THE ALPINE ZONE OF MOUNT ST. ELIAS. 73 



low breaks in the outer beach-wall of sand and gravel, across all of 

 which the sea rolls with great violence. 



Right under the towering slopes of Fairweather, as at St. Elias, 

 is a large area of upland entirely destitute of verdure of any kind, 

 except the brown and russet mosses and lichens ; huge, rugged 

 masses of naked rocks are strewn about in every direction an old 

 prehistoric lava-flood, perhaps. 



The coast, from the head of Cross* Sound to Fairweather, is not 

 sandy, but may be well described as the surf-beaten base of a frozen 

 range of magnificent Alpine peaks. 



In the centre of the arc of this grand crescent-range is the 

 superb body and hoary crest of Mount St. Elias, which is, save 

 Mount Wrangel, now known to be the loftiest peak on the North 

 American coast ; the latter is slightly higher. Triangulated from a 

 base line in Yakootat, in 1874, by one * of the most accomplished 

 mathematicians of the U. S. Coast Survey, the summit of that royal 

 mountain was determined to be more than nineteen thousand feet 

 above the level of the tide at the observer's feet. It was under the 

 shadow of this " bolshoi sopka " that Bering first saw the Continent 

 of North America on the 18th of July, 1741, and undoubtedly he 

 discerned it from a long distance, ere his boat landed. Two days 

 before anchoring, he records the fact that " the country had ter- 

 rible high mountains, which were covered with snow." 



When he finally landed (it was St. Elias' day), near a point that 

 he named as he named the lofty central peak, Cape St. Elias, he 

 found the temporary summer-houses of a band of natives ; those 

 people themselves had fled in terror from an unwonted invasion, 

 but the Russians soon had reason to regret their subsequent better 

 understanding. 



After the storm which parted Bering, early in June, from the 

 company of the second vessel of his expedition, he had hoped to 

 fall in with her ever afterward, and while eagerly scanning the 

 coast and horizon about him for some sign of his lost comrades, the 

 hand of fate caused him to turn to the northward, when, had his 

 helm been set south, he would have met the object of his search. 

 For the other vessel, the St. Paul, had proceeded on its solitary 



* Marcus Baker. Unfortunately no one connected with this Coast Sur- 

 vey Party was able to make an adequate drawing of the mountains, and it was 

 so enveloped in clouds as to be partially invisible when the author cruised un- 

 der its lee. 



