172 



Sierra Club Bulletin. 



About noon of the day preceding that set apart for the 

 cHmb we gathered, thirty-six of us, at the commissary, 

 with the Hghtest possible outfit for the night, and Uned 

 up for the start. No pack animals could be secured, so 

 the men of the climbing party made pack horses of them- 

 selves and loaded up with the food and blankets of the 

 entire party. 



Our way led for half a mile past the outlet of the lake 

 and down the Toutle River to the north of the Dry Canon, 

 up which we turned. For a little distance through its 

 lower reaches abundant springs supply a cool, musical 

 stream, and the shade of tall trees is not wanting. But 

 all too soon we climbed out of the shadow into the hot, 

 open cafion, unrelieved by tree or blade of grass, that 

 leads up to the snow-line. 



St. Helens, geologically speaking, is an adolescent, the 

 youngest of the great volcanic snow cones of the north. 

 Even to the superficial observer it is evident that the vast 

 slopes of pumice stretching from snow-line to timber-line 

 have not lain exposed to the disintegrating effects of sun, 

 frost, and rain for the many long ages whose passing 

 has transformed the lava flanks of Rainier into a wonder- 

 ful flower garden. Far down on the slopes of St. Helens 

 dwarfed firs and pines are making a brave struggle for a 

 foothold, and grasses and tiny strawberries are creeping 

 hardily towards the snow; but many a long year will 

 pass before the white cassiope bells and the starry erythro- 

 nium lilies and the shaggy-headed anemones will bloom 

 each summer besides the receding snow. 



Our camp was made in the shelter of the highest tim- 

 ber, if timber it could be called, that was little more than 

 shrubbery, high on the bleak mountainside in a little 

 depression where the winds that blew off the snow could 

 in some measure pass over our heads. Blazing fires, sup- 

 per, and an hour of story-telling brought us cheerfully to 

 bedtime, when we lay watching the brilliant stars and the 

 dim outline of the mountain against the sky until we fell 

 asleep. Little did we guess then what our next night 

 impression of St. Helens would be! 



