THE THUMB 



By W. B. Putnam 



I HOPE that I am not outraging the feelings of Sierra Club mem- 

 bers and other mountain-lovers in advocating "The Thumb" as 

 a name for a hitherto unnamed peak. Of precedents there are plenty. 

 One only need mention amongst the high peaks Deerhorn Mountain, 

 Fin Dome, Agassiz Needle, Columbia's Finger, and a host of others, 

 to realize that many of these are named for their resemblance to 

 natural objects. While these names are suggestive of the precipitous 

 nature of the country wherein they occur, they are often common- 

 place. I realize that the term "thumb" is open to this objection, and 

 hence my fear of offending mountain-lovers. Let me urge, however, 

 the fact that it is uniquely appropriate to the peak in question. 



Most striking from the east, in that most rugged region of the 

 whole Sierra Crest from the North to the South Palisade, is perhaps 

 the Thumb. It is not the peak that is most vividly remembered; 

 it has not the individuality of the Palisades or Sill ; but by the sheer 

 sharpness of its profile it is the first to demand attention. The most 

 favorable region for observing its thumblike appearance is the east 

 side of Owens Valley near Big Pine, or, better, anywhere in the 

 White and Inyo mountains surrounding Deep Springs Valley. For 

 the last two and a half years I have had the fortune to live in the 

 latter vicinity. More than a year ago, with a friend, I climbed 

 Mount Sill, which is certainly from this east side the most interest- 

 ing of all the wonderful cliffs of the locality. My thoughts since 

 then have wandered more often toward the Thumb. This year I had 

 three days: December eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth. Snow was 

 at a minimum and the weather promised to remain clear and mild. 

 Everything determined me to undertake the risk of a winter expedi- 

 tion against the Thumb. 



I can never thank enough my two friends who insisted on driv- 

 ing me a miserable nine or ten miles from Big Pine to McMurray 

 Meadow at the foot of the range. A seventeen-mile hike with a heavy 

 pack and an ascent of seven thousand feet would have wholly inca- 

 pacitated me for my strenuous day to come. But in spite of the lift, 



