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Sierra Club Bulletin 



which cut off over half the mileage, I was forced to discard most of 

 my bedding at the foot of the grade. I arrived by the lake at the 

 head of Birch Creek at about four o'clock. Never a more barren, 

 drear, inhospitable camping-ground greeted winter traveler ! A horse 

 would undoubtedly have rejoiced at the abundant tuft-grass, while 

 a man could but gaze helplessly at the superabundant rocks — noth- 

 ing but rocks I Mushy snow pre-empted all the soft level spaces. I 

 was forced to put my bed on the rocks. And where was the timber ? 

 At about eight thousand feet the scrubby birch in the bottom of the 

 canon gives way to scrubby willow. Birch Creek is exceptional, even 

 among the streams of the east side, for its sterility. I was half an 

 hour gleaning an armful of dead twigs. Anything but a cook- fire was 

 out of the question. And such a night ! Rocks, cold, and expectation 

 of the morrow prevented any sleep. 



Dawn at the end of the long winter night found me, nevertheless, 

 readier to forget hardships and lose myself in the grandeur and sub- 

 limity of the scene. Birch Mountain crags rose from the ice of the 

 frozen lake below me. In the center of the view towered the majestic 

 mass of an unnamed peak above its glacier. Far to the right the 

 Thumb, overlooking an intervening spur, bade me attempt its sum- 

 mit. It needed no second look. I sprang from my sleeping-bag, 

 shuffled across the lake, and commenced to climb. Viewed from 

 Temple Crag, the northern face of the Thumb had appeared inac- 

 cessible, while the eastern is a lofty cliff running into a southerly 

 directed wall which connects with the cirque of the unnamed peak 

 to the south. The only possibility was ascent by the gradual southern 

 slope. To profit by this, however, one must surmount the cirque just 

 referred to. I had noticed, after many snow-storms, the tendency of 

 the snow to find lodgment in one place, indicating a probable breach 

 in the wall. From various points of view, this had appeared first 

 possible and then impossible. Toward the very last it took on a 

 most forbidding aspect, although when finally there it offered no dis- 

 appointment. With the help of my hunting-knife, I was able to cut 

 steps in the hard snow. I should have had no accident there at all, 

 had I not on my return trusted myself to a snow-slide. At the very 

 first I lost control. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of 

 the unnamed peak, solemn and unmoved above its glacier. A feeling 

 of helplessness came over me. I struck a rock and could in a far-off 

 way hear myself utter a feeble groan. I was then hurried down a 



