CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON n 



Six hours out from Seattle the ship enters the 

 three-hundred-mile Strait of Georgia, a passage be- 

 tween Vancouver Island and the Canadian main- 

 land with hundreds of islands between a strait so 

 narrow that it seems one might almost toss a stone 

 ashore from either side of the ship. On either side 

 rise Titan peaks rank upon rank, their lower slopes 

 covered with dense forestration of enormous trees 

 of the evergreen family, while above the timber- 

 line the rocky front climbs up to the glacial fields 

 and snow-caps cutting the sky line. The way is so 

 tortuous that one looking ahead never sees more 

 than two miles of the course, and always off the 

 bow looms the gigantic peaks that challenge descrip- 

 tion and make our supply of adjectives seem fu- 

 tile. 



When we are certain that the navigator intends to 

 ram the mountain, the course is changed, and, sur- 

 rounded by the majesty of mountains, we again see 

 our course for another couple of miles. 



The air is crisp but not chilly, as the Japan cur- 

 rent has considerably modified the coastal climatic 

 conditions; the sunlight is intense and there is no 

 monotony to the wonderful panorama. Waterfalls 

 dropping hundreds of feet down the mountain sides, 

 as flashing strokes of living white against the green 

 rock, and snow slides that cut gigantic swaths 

 through the forest slopes, add to the traveler's in- 

 creasing interest in a moving picture, the major note 



