IN FRONT OF MUIR GLACIER 37 



in front. Nothing we had read or heard had pre- 

 pared us for the color of the ice, especially of the newly 

 exposed parts and of the bergs that rose up from beneath 

 the water — its deep, almost indigo blue. Huge bergs 

 were floating about that suggested masses of blue vitriol. 



As soon as practicable many of us went ashore in the 

 naphtha launches, and were soon hurrying over the great 

 plateau of sand, gravel, and boulders which the retreating 

 glacier had left and which make up its vast terminal mo- 

 raine. 



Many of the rocks and stones on the surface were 

 sharp and angular, others were smooth and rounded. 

 These latter had evidently passed as it were through the 

 gizzard of the huge monster, while the others had been 

 carried on its back. A walk of a mile or more brought us 

 much nearer the glacier's front, and standing high on the 

 bank of the moraine we could observe it at our leisure. 

 The roar that followed the discharge of ice from its front 

 constantly suggested the blasting in mines or in railroad 

 cuts. The spray often rose nearly to the top of the gla- 

 cier. Night and day, summer and winter, this intermit- 

 tent and explosive discharge of the ice into the inlet goes 

 on and has gone on for centuries. When we awoke in 

 the night we heard its muffled thunder, sometimes so loud 

 as to jar the windows in our staterooms, and the swells 

 caused by the falling and rising masses rocked the ship. 

 Probably few more strange and impressive spectacles 

 than this glacier affords can be found on the conti- 

 nent. It has a curious fascination. Impending cata- 

 clysms are in its look. In a moment or two you know 

 some part of it will topple or slide into the sea. One after- 

 noon during our stay about half a mile of the front fell 

 at once. The swell which it caused brought grief to our 

 photographers who had ventured too near it. Their boat 

 was filled and their plates were destroyed. The downfall 



