154 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XII 
accompany me on the trip and whose arrival I was now anxiously awaiting, had 
failed as yet to send me any definit word, and as the time was growing short the 
outlook on the evening of June 18 was not very promising. 
At the eleventh hour, however, Heinemann came, arriving on the afternoon of 
June 1 9 accompanied by Mr. Richard Duttke, a fellow-photographer. Altho, 
without some previous training, to shoulder a heavy pack and tramp over sixty 
miles of the roughest type of mountain country is by no means an easy task, 
Heinemann and Duttke, realizing the rarity of the specimens at stake, agreed to 
start without delay. The rest of the afternoon and some time the next morning 
was taken in overhauling and arranging our outfit. Heinemann had been notified 
before leaving the city, of the needs of the trip and came provided with a generous 
supply of film packs, a 26-foot coil of rubber tubing, flash-lights and other photo- 
graphic equipment. Duttke, appointed commissary-in-chief, busied himself laying 
out a stock of provisions that would have almost done for a journey to the 
pole. This we materially re- 
duced, however, as Heinemann 
and I, from previous experi- 
ence, drew the line at a pack 
weighing over 45 pounds. 
To save time the trip to the 
peak was laid by Glen Alpine 
Gorge, a rougher tho some- 
what shorter route than by 
Phillips’ Station, Echo and 
the Forni Meadow. Thru the 
kindness of Mr. Charles Young 
we were taken as farasTallac 
by motor-boat, which saved us 
seven miles over sandy roads. 
It was about eleven when we 
filed out of Tallae; and the 
pack, head winds and hilly 
road made traveling slow and 
laborious. On every lake we 
past, myriad white-capt waves 
were racing before the wind; 
while all around, the swaying 
forest trees creakt and groaned 
in a way that was decidedly depressing. Fate in the afternoon we reacht Glen Alpine 
Springs where we waited for dinner so as to make no inroad on our own supply. 
Leaving here, Grass Lake was made at dusk, where, among wind-sheltering rocks, 
we unrolled our blankets for the night. The roaring winds still showed no sign 
of abating and we began to feel uncertain, not only of securing any photographs 
but of ever reaching the nest location; for when such hurricanes as this rage on 
these mountain tops it is practically impossible to go against them. As the wind 
continued all night and the following morning we decided to leave the Pyramid 
Peak Trail and press on to Lake of the Woods to await a possible change in 
weather conditions. 
A little after dawn we were zigzaging up the steep trail which leads to Lake 
Lucile. Before we could reach the latter, however, it was necessary to mount a 
great bank of snow, which, almost vertical, rose about thirty feet high and blockt 
