114 



Sierra Club Bulletin. 



my knees, but nearly succeeded in pitching the camera 

 into my lap when I attempted to rise. I obtained, I hope, 

 a fine cloud picture of Lone Pine Pass where the worst 

 of our journey will be. 



The trip to-morrow will try our endurance to the 

 utmost. We cannot advance our camp much farther on 

 account of the soft snow and the resulting exhaustion of 

 plunging through it with heavy packs. We have left rope 

 and creepers at Lone Pine Camp on account of their 

 weight. We shall discard everything except the camera, 

 the beans, and an extra pair of felt boots for emergency. 

 Marsh, however, insists upon coffee rather than boots, 

 but for me, feet against stomach most of the time, at 

 least. Without feet we shall be at the mercy of the 

 elements. Perhaps the strong wind may sweep away the 

 drifting snow. A little delay might give us a better sur- 

 face, for it is cold now. But Marsh is very anxious to 

 proceed, and the provisions are almost gone. Ten hours 

 up and back from here in summer — fifteen now for us, 

 surely; so we shall start at daybreak. 



5 O'CLOCK Tuesday Morning, March 7. 

 The gale of yesterday abated toward midnight. The 

 stars are brilliant. The wind has veered to the south- 

 west. The ground is frozen solid, but the snow 

 refuses to harden. We are now ready to make the final 

 attempt. 



Tuesday Evening. 

 We have met Mount Whitney's advance guard and re- 

 treated, but not without a skirmish. The snow was quite 

 compact, after all, and we made fair time over it. At 

 sunrise we could look down upon Crag Winchell. To 

 the north lay Mount Whitney like a giant plateau uptilted 

 toward the west. On its summit the monument could be 

 plainly seen. But we were being forced to the south 

 where the least steep slope of the amphitheatre gave 

 access to the crest of Mount Marsh, up whose knife-edge 

 of snow-capped rock lay our course to Lone Pine Pass. 



