90 The Mountaineer 



down. What did we do? What would any good 

 mountaineer do? We gathered our belongings and 

 philosophically walked back to Big Sandy. When the 

 animals did arrive, we had a meal far superior to that 

 of our dreamings — for it was a reality. 



The next day military formation was necessary. 

 Boulder Creek was to be crossed, and a most treacherous 

 stream it is. Fed from Boulder Glacier on Mt. Baker, 

 it must be crossed in the early morning, because the 

 mid-day sun melts the snows so rapidly that the stream 

 reaches formidable proportions later in the day. 



The men cut down trees and over them we ad- 

 vanced. Now, crossing a turbulent stream with only an 

 uncertain log for a bridge is decidedly interesting. 

 Kind hands are always ready to help, but you decline 

 them and bravely start alone. How the log topples. 

 Your heart beats to suffocation and the water cries 

 "Come in ! Come in ! Come in !" A score of cameras 

 leveled at one are disconcerting, too. But in some way 

 you are over safely. Thus the whole company crossed, 

 although great interest was manifested in the crossing of 

 a popular jurist who, in a previous outing, had quite ex- 

 tinguished himself in the waters of a certain Olympic 

 stream. 



Here the company enter the United States For- 

 est Reserve. From this point we followed our own 

 trail, planned and constructed by members of the club 

 and financed from "Mountaineer" cofifers. This trail is 

 so clearly defined and cleverly planned, a minimum of 

 grade is lost in the ascent. This continued five miles to 

 an altitude of thirty-five hundred feet, and later two 

 more miles were added, taking it to timber line. By its 

 construction, the Mountaineers have opened up the south- 

 east side of the mountain and made it so accessible that 

 hereafter the ascent of Mt. Baker will be a comparatively 

 easy matter. 



At the end of the trail we found ourselves in a maze 

 of huckleberry bushes. Here our camp was to be 



