Ascent of Mount Moran, Giant of the Tetons 165 



summit but a few moments, viewing all at a glance, and I was now 

 to face the extreme peril of a descent in partial darkness, for the 

 moon was veiled for several hours. Asking for Divine protection, 

 without which I could never have descended in safety, I cautiously 

 felt my way down the perilous upper cliff. The lack of handholds 

 made it an exceedingly delicate undertaking, and I was considerably 

 encouraged on reaching the head of the chimney. Facing outward, I 

 felt for footholds and handholds, often being able to make fair prog- 

 ress. Finding it impossible to carry my axe, I was occasionally 

 forced to let it drop ahead of me, with the inevitable result that it 

 finally bounded downward, striking fire for hundreds of feet toward 

 the glacier. This may have been providential, for I then realized 

 that I had come too far down cliffs on which it would have been im- 

 possible to complete the descent. Climbing again to the arete, I re- 

 traced my route of ascent and found my ravine, but not the point 

 where I had entered it from below. The moon had appeared, and I 

 continued over cliffs which one would not be likely to climb by day- 

 light, at last reaching the bed of the stream considerably below the 

 snout of the glacier. It was tiresome work over the loose boulders 

 and down an icy wall to the overhanging rock where I expected to 

 find my wife and sleeping-bags. At 1.30 a.m. I arrived to find 

 neither wife nor bags. Only the voice of the torrent responded to 

 my calls. It seemed probable that my wife had taken our bags and 

 gone for assistance. As I did not wish to search for a rescue party 

 who might start to find me in the morning, I decided to travel toward 

 the cabin we had seen in the distance. 



All night long I forced my way downward along the stream, fight- 

 ing the thickets of alder and willow and jumping from boulder to 

 boulder of gigantic white quartz which had come down from the 

 mountain. Climbing the ridge to the south, I battled in the dark 

 with fallen timber and clung to branches to prevent falling over 

 cliffs. As daylight approached I rested for a few moments, and then 

 pressed on across a morass, arriving at the cabin to find it deserted. 

 Pinned to the logs was a note from my wife that she had spent the 

 night there. Hastening on to Leigh Lake, I shouted and heard a dis- 

 tant response from the western shore where my wife was fighting 

 her way through the thickets of jack pine. After joining her we fol- 

 lowed the eastern shore to its lower end, where we found a camp and 

 then lay down for a few minutes' rest. I had taken almost continuous 



