AN EXPLORATION TO MOUNT McKINLEY. 421 



the top was soon lost to view; the slopes were steep, and i had to 

 scramble as best I could. (See plate i.) Soon all vegetation was 

 left behind me, and my way zigzagged across smooth, bare rocks and 

 talus slopes of broken fragments. My objective point was a shoulder 

 of the mountain about 10,000 feet high, but at 3 in the afternoon 1 

 found mj" route blocked by a smooth expanse of ice. With the aid 

 of my geologic pick I managed to cut steps in the slipperj^ surface, 

 and thus climbed 100 feet higher; then the angle of slope became 

 steeper; and as the ridge on which the glacier lay fell off at the sides 

 in sheer cliffs, a slip would have been fatal. (See plate viii.) Con- 

 vinced at length that it would be utterly foolhardy, alone as I was, to 

 attempt to reach the shoulder for which I was headed, at 7,500 feet I 

 turned and cautiously retraced ni}^ steps, finding the descent to bare 

 ground more perilous than the ascent. 



I had now consumed all the time that could be spared to explore 

 this mountain, which had been reached at the expense of so much prep- 

 aration and hard toil, but at least I must leave a record to mark our 

 highest point. On a prominent cliff near the base of the glacier which 

 had turned me back I built a cairn, in which I buried a cartridge shell 

 from my pistol, containing a brief account of the journej^, together 

 with a roster of the party. 



By this time I was forcibly reminded of the fact that I had forgot- 

 ten to eat my lunch. As I sat resting from my labors I survej'ed a 

 striking scene. Around me were bare rock, ice, and snow ; not a sign 

 of life, the silence broken now and then by the roar of an avalanche 

 loosened by the midday sun, tumbling like a waterfall over some cliff 

 to find a resting place thousands of feet below. I gazed along the 

 precipitous slopes of the mountain and tried to realize again its great 

 altitude, with a thrill of satisfaction at being the first man to approach 

 the summit, which was only 9 miles from where I smoked my pipe. 

 No white man had ever before reached the base, and I was far beyond 

 where the moccasined foot of the roving- Indian had never trod. The 

 Alaskan native seldom goes beyond the limit of smooth walking and 

 has a superstitious horror of even approaching glacial ice. 



Returning to camp I fomid Reaburn had worked all da}' over his 

 plane-table board sketching the topography of the mountain, which- 

 was plainly visible from his station. His map will luidoubtedly serve 

 as a guide to him who first reaches the summit. Prindle had spent 

 the day making an excursion into the mountains to the south of my 

 route, and had come back burdened with geological and botanical 

 specimens; Von and Fred had been shoeing some of the horses, while 

 George had cooked a meal worthy of the occasion. 



Our immediate goal was the Tanana River. Hoping to reach this 

 by the valley of one of its tributaries, the Cantwell, which we believed 

 to head in the northern part of the Alaskan Range, we continued our 



