Studies in the Sierra 



east of Yosemite Valley and about the same distance from the main 

 axis, presents a finely individualized range of peaks, 11,500 to 

 12,000 feet high, hewn from the solid. The authors of this beauti- 

 ful piece of sculpture were two series of tributaries belonging to the 

 glaciers of the Nevada and Illilouette. 



The truly magnificent group of nameless granite mountains 

 stretching in a broad swath from the base of Mount Humphreys 

 forty miles southward, is far the largest and loftiest of the range. But 

 when we leisurely penetrate its wild recesses, we speedily perceive 

 that, although abounding in peaks 14,000 feet high, these, individ- 

 ually considered, are mere pyramids, 1000 to 2000 feet in height, 

 crowded together upon a common base, and united by jagged col- 

 umns that swoop in irregular curves from shoulder to shoulder. 

 That all this imposing multitude of mountains was chiseled from 

 one grand preglacial mass is everywhere proclaimed in terms un- 

 derstandable by mere children. 



Mount Whitney lies a few miles to the south of this group, and is 

 undoubtedly the highest peak of the chain, but, geologically or even 

 scenically considered, it possesses no special importance. When be- 

 held either from the north or south, it presents the form of a helmet, 

 or, more exactly, that of the Scotch cap called the "Glengarry." The 

 flattish summit curves gently toward the valley of the Kern on the 

 west, but falls abruptly toward Owens River Valley on the east, in 

 a sheer precipice near 2000 feet deep. Its north and southeast sides 

 are scarcely less precipitous, but these gradually yield to accessible 

 slopes, round from southwest to northwest. Although highest of all 

 the peaks. Mount Whitney is far surpassed in colossal grandeur and 

 general impressiveness of physiognomy, not only by Mount Ritter, 

 but by mounts Dana, Humphreys, Emerson, and many others that 

 are nameless. A few meadowless lakes shine around its base, but it 

 possesses no glaciers, and, toward the end of summer, very litle snow 

 on its north side, and none at all on the south. Viewed from Owens 

 Valley, in the vicinity of Lone Pine, it appears as one of many min- 

 ute peaklets that adorn the massive uplift of the range like a cornice. 

 Toward the close of the glacial epoch, the gray porphyritic summit 

 of what is now Mount Whitney peered a few feet above a zone of 

 neve that fed glaciers which descended into the valleys of the Owens 

 and Kern rivers. These, eroding gradually deeper, brought all that 

 specially belongs to Mount Whitney into relief. Instead of a vast 



