158 The National Geographic Magazine 



that a large, muddy stream enters on 

 the opposite side. The latter, no doubt, 

 comes from the glaciers of a mountain 

 over 11,000 feet high which we had 

 seen many times northwest of our camp. 



We made an early start next day, 

 August 8, but lost much time crossing 

 the strip of burnt timber between our 

 camp and the canyon . While traversing 

 this on foot I noticed that my clothes 

 were smeared by a syrupy substance. 

 Upon examination I found that this 

 came from a kind of grass resembling 

 wild barley, the stems and beards of 

 which were covered by a thick, viscid 

 liquid with a sweet taste. The plants 

 so affected were inhabited by a minute 

 brick-red insect no larger than a pin- 

 head. They resembled a small spider, 

 except for two antennae curving first 

 backward and then recurved forward at 

 the ends. No doubt the bites of these 

 parasites caused the thick syrup on the 

 grass. 



With two men ahead to cut out tim- 

 ber, we made rapid progress through 

 the canyon. Our pack-train made an 

 interesting picture winding along the 

 foamy torrent, where a rough trail had 

 been skillfully chosen by the Indians 

 through a maze of obstacles which, at 

 first sight, made it difficult to believe 

 that a passageway could be found for 

 men, to say nothing of pack animals. 

 Immense masses of limestone, which 

 had fallen from the canyon walls, and 

 the trunks of trees, swept into the gorge 

 in time of flood, made the trail wind 

 and turn and even cross the stream. 

 The loud roar of falling water made it 

 impossible to talk or even hear the 

 blows of the axe or the shouts of our 

 men urging on the horses. The morn- 

 ing air was cold in the deep shade of 

 the canyon and a damp mist swept 

 against our faces from the endless cas- 

 cades, while far above our heads the 

 sun could be seen shining on the green 

 forests of the upper valley. It required 

 nearly five hours to reach some meadows 



in the middle part of the valley, where 

 we camped in a delightful spot at 5,245 

 feet altitude. This point was half way 

 to where we had walked the day before. 



The scenery on every side of our 

 camp was remarkable. On the north 

 was a high ridge, covered far above 

 timber-line by lawny patches of green 

 grass, looking like velvet in the dis- 

 tance and making a striking contrast 

 to the bare slides of red stone between 

 them. To the east was an impressive 

 mountain, rising from the meadow 

 where our camp was located, and show- 

 ing the entire sweep of the 4,000 or 

 5,000 feet to its bare and forbidding 

 summit. Part of its highest peak, seen 

 in profile, overhangs its base by at least 

 200 feet. This entire valley is covered 

 with green forest, a pleasing change 

 from the desolate Palliser River. 



There was a little rain in the night, 

 but the daj r broke fair and colder. The 

 upper part of the valley was reached 

 after a march of four hours. Above 

 timber-line the trail was lost in open 

 country and some time was wasted in 

 an effort to locate it. Tom Lusk and I 

 eventually found it in the middle one 

 of three gulches which make passes 

 into a valley to the south. From the 

 summit we saw a vast extent of sharp 

 peaks and strange mountains, with a 

 green valley between, running due 

 south. The pass is 7,600 feet high, 

 and as the new valley runs so far south 

 we gave up all hope that we were either 

 on the Kananaskis Pass or likely to 

 reach the lakes very soon. That we 

 were temporarily lost in the heart of an 

 unexplored wilderness only added to 

 the interest of our movements and the 

 appreciation of the wonderful scenery 

 on every side. We could always, as 

 our men said, " hit the back trail " or 

 possibly find a more interesting route 

 should a pass be discovered over the 

 ranges between us and the Elk River. 

 Camp was made in meadows below the 

 pass at timber-line. In the afternoon 



