one-half inches long, though none were less than 
fourteen inches. We had fresh fish from the lake at 
five minutes' notice for every meal thereafter. 

A stream enters the valley about one mile below 
the lake. It comes from the south-east beyond the 
curious and impressive rock cliff, which we called 
the Tower of Babel. On the 19th we started to 
explore the valley whence it came. I carried my 
camera, and Ross our luncheon and a pail in which 
to make hot coffee. Just as we were off, the sun 
came over the mountain and illumined our pretty 
tent with a flood of light, while the dark lake and 
cliff beyond seemed almost gloomy by contrast. We 
scrambled over the log dam and the massive ledges 
of the moraine, to the other side. The woods were 



a IReiQbbouring Stream 203 

moist with night dew and a myriad drops of water, 
like rounded diamonds, were delicately poised on the 
tender leaves of the white-flowered rhododendron. 
No other bush holds so much rain or dew on its 
foliage, and to avoid the showers we used long sticks 
to shake them as we advanced. We climbed to the 
base of the Tower of Babel in half an hour, and looked 
down into a new valley. It was not far to the 
stream, and in a short time we stood upon its bank. 
Open woods made our way easy through this new 
and pleasing region. Suddenly a long stretch of water 
opened before us and disclosed a beautiful scene. 
Beyond the pretty banks of the stream, lined with 
birch and willow bushes, appeared in the distance 
an Alpine peak, fringed with a narrow border of ice 
near its tooth-like crest. In the middle distance on 
the left stood a forest, while on the right, there was 
an open grassy meadow. The shallow stream flowed 
gently in an extended channel, where the quiet 
surface, interrupted by stones or the ripples of slow 
moving water, reflected the distant peak. Every- 
thing in these surroundings helped to make one of 
the most beautiful pictures that I have ever seen in 
the Rockies. I was very anxious for a photograph 
of this spot, so while Ross lay on a mossy bank, 
I searched for a good position and endeavoured 
to group the bushy banks and mountains in har- 
monious lines. We were very much pleased with 
the place, and Ross suggested that, since the other 
was called Desolation Valley, we might call this 



204 Zhe IRocMes of Canada 

"Consolation Valley," a name that seemed quite 
appropriate. 

On the south side of this valley is a rock pre- 
cipice, commencing with the Tower of Babel, and 
then gradually increasing in height eastward, till it 
terminates in the Alpine peak just described. The 
face of the wall is more nearly perpendicular than any 
1 have seen. Some of the cliffs, for nearly a thousand 
feet, must have an angle of between eighty-five and 
eighty-eight degrees, while the extreme height is 
about four thousand feet from the valley. 

We followed the stream for some distance and 
came to a small lake. Beyond this was another, of 
similar size, separated from it only by a narrow ridge 
of stones. Leaving Ross at the first and telling him 
to expect me back in two hours, I continued to ex- 
plore the valley. The second lake rests against a 
glacier which discharges pieces of ice and solid snow 
into the water. Some of these were floating about 
like small icebergs, and others were stranded on 
rough stones of the shore. The ripples were flash- 
ing in sunlight, and some ducks were swimming 
over the water. Among the massive ledges of this 
old moraine a few birds were flitting about, and I 
was delighted to hear again the plaintive song of the 
white-crested sparrow. This was a characteristic 
upland lake of the Rockies, where glaciers, moraine, 
and forest made a perfect picture of Alpine beauty. I 
walked round the lake to the music of rivulets and 
the frightened squeak of picas through meadows of 



Hlpine Xaftes 205 

flowers, recently covered by snow and beaten down 
by storms, but as fresh and bright in colour as ever. 
The blue sky above was flecked by snowy clouds, 
and the sun's heat made frequent avalanches of ice on 
the opposite mountain. 

I climbed more than one thousand feet on the 
ridge north-east of the lake, and saw two passes, one 
opening to the east, and the other on the left, proba- 
bly into the Bow valley. Later explorations would 
solve these problems. As 1 was climbing, the sky 
suddenly thickened and became threatening. The 
air grew colder and seemed to be ready for snow, so 
that as a sufficient height had been reached to com- 
mand a view of the entire valley, I returned to the 
lake where Ross was waiting. Here I had a delicious 
lunch of bread, marmalade, and coffee. 

We followed the stream bank and had an easy 
trip back to our camp. In the evening we caught a 
dozen trout to take with us on the next day's march, 
for it was now necessary to continue our journey 
towards the Vermilion Pass. 

August 20th. The weather was threatening in 
the morning. Bands of mist swept above the lake 
and against the mountains, driven by strong winds 
in opposite directions, making grand cloud effects. 
We bade farewell to Moraine Lake about 10.30, and 
followed the left bank of the stream, past our first 
camp, to where this valley opens into that of the 
Bow. Here we turned south, crossed the stream, 
and commenced to ascend the ridge which faces the 



206 Zhc IRocfties of Canaba 

Bow valley. We soon got into a dense forest on a 
steep slope, where very slow progress was made in 
spite of much chopping of wood and urging of horses. 
Thinking it best to get above the tree-line, we as- 
cended, and for a time, had easy travel, but presently 
came to a long rock-slide, which it was impossible 
to get above or to cross. Nothing was left but to 
descend and lose all our hard-earned climb. These 
rock-slides are barren piles of broken, lichen-covered 
stones of considerable size, easy for a man to scram- 
ble over, but impossible for horses. Several hundred 
feet below we found a way for the pack animals, and 
about evening, made camp in the woods on the 
mountain side, 6600 feet above sea-level. On this 
shady north slope some snow from the great storm 
was still left. As we unpacked it commenced to 
rain, and a drizzle continued until morning. 

I had learned from Wilson that about opposite the 
station of Eldon, there is an old copper mine and 
several log shacks built by the miners, but abandoned 
long since. As it was in an upland park of great 
beauty, it seemed well to make it a camping place 
on our trip. So the following day we ascended 
wherever any obstacle appeared and gradually in- 
creased our altitude. Heavy timber and swampy 
places with moss-covered rock-slides gave us great 
difficulty. Ross and I led alternately, for it appeared 
that the responsibility of finding a way through the 
unending obstacles and of cutting trees entailed too 
much labour for either one constantly. Two hours of 



Slow progress 207 

such work were enough to exhaust all of one's good 
temper and patience. It was surprising with what a 
will and dash either of us would commence to lead 
the procession, and how, after a time, this gave way 
to hopeless despair. Then from the front something 
like this would be heard. " It is absolutely impossi- 
ble to get through here. There is a rock-slide on 
one side and the timber is piled five feet high on the 
other." "Then why don't you go ahead?" came 
from the rear. " Because I am standing on the edge 
of a cliff twenty feet high." About such times we 
simply changed leadership, and while one rested his 
nerves, the other used his in making a slow advance. 
About mid-afternoon we came to an old trail 
which descended the slope and soon led us to groves 
of Lyall's larch and upland meadows. The miners' 
cabins appeared above us, and in half an hour we 
were unsaddling our horses in this miniature deserted 
village. Some immense larches covered the ridge 
and the place was delightfully open and beautiful. 
These Alpine meadows have a wealth of colouring 
impossible to describe. In the short grass a multi- 
tude of antennarias grow ; their leaves covered with 
a whitish down, which makes a silver sheen when 
wet with rain and turns the drops to pearls. The 
square-stemmed white and purple bryanthus revels 
in these meadows, and above them the heads of ane- 
mones and the varied-coloured painted-cup, with pur- 
ple, scarlet, yellow, white, or greenish flowers, make 
a gay display of colour. These are the commonest 



208 Zbe IRocfciea of Canaba 

plants, but you will see bluebells, larkspur, vale- 
rian, forget-me-nots, and many others among them. 

After the horses were turned loose and our tent 
set up, Ross and I investigated the old shacks. They 
were low houses about twelve feet square and built 
of logs. Inside one of them were some rough 
sleeping places, strewn with boughs. There were 
two bags of flour and several others containing 
coffee, beans, or sugar. In a rough cupboard, made 
of a box nailed to the wall, were several dozen tins 
of tomatoes, condensed milk, and various condi- 
ments. An iron stove was rusting under the leaky 
roof, and the porcupines had played havoc with the 
flour and other accessible food, much of which was 
valueless. We took a supply of condensed milk, 
sugar, corn-starch, and tomatoes, to eke out our pile 
of provisions, and used some golden syrup, which 
we discovered, to flavour our flap-jacks. Ross knew 
how to make them remarkably light and wholesome. 

The other shack was dry and in far better condi- 
tion, but offered nothing to our purpose. Suspended 
by a cotton string to a rusty nail in the roof, was a 
case labelled " Five Hundred Detonating Caps," and 
a few feet away on the floor was a heavy box labelled 
"Powder," which probably contained enough ex- 
plosive to tear a hole in the mountain and arouse 
the natives from Banff to Laggan. 

During the afternoon it rained, but in the night it 
grew much colder and began to snow. The weather 
was still dubious in the morning, though the sun 



H 2>e$erte& fIDining Camp 209 

broke through the clouds by noon. I ascended a 
ridge beyond the copper mine, which was not far 
distant, to a height of eight thousand feet, and got 
a fine view of the Bow valley from beyond the 
Vermilion Pass to the river's source, a sweep of 
about forty-five miles. In the afternoon I went into 
a beautiful open vale, west of our camp, and after 
climbing the ridge beyond, looked down on a fine 
lake nearly a mile in length. It lay several hundred 
feet below, and after a rapid descent through a thick 
woods, I found myself by the shore. A small glac- 
ier and a barren pile of moraine debris were seen 
beyond the lake, while the slopes on either side were 
more cheerful sweeps of forests and green slides. 
The shore is flat and mossy, and some purple asters 
and bright castilleias made a pretty colouring among 
the rough quartzite stones and broken timber lining 
the water's edge. Two young ducks were playing 
on the blue water. 

The lake sends a considerable stream towards the 
Bow and is joined not far from the lake by another 
which comes from the open vale near our camp. I 
crossed the outlet stream on floating logs, which had 
drifted from the lake, and climbed a high ridge on the 
other side. The top of this was a mass of tottering 
cliffs, so much disintegrated by frost and weather 
that they seemed dangerous to approach. From 
this I saw another short valley, with several small 
lakes, the lowest of which is crescent-shaped. Af- 
ter sketching the streams and mountains I descended 



210 Gbe TRockies of Cana&a 

into the valley and then made my way back to 
camp through the woods, trying to find a good 
route for our horses. The last mile to camp was 
up a beautiful torrent with grassy banks and noble 
trees on either side. One spruce was more than 
four feet in diameter. This whole region, for a mile 
or more, is a veritable park of Lyall's larch, and 
abounds in picas, marmots, and porcupines, one of 
which I came upon as I approached camp. 

Towards evening the weather thickened, and 
showers of sleet and snow fell. The moon was a 
little past full, and during the cold night, it broke 
through the clouds and mists that were sweeping 
over the mountains. The cliffs loomed dark through 
ghostly and fleeting shrouds of fog, and the sharp- 
lined shadows of the larches above us were thrown 
in bright moonlight upon our ice-covered tent. 
Rain in the morning made the fourteenth day of 
almost consecutive stormy weather, which is past 
all precedent for the month of August. Much de- 
layed already by storms, it was necessary to make 
rapid and long marches henceforth. However, a 
new contingency had arisen, — our horses had dis- 
appeared ! Ross searched for them all the morning, 
and returned about two p.m., saying he had been 
nearly to Eldon, in the Bow valley, east of our 
camp. Again in the evening we both set out, I up 
the ridge, and Ross towards the muskegs and 
meadows below our camp to the north. No sign 
of our animals was discovered. A curious effect 



©ur Iborses IDisappear 211 

on our imagination was made by our trying to hear 
the bell. Both of us fancied we could hear it, ring- 
ing constantly, in one direction or another, though 
we could not agree upon the locality. 

It was useless to waste more time hunting over 
the vast extent of open country that surrounded our 
camp, so I decided to send Ross back to Laggan, and 
then by rail to Banff, for more horses, or another man 
to find our own. Owing to the cold weather I had 
no doubt we would be able to cross the streams 
which come out of Desolation and Paradise valleys. 
In the morning at eight o'clock Ross started for Laggan. 
Left absolutely alone in the wilderness for the first time, 
I spent the entire morning gathering fire-wood which 
the miners had cut, and making camp comfortable and 
neat. At night I banked the camp-fire, and in the 
morning, after eleven hours, it was still burning. 

August 25th. Fog and snow showers were the 
curtain raiser this morning. The continuous per- 
formance began at ten o'clock with a heavy snow- 
storm, accompanied by a rapidly falling barometer. 
The best weather so far at this camp has been merely 
a temporary cessation of either rain, wind, or snow. 
My two pairs of boots and a pair of slippers are 
alternately drying before the fire. When all are 
soaked, I go to bed. This performance repeated 
about ten times makes up a full day. 

Ross has now been gone for two days, and I had 
almost hoped he would return to-night. The baro- 
meter is rising steadily at last, and the highest peaks 



212 Zbc IRocfties of Cana&a 

are disclosed through clinging clouds. The sun at 
evening shed a pale golden glow through the larches, 
while to the east the mountains and clouds were 
bathed in a rich purple light. From near our tent 
the valley can be seen as it sweeps down in magni- 
ficent forest slopes, making a descent of about three 
thousand feet to the Bow River, three or four miles 
distant. The railroad can be seen nearly from Banff 
to Laggan, and the " Imperial Flyer " is in view for 
forty-five minutes, creeping apparently like a snail 
through the valley. It is getting colder, and at 
seven o'clock the tent is stiff as parchment with ice. 

August 26th. The sun shone and the barometer 
was rising. I could still hear that bell ringing, but 
paid no attention to my fancies. However, it con- 
tinued, and at length I imagined 1 could hear the 
tramping of horses. Then the bell sounded louder 
than ever. 1 got up, dressed hastily, and came out 
of the tent just in time to see all our horses come 
galloping into camp ! Ross would arrive in a few 
minutes, no doubt, and 1 gave the horses salt, so 
they would stay near camp. After a little, I tied 
one to a tree and made breakfast. It began to snow 
again and the barometer was falling. Why did Ross 
not come, and where had the horses been all this 
time ? 

1 climbed the ridge in the hope of getting a shot 
at a sheep I had seen on a previous trip, or at least 
of getting some ptarmigans for supper. I got neither 
the sheep nor the ptarmigans, but thought I heard far 




Falls 
Routes 
v i$$ Glac/ers 



SKETCH OF A PART OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS BETWEEN THE KICKING-HORSE AND VERMILlON PASSES. 

FROM A ROUGH SURVEY BY THE AUTHOR. 



Hlone In tbe THRU&ernese 213 

in the distance the sound of wood-chopping. Relief 
at last ! Ross and someone else were coming up 
from Eldon and had horses with them, because they 
were cutting trees fallen across the trail. 1 descended 
into the meadow, where a coyote was hunting the 
picas and marmots, and soon reached camp. All 
was as I left it, so there was no relief after all. Ross 
had been gone nearly three days, and it occurred to 
me that he may not have reached Laggan at all. 
What if he had sprained his ankle, or met with some 
mishap in the timber and rock-slides of the pathless 
wilderness between here and Laggan ? 

I spent the afternoon writing notes, while snow 
fell outside. About five o'clock 1 heard a shout, but 
my imagination of late had been playing strange 
pranks. A moment later I felt sure 1 heard more 
shouting. 1 answered with vigour, and putting on 
fire-wood, fanned it into a blaze. Presently shouts 
again came out of the storm from the ridge above 
our camp. I replied repeatedly, for it was snowing 
hard, and a dense fog through which only the near- 
est trees were visible, and those but little beyond, 
appeared like ghostly forms, enveloped everything. 
Two riders emerged from the gloom, and I recog- 
nised Tom Lusk and Ross Peecock. I served the 
men at once with an excellent camp dinner of bean 
soup, broiled ham, tea, bannocks, and apple sauce. 
For dessert I proudly set forth a newly discovered 
dish made of cornstarch blanc mange and marma- 
lade, flavoured with Scotch whiskey. The dinner 



214 Gbe IRocMes of Canaba 

was pronounced a great success, and the orange 
pudding, especially, was praised by Tom, who 
smacked the flavour of Scotch with gusto. 

I told about the horses coming into camp, and 
learned how Ross had reached Laggan in five hours 
and gone to Banff by rail that day. Here he saw 
Wilson, and returned with Tom Lusk, camping the 
first night at Hillsdale. On Saturday they reached 
Eldon and forded the Bow in four feet of water, as 
the river is very high. The Saskatchewan at Ed- 
monton is in great flood and carrying down houses 
as a result of this abnormal weather in the mount- 
ains. It snowed so hard all night that the poles 
bent and nearly let down the tent. In the morning 
there were six inches of new snow on the ground 
though the sun was struggling through the clouds. 
The brilliant mountains and the larch trees, bending 
their branches in submission to the burden of snow, 
made a marvellous but chilly picture for midsummer. 

Tom Lusk packed up and left us in the morning 
as our horses had discovered themselves. The 
newly arrived ponies and our own bit and kicked 
one another, for cayuses recognise friends or ene- 
mies in every strange outfit. Tom left us with pro- 
testations of his unwillingness to go. It would 
have been dangerous to our horses to travel through 
the woods while there was so much snow, so we 
remained in camp an entire day, and on the 28th set 
out towards the Vermilion Pass, by traversing the 
flanks of the mountains, as we had done hitherto. 



flDagnificent Diew of tbe IDermilion Jpaes 215 

We followed the Eldon trail for a mile and a half, till 
we were one thousand feet below the level of our 
camp and struck into the woods. Then ensued the 
most miserable day's travel yet experienced. Slushy 
snow lay deep in the heavy forest, which, though 
green, was blocked by many fallen trees and moss- 
covered rocks, very trying to our struggling horses. 
The bush was wet, and our water-soaked boots 
were very painful from cold. Being forced by the 
nature of the slopes to ascend constantly, after five 
hours' travel, we came to the crest of a ridge nearly 
at tree-line. From this a magnificent view of the 
Vermilion Pass was disclosed. Storm Mountain 
and Mt. Ball stood in massive grandeur under a 
cloudy sky on the further side of this great rent in 
the continental watershed. A continuous green 
forest covered the pass for a breadth of four or five 
miles, sweeping up the mountains and into a fine 
valley which appeared on our right. Into this we 
planned to descend, and after a brief survey of the 
mountains, I found a shallow gully apparently suit- 
able for our purpose. Following the fresh tracks of 
a bear, we urged our horses forward, and got safely 
down to the valley bottom, making a drop of nine 
hundred feet. Here, beside a fine stream, we paused 
for a short rest. " This is God's country," said Ross, 
as he looked around on the open meadow and green 
forest which made such pleasant contrast with the 
snowy region we had recently left. Our horses 
were no less pleased than we, as was evident by 



216 ztbe TRocfcies of Canaba 

their looks and actions. We ascended the valley 
through a succession of flat muskegs and woods, 
and in less than an hour, came to a fine lake, where 
we made camp. There was no trail, but a few blaze 
marks on the trees showed that some trapper had 
visited the place. After a hearty dinner and four- 
teen hours of work, we slept soundly through a 
rainy night. 

The weather was better in the morning, and 
leaving Ross at camp I started to explore the upper 
end of the lake and valley. This lake runs about 
north-west and south-east and sends a stream into 
the Vermilion Pass. It is half a mile wide and prob- 
ably three miles in length. One of its most curious 
features is a crescent-shaped dam of logs and tree 
roots about one mile from the lower end. This ex- 
tends from shore to shore, and probably marks the 
shallow water made by some old glacier moraine. I 
thought at first of naming the lake from this circum- 
stance, but was unable to make anything euphonious 
out of " log-dammed lake," while some of the possi- 
bilities seemed rather breezy and western. The 
water, though otherwise pure and clear, is full of 
black spots about the size of a pin head. Looking 
more closely I saw that they were apparently the 
larvae of some insect, armed with two propelling 
flippers with which they move through the water. 
Their general appearance was like the small grey 
gnats which swarm in August and September. 
Among them a few fiery red, spider-like creatures 



Hnotber large Xafce Diecovereb 217 

were seen less frequently. From this unpleasant and 
extraordinary circumstance, we could not use the 
lake water, but found a fine spring near our camp. 
The lake is full offish, of which Ross caught a num- 
ber while I was on my tramp. They are speckled 
trout, not so large as those in Moraine Lake. Their 
gills are uncommonly red, possibly from irritation of 
the larvae in the water. This lake at its lower end is 
less impressive than others. Some high glacier-cov- 
ered mountains appeared down the lake, but distance 
detracts from their grandeur. A long ridge with an 
even slope banded with light green where snow- 
slides had swept through the forests extends along 
the north side of the valley for several miles. A very 
high and precipitous ridge guards the other side of 
the valley and comes down close to the lake in some 
places. 

I reached the other end of the lake in an hour 
without difficulty. In one place a vertical cliff rises 
out of it, but I found a narrow ledge, where, in water 
up to my knees, I walked round its base. The cliff 
continues to descend vertically below the water's 
surface to unknown depths. A short distance beyond 
the lake is a precipice with a glacier at the top, where 
a stream makes a fall and then crossing a flat enters 
the lake. Fording this stream I skirted around the 
lake through a grove of magnificent spruces and 
climbed a grassy slope on the north. This was cov- 
ered by turf and mountain flowers. Thousands of 
bluebells, yellow composites, and several unfamiliar 



218 Zbc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

blossoms made this warm south-facing slope a lovely 
garden. 1 came upon a porcupine and its young off- 
spring browsing on the succulent herbs. The mother 
gave me a nervous look and ran off, basely deserting 
its little one. I was surprised at the spirit of the 
little baby porcupine, which came at me and raised 
its spines and tail in self-defence. I ascended rapidly 
on an easy incline and soon began to get splendid 
views of high mountains at the valley head. What 
were these strange peaks ? The broadening view 
tempted me to climb ever higher. I now saw the 
lake in perfect outline, and began to get better ideas 
of the streams and mountains. 

At nine thousand feet I stood on the crest of a 
ridge overlooking the Bow, but a higher peak rose to 
the north. The rough limestones and the depth of 
recently fallen snow made further progress rather 
hazardous and difficult. A beetling precipice faced 
the Bow, and a horrid chasm led down to one of 
those short valleys near our camp at the mine. 
Clouds were rolling over the mountains, momentarily 
revealing new features. Suddenly Mt. Temple ap- 
peared to the north-west. The pass below me then 
connects Consolation Valley with this one, and a 
long ridge separates the two valleys from that of the 
Bow. A gap breaks through the ridge at the head of 
Consolation Valley and leads to the little lake near 
our old camp at the copper mine. I could see the 
south side of some of the jagged peaks, which stand 
guardian over Moraine Lake, and among them lay an 






jEypIore Zvoo IPalle^e 219 

ice-field, two or three miles long which terminates 
on a shelf above the long lake. 

My sketching of streams, lakes, and mountains, 
finished, I made a rapid descent to the valley. The 
deep snow rolled up in balls, gathered speed and 
burst below and around me as I glissaded down the 
upper slopes. Then the iron nails of my boots made 
a gritty sound on the sharp limestone of the bare 
mountain sides till I came to the herbs and dwarfed 
trees of lower level. An Alpine meadow, a rock- 
slide, and the upper belt of larches led to the deep 
spruce woods. The paths of winter snow-slides in- 
tersected these, where the spruces are swept away, 
the bushes downbent and gnarled, and the broken 
trunks of trees and great rocks hurled together in 
chaotic ruin. Here grow the mountain ash, willow, 
and great cow-parsnip. I was soon by the water of 
the lake, rippling against its mossy log-strewn shore. 
I reached camp by skirting the north shore and 
crossed the outlet stream on a long dam of floating 
trees, similar to the crescent-shaped one a mile from 
the lake's end. 

August 30th. We left the lake and descended 
the valley for two miles. Leaving the stream we 
turned to our right through the woods, in a direction 
parallel to the Vermilion Pass, so that we might 
enter the next valley to the west. We got very 
high on the mountain and found ourselves in a 
critical place among cliffs, where, by the most anx- 
ious manoeuvring, we finally led our horses to a 



220 Zhc IRocfcies of Canaba 

steep slope which we descended to the new valley. 
I was nearly hit twice by large stones, which, set in 
motion by the horses' feet, came rolling down through 
the trees. After a march of four hours we camped 
by a stream among some spruces more than one 
hundred feet high. 

It rained in the night and all the next day, turning 
to snow later. On the following morning there 
were twelve inches of snow on the ground, though 
our altitude was only fifty-eight hundred feet. The 
sun came out in the morning and made a great stir 
among the trees. The silence of mid-winter was in- 
terrupted by the dripping of water, and the splash of 
snow falling from the boughs. In the afternoon the 
snow had settled so much that I set out to explore 
the valley, in which there might be a lake. An hour 
of walking proved there was no lake but only a flat 
muskeg at the valley end. Among the crags and 
boulders of the higher mountains a number of glaciers 
appeared, though the clouds concealed them partially. 
Three splendid buttresses project from the cliff on 
the west side of this narrow cleft in the mountains, 
which is a valley, five or six miles long, and of nobler 
appearance than the other, but less interesting from 
the absence of any lake. 

On the 2nd of September we left this place 
which we named "Rainy Valley" from the per- 
petual storms during our visit, and pursued our way 
to the Vermilion Pass. I was surprised to see that 
the stream from Rainy Valley turns to the west and 



a prospector's Camp 221 

and flows into the Vermilion River. We had been 
then for several days in British Columbia without 
knowing it. Near the pass summit, we took the 
trail, practically the first one we had been on for 
eighteen days, and followed the Vermilion River for 
two and a half hours. The weather was warm and 
fine and proved the first day without rain since 
leaving Moraine Lake. A broad valley presently 
opened to the north-west, so we crossed the Vermil- 
ion River and climbed through the woods for a mile 
or so, when Ross shouted out that he had found a 
blazed trail. Rejoiced at this discovery we followed 
it in a short descent to a swift, clear stream about 
twenty-five yards wide. Some high and jagged 
peaks, ten or twelve miles distant, reared their sharp 
summits toward the blue sky and purple clouds of 
evening. They were no doubt Hungabee and Delta- 
form, the triangular giants at the head of Paradise 
and Desolation valleys. The great volume of water 
in this stream proved that the new valley was much 
longer than any we had explored. We were delighted 
at our entrance into this unmapped country, which 
seemed full of promise in the way of discovery. 

By the river we came to an old camp, where at 
first a gruesome discovery seemed probable. Cook- 
ing utensils and articles of clothing were strewn 
everywhere, while decayed provisions and rotten 
skins of some animals gave every evidence of a hasty 
departure, or possibly death by starvation. Piles of 
copper, lead, and iron ore showed the nature of the 



222 Zbc IRocfcies of Canada 

former campers. Half expecting to find a skeleton, 
or some other evidence of disaster, as we poked 
among these relics, there suddenly came to memory 
a vague report of how, upon one occasion, Peyto and 
another man were deserted by their horses some- 
where in the mountains, though the exact locality 
was surrounded by mystery. This then was no 
doubt the spot. They had to walk back to the rail- 
road and cross the Bow on a hastily constructed raft. 
In midstream the raft began to dissolve away, and 
the passengers, who were paddling for the opposite 
shore with all their might, sank down into the icy 
waters of the swelling river. With head and shoulders 
above the water as the last sticks floated away, they 
reached the shore in safety. 

We camped on a hard gravelly meadow farther 
up the river. A heavy dew fell in the cold shadows 
as we set up the tent at five o'clock. The weather 
was again dull in the morning as we marched up the 
valley. Some teepee poles at various places showed 
that the Indians hunt here for wild goats. Their 
white wool appeared on the bushes, and near some 
of the Indian camps we saw a great number of bones 
and wool which the squaws scrape off the hides be- 
fore dressing them into leather. 

Leaving Ross to make camp, after we had gone 
about six miles up the valley, I set out after lunch to 
explore it further. The trail is very poor in the upper 
part of this valley. After walking about five miles I 
felt that it would be impossible to reach the end 




PASS BETWEEN O'HARA AND PROSPECTOR'S VALLEYS 



jEn& of tbe IDallep 223 

before dark and decided to change my plan. If I could 
cross the stream, which was here much reduced in 
size, I could climb a long way on the opposite slope 
and possibly see the entire valley well enough to 
sketch it accurately. A log projected half-way across 
the stream, from which I jumped into the water, and 
with two or three running steps was on the other 
side. I climbed the half-barren slopes rapidly where 
grew some flowers recently uncovered by snows of 
a winter avalanche. The yellow Alpine lily — one 
of the earliest of spring flowers — was in blossom, 
together with the white anemone, whose stamens 
were all eaten off by insects, as a summing up of ad- 
versity. From a height of seventy-two hundred feet 
at five o'clock, I saw the pass which leads into the 
valley at Lake O'Hara. I recognised its curious out- 
line from a trip made some years before. On the 
north were the high mountains of the Desolation 
Range near Moraine Lake, with Mt. Deltaform tow- 
ering over all. A small lake lies part way up its 
heavily wooded flanks, but its upper precipices of ice 
and rock seemed very difficult of ascent. There are 
about ten of these sharp peaks, between nine and 
eleven thousand feet high, and as they are precipit- 
ous on the other side, and apparently very thor- 
oughly guarded on the south and east, they will 
make fine problems for future climbs. I reached 
camp at dark, after thirteen hours of walking and 
climbing. 

In the morning, we packed up and moved out of 



224 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

this, which we called " Prospector's Valley," from the 
fact of our finding the old camp near its entrance. It 
is about fifteen miles long, nearly straight, and covered 
with green forests throughout. About one mile from 
the Vermilion, the stream becomes narrow as it flows 
between rocky walls. Then it plunges by a fearful 
fall of about fifty feet into a dark canyon. The rocks 
are white or yellow, but stained in places red or 
black by iron. The clear blue water flows swiftly 
over its white bed into a deep pool and then makes a 
leap into the dark canyon with a roar that may be 
heard for miles. After the junction of this stream and 
the other that comes from the pass, the Vermilion 
becomes a considerable river and made us choose 
our fording-places more carefully. The stream that 
comes from Prospector's Valley is larger than the 
other. After marching two hours more we placed 
our camp by an iron spring, which gives the name to 
the Vermilion River, and lies between the two great 
forks of the river. The river bubbles up in several 
green pools, and flows over the ground, which is 
stained yellow. The Indians burn this soil and turn 
it to a bright red, when it is used as a wai paint or a 
simple rouge in times of peace. 

September 5th. This proved the most unsatisfac- 
tory day of the entire trip. It had rained all night, 
and the morning gave no promise of improvement. 
Crossing the swamp made by the iron spring, we 
followed certain blazes and a faint trail up the mount- 
ain side. The trail became fainter and finally ended 



•Real Source of tbe IDermilion 225 

in as thick a bush as I have ever seen. Leaving 
Ross to cut his way through, I followed the blaze 
mark to a prospector's claim. It was our purpose 
to cross over a point of land to the main Vermilion 
River, which comes in from the north-west out of a 
broad valley. This was not the trail, and after two 
hours' hard work we turned back through the wet 
brush. It seemed best to follow the river and hope 
to find the trail from a point near the confluent 
streams. We did so, but could find no evidence of 
the desired trail, and we camped in despair by the 
river. Soaked through by a cold rain, our fingers 
were so numb that we could hardly untie the pack 
ropes or set up the tents. In an hour, however, our 
camp was in order, on a bench near the water, and a 
large fire was burning briskly. For the first time, I 
was farther away from my object after making a 
day's march. 

We were near the two streams of the Vermilion, 
one of which comes from the pass to the south-east, 
while the other heads to the north-west. On Daw- 
son's map, the latter is not sketched out, and is 
called the "Main Stream." One result of our in- 
vestigations was our knowledge that the stream 
from the pass is considerably larger and longer. 
The stream in Prospector's Valley, then, is the real 
Vermilion River, as this is the longest and most 
voluminous tributary and heads near the base of 
Mt. Hungabee. The exploration and sketching out 
of these two streams was probably the most valuable 



226 £be IRocfues of Cana&a 

geographical work of our trip. The altitude at this 
place is about forty-five hundred feet. 

A cold rain fell all night, and snow lay on the 
mountains less than one thousand feet above us in 
the morning. 1 rode my saddle horse across the 
river, for we were on the south side of it, and leav- 
ing Ross to pack up things, started to find the trail 
which leads up the north-west fork of the river. 1 
soon found myself on a high clay bluff, overlooking 
the north-west fork, which is a muddy stream. A 
trail seemed to appear on the other side of the river, 
but a scramble down the clay bank revealed no- 
thing. Entering the woods I beat a way through the 
wet brush, parallel with the stream, but was cha- 
grined to find myself in a half hour by the other 
river. Turning back, I resolved to keep a straighter 
course, and frequently glanced at a distant peak for 
my bearings. What was my surprise to find my- 
self after a time again on the river bank. A second 
look, however, added to my perplexity, for this river 
was muddy and flowed to my left instead of right. 
It was the north-west fork again, and in the clay 
were my recent footprints. 1 had walked for an 
hour in a circle, in spite of my earnest resolve to 
keep a straight course. Many a time I have trav- 
ersed the pathless woods for hours, and come out 
within a hundred yards of camp without a com- 
pass, but the pride of past exploits was here utterly 
fallen. The mountain towards which I was walk- 
ing seemed enchanted and as far away as ever. I 



1?iver Bitn&es into HDan? Small Streams 227 

can offer no excuse for such poor woodcraft, except 
that there was no sun, nor uniform slope of ground, 
and the wet brush which had to be beaten before 
me, distracted attention. 

Following the bluff with jealous care, I came 
upon the trail in a quarter of a mile. This I took 
back till it led me to the iron spring, not two hun- 
dred yards from our first camp. No blazes on the 
trees, and a heavy underbrush, concealed it from 
view and cost us a day and a half of valuable time. 
After three hours of work 1 returned to camp, cold, 
tired, and disgusted, but happy that the trail was 
found. We marched five hours and camped at 6.30 
p.m., many miles up the north-west branch of the 
Vermilion, in a poor place. 

About one mile from camp we passed a fine 
meadow the next day, where we gave our horses 
thirty minutes to feed, because they had had a poor 
pasture the previous night. Shortly afterwards a 
large stream came in from our right and the trail 
totally disappeared. While hunting around for it, 
another stream was discovered, entering a hundred 
yards beyond from the opposite side of the valley. 
The river was rapidly dividing into small streams. 
We discovered the trail at length up the stream to 
our right. It took us away from the water and into 
the woods, where a steep ascent of nearly one 
thousand feet led us to a commanding spot. 

The great valley of the Vermilion was visible for 
more than thirty miles, an unbroken sweep of dark 



228 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

green forest. From the ridge on the west, which 
intervened between us and Prospector's Valley, 
several confluent streams made the one where we 
had found the trail. One of these falls down a cliff 
for some distance into a rock basin whence it spouts 
upwards like a boiling spring or geyser about ten feet 
into the air, then arching over falls one hundred feet 
before striking the precipice. On the other side of 
the narrow ridge, up which we urged our horses by 
the steepest kind of a trail, was another cascade of 
far greater height in the dark valley beyond. At its 
head there lay the lofty mountains of volcanic rock, 
Vaux and Goodsir. 

An upland park of meadows and interspersed 
groves made easy travel for several miles, till we 
camped at sixty-two hundred feet on the summit of 
the pass between the Vermilion and Ottertail. The 
night was clear and frosty. In bright sunshine the 
next morning we descended a thousand feet into 
the Ottertail valley, and hoped to reach O'Hara Lake, 
west of Mt. Victoria, by evening. However, we did 
not allow for the countless vexatious delays of losing 
the trail, which, in this narrow ravine-like valley, is 
almost the worst 1 have ever seen. Much of the 
time we beat a way through the timber without a 
trail, but the many cut banks guarded by trees, 
undermined by the water, and sweeping its rapids 
with their branches, made us climb, and chop, and 
ford constantly. After an exceedingly hard day, we 
camped on a rough slide, where our horses had 








O'HARA LAKE AND WIWAXY PEAK 



Zvy\t\Q Descent of tbe ©ttertail IRwer 229 

scanty feed, and we, only so much room as was 
necessary to place our tent upon. The snow of a 
winter slide near us had but recently melted, and the 
uncovered bushes were putting forth buds and tender 
leaves. Delicate flowers were in brilliant blossom, 
while hard by were the evidences of the end of 
summer, making a strange contrast of springtime 
fragrance and autumnal colours. 

On the previous day we were disappointed not 
to have arrived at O'Hara Lake, but now felt confi- 
dent that on this day we should reach that charming 
spot. I thought the next valley, opening to our 
right, would be the one to follow, but the trail made 
an aggravating turn, and landed us far up the valley 
to the west, whence we could see Mts. Vaux and 
Goodsir. The trail disappeared in the stream, and it 
was half an hour before Ross found it, or another in 
the woods. We followed it for a long distance, but 
bands of meadow cut through the woods every 
quarter mile or so, and in such places the grass, 
willows, and alders grow rank, and a man on horse- 
back is lost in the underbrush. The trail also dis- 
appears and must be found on the opposite side at 
great loss of time. At length, in some uncertainty 
of our trail, which was leading us too far north, we 
camped in a rich meadow. Our horses revelled here 
in the fine grass, which was waving in warm and 
balmy breezes. 

On the afternoon of September 9th, two roughly 
clad men, one on horseback, and the other on foot, 



230 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

might have been seen on opposite sides of a wide and 
roaring mountain stream, pursuing their way through 
the woods. Wherever an open space disclosed one 
to another, curious signals were made by their hold- 
ing up one or both arms. The river was the Otter- 
tail, and the men were Ross Peecock and myself, 
trying to find a trail and signalling whether any had 
yet been found or no. In the evening one had been 
discovered, and the prospects of to-morrow's march 
were thereby improved. 

The trail enters a valley of large size which opens 
into the Ottertail at this point from the north-east. 
From its position and direction, 1 hoped that it would 
give us a route to the region of O'Hara Lake, the 
source of the Kicking Horse River, where one day's 
march would bring us to the railroad. A trip through 
this delightful region seemed better than to continue 
down the Ottertail to Leanchoil, especially as the 
lower Ottertail valley has been burned over. 

September 10th. The weather was still warm and 
beautiful, and in an hour after starting we were on 
the trail which takes up the new valley. Our horses 
felt so good from their recent fine pasture that they 
were nervous and excitable. It was hard to drive 
them, and on one occasion two of them started back. 
Running through the woods to head them off, I 
stumbled on a log, and gave my right knee a terri- 
ble blow against a sharp stone. The pain made it 
impossible at first to even shout to Ross, who was 
following the trail. When he came to my assistance, 



H lPainful Hccibent 231 

it was some time before I could move, but I finally 
got on my horse. As the inflammation got worse by 
riding, I had to get off and walk. It was impossible 
for me to drive the refractory horses, so while Ross 
went behind I led. To make matters worse, the 
trail disappeared, and Ross had to come forward to 
locate it, which he finally did, some way up the mount- 
ain. After this Ross climbed down to the stream, 
and brought up a hat full of its ice-cold water, nar- 
rowly escaping losing it all after a long climb by 
slipping from a log. The cold allayed the pain some- 
what, though my leg was so stiff at first, that I lay 
down frequently for rest, and the next one hundred 
yards were the slowest and most excruciating it has 
ever been my lot to travel. However, the circulation 
started up with exercise, and in a short time I began 
to walk well. 

The trail, after climbing some way, descends into 
a fine open valley, where we made very rapid time, 
by driving our horses up the clear stream, and cross- 
ing from side to side. In five miles we came to a 
side valley on our right, which I had long held in 
view as the one we should take. After countless 
delays in beating the trail, we found ourselves, as the 
daylight failed, at the top of a pass, where, on a sin- 
gle ridge of green, we were surrounded by apparently 
impassable rock-slides. Westward, the wan green 
sky was hung with ominous clouds, brooding over 
a mountain, which, like a massive pyramid, filled all 
the gap between west and north. The trail was 



232 Ebe iRocfues of Canaba 

finally discovered over the rock-slide. Here the In- 
dians had filled all the crevices between the stones 
with smaller ones, and paved a safe but narrow path 
among rough ledges. The south side of Mt. Victoria 
lay in plain view before us, and at 7.30 p.m., after 
ten hours of marching, we pitched our camp in the 
darkness beside O'Hara Lake. Our tent was on 
the identical spot where Wilson and I had slept on 
bare ground in the fall of 1896. 

In the morning the chickadees were singing and 
calling to one another very sweetly among the 
spruces. The mosquitoes were as numerous as in 
summer, though the air was springlike. It was to be 
a day of rest after our long and tiresome marches, for 
we were now within six hours of the railroad. 
O'Hara Lake was a favourite resort of a gentleman 
of that name, who came here frequently some years 
ago, and was probably the first tourist to visit the 
place. If the six most beautiful lakes in the mount- 
ains were selected, this would certainly be among 
them. Personally, I regard Lake Louise, Moraine 
Lake, and O'Hara Lake as the three finest 1 have 
ever seen. Each is between one and two miles long 
and each has certain individual charms. 

O'Hara Lake is surrounded by a noble amphi- 
theatre, the cul-de-sac made by Mts. Victoria, Lefroy, 
and Hungabee. The water and even the bottom it- 
self are coloured a vivid, clear green. Not far from the 
outlet, a pretty bay is made by a narrow point which 
projects a line of trees into the water. Then it dissolves 




O'HARA LAKE 



ffieaut? of ©'Ibara Xafce 233 

in a chain of rocky islets, covered in part with 
moss, willows, a few dwarf spruces, and beds of pur- 
ple-rayed asters. Beyond this miniature cape, the 
shore sweeps out into the broader reaches of the 
lake, and carries the eye to the cliffs of the farthest 
shore, where the inlet stream makes a curtain of 
water as it falls in cascades over dark rocks. At 
night and sometimes by day, you may hear the 
sound of the water distinctly, a mile or more distant, 
as it is carried over the lake. 1 have never discovered 
whether there are any fish in this lake or not, though 
every condition is favourable to them. 

The next day we marched six hours down the 
valley, over a bad trail, and reached the railroad at 
Hector. Here we traversed burnt timber for the first 
and only time, of our thirty-one days' trip. When 
near the valley end, a thunder-storm came up from 
the west, and swept a curtain of hail and rain over 
the mountains. A high waterfall on the side of Mt. 
Victoria was stopped and blown back against the 
cliffs by the strong winds. We left the wilderness 
and passed out of the mountains while the raging of 
storm and the roar of thunder bade us farewell. 



CHAPTER XIII 

MOUNTAIN CLIMBING IN THE ROCKIES — NATURE OF THE 
ROCK FORMATIONS — THE MOUNTAINS EASILY ACCES- 
SIBLE — POSSIBILITIES OF THE WEATHER — PIONEER WORK 
OF THE SURVEYORS — FIRST ATTEMPT ON MT. TEMPLE — A 
WILD NIGHT — A SCENE OF RUGGED DESOLATION — FINAL 
SUCCESS — FIRST CONQUESTS BY THE APPALACHIAN CLUB 

— FATAL ACCIDENT ON MT. LEFROY — THE SUMMIT OF MT. 
VICTORIA — THE WAPUTEHK RANGE — VIEW OF MT. FORBES 

— ASCENT OF ATHABASCA PEAK — MAGNIFICENT VIEW INTO 
AN UNEXPLORED REGION — FIRST CLIMBERS OF THE SEL- 
KIRKS — SPLENDID FUTURE OF THE ROCKIES FROM A MOUN- 
TAINEERING STANDPOINT 

THE Rockies of Canada offer exceptional oppor- 
tunities to the mountaineer. The time has 
not yet come when the climber must travel 
far into the wilderness to find peaks that have never 
been attempted. There are hundreds of unclimbed 
mountains within a few miles of the railroad, and it 
may safely be said that mountaineering in the Cana- 
dian Rockies is now making its early history. 

Few other easily accessible ranges in the world 
possess the rare charm of the unexplored wilderness, 
where each attempt is a reconnaissance for the best 
route and every view is looked upon for the first time 
by human eyes. Perhaps because of this element 

234 



mature of tbe IRocfc formations 235 

of novelty, no great mountain is ever climbed twice. 
Everyone prefers to attempt a lesser peak, that is 
absolutely new, than to retrace some other party's 
steps on a higher mountain. Two exceptions to this 
rule are Mt. Stephen, at Field, and Mt. Sir Donald, at 
Glacier, each of which now has the distinction of 
several ascents. 

The average height of the valleys is between four 
and seven thousand feet above sea-level, and as the 
greatest peaks are between eleven and thirteen thou- 
sand feet, the actual ascent of every mountain can 
usually be made in one day, so that high-level camps 
are unnecessary. It may be said that six thousand 
feet is about the upper limit of total ascent necessary 
to reach mountain summits in the Canadian Rockies. 
Glacier and snow work is not dissimilar to that in 
other mountain systems, but rock climbing has 
special features of its own. The rocks in the Selkirks 
are hard schists and shales, which weather into great 
blocks and offer comparatively safe foot- and hand- 
holes. 

In the eastern or Summit Range, however, the 
geological formations are utterly different. The 
lower parts of mountains near the axis of the range 
are usually Cambrian quartz-sandstones, which are 
stable when broken, while the cliffs, though often 
nearly vertical, abound in ledges and steps, which 
make easy work. This formation, however, is only 
found up to a moderate altitude, usually less than eight 
thousand feet, and then only in the sub-range which 



236 Zhc IRocfciee of Canafca 

makes the continental watershed. The other paral- 
lel sub-ranges, of which there are five or six, and the 
upper parts of every range, are formed of blue and 
grey limestones and dolomites of the Carboniferous 
and Devonian ages. Sometimes beds of shales and 
clay-slates appear also in this formation. These lime- 
stones weather into abrupt and often nearly per- 
pendicular cliffs on the eastern face of nearly every 
mountain, while the western is usually a moderate 
slope which offers a key to many otherwise difficult 
ascents. When the strata are nearly or quite hori- 
zontal, however, the softer beds weather into vertical 
cliffs, which make impassable zones round the 
mountains. Such peaks assume a castellated appear- 
ance, and the cliffs are adorned with numerous sharp 
pinnacles and rounded pillars, which bear a striking 
resemblance to mediaeval ruins. The disintegration 
of the limestones is very rapid, as may be seen in 
the immense talus slopes, which have been piled 
against the mountain bases since the Glacial Period. 
Frequent rock-falls add daily to these great masses of 
debris. The gullies on the high parts of the mount- 
ains are filled with unstable rocks and lined with 
tottering walls ready to fall at any time. The danger 
of falling stones and unsafe ledges is the greatest 
which the climber will encounter in the Canadian 
Rockies. 

At Lake Louise, Field, and Glacier, the climber is 
near the base of many fine peaks, and may use the 
several inns as his starting-point, or at least consider 



possibilities of tbe Weatber 237 

them his main camp. This is true of Banff, though 
very few climbers will be tempted to make the tedi- 
ous ascents of Twin Peaks and Cascade Mountain, 
which do not offer sufficient compensation for the 
labour required. Many fine mountains raise their 
snowy summits at a distance from the railroad, and 
to conquer them, a camping trip, with horses and 
tents, should be planned. There are no huts as yet, 
where the traveller may spend a night, except near 
Lake Louise, unless we consider the occasional log 
shacks of prospectors and trappers. A tent or even a 
bivouac is usually far preferable to these damp, por- 
cupine-infested places. 

All the climber's work and the reward of his 
labour depend on weather. That of the Canadian 
mountains is no worse nor better than elsewhere. 
The usual summer weather in June is cold and rainy, 
and the rivers are in flood from melting snow, to be 
followed in July by sunshiny warm days, interrupted 
by brief thunder-storms. August is generally hot 
and dry, but towards the end of the month, a week 
or more of rain and snow frequently occurs, and this 
storm marks the breaking of summer heat. Sep- 
tember is a fickle month, and is usually stormy 
and cold for a long period. Cool October is the 
best month of all, though the days are short, and 
even the midday sun casts long shadows in deep 
valleys. The nights are frosty, films of ice form on 
pools, and the mosquitoes and gnats no longer 
worry the camper. The rivers are low and can be 



238 Zbe IRocfties of CanaDa 

easily forded, while the most distant mountains are 
distinctly seen through the crystal atmosphere. The 
only certain thing about the weather is its uncer- 
tainty, though in general, fine weather is the rule 
and rain the exception. During rainy periods, the 
short intervals of improvement, or the final clearing, 
are the best of all, and the cloud effects are mag- 
nificent beyond description. There can be no finer 
revelation of the sublimity of nature, especially 
when seen from the craggy summit of some storm- 
swept peak, than a view of rugged mountains partly 
concealed by rolling clouds. 

No doubt the earliest ascents of importance were 
made by the railroad and topographical surveyors. 
Between 1887 and 1892, Mr. J. J. McArthur climbed 
nineteen mountains over nine thousand feet and 
four mountains over ten thousand feet high. Among 
the latter, the first ascended was Mt. Stephen, in 
1887, and again in 1892. Wind Mountain, near 
Canmore, and the fine peak called Storm Mountain, 
near the Vermilion Pass, were ascended by Mr. St. 
Cyr. All this work was for survey purposes and so 
cannot be called mountaineering in the true meaning 
of the term. Only such mountains were attempted 
as could be climbed when encumbered by heavy 
surveying instruments, and this resulted in their de- 
feat on several peaks, one of which was Mt. Hector. 

Almost immediately after the surveyors finished 
their work for the time being, some ascents were 
made by visitors to this new mountain world. In 



H Milt> IFUgbt 239 

the summer of 1893, Mr. S. S. Allen and I were 
camped at Lake Louise, with the purpose of making 
some mountain climbs in that beautiful region. Our 
two weeks' work resulted in capturing two mount- 
ains on either side of the lake, and being defeated by 
Mt. Victoria after reaching a height of ten thousand 
feet, and by Mt. Temple at ninety-eight hundred 
feet. 

On the latter attempt we started from Lake 
Louise with one horse and a Stony Indian, named 
Enoch Wildman. The horse carried a tent and 
some provisions, about ninety per cent, of which 
was canned duck, a wholesome though monoton- 
ous diet. We went to Laggan and followed a trail- 
less course along the south bank of the Bow for five 
or six miles towards the base of Mt. Temple and 
then struck up through the forest of pine and spruce, 
climbing ceaselessly till near nightfall, when we 
reached the cliffs of the mountain, seventy-five hun- 
dred feet above sea-level. A violent thunder-storm 
overtook us towards evening, and we sought shelter 
at length near a lonely rock-girt pool, enclosed by 
steep banks, a home for picas and marmots. On its 
wind-swept surface were fragments of snow from 
an undermined drift. It was quite dark when we 
turned out our forlorn pony to graze on bushy heaths 
and birches, the only vegetation among the barren 
stones. There was no level place for our tent, and a 
stone wall had to be built to support our feet and 
keep us from sliding into the lake. It was a wild 



240 Gbe IRockies of Canada 

night of storm and wind. Showers of hail and rain 
swept over us continually, and some of the more 
violent squalls threatened to bring our flapping tent 
to the ground. We had built a huge fire, for many 
great logs cumbered the ground, and it roared like a 
furnace and sent great flames this way and that 
in the fickle gusts, but towards the dawn, which 
seemed never to come, it died away into inert ashes. 
The crackling of our fire gave place to the sound of 
lapping ripples on the rocky shore. The light of 
day revealed our wild surroundings. We were under 
the northern precipice of Temple. A beautiful fall 
descended in a series of cascades, a distance of about 
one thousand feet, to enter our little lake. Some- 
times the strong wind, blowing against the cliff, or 
sweeping upward, made the water pause and mo- 
mentarily hang in mid-air, suspended as it were on 
an invisible airy cushion, till, gathering greater vol- 
ume, it burst through the barrier in a curtain of spark- 
ling drops. 

Poor Enoch had suffered terribly from cold during 
the night and begged our permission to return to Lag- 
gan, promising to come back the next day, "sun so 
high," pointing to its place in the early afternoon. 
He said in his broken English, — "No grass for pony 
here, — too cold me,— no like it me." So we took 
pity on him and sent him back to more comfort- 
able quarters, while we rested in comparative quiet, 
it being Sunday and stormy. 

We were on foot Monday morning at four 



a Qccnc of IRuggefc desolation 241 

o'clock. The gloom of early dawn, the morning 
chill, and a clouded sky had no cheering effect on 
our anticipations. Our plan was to traverse the 
mountain-side till we should come to the south- 
east shoulder, where we had once observed the 
outline of an apparently easy slope. 

At eleven o'clock, we had reached a height of 
nearly ten thousand feet and came to a vertical wall, 
about four hundred feet high, a barrier that com- 
pletely defeated us. At the base of this cliff there 
was a narrow slope of loose broken limestone, and 
below this, another precipice. Utterly defeated in 
our attempt by this impassable barrier, I walked 
along the cliff base into a semicircular recess in a 
last vain reconnaissance, while Allen took photo- 
graphs of the scenery. 

Here I had a few moments of quiet contempla- 
tion of a scene that in its awful solitude has left 
a deep impression on my memory. Some great 
stones, dislodged as 1 moved, fell with a grinding 
sound over the edge, towards a narrow chasm, 
three thousand feet below. A cold wintry wind 
made a subdued monotone amongst the inequali- 
ties of rough stone and the overhanging cliff, and 
brought up the dust and brimstone odour from the 
crushing stones. Opposite was a pinnacled mount- 
ain stained red and grey, rent into thousands of nar- 
row gullies or beetling turrets by the wear of ages. 
It was a vast ruin of nature, a barren mass of totter- 
ing walls and cliffs, raising two lofty summits far 



242 XLbe IRocfcies of Canada 

upwards. Between lay a narrow, secluded valley, 
so thoroughly enclosed by precipices that a small 
lake in it was still covered by the granular, half- 
melted ice of last winter. To the east and south a 
wild and rugged group of mountains made a con- 
tinuous range and rose into successive jagged peaks. 
Over all the rough upheaval of mountains brooded 
a gloomy sky with long furrows of dark clouds 
moving majestically before the driving wind. Some 
of the highest peaks were touched by clouds or 
indistinct in snow showers, while the sun shot a 
few beams of light through the gloom and swept 
the ice and rocks with a weird illumination. Im- 
mense piles of debris rested against the mountain 
opposite, at the base of which was a desolate valley 
half filled with glacier and confused moraines. No 
tree or green vegetation of any kind appeared in 
all this barren scene. 

Overcome at length by cold winds and our 
hopeless prospects of further advance, we turned 
back and reached camp by the middle of the after- 
noon. Here we found that Enoch had returned, 
faithful to his word, and in a very short time we 
commenced our journey to Laggan. 

Next year, August, 1894, we were camped again 
at the base of Mt. Temple, this time in Paradise 
Valley. We were better prepared than before, as a 
year's study of photographs had thrown new light 
on a possible route up the grand mountain. On 
the 1 6th, by way of physical training, we ascended 



3ftnal Success 243 

Mt. Aberdeen, which lies between this valley and 
that of Lake Louise. The ascent of this peak, 10,250 
feet high, was not difficult by the route we took. 
Surrounded as it is by Mts. Lefroy, Victoria, Hunga- 
bee, and Temple, which are among the greatest 
peaks in southern Canada, the view is well worth 
the climb. On the following day Allen, Frissell, and 
I commenced the ascent of Temple. We were up 
at four a.m. There was no trace of dawn, and the 
waning moon, now in her last quarter, was low in 
the southern sky, near the triangular peak of Hunga- 
bee. The cold air was full of woody odours and 
the smoke of forest fires. We crossed the frosty 
meadows and came to a secluded gorge, filled with 
massive boulders, looming dark in the early morning 
light. This place lay between Pinnacle Mountain 
and the south side of Temple. A steep ascent of 
scree, where the unstable stones were sliding con- 
stantly, required the utmost caution. Sometimes 
the mass of rocks would creep and grind ten or 
fifteen yards above us at each step. Not far from 
us was a place where a rock slide had occurred, and 
it seems most likely that this unstable slope will 
some day rush with a roar of thunder into the val- 
ley. The constant movement of the stones, and 
the thought that our presence might be the last 
straw, made us somewhat apprehensive. 

At nine o'clock we reached the pass between 
Pinnacle and Temple, and from a height of nine 
thousand feet looked eastward upon that wild valley 



244 Gbe IRoclues of Cana&a 

of desolation which we had seen the year before. 
The slanting sun-rays poured a flood of yellowish 
light along the silent precipices on either side and 
gently tempered the chill of morning. The air was 
perfectly calm, and there was utter silence except 
the clink of our iron-nailed boots on the rough stones. 
Cliffs and broken stones were on our left, where we 
had to force a passage, if anywhere. The lot fell 
upon me to lead the party, and when the rope was 
adjusted, we commenced work. For the next two 
thousand feet it was merely a careful selection of 
gullies and scree slopes, with occasional rock climb- 
ing. Our greatest anxiety was the number of loose 
stones, which in spite of every precaution were 
sometimes dislodged and threatened those below. 
At a height of eleven thousand feet we had a discus- 
sion as to the better route of two that appeared. 
One lay at our right and seemed easier, while the 
other probably lay to our left, and though it was con- 
cealed from view, the previous study of photographs 
convinced me that this would be the better route, 
and it took some time for them to agree on that 
point. A short scramble among flat shales and very 
rough cliffs led us suddenly to the great south slope 
of the mountain, and we knew our prize was all but 
taken. At noon we reached the summit and stood 
at the highest point then reached in Canada. The 
air was calm and at about freezing point. The sum- 
mit of Mt. Temple is a sloping mass of blue lime- 
stone, comparatively free of snow. The south face 



3first Conqueets b\> tbe Hppalacbian Club 245 

is an unbroken snow-field and glacier, while the east 
is precipitous. Gullies and ridges of decayed lime- 
stone descend from the summit nearly six thousand 
feet into Desolation Valley, where we saw a fine 
lake at the base of a precipitous range. We were 
encircled by a bluish haze through which only the 
nearest mountains appeared, so that we lost the ad- 
vantage of a view from the highest mountain in a 
circle of nearly one hundred miles diameter. 

The members of the Appalachian Mountain Club 
made their first high ascent and commenced serious 
work by conquering Mt. Hector in 1895. Those 
composing that party were Professor Charles E. Fay, 
Philip S. Abbot, and Charles S. Thompson. They 
had the energy to ascend the Bow Valley without 
horses, under Tom Wilson's guidance, and with a 
porter to carry a few provisions and blankets. Mr. 
Abbot describes the view from Hector, which is 
probably a little over eleven thousand feet high, as 
one which " cannot be matched in any other mount- 
ain system in the world except in Asia." 

During the same summer, Mt. Stephen was 
climbed by members of the Appalachian Club, 
though two ascents had been made previously by 
J. J. McArthur, the government surveyor. Mr. Mc- 
Arthur said, in speaking of a gully near the summit, 
that to his surprise on the second ascent, ''fully two 
hundred thousand cubic feet of rock which formed 
the western wall of this fissure had been displaced 
and fallen into the amphitheatre below." So rapidly 



246 Gbe IRockies of Canada 

was the upper part of the mountain falling away, 
that it seemed probable that in a few years it would 
become inaccessible. 

The great snow peaks near Lake Louise now be- 
gan to attract the attention of climbers. On August 
3, 1895, Messrs. Abbot, Thompson, Little, and Pro- 
fessor Fay left the Lake Louise chalet and set out for 
an attempt to ascend Mt. Lefroy. At noon they had 
traversed the Victoria Glacier and ascended the nar- 
row snow gorge behind Mt. Lefroy known as the 
" Death Trap." Quoting from Professor Fay's article 
in Appalachia for November, 1896 : 

" Almost before our eyes had taken in the won- 
derful prospect that opened so magically — the sud- 
den plunge of the western gorge, snowless in its 
upper half, its sloping sides and narrow bottom 
lined with scree from the heights above ; the sea- 
green lakelets at its foot, three thousand feet below 
us ; the pinnacle of Mt. Biddle leaping up like a 
petrified flame and pricking the clouds that levelled 
with the tops of Victoria and Lefroy themselves ; 
the remoter array of peaks unfamiliar in this new 
aspect — Abbot had scanned the western side of 
Lefroy, now for the first time clearly revealed to us, 
and joyfully exclaimed : ' The peak is ours ! ' And 
surely his confidence seemed justified. From here 
an unobstructed way was seen leading up to the 
long summit arete, which still frowned nearly two 
thousand feet above the pass. The vast mountain 
side rose in a sloping wall, ice-clad for the greater 






fatal Hcct&ent on fIDt. Xefrop 247 

part, yet with here and there long upward leads of 
rock that probably could be scaled, as the dip was 
in the right direction." 

Passing over the details of a long and labourious 
climb as the party cut steps and slowly worked their 
way upwards for four and one half hours, the inter- 
esting narrative goes on to say : 

" Bidding Thompson and me to unrope and keep 
under cover from falling stones, he [Abbot] clambered 
some thirty feet up the rift, secured a good anchor- 
age, and called upon Professor Little to follow. This 
the latter proceeded to do, but while standing at the 
bottom of the cleft preparing to climb, he received 
a tingling blow from a small stone dislodged by the 
rope. A moment later a larger one falling upon the 
rope half severed it, so as to require a knot. As 
danger from this source seemed likely to continue, 
our leader had Little also free himself from the rope 
and come up to where he stood. From here a shelf 
led around to the left, along which Abbot now pro- 
ceeded a few yards and discovered a gully leading 
upward, unseen from the point first attained, and 
this also he began to ascend. To Mr. Little's ques- 
tion, whether it might not be better to try and turn 
the bastion on the shelf itself, he replied : ' I think 
not. I have a good lead here.' 

" These were the last words he ever uttered. A 
moment later Little, whose attention was for the 
moment diverted to another portion of the crag, was 
conscious that something had fallen swiftly past 



248 Zhe IRoclues of Cana&a 

him, and knew only too well what it must be. 
Thompson and I, standing at the base of the cliff, 
saw our dear friend falling backward and head-fore- 
most, saw him strike the upper margin of the ice 
slope within fifteen feet of us, turn completely over, 
and instantly begin rolling down its steep incline. 
After him trailed our two lengths of English rope, — 
all we had brought with us, — which we had spliced 
together in our ascent over the last rock slope in 
order to gain time by having less frequent anchor- 
ages than were necessitated by the short intervals 
of one sixty-foot line. As the limp body rolled 
downward in a line curving slightly towards the 
left, the rope coiled upon it as on a spool, a happy 
circumstance amid so much of horror, for not only 
did this increase of friction sensibly affect the velo- 
city of the descent of nine hundred feet to the 
narrow plateau of scree above mentioned, but doubt- 
less the rope by catching in the scree itself pre- 
vented the unconscious form from crossing the 
narrow level and falling over the low cliff beyond. 
Had it passed this, nothing, apparently, could have 
stopped it short of the bottom of the gorge lead- 
ing up to the pass from the western side of the 
Divide,— a far more fearful fall than that already 
made." 

Abbot died a few moments after his friends 
reached the place where his body in its terrible fall 
had been arrested. Two days later the party re- 
turned, and with Tom Wilson and W. J. Astley 



Zbe Summit of flDt Dictoria 249 

recovered Abbot's body, now partially covered by 
recent snows and the edge of a snow-slide. 

Another party was organised the following year, 
and on the anniversary of Abbot's death Mt. Lefroy 
was successfully ascended. 

Two days later Dr. J. Norman Collie, Professor 
Arthur Michael, Professor Fay, and Peter Sarbach, a 
Swiss guide, climbed Mt. Victoria. Following the 
same route as for the ascent of Lefroy they climbed 
the Death Trap, which is now called Abbot's Pass, 
and at eight o'clock reached the crest of this col. 

Professor Fay writes as follows : 

''The morning was exquisite, radiant with sun- 
light, and in this more exposed position the almost 
tepid breeze of the canyon became the cool, brisk 
promise of a gale. To our gratification it later sub- 
sided, — so that 1 may still report that I have never 
experienced a heavy wind during any ascent in the 
Canadian Alps. The view to the south was su- 
premely grand through the pure sunlit air ; but our 
eyes turned from the soaring lines of Goodsir, Bid- 
die, and Hungabee, to the bold wall never yet at- 
tempted which rises sheer on the right of the pass. 
It was not the first time that its broken surface had 
been questioned for a possible way of ascent." 

Four hours later, after walking and climbing along 
the sharp crest which makes the " very ridge-pole of 
the North American continent," they reached, under 
Collie's leadership, the summit of Victoria, of which 
Professor Fay says : 



250 Zhc IRocfcies of Canaba 

"The summit is an ideal one. Discounting the 
cornice crowning over towards the lake, there was 
hardly more than comfortable room for our party. 
Unlike that of Lefroy, no rock pierced the virgin 
whiteness. To the north it fell away suddenly into a 
deep depression filled with gendarmes, separating it 
from a bastion, from which it seems hardly probable 
it will ever be approached. Immediately to the west 
a snow arete falls away less rapidly, rising again al- 
most to our level in the most pointed snow peak I 
have ever seen. The sides meet in the perfect apex 
of an angle of less than eighty degrees. It seemed as 
if its point would prick the palm that should be laid 
upon it. But most majestic, even awesome, was the 
portion of the view towards which our backs had 
been turned during our ascent : soaring Hungabee ;the 
hardly less amazing pinnacle of Neptuak, from behind 
which peered sullenly the other peaks of the Wenk- 
chemna group ; and, nearer at hand, the grand snow- 
capped pyramidal summit of Mt. Temple, rising 
behind the ice-wall of Lefroy. While Dr. Collie set 
up his mercurial barometer (it gave a reading of 1 1 ,400 
feet), I put in commission the pocket-level. Of all 
the visible peaks, excepting perhaps the distant As- 
siniboine and to the northward others still more re- 
mote, Temple was the only one rising to a higher 
altitude than our own summit. Hungabee and the 
11 scalp " on the right-hand tower of Goodsir appeared 
to be exactly at our level. To Lefroy it was a slight 
angle of depression." 






Zbe Waputebfc IRange 251 

Four of the greatest mountains near Lake Louise 
had now been conquered, to say nothing of several 
inferior and easily ascended peaks like Mt. Fairview 
and Mt. St. Piran. Probably for this reason no less 
than for their own attractiveness the attention of 
climbers was next given to some of the giants of the 
Waputehk Range, north of the railroad. Several ex- 
peditions were made over the extensive ice-fields at 
the head of Bath Creek and west of the Bow Lakes. 
Mt. Balfour, a snow-buried peak on the continental di- 
vide, eleven thousand feet high, fell before the attack of 
Messrs. Nichols, Noyes,Thompson, and Weed in 1 898. 

The most recent excursions in the way of mount- 
ain climbing were those taken by Dr. Norman Collie 
and Mr. G. P. Baker to the Saskatchewan River in 
1897 and 1898 in search of Mt. Brown and Mt. 
Hooker. The first trip, which was primarily for the 
purpose of mountain climbing, was eventually made 
to embrace exploratory and survey work. 

"Our party," writes Dr. Collie, "consisted of 
G. P. Baker and myself, P. Sarbach (a Swiss guide), 
W. Peyto, L. Richardson, and C. Black, cook. The 
weather was excessively hot and the mosquitoes 
swarmed in countless thousands, making life misera- 
ble." Not an unusual condition of things in these 
mountains. On the 24th of August they climbed Mt. 
Sarbach, eleven thousand feet high, the last of the 
Waputehk Range, lying between the Little and Mid- 
dle Forks of the Saskatchewan. Speaking of Mt. 
Forbes, Professor Collie writes : 



252 Zbe TRocfcies of Cana&a 

"On August 27th we arrived at the foot of the 
valley leading to the glaciers we had seen two days 
before from Mt. Sarbach, towards the westward. 
Directly to the north of us was the peak we were in 
search of. Later on, consulting Palliser's 'Journals,' 
we found that this peak was not Mt. Murchison, as 
we had supposed, but Mt. Forbes, discovered by Dr. 
Hector, and estimated by him to be about 1 3,400 feet. 
Mt. Forbes is certainly one of the highest peaks in the 
Canadian Rockies, and must be close on fourteen 
thousand feet. I have seen it on every side except 
the north-west, and it always towers as a huge three- 
sided pyramid at least three thousand feet above the 
surrounding peaks, which are from ten to eleven 
thousand feet high. The precipice on its eastern face 
is more sheer than the western face of the Matter- 
horn, and even after a heavy snowfall remains black 
and forbidding. On its northern side the peak must 
stand about seven thousand feet above the glacier at 
its base." 

The following year Messrs. H. Woolley, H. E. M. 
Stutfield, and Dr. Collie commenced a more exten- 
sive journey into the same region. The latter says : 

"On July 31st, we started from Laggan, with 
W. Peyto as our head man ; Nigel Vavasour, Roy 
Douglas, and M. Byers, as cook, also accompanied us. 
We started with thirteen riding and baggage ponies, 
but within an hour of starting reduced that unlucky 
number to twelve, for we had to shoot one of the 
worst of the pack after it had broken its shoulder 



Diew of flDt Iforbes 253 

amongst the dead timber. Instead of following up 
the Bow Valley as we did in 1897, I determined to 
reach the Saskatchewan River by way of the Pipe- 
stone Pass and the Siffleur Valley, in order that we 
might investigate Mt. Murchison." 

This peak was estimated at not " much over 
twelve thousand feet high, if as much." Their most 
interesting work was done much farther north, 
between the sources of the North Fork of the Sas- 
katchewan and the Athabasca. From the summit 
of Athabasca Peak, in that region, which they es- 
timated at about 11,900 feet, a magnificent view 
was obtained. Speaking of this in the Geographical 
fpurnal, Dr. Collie says : 

" Mt. Lyell and Mt. Forbes could be seen far off in 
the haze. But it was towards the west and north 
that the chief interest lay. We were looking on 
country probably never before seen by human eye. 
A vast snow-field, feeding many glaciers, lay at our 
feet, rock-peaks and snow-covered mountains were 
ranged around it, whilst far away to the westward 
we could just see through the haze the valley of the 
Columbia River. This great snow-field, from which 
the Saskatchewan glacier takes its rise, also supplies 
the ice for another glacier at the headwaters of the 
Athabasca ; whilst to the west we saw the level 
snows bending over to flow down more than one 
channel, feeding, when melted, the rivers that 
empty themselves into the Pacific Ocean. 

" A magnificent peak, that is probably near to 



254 ftbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

fourteen thousand feet high, stood alone keeping 
guard over these unknown western valleys. We 
have ventured to name it after the Right Hon. 
James Bryce, President of the Alpine Club. Some 
few miles to the north of this peak, and also on the 
opposite side of the snow-field in a north-westerly 
direction, the biggest peak of all was seen. Chisel- 
shaped at the head, covered with glaciers and ice, it 
also stood alone, and I at once recognised the great 
peak I was in search of ; moreover, a short distance 
to the north-east of this peak another, almost as 
high, also flat-topped, but ringed round with sheer 
black precipices, reared its head above all its fellows 
into the sky. Here, then, we thought, were Brown 
and Hooker. Rapidly 1 drew lines in all directions 
to these new peaks on my plane-table, but hurry as 
fast as 1 could, it was 6.30 p. m. before we started 
down from the summit of this mountain, which we 
have named Athabaska Peak. Its height by mer- 
curial barometer is 11,900 feet. It was 10.45 when 
we got back into camp, to find that Stutfield had 
killed three if not four sheep. The provision ques- 
tion, therefore, was satisfactorily settled for some 
time to come. 

"The glacier that fed the headwaters of the Atha- 
basca River we have called the Athabasca glacier. 
Two days later we all three camped with sleeping- 
bags as far up its right bank as possible, and in the 
dark at three o'clock next morning started up the 
glacier by lantern-light. This glacier descends from 



Hecent of Htbabasca peak 255 

the snow-fields above in three successive ice-falls, the 
last one very much crevassed. It was not till past 
seven o'clock that we finally emerged on to the 
snow-fields above. The day was warm and sultry, 
making us all feel tired. For several hours we 
walked across the snow towards the high chisel- 
shaped peak ; to the westward Mt. Bryce sent its 
three peaks high above us into the air. A double- 
headed peak on the north hid the high rock-peak we 
thought might be Brown (afterwards named Mt. 
Alberta) when we were on the top of the Athabasca 
peak. But the peak we were walking towards was 
farther off than we thought, and as it seemed very 
unlikely that we should get to the top of it that day, 
we turned, after having looked down into a vast 
amphitheatre that lay between the chisel-shaped 
peak (afterwards named Mt. Columbia) and the 
double-headed peak, or the Twins. This amphi- 
theatre is the source of another branch of the Atha- 
basca. To the south-east of where we were, and 
almost on our way home, rose a great dome of snow. 
After a hot and very tiring climb through soft snow 
that broke under our feet at every step, we finally 
got to the summit at 3.15 p.m. (i 1,650 feet). Although 
we did not know it at the time, we were standing 
on probably the only peak in North America the 
snows of which, when melted find their way into 
the Pacific, the Arctic, and the Atlantic oceans ; for 
its glaciers feed the Columbia, the Athabasca, and 
the Saskatchewan rivers." 



25 ^ Zbe IRocfeiea of Canaba 

Climbing in the Selkirks began somewhat earlier 
than in the Rockies proper. The reason apparently 
is that the railroad runs nearer to the mountains in 
the Selkirks and gives effects of height and grandeur 
that are only obtained in the eastern range while on 
camping excursions. Thus the Selkirks attracted the 
first climbers, such as Green, Huber, and Sulzer, in 
1887 or only one year after the railroad was in opera- 
tion. The absence of trails through this grand but 
rain-soaked range has, so far, confined the attacks of 
mountaineers to peaks which are only a few miles 
from the railroad. The remoter parts of this range 
are less known than almost any part of the Rockies, 
where from prehistoric times the Indians have kept 
trails open in order to hunt and barter their pos- 
sessions with other tribes. What grand mount- 
ain-climbing possibilities the Selkirks may have to 
disclose can only be judged by the comparatively 
narrow strip already known. 

The summit range has, however, more to offer to 
the mountain climber. Some of the greatest peaks, 
like Mt. Forbes and Mt. Assiniboine, have not yet 
been seriously attempted, and no high peak outside 
of Mt. Stephen has been ascended twice. There is a 
group of mountains east and south of Mt. Temple 
which have never been attempted and should prove 
fine problems in rock and glacier climbing. Among 
these are Mt. Hungabee and its higher neighbour 
Mt. Deltaform, each of which is wedge-shaped and 
very precipitous on every side that has been seen. 



future of flDountain^CUmbing 257 

The high peaks of volcanic rock, Mts. Vaux and 
Goodsir, between the Ottertail and Beaverfoot rivers, 
and some of the sharp summits in the Van Home 
Range should soon attract attention. It would be 
difficult to cover the entire field of mountain-climb- 
ing possibilities and the time is not ripe to go much 
into details. Where each group of mountains has 
charms of its own there is room for much choice. 
One principle however seems universally true,— that 
where the heart has been set on a particular region 
no other has claims of equal importance. 



CHAPTER XIV 

KINDS OF GAME ANIMALS IN THE MOUNTAINS — THE ROCKY 
MOUNTAIN GOAT — A SUCCESSFUL STALK — A DIFFICULT 
NIGHT ASCENT — HOW GOAT MEAT SHOULD BE COOKED 
— AN EXPERIENCE ON THE SASKATCHEWAN —MANY GOATS 
AROUND LAKE LOUISE — INTERESTING ADVENTURE ON A 
MOUNTAIN CLIMB — THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP — ITS HABITS 
AND NATURE — SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A LARGE BAND — 
CURIOUS INSTANCE OF TAMENESS — SEVERAL KINDS OF 
GROUSE — THE ALPINE PTARMIGAN — FISHING IN LAKES AND 
STREAMS— WHERE FISH CANNOT BE FOUND— SOME STORIES 
ABOUT THE UPPER BOW RIVER — A REMARKABLE CATCH — 
VARIATION OF FISH IN DIFFERENT LAKES — SPORT AT MO- 
RAINE LAKE — ON A RAFT AT THE SPRAY LAKES — LARGE 
FISH CAUGHT IN DEVIL'S LAKE — FUTURE OF THE ROCKIES 
AS A RESORT FOR SPORTSMEN 

GAME in the Canadian Rockies is moderately 
abundant. The chief wild animals, besides 
black and grizzly bears, are moose, elk, 
deer, caribou, sheep or bighorn, and the Rocky 
Mountain goat. The several species belonging to the 
deer tribe are very scarce and hunters rarely bag any 
of this game. This scarcity is probably due to the 
rather limited feeding-grounds in the narrow valleys 
and perhaps, also, to long and severe winters. 

About 1840, according to a statement of the 



(Same animate in tbe flDountains 259 

missionary De Smet, the Stony Indians came from the 
north and settled on the plains near the Bow River. 
They always have been and are still inveterate 
hunters, delighting in frequent expeditions into the 
mountains, where they engage in wholesale slaughter 
of big game. Fortunately, however, they have been 
recently compelled to submit to certain laws, which, 
if enforced for a few years, will make game much 
more plentiful. The Indians believe in certain cycles 
of about seven years when the various species of 
game animals become alternately scarce and more 
abundant, whether from disease or some other cause 
is not known. 

Among big game the animal most characteristic 
of the Rockies of Canada and which, from its scarcity 
in other parts of the country the sportsman is most 
anxious to get, is the wild goat. This animal at a 
distance has the general appearance of a goat, though 
it is a species of antelope and more closely related to 
the ibex or chamois of Switzerland. It is covered 
with a dense coat of soft white wool, through which 
a mingling of longer hair projects, especially on the 
belly and stout legs. Both sexes have round, black 
horns six to twelve inches long, slightly curved back- 
wards and very sharply pointed. An adult animal, 
when cornered, can put up a strong fight against ene- 
mies of its own size, and I have heard of an Indian 
nearly losing his life in a close encounter with an old 
male. A full-grown goat sometimes weighs more 
than two hundred pounds. The Indians kill a large 



260 £be IRocfcies of Canada 

number of them every year for their flesh and hides, 
which latter they tan into a soft leather. Neverthe- 
less the mountain goat is very abundant and probably 
actually increasing in numbers. 

Its natural environment is among high and almost 
inaccessible cliffs near the upper limit of vegetation, or 
in the alps and meadows above tree-line. Rarely do 
these animals come far below tree-line during the 
summer. They are apparently slow and clumsy in 
their movements and have a swinging gait like a bear, 
a resemblance that at a distance is increased by the 
fact that they hold their heads very low. In spite of 
apparent slowness they run over the roughest rocks 
at a rapid pace and climb with certainty cliffs that are 
inaccessible to man. They run singly or in groups 
of from three to seven during the summer months, 
browsing upon the tender Alpine plants which grow 
between seven and nine thousand feet above the sea. 
In some of the lower valleys there are clay banks 
containing minerals which they travel miles to taste, 
and the number of tracks leading in several directions 
show that such " licks " are much frequented. 

My first goat was killed near the base of Mt. Assini- 
boine. West of our camp there was a long ridge of 
nearly horizontal ledges for the first thousand feet or 
so from the valley, while the rocks were more pre- 
cipitous above. On our various excursions we had 
noticed fresh tracks of goats, while the low spruce 
and underbrush were in many places covered with 
tufts of white wool which had been torn from the 



Gbe IRocfcs flDountain (Boat 261 

animals as they passed. However, no game had 
been seen till one afternoon, when a goat was ob- 
served walking along the cliff a few hundred feet 
above our level and not half a mile distant. Two of 
us made off in pursuit, and after climbing to a higher 
ledge, followed the innumerable gorges and rocky 
spurs of the mountain-side in the hope of getting a 
shot. But our game made better progress than we 
and eventually eluded us altogether. After a three- 
hours' hunt we returned to camp much disappointed ; 
but while we were at dinner the goat appeared again, 
this time much higher on the mountain. My com- 
panion had had enough, and though it was getting 
late I determined, after having been once baffled, to 
have that goat if it was necessary to stay out all 
night. The animal had scrambled down a number 
of exceedingly steep places to a narrow shelf below 
which was a vertical precipice that made him pause. 
At frequent intervals he would look down as though 
he wanted to descend the cliff, but there was not the 
slightest foothold for even such a skilful mountaineer. 
I watched the animal from the cover of some larches 
with the purpose of fixing in my mind the outline of 
a certain snow patch. 1 felt that the success of the 
hunt would depend on knowing exactly where the 
game was when I should come down for a shot. 
The mountain goat must be stalked from above. Ex- 
perience has taught them that their chief enemies, 
bears and panthers, come from below. They pay 
little attention to anything above them except to run 



262 £be TRocfcies of Cana&a 

to cover of some projecting cliff whenever stones 
rattle down the mountain-side. After the exact out- 
line of the snow patch that marked the position of 
the goat had been fixed in memory, I set out to 
scramble up the grassy slope, concealed from possible 
view of my game. I climbed nearly a thousand feet 
and then had a difficult scramble among some tre- 
mendous crags and rock fragments with dark caverns 
and patches of treacherous snow between them. 
Darkness was coming on rapidly under the shadow 
of the mountain, and the north-western twilight was 
fading, as it was nearly nine-thirty. The snow was 
hardening under the frost, and some pools were freez- 
ing as I followed a gently descending ledge and saw 
before me the well-marked snow patch, under which 
the goat had been standing when 1 left the valley. 
Pausing a brief moment to take breath after the rapid 
climb, I worked over to the cliff edge cautiously but 
not without disturbing some shaly stones, which 
pattered down and rattled over the precipice. Aroused 
by these stones, no doubt, 1 then saw the goat not 
far below looking at me with a curiously sullen ex- 
pression. I aimed, but had sufficient presence of 
mind not to fire because the foresight of my rifle was 
making circles around my mark owing to a combina- 
tion of " buck fever" and the rapid climbing which 
I had just done. It seemed a long time before I 
could make proper aim, and then after a flash there 
was a dull thud far below. Leaning over the cliff I 
saw the goat at the bottom of the precipice rolling 




HEAD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 



a Successful Stalft 263 

over and over down the mountain-side. After a 
circuitous descent I reached the cliff bottom, and 
found a large hole in frozen snow, where the goat's 
body had struck after a fall of fully one hundred and 
twenty-five feet. The poor animal was some distance 
below, still alive though mortally wounded. I de- 
spatched the animal with another bullet, and at ten- 
thirty started for camp. 

It was now dark and the trees and rocks were 
dimly outlined under the starlight. A precipitous 
ledge below compelled a detour. Thinking that the 
end of this had been reached I commenced to descend 
a rather steep place which at first seemed easy 
enough. By a succession of groping movements, 
aided by projecting roots and stones, 1 lowered my- 
self from one point to another till at length, with one 
hand firmly grasping a young balsam, 1 found myself 
hanging over a cliff supported by one arm. It was 
impossible to tell how high the cliff might be, which 
gave little encouragement to jump into the darkness 
and risk a fall. Just then the rifle began to slip, and 
a most tiresome struggle ensued to place it securely 
with one hand while the other supported the entire 
weight of my body. Though everything seemed 
fairly safe in going down, the bushes broke or came 
out by the roots as I tried to climb up, and the smooth 
stones offered no grip to my fingers. Sheer neces- 
sity resulted in success at last after some desperate 
efforts. Camp was reached toward midnight, and 
around the blazing fire I told of my successful hunt. 



264 Gbe IRocfues of Canada 

Peyto and Lang took a stout pole in the morning 
and brought the goat down to camp, where the meat 
was carefully dressed and laid away in a neighbouring 
snow-bank. The meat of these animals is somewhat 
like venison, though it has a musky flavour which is 
too strong for many palates. However, in my expe- 
rience, when the meat is broiled, or fried with bacon, 
and well seasoned with salt and pepper, it is quite 
impossible to say whether the cook has served goat 
or the very best mutton. Goat meat should never be 
boiled or stewed, as the musky flavour is then 
apparent. 

In 1896 Mr. Barrett and I were camped at the 
forks of the Saskatchewan, a seven-days' journey 
into the wilds. Our camp was in a small canyon 
near the turbulent Little Fork, and our tents were 
placed in an open grove of spruce on a flat gravel 
bed. On the evening of our arrival Barrett and I, 
accompanied by Fred Stephens, an experienced back- 
woodsman from Michigan, and a great hunter, walked 
towards the Saskatchewan River. Leaving the point 
where the Little Fork pours its small contribution 
into the milky flood of glacial waters, we strolled 
down the valley for a considerable distance, when 
suddenly our attention was called to a large animal 
upon the river-bank a mile or so distant. Stephens, 
who had killed many bears in Montana, declared it was 
a grizzly. A plan was made at once for Stephens and 
Barrett, who had rifles, to follow the cover of woods 
while I made signals as to the location of the animal. 



an Experience on tbe Saskatchewan 265 

After twenty minutes I saw puffs of bluish smoke 
and heards shots ring out from the forest, whereupon 
our game reared up on his hind legs and ran towards 
the hunters. No more shots were heard, the animal 
disappeared among trees, and it seemed best to climb 
a tall spruce to get abetter view over the flat expanse 
of the valley, and, if possible, have a look at the game 
and hunters. Barrett and Stephens afterwards said, 
however, that I was not up the tree for any other 
purpose than to avoid the charge of a wounded grizzly 
which was coming my way. It eventually proved, 
however, that the supposed bear was nothing less 
than a very large goat, which must have weighed 
three hundred pounds. 

This region is frequented by mountain goats, and 
fresh tracks were to be seen on the Indian trail near 
our camp. One day a kid walked along the crest of a 
low cliff within a few yards of our camp. The little 
animal showed no fear of us, and browsed the grass 
as it sauntered along. When one of our men fired a 
pistol several times it only looked startled for a 
moment. I thought the action of the beast showed 
supreme contempt for the shooting, which was in- 
deed very bad. The fact of our seeing two goats and 
many fresh tracks at this low altitude, which was 
about thirty-five hundred feet below the tree-line, 
proves that mountain goats sometimes endure the 
warmth of the low valleys. On a hot summer day 
the temperature might easily rise to eighty degrees 
in such a valley, and if the goats remain below at 



266 Gbe TRocIues of Cana&a 

such times they must tolerate a much greater heat 
than is supposed. 

The abundance of goats in these mountains is 
well proved by the ease with which the Indians kill 
large numbers of them, and the very good bags 
made by gentlemen who have made an earnest ef- 
fort to hunt them. We killed three and saw, all 
told, about fifteen on this excursion, where hunting 
was only a side-issue and engaged in at rare inter- 
vals. Two Englishmen, Col. Melleden and Capt. 
Chartris, killed six goats and five sheep on a three- 
weeks' hunting trip in this locality. 

One of the best places I know for the mountain 
goat is the group of mountains around Lake Louise. 
I have seen many of these animals every year in the 
valley of Lake Louise or on the adjacent hillsides. 
The magnitude of the mountains and the distance 
require very sharp eyes to see the animals, though 
the Indians can pick them out where the white man 
requires a field-glass. They are not much hunted, 
and are increasing in numbers in that neighbour- 
hood. In October, 1899, the telegraph operator at 
Laggan saw a large herd on Fairview Mountain, and 
a few days later two Swiss guides saw fifteen or 
twenty on one side of the valley near Mt. Lefroy, 
and a solitary animal several miles distant the same 
day. One of the most interesting experiences with 
goats that has come to my experience occurred on 
the day following. I had made an ascent of Pope's 
Peak, a high mountain above Lake Agnes, which 



Hbpenture on a (fountain Climb 267 

latter the Indians used to call the " Goats' Looking- 
Glass," and, coming down from the cliffs and danger- 
ous places of the peak to safer travelling, was 
beginning to experience that comfortable feeling 
which every mountaineer enjoys after a successful 
climb when the last hard work is over. It was a per- 
fect day of sunshine, with massive cumulus clouds 
and the mountains distinctly outlined in clear air. 
Having reached an altitude of about eight thousand 
feet, I paused for a few moments to study the great 
amphitheatre of mountains and the vast sweep of 
the valley. My eye fell at once on three goats 
browsing on Alpine herbs of a green slope. I was 
in full view of them, and the nature of the mountain 
was such that no concealment was possible. How- 
ever, by way of experiment, I continued the descent 
with ordinary caution, and, working over to the left, 
came down upon them from above. They were al- 
together absorbed in their pasture, and unmindful of 
the pattering stones which I disturbed from time to 
time. Whenever all of them had their heads to 
the ground at the same time, I ran some distance, 
crouching under the cover of low bushes, and then 
waited for another opportunity. The unwary ani- 
mals paid no heed till, in wonder at their stupidity, 
I stood up in full view, not ten yards distant from 
the nearest goat ! Even then I received only a sul- 
len look from the old billy. He made a curious 
picture as he flapped his ears constantly to drive 
away the pestiferous grey gnats which swarm in 



268 Zhe IRockies of Cana&a 

the autumn and which were bothering me likewise. 
I reached for a large stone, and shied it at him ; but 
he was so close that it went over his back. Then 
they commenced to run. It is said that mountain 
goats invariably run up-hill, even in the face of dan- 
ger, but 1 was determined not to let them do so. 
They wheeled to the left, and I likewise, running 
over rough stones and through scrubby brush as 
though my life depended on the chase. I got a 
glimpse of the goats heading up, but I was still di- 
rectly above them. They saw me and turned back. 
Then for an interval they were lost to view, and in a 
few moments they appeared in the valley bottom, 
loping like wolves over the rough stones and up the 
opposite slope, pausing to look around in terror be- 
fore making a final dash for safety. It was not long 
before they were at my level on the mountain op- 
posite, and then they came to what appeared an 
abrupt precipice. They seemed to spring into the 
air and reach a foothold of some kind several feet 
above them, pause, and leap again. They were not 
content till they had climbed more than a thousand 
feet to the summit of a rough crag called the 
"Devil's Thumb," when they disappeared through 
a little depression into the valley of Lake Louise 
on the other side. 

The Rocky Mountain sheep or bighorn has sim- 
ilar habits. This noble animal, though somewhat 
scarce, seems to reach the best development of head 
and horns in these Canadian Rockies. I have never 



Gbe flDountain Sbeep 269 

seen heads from Montana or the Sierras to compare 
with the beautiful sweep of horns that is common to 
sheep killed in these mountains. In speaking of the 
bighorn John Muir says : 

"The domestic sheep, in a general way, is ex- 
pressionless, like a dull bundle of something only 
half alive, while the wild is as elegant and graceful 
as a deer, and every movement tells the strength and 
grandeur of his character. The tame is timid, the 
wild is bold. The tame is always more or less ruf- 
fled and dirty ; while the wild is as smooth and 
clean as the flowers of his mountain pastures." 

Whereas the mountain goat is clothed in a coat 
of white wool, the sheep has a thick pelt of stiff and 
rather brittle hair which, in colouring, harmonizes 
with the grey and brownish cliffs where he roams. 
They are more wary than the goat, and require care- 
ful stalking. The mountain sheep is less abundant 
than formerly because the Indians seek them persist- 
ently. Fine heads always bring a good price for 
mounting, and this, in addition to their excellent 
meat, makes them eagerly sought after. 

1 have seen the wild sheep only in one part of 
the Canadian Rockies, though they live sparingly 
throughout the higher mountains and especially in 
the foot-hills and Coast range. One day, when we 
were journeying to the Athabasca Pass, we found 
ourselves far above timber on a lofty divide between 
the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. While spread out 
in single file, our fifteen horses were marching 



270 Gbe "Kochies of Canafca 

through a rolling upland pasture in silence. Sud- 
denly a bunch of wild sheep ran upon an eminence 
not fifty yards distant to look at us. This was a 
magnificent revelation of animal life. Twenty-seven 
wild sheep proudly outlined against the sky ! Mo- 
tionless they stood gazing at us in amazement while 
we studied their graceful forms and curved horns 
raised high in air. Every rifle was tied to the saddle, 
as luck would have it, and a long march through rain 
and wet brush had made unyielding knots in the 
leather straps. While we were getting at the fire- 
arms a miserable pet spaniel, which had hitherto 
proved utterly unfit to find or recover game, ran for- 
ward barking. With a sudden turn the whole band 
made off, showing their white rumps as they bounded 
away for miles over the hills. 

We hunted them from our camp later. Fred 
Stephens shot one at long range, but the animal 
struggled away and fell over some cliffs where it was 
impossible to follow. The next day two sheep ap- 
peared on the mountain five hundred feet above the 
camp. They were looking at us intently, and no 
doubt wondering what manner of creatures we might 
be. Barrett and 1 made a long detour, and hunted 
carefully all that day, but were not able to locate 
them. We saw numbers of sheep on many occasions 
in this particular place, which is never hunted by the 
Indians because of a certain superstition about this 
part of the mountain. A most interesting experience 
occurred to Barrett one day when he was making a 



Curious Instance of Sameness 271 

lone mountain climb. It was the first and only time 
for a month that he had failed to carry his rifle. De- 
scending from the mountain he came upon a young 
lamb, and presently saw the mother not far distant. 
Neither appeared much disconcerted by his presence, 
but moved slowly ahead as he progressed. The 
lamb actually indulging in various friskings and 
youthful evolutions at a few yards' distance. 

Previous to our visit, which was probably the first 
made by white men to this place, these sheep had 
been seldom or never hunted, as the Indians got their 
superstitions about the region years before. They 
were accordingly in a state of primitive wildness, 
which may account for these several instances of 
tameness in one of the most wary of all wild animals. 
Subsequently, however, several hunting parties have 
reduced their numbers. 

The moose, elk, and deer are very scarce except 
in such low and broad valleys as the Vermilion and 
Kootenay. Few, except Indians succeed in bagging 
these animals. However, most hunters are more 
eager to get sheep and goats, and little effort has been 
made hitherto in the way of killing these members 
of the deer tribe. 

Bears, both black and grizzly, are fairly abundant, 
especially in the Selkirk range, where at Glacier three 
or four have been seen on several occasions in one day. 
An immense grizzly was shot at Lake Louise several 
years ago within a few yards of the chalet, and a number 
of animals are killed every season by the railroad men. 



272 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

In seven or eight seasons of marching through 
these mountain wildernesses, I have seen a bear but 
once. It is not uncommon to see their tracks, but a 
bear has acute hearing, and quickly withdraws into 
hiding upon the approach of a noisy pack-train. The 
Stony Indians attack them fearlessly. Though they 
are inferior shots, two alone will open up on a 
grizzly, and it is often said that they will fight a black 
bear armed only with hunting-knives. The Stonies, 
however, are incomparable hunters, and it is their 
boast that like, Attila, "the scourge of God," be- 
neath whose feet the grass died : "No game can live 
where we hunt." 

In the way of small game, there are several species 
of grouse and ducks, which are more likely to fill the 
larder of an ordinary camping expedition than big 
game. The Richardson and Franklin grouse, with 
the grey ruffed and Canadian ruffed grouse, are closely 
related to the pinnated grouse or prairie chicken. 
They live in the forests everywhere, and are so 
abundant that they make a large and important item 
in the way of fresh meat. These birds are excellent 
eating, being juicy, tender, and well-flavoured. It is 
hardly fair to call them "game," for they are easily 
killed by shooting their heads off with a rifle as they 
roost in the trees. I have taken six in half an hour, 
armed with stones, though it requires practice to pick 
them off at first. Black ducks, mallards, and teal are 
found in such places as the Vermilion Lakes near 
Banff, and on all rivers and lakes in the lower valleys. 



Zbe Hlpine ptarmigan 273 

They used to swarm in large numbers at Lake Louise 
in September and October, but have been less nu- 
merous in the last two or three seasons. The ptar- 
migan is an Alpine bird, found among the bare rocks, 
eight or nine thousand feet above sea-level in the 
summer months. Their summer dress is a pepper- 
and-salt colour with wings nearly white, but in 
winter is snowy white throughout, while their legs, 
and even the bottom of their feet, are covered 
with feathers, possibly as a protection against cold. 
These birds are of the same size as the domestic 
pigeon, considerably smaller than the grouse, but 
similar in flavour. They will remain quiet until one 
shot is fired, and if this does not take effect, they fly 
away out of danger, thereby showing superior dis- 
cretion to their stupid cousins of the woods. 

With the exception of goat hunting, it may safely 
be said, that fishermen have better opportunities of 
sport than the big-game hunters in the Rockies of 
Canada. It may be broadly stated that every clear 
stream abounds in trout if the waters are not too 
swift. The distribution of fish in the numerous lakes 
depends on many circumstances, some of which are 
easily understood ; as for instance the absence of 
fish in lakes of very high altitude, or where a wa- 
terfall has made the ascent of streams impossible. 
But in other rare cases, there are large clear lakes 
at reasonable altitudes, having fine outlet streams, 
where there are no fish. The most remarkable 
place of the kind that I have seen is Fortress Lake, 



274 Gbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

seven miles long, which empties into the Columbia 
River. 

Some of the rivers are glacial streams, carrying a 
flood of muddy water from ice-fields of the high 
mountains, and in these no fish can live. Many 
streams are rushing torrents or a succession of rapids, 
swinging from right to left in rapid descent, for miles, 
with no pools or eddies where a trout might find 
rest. The upper Simpson and Vermilion are such 
streams, though fine trout abound in their lower 
parts. The Bow is an ideal river for mountain trout, 
with many reaches of deep pools and eddying coves, 
as it descends through its broad and flat valley, and 
taking its source in two fine lakes, three or four 
miles long, both of which teem with large lake trout. 
Some of the best records in trout fishing have been 
made in these waters near the source of the Bow. 
The lakes have only been tried from the shore, be- 
cause the few parties that have visited them have 
not had time to build rafts and try the deepest 
places. Many trout have been caught near the 
shores of the Upper Bow Lake, which run between 
eight and twelve pounds. The lower lake also no 
doubt abounds in large fish, though the only one I 
ever saw was a two-pound fish I got with a fly, 
after three minutes' fishing from its rocky south 
shore. 

To give some idea of the fishing in the upper 
part of the Bow River, where it flows through the 
muskegs at the base of Mt. Hector, I will first tell my 



3ftebing in Xafcee ant> Streams 275 

own experience, and then give some more remark- 
able records made by others. One day our men 
were having trouble getting the horses through a 
muskeg, when, by way of experiment, I took a line in 
hand with an artificial fly attached and dropped it 
from an overhanging bank on the water of a deep 
pool. A three-pound trout rose to the fly and was 
soon landed. The next carried away my leader, and 
I had to suspend operations, as our horses were well 
ahead by that time. In the afternoon I tried some 
pools above our camp, having no luck at all in some, 
while others contained several trout. With a red 
hackle I landed five trout averaging two pounds 
each from one pool in less than three minutes. 

On September 13 to 15, 1898, General Fred Pear- 
son and Captain Dickerson caught the following 
mess of trout between the upper and lower Bow 
lakes : 



1 fish at 4\ pounds 


1 at 8-J- pounds 


2 " " 6 


1 " 8f " 


1 " " 6f " 


3 " 91 " 


1 " " 8 


1 "9f " 



There is no doubt that these Bow lakes abound 
in lake trout of considerable size. Wilson says that 
the Indians used to get numbers of large fish when, 
for some reason, they came into a small stream which 
enters the lake from the north-west. These fish were 
driven by shouts into shallow water, and so caught. 
Where the stream flows out into the lake is a fine 



276 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

place to fish, and when camped there we caught a 
great number of two- and three-pound bullhead 
trout. A camping party, which had just left, caught 
fewer fish in the same place, but they were all 
between eight and ten pounds. 

The fish in each mountain lake have certain pe- 
culiarities of size or colouring. In Lake Louise the 
trout are from one-half to one pound in weight, and 
no large fish have ever been caught. They are brook 
trout, similar, except in lighter colouring, to those 
in the brawling outlet stream. Moraine Lake, east 
of Mt. Temple, abounds in very gamy trout, the size 
of which was quite uniformly between fifteen and 
seventeen inches in length. So far as I know, this 
lake had never been visited before the summer of 
1899, when Ross Peecock and I camped there several 
days. Here is a lake full offish, which we reached 
in six hours' travel from Lake Louise, and that, too, 
by driving our pack-horses through the pathless 
woods. If a trail were cut through the timber, 
sportsmen could no doubt reach this splendid lake 
in three or four hours. This gives an instance of the 
comparative wildness of the mountains, and their 
wonderful possibilities in the way of sport, which 
have not been developed hitherto. We found 
another larger lake some ten miles further south, 
which drains into the Little Vermilion Creek, where 
the fish were numerous, but of smaller size, averaging 
a pound or more. They resemble rainbow trout, but 
were very highly coloured and their gills fiery red. 



©n a IRaft at tbe Sprap Xafcea 277 

There is a lake about a day's journey from Banff, 
in the valley of Forty Mile Creek, where sport is 
impossible because the fish are too numerous. I have 
never seen it, but old timers around Banff agree that 
in this place several fish dash to the fly at one time, 
so that after a few minutes, fishing seems more like 
slaughter than legitimate sport. 

One of the best places for lake trout is in the 
Spray Lakes, a day's march from Banff. This is on 
the route to Mt. Assiniboine, and on my second 
journey to that region we camped by the largest 
of them, called Trout Lake. Mr. Bryant and I got 
on a raft, which the miners from Canmore had built, 
and after paddling out into the lake, tried the fly- 
fishing. Fish of one to two pounds rose to the fly, 
and we soon got a large number for lunch. In the 
afternoon we anchored the raft where a large stream 
enters, and while Bryant used the fly I rigged up a 
large hook and strong line, and after baiting with 
a piece of fresh fish, dropped the hook over. The 
current carried out fifteen or twenty yards of line 
and swept the hook along the bottom, until, in a 
short time, there came a violent tug, as though 
a log had caught the hook. But this was a very 
different pull, and I had to let out fathoms of line. 
A big fish was on, and he was rushing madly in every 
direction, sometimes coming nearer, when some slack 
could be taken in, then away again, while the strain- 
ing line whipping through the water threatened to 
break at any time. In fifteen minutes a lake trout 



278 Zbe IRocfttes of Cana&a 

that weighed fully nine pounds was landed on the 
raft and killed. Three more were caught in the first 
hour, one of which was a ten-pound fish. Bryant 
got one with his trout rod, deeming it better sport 
than a hand line, and so it proved. It was a twenty- 
minute fight between a large fish, his line, and sup- 
ple rod, which was bent double, and never recovered 
the strain of that day. It was a glorious sight, as 
the declining sun was playing over the broad waters 
of the lake in the majestic calm of evening, to 
hear the whiz of the line and the sound of the reel, 
with our friends on the shore shouting : " Go it, old 
man, hang on ! " till at last another fine prize was 
captured. We packed all our spare fish in a wooden 
box in cold moss and had enough to supply the 
hundred or more guests at the Banff Springs Hotel. 

Roughly speaking, the size of trout in the Upper 
Bow Lake, the largest of the Spray Lakes, and Lake 
Minnewanka, near Banff, is proportional to the size 
of the lakes themselves. Lake Minnewanka, or the 
Devil's Lake, is eleven miles long, and the fish are 
both numerous and of great size. A trout weighing 
thirty-three pounds held the record up to 1896, or 
later ; but all records were surpassed by a fish caught 
in 1899 by Dr. Seward Webb, which tipped the 
scales at forty-seven pounds ! The total weight of 
fourteen fish caught in this lake one day by two 
sportsmen was forty-three pounds. Sixteen caught 
the following day weighed forty-eight pounds, or an 
average of about three pounds to each fish. I have 



Gbe IRocMes as a IResort for Sportsmen 279 

heard that the Indians sometimes bring in fish of 
unusual size from the Kananaskis Lakes and other 
bodies of water remote from the railroad ; but this 
information is second-hand and like all such, es- 
pecially in regard to fish, somewhat influenced by 
imagination. 

Generally speaking, the sportsman should expect 
to kill in these Canadian Rockies no big game out- 
side of the mountain goat and sheep. With a well 
directed effort in a proper region, especially if an 
Indian hunter can be persuaded to assist him, he will 
stand a very fair chance of securing sheep, and al- 
most a certainty of bagging several goats. The 
hunter will have to rough it, and may find the vi- 
cissitudes of mountain travel more trying than any- 
thing to be encountered in the woods of Maine or 
eastern Canada. Moreover, the pursuit of these 
mountain-loving animals requires steady nerves and 
considerable practice in climbing. Such matters 
add zest to the chase and the reward is fairly 
certain. 

For the fisherman there is an unopened wilder- 
ness full of fine streams and clear lakes, in the great 
majority of which fish abound. Emerald Lake and 
Lake Minnewanka are easily accessible ; but most of 
them are as yet only to be reached by rough trails, or 
by forcing a passage through the forests. The re- 
mote bodies of water are, of course, not supplied with 
boats, and some, which are only three or four hours' 
journey from the railroad, have never been fished ; 



280 Zhe IRockies of CanaDa 

so that the sportsman, to get the best results, must 
resort to rafts of his own construction, or carry a 
collapsible boat. However, the waters of all these 
mountain lakes are deep, and sometimes excellent 
fly-fishing may be had from their rocky shores. 



CHAPTER XV 

HOME OF THE STONY INDIANS — INFLUENCE OF AN EARLY 
MISSIONARY — THE INDIAN VILLAGE — TREATY WITH THE 
GOVERNMENT — POWER OF THE STONIES IN WAR — THEIR 
CHIEFS — SCHOOLS AND EFFECTS OF EDUCATION — RE- 
LIGIOUS TEMPERAMENT — QUAINT SUPERSTITIONS — ANEC- 
DOTE ABOUT EDWIN THE GOLD-SEEKER — LOVE OF MUSIC 
— MORALITY OF INDIAN WOMEN — ABSTINENCE FROM 
ALCOHOL — INDIAN PONIES — A BEAR STORY — NEW 
YEAR'S DAY CELEBRATIONS — WHERE THE STONIES GET 
THEIR COURAGE 

THE Stony Indians, a tribe unique in their man- 
ner of life and ideas, live on the borders of 
the great Canadian plains not far from the 
base of the Rockies. They have few traditions. 
Except that they are a branch of the Sioux, no one 
knows whence they came ; but during the last half 
century at least they have held the foothills of the 
Rockies for a home and have used the mountains as 
a hunting-ground. The Stonies have the reputation 
of being the fiercest fighters among the north-west- 
ern tribes, and have cruelly punished their enemies, 
the Blackfeet, in many encounters on the plains. 
About fifty years ago, when the first explorers 

came in search of a route across the continent, this 

281 



282 £be IRocfcies of Canada 

territory was alive with savages. Each cloud of 
dust in the distance, or band of horsemen scurrying 
like wind over the plains, was a cause for instant 
alarm, and no traveller was assured of safety except 
in arms or the good will of the Stonies ; for the 
Stonies then, as now, were friends of the white men. 

Whatever may have been the cause of this friend- 
ship for the invading whites on the part of the most 
influential Indians in the north-west, it is certain that 
they owe much of their religious education to a godly 
man, Mr. Rundle, a Methodist missionary, who came 
among them about sixty years ago. To this day the 
older members of the tribe cherish his name with 
love and feel a bond of sympathy for all white men 
through this good man's influence ; for, " Did he not 
come among us," they say, "a poor man and go 
away likewise, leaving us richer ? " It is partly ow- 
ing to the impression of this early missionary's re- 
markable personality, but certainly also to some 
native strength of character, that they have such un- 
usually good traits. The Stonies are exceptionally 
faithful ; they cannot be tempted to steal, they are 
true to their word, and, more incredible still, they 
have an abhorrence of alcohol. 

Their reserve is a beautiful place in the terraced 
valley of the Bow River, near the little railroad sta- 
tion of Morley. The surrounding hills are covered 
with a scant turf, only green during May and June, 
soon to be parched by summer drought, and then 
frost-bitten for half the year. Clumps of rough 



Gbe fln&ian lOUIage 283 

Douglas firs crown the rounded hilltops or grow on 
the sides of ravines, and every tree leans eastward 
as a result of the unceasing west winds. 

The Indian village is on a small plain among 
wooded hills, about a mile from Morley. It is a col- 
lection of simple wooden houses which the Indians 
have built for themselves, though some still use the 
primitive teepee. During a recent visit I made my 
first call on Tom Chiniquay, a chief's son, to take 
pictures of himself and his wife. In his house were 
tanned skins, beadwork and embroidery, as well as 
illustrations and cheap prints from our periodicals. 
In a cupboard were some iron tools and other evid- 
ences of civilisation. Chiniquay arrayed himself in 
a gorgeous costume of ermine and otter fur, and put 
on a magnificent head-piece of eagle feathers, with 
the sharp, black horns of the mountain goat on either 
side. After the ordeal, Chiniquay charged me a dol- 
lar for the privilege of photographing him, notwith- 
standing an old friendship between us. I have never 
learned whether this charge resulted from the fact 
that he is a chief's son, or because of a certain debt 
at the "store" for which his costume had been 
mortgaged. 

The relations between the Canadian Government 
and the Stony Indians have been always happy. At 
a great council of the tribes, held many years ago, in 
which the Blackfeet, Piegans, Sarcees, Bloods, and 
Stonies took part, a treaty was made with the Stonies 
that " so long as the river flows " they are to receive 



284 Gbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

rations of beef, flour, tobacco, clothing, and money, 
in return for the lands of which they have been dis- 
possessed. The Stonies have behaved themselves, 
the Government has kept its promises, and everyone 
is satisfied. 

There are three Stony reserves in the north-west, 
but this one at Morley is the most important. At 
this place there were 581 Indians in 1898, and by 
natural increase 602 a year later. Though so few in 
number, the Stonies have exercised strong influence on 
the other tribes, due perhaps to their prowess in war ; 
and nearly every enterprise the Indians have under- 
taken, whether lawful or otherwise, has been a suc- 
cess if the Stonies joined and a failure if they did not. 
Thus the Riel rebellion, in 1885, though serious for a 
time, lost considerable importance when it was known 
that the Stonies would not lend their assistance. 

The Stonies have some cousins on the plains, the 
Assiniboines, who are arrant knaves, liars, and horse- 
thieves, with none of the good traits of their relatives, 
and nothing in common with them except a similar 
tongue. All the Indian tribes of these western plains 
have become more or less united by a century of the 
fur trade which brought them together in a peaceful 
way. The Stonies, like the others, are scattered in 
separate bands, the purest blood being at the Morley 
reserve, amalgamated, however, with the mountain 
Crees, and are at best merely shattered remnants of 
a tribe that has been repeatedly decimated by war 
and smallpox. 



Scbools anfc Effects of Eimcation 285 

There are three chiefs in this band, and upon the 
death of any one, another is chosen by the Indians to 
be approved by the Government. Numerous petty 
marks of distinction — a larger house, or a more gor- 
geous costume on festal occasions — are the insignia 
of their authority, which is not very great and is 
limited to such matters as the choice of camping- 
places on their marches, a weightier influence in 
council, and leadership in time of war. One day of 
my visit, Chief Chiniquay came to the agency on a 
matter of business. There was nothing, however, 
in his simple blanket costume and knife-belt to 
distinguish him from the others. But such was his 
dignity and reserve that no suggestion was made 
to take his picture, especially as this chief clings to 
the ancient superstition about the camera : that it 
shortens life, or at least takes away some portion of 
health. 

The Indians on this reserve have very good edu- 
cational advantages. There are two day-schools 
near the village and a boarding-school some six miles 
distant, which has accommodation for about forty 
scholars and is supported by the Methodist Church. 
At each school the children are taught simple arith- 
metic, geography, and the English language. There 
are also opportunities for special studies, such as 
housework for the girls and farming for the boys. 
The Stonies are ambitious for their children, because 
education gives them standing among their fellows, 
and they feel that ability to act as interpreters, read 



286 £be IRocWee of Canaba 

the papers, or write messages home when on their 
journeys is no small distinction. 

But it cannot be said, in all fairness, that this 
simple education is always beneficial. No race can 
jump a thousand generations, or even a thousand 
years, and feel no shock. Education tends to the 
Indian's betterment in many cases, but frequently also 
to his downfall. The study of farming is all lost on 
the Stonies, because the climate of their country, sit- 
uated two hundred miles north of Montana and four 
thousand feet above the sea, is not favourable to the 
cultivation of even hardy vegetables. Moreover, 
they have a strong prejudice against agriculture, and 
for them to dig in the ground is degradation. There 
are, however, pleasing exceptions to this tendency to 
relapse from education. Some of the young Stonies 
speak English perfectly and show by their ideas that 
they are not only ambitious but progressive. 

The most surprising moral trait of the Stonies is 
their sincere religious feeling, a result of early mis- 
sionary work. They attend church voluntarily and 
regularly, keep the Sabbath strictly, and even go to 
the length of private prayer-meetings at home. The 
Christmas festivities begin with a church service, and 
even their names, such as "Job Beaver " or " Enoch 
Wildman," which are sometimes acquired from per- 
sonal traits or circumstance, also prove their famil- 
iarity with the Bible. 

The Stonies show many of the paradoxes of a 
savage tribe in a transition stage. Striking contrasts 




A TYPICAL STONY INDIAN 



©uaint Superstitions 287 

of ideas often occur in the same individual, which at 
times almost cause a distrust in his sincerity. In- 
herited superstitions take deep root in human nature, 
and till we ourselves learn to disregard the new moon 
over our right shoulder, thirteen at table, the bad 
luck of Friday, and such petty self-delusions, whose 
influence we feel for good or evil, we should not be 
too severe in judging the Indian. 

Some beliefs of the Stonies are, however, very in- 
teresting, and none more so than certain supersti- 
tions in regard to their hair, which, by the way, are 
strangely like those of the Hawaiians and South Sea 
islanders. A lock of hair in the possession of an 
enemy is a cause for great anxiety, because therein 
is believed to lie the power of life and death over the 
victim. So strong is this feeling that even a good 
Indian would shoot and kill, without a moment's hes- 
itation, any one attempting to clip a lock of hair from 
his head. Many of their beliefs, however, are harm- 
less : such as the idea that each mouthful of salt takes 
a year from life, and that it is very bad luck for a man 
to touch any article of a woman's clothing. The 
younger women are subject to strange cataleptic fits 
and fainting spells, during which their bodies become 
apparently lifeless and rigid as iron. There is little 
doubt that the medicine men have a hypnotic influ- 
ence which is the cause of much that is incomprehen- 
sible to the Indian mind. These sorcerers pretend 
to drive away the evil spirits by charms, accompanied 
by an unending beating of drums and mournful 



2SS Zbe "Rockies of Cana&a 

chants, continued day and night, till the patient 
either recovers, owing to unusual vitality, or dies, 
which is more often the case. Much of this gross 
superstition is dying out and now exists only among 
the weaker individuals and women in the secrecy 
and fear fostered by the medicine men, who, in any 
event, receive large payment for their services. 

The Indians have a superstition about minerals. 
One of the first white men to prospect along the 
Bow River was named Joe Healy. After much diffi- 
culty and many promises of blankets, flour, and tea, 
he induced an Indian named Edwin, the Gold-Seeker, 
to show him a place where there was copper ore. 
The other Indians shook their heads and said the 
spirits would be angry and that something would 
surely happen to Edwin for disturbing the minerals. 
But when autumn came, and the snow began to fall, 
Edwin and his family had new blankets and plenty 
of flour in their teepee. Then the others talked it 
over and said : " Perhaps the spirits will not be 
angry. We know where there is money in the 
rocks, and when the snow goes we will show it to 
the white man. Then he will give us horses, blankets, 
and flour." But one calm night a few weeks later 
some of the old men were grouped round a camp- 
fire on the flats by the river, and Edwin was stand- 
ing before them, telling about an exciting buffalo 
chase. Suddenly he fell over almost into the fire. 
The others rushed to help him, but he was dead ! 
Heart disease — the Indian agent said it was. The 



fB>oralit£ of Unbian Women 289 

old men smiled sadly and said : "In the springtime 
when the snow melts we will not show the white 
man where there is money in the rocks." 

The Indians, though remarkably bad artists them- 
selves, are very fond of music. They often come to 
the agency to hear the piano or the graphophone, 
the latter a marvellous invention of the white man 
which they do not comprehend, and in admiration 
say/' We do not understand whether this is God or 
the devil speaking." 

The women are very strict in their ideas of moral- 
ity and rarely or never travel alone. Unless her hus- 
band is present a woman will always leave a room 
or teepee when a stranger enters. Though family 
quarrels sometimes occur, the Stony women make 
faithful and loving wives. Their position is higher 
than among most Indians, as the family tie is not 
easily broken, and labour is so divided that some of 
the work is done by the men. The women dress 
and tan the skins of moose, sheep, and mountain 
goats, making them into the most beautifully pre- 
served leather to be found in the North-west. They 
have charge, too, of the family treasury, and no hus- 
band will ever close a bargain without first consulting 
his wife. On hunting trips the women do the cooking 
and set up the teepees, which require thirteen slender 
poles stripped of their bark. To the men falls the 
excitement of hunting no less than the labour of the 
chase, which, among the heights of the Rockies, is 
exhausting and often dangerous. 



290 Zbc IRocMee of Canafca 

Strict abstinence from alcohol and other vices 
has given the Stonies health and vitality that make 
their numbers increase, while other tribes are dwind- 
ling away. But among all primitive peoples im- 
ported diseases find a virgin soil, and the Stonies 
likewise have suffered terribly from measles, small- 
pox, and consumption. An old Indian acquaintance 
of mine, William Twin, once told me pathetically 
that he could sleep no more from thinking about the 
death of his wife and children, and then added, "Only 
one little boy left now — if little boy die, no longer 
want to live, me/' 

The Stonies' welfare in peace and their lives in 
war depend on their horses, and it is little wonder 
that they take the greatest pride in them. For many 
years past they have obtained good horses from the 
Kootenay Indians in British Columbia, so that they 
have always had the best animals of the western 
tribes. They have recently imported eastern stock 
to improve their undersized ponies. 

They have few amusements, but are very sociable, 
and nothing pleases them more than to recount their 
adventures in a kind of gesture language which is 
comprehensible even to a stranger. It is not un- 
common to see an Indian on his knees, before an at- 
tentive group of listeners, carrying out in pantomime 
every detail of some exciting adventure, and with 
words half chanted and voice like one calling from 
afar, relating the circumstances of hairbreadth es- 
capes or deeds of heroism. 




A STONY INDIAN MOTHER AND CHILDREN 



H Bear Ston? 291 

Among many hunting stories, the following well 
illustrates their courage : A young brave named 
Susie was encamped with his family in the Porcu- 
pine Hills east of the Rockies. After hunting sheep 
and goats all day, he was returning to his teepee and 
upon entering an open forest glade came unex- 
pectedly on a huge grizzly bear. He fired, though 
too quickly for good aim, and only wounded the 
bear in the fore foot. Walking backwards, and try- 
ing to get another cartridge in his rifle, he stumbled 
on a log and fell. The bear jumped upon him before 
he could recover. Then ensued a fight to the death. 
The Indian turned on his side and seized the bear's 
ear with his left hand. In the other he held his 
Hudson Bay hunting-knife, a formidable weapon 
like a small sword, and with this kept striking the 
bear on face and neck. Biting and clawing, the 
infuriated animal reared on his hind legs several 
times in an effort to throw the Indian from him. At 
length both contestants, weakened from loss of 
blood, fell to the ground, when Susie, with a des- 
perate effort, drove the knife between the bear's 
shoulders, but had no strength to pull the weapon 
out. Maddened with pain, the bear gave his head a 
great toss and threw the Indian several yards to 
one side. 

On the following morning Susie's people began 
to search for him. Within a few yards of the dead 
bear the Indian was found and carried back to camp. 
There they dressed his wounds and roasted the feet 



292 Gbe IRockies of Cana&a 

of the grizzly, that he might eat them and become a 
mighty hunter, for by eating the bear's feet the 
spirit of the animal would enter and give him cour- 
age. When asked what he thought about while 
the fight was going on he said : "I was thinking — 
why is a bear's ear not long like a deer's ? " 

The great feast of the year is at New Year's. Every 
effort is made by the hunting parties to get back 
from the mountains before then, while those on the 
reserves spend weeks in preparing magnificent cos- 
tumes of fur and beadwork for this occasion. Upon 
the festal day all the Indians of the reserve assemble 
in two bands, each led by a chief. After a volley 
from firearms, the two bands come together and pass 
each before the other, while during the performance 
of this manoeuvre every Indian — man, woman, or child 
— salutes every other with a kiss. Thereupon they 
repair to the largest house and have a magnificent 
banquet, their white guests being first served with 
articles of civilisation, while the Indians feast on 
pemmican made of the meat of bear, moose, or sheep 
mixed with fat, sugar, and wild berries. Then fol- 
low horse-races and manoeuvres of various kinds, 
which, together with the award of prizes to the 
best-looking squaws, and athletic contests, consume 
the day. In the evening there is a ball with primitive 
music, where the dancers are urged on by shuffling 
of feet and an unending " Hi-i-i-i ! " from the specta- 
tors, while the excitement increases till at length, as 
in a tarentelle, the participants are ready to faint from 



Xtdberc tbe Stonies (Set tbeir Courage 293 

exhaustion. Though there is much that is uncouth 
and savage in these gatherings, there is no disorder, 
and the stranger will be kindly and hospitably enter- 
tained by his decorated hosts. 

The Stonies give an example of what has been true 
throughout the world's history,— that hill tribes and 
mountain peoples have always been fierce, inde- 
pendent, and unconquerable. The Stonies get their 
courage among the perils of the Rockies, where on 
hunting trips they have to ford rapid and dangerous 
rivers, or climb the precipices of the highest peaks 
and face the cold and storms of dizzy cliffs where 
the mountain goat and bighorn live. They have 
physical courage to attack the grizzly single-handed, 
or engage twice their number in battle. These 
admirable qualities, with their honesty, sobriety, and 
much that is best in civilisation, give a new hope for 
all Indian tribes through their example. 



APPENDIX 

FACTS OF INTEREST ABOUT THE LAKE LOUISE REGION 

THE following information about trips to points of interest 
near Lake Louise will be useful to visitors. 
To those having but one day to spare, it would be 
well to take a boat and visit the south end of the lake. 
If this is done in the morning, the afternoon might be devoted 
to an ascent of The Saddle, on foot, or with ponies. From this 
point a magnificent view of Paradise Valley and Mt. Temple 
may be had. 

By those having two or three days, the following additional 
trips should be made : (i) To Lake Agnes, and possibly the 
Lesser Beehive ; or even an ascent of Mt. St. Piran. (2) To the 
glacier, or beyond it to the end of valley and cliffs of Mt. Victoria. 

A fair estimate of the time required by pedestrians, in good 
training, to reach several points of interest will be given below. 
Women and those not accustomed to walking will require one- 
half more time than the estimates given. 

From the chalet to end of lake by boat, 20 minutes ; by 
trail, round lake, 25-30 minutes ; to bridge beyond lake by boat 
and then by trail, 35-40 minutes ; to the end of glacier (follow 
close to north side of stream to avoid rock-slide beyond bridge), 
50 minutes ; to walls of Mt. Victoria, 1 hour and 45 minutes. 

From the chalet to Mirror Lake (8so feet ascent), 25-30 
minutes. (The trail divides a short distance from the lake. 
The trail to the left leads to Mirror Lake and thence by the base 
of the Beehive to Lake Agnes, the last twenty feet being too 
steep for ponies or heavy persons. The other trail does not 
pass Mirror Lake, but ascends sharply and comes down on Lake 
Agnes from a higher slope. The scenery on this trail is better 
than the other, but the last part of the route is impracticable for 
horses.) To Lake Agnes, 40-50 minutes ; to summit of Beehive, 

295 



296 Zbc IRocfcies of Canada 

1 J hours. (It is better to follow the north shore of the lake and 
then, skirting round the shore to the left, commence the ascent by 
the steep grassy slope.) To summit of St. Piran, if hours; 
return, 40 minutes. To summit of Pope's Peak, 3I-4 hours. 
(Ascend amphitheatre beyond Lake Agnes and climb slopes to 
the right till an altitude of seventy-nine hundred feet is reached, 
where a diagonal gully is seen leading through first cliff. When 
the top of the cirque is reached, find a route among broken 
limestones on west side of peak to the top.) 

From the chalet to The Saddle (i8so feet ascent), 50-60 
minutes. (Walk from new hut in a straight line one hundred 
yards to edge of cliffs for the best view.) To Saddle Mt., i{ 
hours. (From The Saddle this is a short scramble over great 
ledges and at the top a thrilling view may be had into Paradise 
Valley from a vertical precipice.) To summit of Fairview Mt., 
2 hours. (One hour from Saddle. Keep to the right.) 

From the chalet, through woods to entrance of Paradise 
Valley, if hours; to upper end of valley, 5 hours. (From there 
to summit of Mt. Aberdeen 3J hours, or of Mt. Temple 5 hours.) 
Through woods to entrance of Desolation or Wenkchemna 
valley, 4 hours. (The openings of these two valleys are on almost 
the same level as that of Lake Louise.) To Moraine Lake si, 6 
hours. To lake in Consolation Valley, 6 hours. 

From Hector to O'Hara Lake with horses, first time 8 hours, 
second 6 hours, on foot 5-6 hours. Returning with horses ^\ 
hours, on foot 4 hours. 

From the upper end of Paradise Valley you may enter 
Desolation or the Wenkchemna valley by high passes on the 
north and south of Pinnacle Mt. The pass to the south offers a 
quick route to the valley end, whence by a pass between Hunga- 
bee and Deltaform a descent may be made into Prospector's 
Valley or the head of the Vermilion. A snow pass leads from 
this into the valley of Lake O'Hara. Such a trip would require a 
camp or bivouac in Paradise Valley, and again near O'Hara Lake. 
All the passes are too rough for horses. 

Moraine Lake and Consolation Valley may be visited from 
Paradise Valley over these passes, or else by a traverse through 
the woods from the chalet, north of Fairview and Temple. The 
latter journey may be made with pack-horses by beating a way 
through the woods on a nearly level traverse. I think both 



appenMy 297 

passes at the head of Consolation Valley will be found possible 
to cross on foot. The one to the south-east leads into a valley 
containing a lake three miles long and full of fish. The other 
leads into the Bow valley, and to a smaller lake near the miners' 
huts opposite Eldon. 

O'Hara Valley may be visited from Hector station. Follow the 
north side of stream in a sharp ascent to the top of the valley open- 
ing. Find a log shortly after to cross stream, and follow around 
south shore of the two small lakes. The trail soon crosses to north 
side, but is lost in open burnt timber country. After a mile or so 
it comes back in green timber to south side on a ridge above the 
cataract. The trail makes several crossings in the next mile, and 
is very hard to locate, but after that it remains on the south side 
all the time. The trail leads to within less than a quarter mile of 
the lake, but turns to the right to a pass into the Ottertail. 

NOTES ON CAMP LIFE 

Equipment : — A tent with walls at least thirty inches high, 
seven by nine feet, is a convenient size for two or three. One 
four-point Hudson Bay blanket for each member of the party, 
and a sleeping bag to go inside, made of some lighter blanketing. 
A canvas sheet to lay bedding upon and keep out dampness or 
cold. In setting up tent, select dry, smooth ground and face 
tent so as to have probable wind sweep across the opening. 
Smoke from fire will then be carried to one side. If ground 
is rough or damp, cut balsam boughs, and make bed by com- 
mencing at upper end of tent and lay a row of branches with all 
the stems pointing towards the open end. Commence second 
row about six inches below, and have the natural arch of branches 
placed convexly. If properly done, all the large branches will 
eventually be at the bottom and a springy bed will be obtained. 
Let each man have his own place to sleep in, and do not walk 
on another's blankets at any time. In rainy weather, roll up 
blankets to head of tent and use to sit upon. Sun and air 
blankets whenever possible. A pillow may be improvised at 
night from the bag of extra clothing, sweaters, or coats not in 
use. Air pillows are very comfortable and portable. Have the 
space at lower end of tent on either side reserved for boots, 
cameras, leggins, and other articles of this nature, but keep an 



298 ZCbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

open space for entrance and exit. If the tent leaks in wet 
weather it is not properly put up. Have it tight and free from 
wrinkles, and do not touch the canvas in rainy weather. 

Personal effects : — One serviceable suit of strong material. 
A canvas coat for wet weather. At least two pairs of strong 
boots that have been broken in before the trip is made, well 
hobbed with steel or Swiss nails. A pair of slippers or easy 
shoes for camp. In fall or wet summer weather some kind of 
heavy rubber overshoes and woollen socks are the only sure pre- 
ventative of wet and cold feet. Army leggins or spat puttees 
are almost indispensable. A light felt hat to shade eyes from 
sun and snow-blindness. A heavy woollen sweater, with high 
neck woven whole and long sleeves, is a most useful garment. 
One or two pairs of buckskin gloves. Two or more changes 
of underclothing of rather warm material and one of lighter. 
Vaseline for boots and hands, lanoline for sunburn, shaving and 
toilet articles, and a small, round looking-glass. A small kit of 
tools, containing a file, gimlet, nippers, sandpaper, fish-glue, 
brads and screws, is a handy thing if you carry cameras or 
scientific instruments of any kind. Some kind of mosquito oil 
containing tar and pennyroyal will be useful in calm weather, 
or on fishing trips. Mosquito nets, or a yard of the material itself 
to wind round the neck and face, will be needed in early summer. 

Instruments: — An aneroid and compass are indispensable 
for all exploratory work and mountain climbing. A prismatic 
compass or regular plane-table and steel tape are best for rough 
survey work. A small pocket thermometer and field-glasses 
might be added to the outfit. 

Notes on breaking camp : — Get up immediately on announce- 
ment that breakfast is ready, and do not delay your friends or 
the cook by taking an unusual time in dressing. After break- 
fast, put all your dishes neatly in one place where the cook can 
find them without trouble. While the men are making ready, 
roll up your blankets and tie them if they go as side packs, 
otherwise fold and lay on ground. Arrange next your gunni- 
sack of personal effects. Take some kind of lunch to eat on the 
trail, no matter how short the march is to be, or how little you 
may feel like eating at the time. Prepare your lunch at break- 
fast time, and do not ask the cook to open up his boxes and 
bags the last minute. See that the cinches and bridle on your 



Hppen&iy 299 

saddle-horse are all right a few minutes before all is ready to 
march. 

Notes on making marches: — In midsummer, the outfit 
should be ready to march at eight o'clock. This gives a long 
day and the coolest part of it. Do not march more than six 
hours except under unusual circumstances. In long, hot marches 
it is sometimes best to break the journey by an hour's rest, dur- 
ing which time the packs are thrown off and the horses can 
feed a little. A fire can be made and tea served. Otherwise the 
men arrive in camp tired and hungry to find some of their hard- 
est work before them. On the march, the saddle-horses should 
be mingled among the pack animals, and each one in the party 
should help drive one or two of them. Tie their heads up, if 
they feed persistently along the trail and delay the outfit. Do 
not frighten your horses if they run off into the brush, as they 
get worse, each time. Remember that the packs are heaviest and 
the horses' backs most tender at the beginning of any trip, 
and that you can travel twice as fast coming home. 

Notes on making camp : — Decide approximately about where 
you want to camp, and tell the head packer to look out for a 
good camping place within certain limits of time or distance. 
Wood, water, and dry ground with a pasture near, are prime 
requisites. When the horses have all been tied to trees, un- 
saddle your own animal and turn him loose unless he requires 
to be hobbled. Treat your horse gently and kindly, and you 
may walk up to him at any time. Never make a sudden move- 
ment to catch the horse or the reins. Move slowly and uncon- 
cernedly, so that your pony is unconscious of what is going on. 
Camp should be made by two o'clock. This allows time for 
the men to make a proper camp and do whatever cooking is 
necessary, and also gives an opportunity for short excursions in 
the region of your camp. 

HISTORICAL FACTS OF INTEREST 

1793. On the 22d of July, Alexander Mackenzie reached the 
Pacific coast in latitude 52 20' 48" after having crossed the 
Rockies by way of the Peace River. This is the first recorded 
overland journey across the continent of North America. 

1809. Jules Quesnel, Simon Fraser, and John Stuart leave a 



soo Zbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

station in New Caledonia (now British Columbia) and descend 
a river supposed to be the Columbia. The mouth of this large 
stream proved to be three degrees north of that of the Columbia, 
and was named the Fraser River. 

1817. Ross Cox with a party of eighty-six persons, including 
Europeans, Indians, and Hawaiians, leave the colony of Astoria 
at the mouth of the Columbia, and, ascending that river, cross the 
mountains by the Athabasca Pass. Some of the party, too weak 
to continue the journey, retreat down the Columbia. The last 
survivor from death by starvation was reduced to cannibalism. 

1827. The botanist, David Douglas, ascends the Columbia 
and crosses the Rockies by the Athabasca Pass. 

1 84 1 . Sir George Simpson, on the first overland journey round 
the world from east to west, crosses the mountains by the 
Devil's Lake, Simpson Pass, and Kootenay River, under the 
guidance of an Indian named Peechee. 

1858. Gold is discovered in the upper waters of the Fraser 
River. This leads to a rapid increase of population in British 
Columbia and the building of waggon roads. 

1857. The Palliser expedition is set on foot by Her Majesty's 
Government. The three objects of this expedition were to find 
a shorter route between eastern and western Canada, to explore 
the western plains, and to find one or more passes across the 
Rocky Mountains south of the Athabasca Pass, but still in British 
territory. Besides Captain Palliser, who was in charge, the 
expedition consisted of Dr. Hector, Lieutenant Blakiston, Mr. 
Sullivan, and M. Bourgeau. On this journey Dr. Hector crosses 
the Vermilion and Howse passes and discovers the Kicking 
Horse Pass, so named by his men from the circumstances of a 
severe kick which he received from his horse at a point near the 
mouth of the Beaverfoot River. 

1862. Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle cross the mountains 
and descend the north branch of the Thompson River. 

1867. The colony of Canada unites with New Brunswick and 
Nova Scotia to make the Dominion of Canada. The Hudson 
Bay Company sells its rights to the central and north-western 
parts of British North America. 

1871. British Columbia enters the Dominion of Canada, and 
the first survey parties for a transcontinental railroad commence 
work. 



Hppenbty 301 

1880. The Government gives up its efforts to construct a 
railroad, and the enterprise is turned over to a corporation with 
Sir William Van Home in control. 

1883. Captain Rogers discovers a pass which now bears his 
name, through the Selkirk Range. 

1886. The Canadian Pacific Road is completed, and the first 
through trains begin to cross Canada. 

LIST OF FIRST ASCENTS OF SOME MOUNTAINS OVER NINETY-FIVE 
HUNDRED FEET HIGH 

1887. Mt. Stephen, 10,428 feet, by J. J. McArthur. 

1888. Cascade Mt., near Banff, 9796 feet, by J. J. McArthur. 

1889. Three Sisters (highest peak), 9730 feet, by J. J. 

McArthur. 

1890. Mt. Bourgeau, 9487 feet, by J. J. McArthur. 
Storm Mt., 10,330, by St. Cyr. 

" Fatigue Mt., near Simpson Pass, 9667, by J. J. McArthur. 
" Wind Mt., near Canmore, 10,100, by St. Cyr. 

1891. North end of Castle Mt. Ridge, 9546, by J. J. 

McArthur. 
Station south of Mt. Hector, 9830, by J. J. McArthur. 
" Station north of Mt. Hector, 9885, by J. J. McArthur. 
Panther Mt. (Lat. 51 31/ Long. ii5°4o' W.), 9565, by 
J. J. McArthur. 
" Peak north of Cascade Mt. (Lat. 51 21' 30', Long. 

1 1 5 3i')> 9560, by J. J. McArthur. 
" Bonnet Peak. At headwaters of Cascade River and 
Baker Creek, 10,260, by J. J. McArthur. 

1892. Peak south-east from Hector station, 9525, by J. J. 

McArthur. 
Station 18 on North Branch Kicking Horse River, west 
of Mt. Balfour, 10,400, by J. J. McArthur. 
" Mt. Owen, in Ottertail Range, 10,000, by J. J. McArthur. 

1894. Mt. Aberdeen, 10,450, by L. F. Frissell, S. E. S. Allen, 

and W. D. Wilcox. 
" Mt. Temple, 11,607, by L. F. Frissell, S. E. S. Allen, 
and W. D. Wilcox. 

1895. Peak north of Little Fork Pass, 10,150, by W. Peyto 

and W. D. Wilcox. 



302 Gbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

1896. Mt. Hector, 11,20s, by P. S. Abbot, C. E. Fay, and C. 

S. Thompson. 
Peak between the Saskatchewan and Athabasca rivers, 
10,000, by R. L. Barrett and W. D. Wilcox. 

1897. Mt. Lefroy, 11,115, by J. N. Collie, H. B. Dixon, A. 

Michael, C. E. Fay, C. L. Noyes, C. S. Thompson, 

H. C. Parker, J. R. Vanderlip, and Peter Sarbach. 
" Mt. Victoria, 11,260, by J. N. Collie, A. Michael, C. E. 

Fay, and P. Sarbach. 
Mt. Gordon, 10,600, by J. N. Collie, H. B. Dixon, A. 

Michael, C. E. Fay, C. L. Noyes, C. S. Thompson, 

H. C. Parker, G. P. Baker, and P. Sarbach. 
Mt. Sarbach, 11,100, by J. N. Collie, G. P. Baker, and 

P. Sarbach. 
Mt. Balfour, 10,84s, by C. S. Thompson, C. L. Noyes, 

G. M. Weed. 
Mt. Niles, 9700, by C. E. Fay and C. Campbell. 
Athabasca Peak, 1 1,900, by J. N. Collie and H. Woolley. 
Diadem Peak, n,soo, 1 by J. N. Collie, H. Woolley, 
The Dome, 11,600, j and H. E. M. Stutfield. 
Thompson Peak, 11,000, by J. N. Collie, H. Woolley, 

and H. E. M. Stutfield. 
1899. Pope's Peak, 982s, by W. D. Wilcox. 

LIST OF FIRST ASCENTS OF SOME MOUNTAINS OVER NINE THOUSAND 
FEET HIGH IN THE SELKIRK RANGE — PREPARED FOR THIS WORK 
BY PROFESSOR CHARLES E. FAY 

1888. Mt. Bonney, 10,625 ^ eet » by W. S. Green and H. 
Swanzy. 
11 Green's Peak, 9700 feet, by W. S. Green and H. 
Swanzy. 
1890. Mt. Sir Donald, 10,645 feet, by E. Huber, C. Sulzer, 
and H. Cooper. 
" Uto Peak, 9500 feet, by E. Huber, C. Sulzer. 

Mt. Purity, 10,100 feet, by E. Huber, H. W. Topham, 

and Mr. Foster. 
Swiss Peak, 10,600 feet, by C. Sulzer and a porter. 
Mt. Fox, 10,000 feet, ) by H. W. Topham and two 



Mt. Donkin, 9700 feet, j porters. 



. 



Hppen&iy 303 

1890. Mt. Sugar Loaf, 10,250 feet, by E. Huber, H. W. Top- 
ham, and Mr. Forster. 
1893. Eagle Peak, 9200 feet, } by S. E. S. Allen and 

" Mt. Cheops, about 9000 feet, j W. D. Wilcox. 

1895. Mt. Castor, 9200 feet, by P. S.Abbot, C. S.Thompson, 

and C. E. Fay. 

1896. Mt. Rogers, 10,630 feet, by P. S. Abbot, G. T. Little, 

and C. S. Thompson. 
w n „ r ) by H. B. Dixon, A. Michael, 

1897. Mt. Pollux, 9250 feet, I } R Vanderlip, C. L. Noyes, 
The Dome, 9100 feet, j Q E Fay? and p Sarbach> 

1899. Mt. Dawson, 10,800 feet, by H. C. Parker, C. E. Fay, 
Chr. Hasler, and E. Feuz. 



INDEX 



Abbot, P. S., 245 

Abbot's Pass, 249 

Accident, a remarkable, 59 

Allen, S. S., 95, 239 

Alpine lakes, 108, 204 

Alpine lily, 75 

Appalachian Mountain Club, first ascents 

of, 245 
Aspen, poplar, 65 

Assiniboines, a tribe of Indians, 284 
Astley, W. J., 42, 248 
Athabasca country, entrance of, 168 
Athabasca Pass, the, 150 
Athabasca Peak, view from, 253 
Athabasca River, 171 

source of, 1 74 
August snow-storm, an, 198 

Badger, whistling, 66 

Baker, G. P., 251 

Balsam, spruce, 62 

Banff, 5 

Banff, distance to Laggan, 43 

Banff Springs Hotel, 7 

Barrett, R. L., 70, 152, 264 

Bath Creek, 251 

Bay, the, 131, 132 

Bears, occurrence of, 271 

Bear story, an Indian, 291 

Bighorn, 268 

Birch, scrub, 16 

Blaeberry valley, the, 191 

Blind valley, 91 

Blue-bells, 217 

Bow River, fine fishing in, 274 

Brett, Dr., 43 

Bryant, Henry G., 98 

Bryanthus, 36 



Bull-dog fly, 21 

Burnt timber of the Bow valley, 140 

Calypso, 74 

Cambrian formations, 235 

Camp, a burnt timber, 79 

a deserted prospector's, 221 

breakfasts, 122 

derivation of customs, 1 14 

early morning in, 121 

fires, best kind of, 1 34 

fires, the Indian's, 134 

in deep snow, 193 

in Paradise Valley, 57 

life, increasing popularity of, 115 

making after a day's march, 118. 
128 
Camping trips, preparations for, 1 15 

where to commence, 1 16 
Canadian National Park, 5 
Canadian Pacific Road, its commence- 
ment, 5 
Canyon on the Upper Vermilion, 224 
Carboniferous formations, 236 
Cascade Mt., 237 
Chickadees, 232 
Chiefs of the Stonies, 285 
Chiniquay, chief, 285 
Chiniquay, Tom, 42, 285 
Zo\d Water Lake, the, 144 
Coleman and Stuart's journey to Mt. 
Brown, 152 

trail, 170 
Collie, Dr. J. Norman, 249, 251 
Colour effects at Lake Louise, 25 
Colours of sunrise, 28 
Columbine, the yellow, 15 
Consolation Valley, 204 



305 



306 



flnbey 



Continental divide, 99 

Copper mine, near Eldon, 206 

Cordillera, Pacific, its extent, 2 

Cottonwood, 65 

Courage, effect of cold on, 46 

Cow-parsnip, 219 

Cox, Ross, crosses the mountains, 151 

Coyote, seen in high mountains, 213 

Cross River, north fork of, 94 

Cycles, in abundance of game, 259 

Death Trap, the, 246, 249 
Delta of Lake Louise, 18 
Denny, a pack-horse, 152, 133 
DeSmet, a missionary, 259 
Desolation Range, 223 
Desolation Valley, 197 

view of, from Mt. Temple, 245 
Devil's Club, the, 180 
Devil's Gap, 8 
Devil's Lake, 8 
Devonian formations, 236 
Discovery of a pass between the Sas- 
katchewan and Athabasca, 167 
Dolomites, 236 

Douglas, David, the botanist, 151 
Douglas fir, 2, 1 1, os, 283 
Dryas, a rosaceous plant, 178 
Ducks, species of, 272 

Edwards, Ralph, 84, 86 
Edwin, the Gold Seeker, 13, 288 
Effect of cold on courage, 46 
Environment of Lake Louise, 33 
Epilobium (fireweed), several species of, 

60 
Extent of the Canadian Rockies, 4 

Fairview Mt., 54 

height above Lake Louise, 19 
Fay, Prof. Charles E., 24^ 
Fireweed, several species of, 60 
Fish, in Upper Bow Lake, 146 
Fishing in Canadian mountains, 273 

opportunities for, 270 
Flowers near Lake Lou'se, 15 
Fool-hen, 125 

Forest fire in Bear Creek valley, 1 54 
Forest fires, cause of, 157 



extent of, 157 

prehistoric, 159 

rate of progress of, 158 
Forests of the Canadian Rockies, 61 
Fortress Lake, 172 

east end of, 1 73 

no fish in, 273 

west end of, 1 78 
Forty-mile Creek, remarkable lake in, 1 79 
Frissell, Lewis, 34, 41, 243 

Game in the Canadian mountains, 258 

Ghost River, 8 

Glacial mud from Lake Louise, 19 

Glacial period, 230 

Glacier Lake, 184 

Glissade, a strange, =;o 

Gnats, grey, 216 

Goat meat, how to serve it, 264 

Goat, Rocky Mountain, 259 

abundance near Lake Louise, 266 
curious experience with, 278 
incident with a young, 265 

Green, Dr. W. S., 256 

Grouse, various species of, 272 

Guides, absence of, 117 

Healy, Joe, 288 
Healy's Creek, 72 
Hector station, 2;; 

Heights, comparative, of mountain sys- 
tems, 3 
Henderson, Yandell, 34 
Horses, pitiful state of, 194- 
Howse Pass, the, 148 

origin of name, 190 
Huts of trappers, 237 

Indian pony, 290 

nature of, 1 30 

origin of, 130 
Indian, sarcasm, 53 

trailing, remarkable, 138 

village at Morley, 283 
Indians, Stony, 28 1 

great hunters, 272 
Iron spring on the Vermilion, 224 

Kananaskis lakes, 279 



flnfcej: 



307 



Labrador tea, 1 5 

Lake Agnes, 37 

Lake Aline, 80, 108 

Lake Louise, colour of water, cause of, 19 

daily rise and fall of wind at, 23 

first visitors to, 13 

general description of, 14 

ice melts from, 23 

location, 12 

origin of name, 1 3 

temperature of water, 20 
Landslide, a tremendous, 106 
Larch, LyalFs, 63 
Larvae of insects in water, 216 
Lily, Alpine, late blossoming of, 223 
Little Beehive, view from, 38 
Little Fork Pass, the, 147 
Little Fork valley, description of, 1 60 
Little, Prof. G. T.,246 
Loon, 29 

Lower Bow Lake, 142 
Lusk, Tom, 153, 213 
Lyall's larch, 63 

limits of growth of, 63, 64 

McArthur, 238, 245 

Mackenzie, Alexander, 150 

Maps of the mountains, 1 1 7 

Marching through the mountains, 124, 

125 
Marmot, hoary, 66 

Parry's, 82 

whistle of, 37 
Michael, Prof. Arthur, 249 
Middle fork of the Saskatchewan, 183 
Minnewanka Lake, 8 

largest fish caught in, 278 
Mitre, a mountain, 45 
Mitre col, view from, 47, 48 
Moraine Lake, description of, 199 

fishing in, 202, 276 

name given to, 199 
Morley station, 282 
Mosquitoes, varieties of, 20 
Mount Aberdeen, first ascent of, 243 

Alberta, 255 

Assiniboine, a gathering-place for 
storms, 109 



distance round its base, 96 

first journey round, 86 

first view of, 8 1 

general description of, no 

location of, 69 

measurement of, 85 

named by Dr. Dawson, 69 

nature of surrounding valleys, 82 

partial ascent of, 108 

second visit to, 98 

south side of, 93 

various routes to, 1 1 1 , 112 
Balfour, 142 

first ascended, 251 
Ball, 215 
Brown, 150 

Bryce, named by Collie, 254 
Columbia, 255 
Deltaform, 221, 256 

south side of, 223 
Fairview, 251 
Forbes, description of, 252 

fine view of, 188 
Goodsir, 228, 257 

height of, 250 
Hector, first attempt on, by survey- 
ors, 238 

view from, 245 
Hooker, 150 

measurements of, 175 
Hungabee, 60, 221, 225 

nature of, 256 
Lefroy, avalanche from, 29 

fatal accident on, 248 

first ascent of, 249 

first attempt on, 246 
Lyell, 253 
Murchison, 188 

height of, 253 
St. Piran, 251 

Sarbach, first ascent of, 251 
Sir Donald, two ascents of, 235 
Stephen, first ascent of, 238 

two ascents of, 235 
Temple, 51, 55 

an impassable barrier of, 241 

north face of, 240 

summit of, 244 



3o8 



flnfcey 



Mount Vaux, 228, 257 
Victoria, 14 

height of, by barometer, 250 
partial ascent of, 239 
south side of, 232 
summit of, 250 
Mountain ash, 219 

Mountain climbing in the Rockies, 234 
Mountains, height of, in Canada, 2;; 
Muir, John, description of wild sheep, 200 
Mules, intelligence of, 130 

not used in Canadian Rockies, 1 1 3 
Muskegs, 142 

accident in, 153 

North fork of the Saskatchewan, 161 
North-west Mounted Police, 5 

October at Lake Louise, 27 
O'Hara Lake, colour of water, 232 

general description of, 233 

origin of name, 212 
Orchis, the round-leafed, 74 
Oregon grape, the, 180 
Ottertail River, 228 

Packing up, in camp, 122 

Paradise Valley, 54 

Peechee, an Indian guide, 9 

Peecock, Ross, 197 

Peyto, Bill, 72, 222, 251, 2^2 
a character sketch, 1 19 
experience on the Pipestone, 135 

Pica, 66 

Pilot Mountain, 38 

Pine, 63 

Pine bullfinch, remarkable tameness of, 

'55 
Pinnacle Mountain, 241 
Pinto, a pack-horse, 131, 135 
Pipestone Pass, 253 
Plains of Canada, 1 
Porcupine, 66 

traits of, 218 
Porter, J. F., 70 
Potentilla, 200 

Prospectors, terrible experience of, 1 36 
Prospector's Valley, 224 
Ptarmigan, 273 



Rafting, on Fortress Lake, 176 

on the Bow, 222 
Rainy Valley, 220 
Rat, mountain, 66 
Raven, 171 

Red-bellied ground squirrel, 82 
Rhododendron, 16, 203 
Riel rebellion, 284 
Rock-falls near Moraine Lake, 201 
Rogers's explorations, 72 
Rundle, a Methodist missionary, 282 

Saddle, the, 54 

St. Cyr ascends Storm Mountain and 

Wind Mountain, 238 
Sarbach, Peter, a Swiss guide, 249, 251 
Saskatchewan River, in flood, 214 

size of, 160 
Selkirk Range, first climbing in, 256 

rock formations, 235 
Sheep, Rocky Mountain, 268 

rare experience with, 271 

where found, 269 
Siffleur Valley, 256 
Simpson, Pass, altitude of, 74 

River, source of, 84 

Sir George, 9 

valley, nature of, 76 

rapid descent into, 105 
upper part of, 106 
Snow-slides, effects of, 219, 229 

near Moraine Lake, 201 
Snow-storm in August, 198 

in summer, 100 
Spray lakes, large fish of the, 277 
Spruce, balsam, 62 

white, 62 
Steele, Louis J., 98 
Stephens, Fred, 153, 264 
Stony Indians, 281 

courage of, 293 

education of, 285 

moral traits of, 286 

New Year's celebrations of, 292 

origin of, 259 

superstitions among, 287 

treaty with, 283 
Stony Indian women, 289 



fln&ey 



309 



Storm Mountain, 215 

Storms in the mountains, 24 

Stuart and Coleman's journey to Mt. 

Brown, 152 
Stutfield, H. E. M., 252 
Sunlight, marvellous influence of, 123 

Tameness of a wild bird, 155 
Thompson, C. S., 245, 251 
Topographical surveyors, 238 
Tower of Babel, 199, 202 
Trails, degeneration of, 127 

origin of, 126 
Tree-line, 61 

Trout in Lake Louise, 20 
Twin, William, 42, 53, 290 

his remarkable trail work, 138 

Upper Bow Lake, 144 
Van Home Range, 257 



Vermilion, lakes, 10 

River, north-west branch, 226 

origin of name, 224 

real source of, 225 
Victoria glacier, 39 

Waputehk Range, 139, 251 
Warrington, George, 34 
Wasps, fights with bull-dogs, 2 1 
Weather in Canadian mountains, 237 
Whirlpool River, its nature, 170 
Whirlwind from forest fire, 157 
White-crested sparrow, 80, 204 
Wildman, Enoch, 239 
Wilson, Tom, 70, 115, 248 

descends the Blaeberry, 192 
first visit to Lake Louise, 12 
Wind Mountain, 238 
Wolverenes, 82 
Wood River, 180 
Woolley, H., 252 



T\ 



I 4 



:7 1 



} 




of the LAKE LOUISE region showing part of 
the Summit Range of the Canadian Rocky Mountains 



SURVEYED AND DRAWN 
WALTER D .WILCOX 



-J INCH - I MILE 



TRAILS 

CONTINENTAL WATERSHED — 



COPYRIGHT BY a P. PUTNAM'S SONS.