1D6 



ings one of uneasiness. It may be tbat the vivid recollection of a long- 

 and dreary storm encountered in that region, made it appear to ns in 

 an exaggerated form. A little nearer, and slightly to the left of them, 

 we could plainly j^ee and distinguish all the peaks surrounding Baker's 

 Park and the great mining region. Still nearer, and seeming almost 

 under us, was station '28, with its associates, in the little cluster of deep 

 ] ed-co'ored peaks along the water-shed, between Mineral Creek and the 

 Uncompahgre. The view directly south of us presented the greatest 

 mass of peaks to be seen in any direction. In that direction we look 

 longitudinally along the range of peaks which forms the west line of the 

 great mountain-mass, from which there is a very abrupt descent to the 

 western plateau system. Chief among these stood station 30, which we 

 had visited only a few days before, while about nine miles to the west 

 of it was the high peak which we were soon to climb, but whose top 

 was veiled in clouds, only the massive base and a few of the subordi- 

 nate peaks being visible. West of it were several low, sharp peaks 

 scattered here and there, but these soon tapered off into the plain, which 

 extended to the horizon, only broken by the deep caSons which have 

 been cut in the red sandstone by the streams. Directly to the west, in 

 the far distance, was the group of the Sierra La Sal Mountains, and 

 scattered about the horizon, south of them, we could see several very 

 distant mountains, which were so far away that their blue color could 

 scarcely be distinguished from that of the sky. Immediately to the 

 north of us, and far below us, was the valley of the Uncompahgre, which, 

 on both sides, seemed to have quite a gradual slope toward the stream. 

 To us, viewing it from this great elevation, it presented the appearance 

 of being covered with a rich growth of grass, though of this fact we 

 could not be sure from so great a distance. The junction of the Uncom- 

 pahgre with the Gunnison was distinctly marked by the vegetation along 

 the iDanks of the two streams. We could see the course some distance 

 below the junction, but it soon faded into the distance, and no one could 

 say, from what he saw, what way" the water had gone. 



Beyond the Gunnison, on the north, there appeared a very elevated 

 plateau, which, commencing near the mountain-peaks, presented a nearly 

 horizontal profile for a considerable distance, and then, slowly increasing, 

 its slope fell oft' almost insensibly to the west. Still farther around to 

 the right, and about northeast of us, we could see most of the great peaks 

 west of the Arkansas Eiver. Many others appeared behind, but we did 

 not trouble our minds about recognizing them, as all our time was neces- 

 sary for the more immediate details of the topography around us. The 

 great length of time required to ascend and descend again prevented us 

 from remaining long. We had reached the top about noon, and found 

 that we could not possibly remain over two hours and expect to get to 

 camp; and since there was not a stick of timber on the way we dared 

 not sleep out, even though the work on the peak had to be cut short. 

 Our time being up, we raised a monument of loose stones about five feet 

 high and started for camp. 



The descent to the lakes was very easy and did not require much time, 

 but, as we expected, the climb up to the pass again began to tell on us, 

 and a weakness in our legs showed what a terrible strain on our systems 

 the morning's climb had been. We finally reached the pass just in time 

 to see the sun setting. Some may suppose that now we sat down and 

 rested ourselves before making the last descent down to camp. But all 

 frequenters of the high mountains are acquainted with the fact that 

 there, darkness follows sunset very suddenly, with scarcely any twilight 

 between. By calling to mind this fact and estimating the obstacles 



