Jan. 2, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
9 
or two on top, over the summit and down the 
southeast side to the camp of the Mountaineers. 
It was fully realized that going down an ice 
field like the treacherous slopes of Mt. Baker, 
without a trail, is risky business, but it was 
our plan to meet the Mountaineers on the 
summit, or, at least, not to be more than a day 
or two later, and to have their trail for use 
down the mountain. 
Our little party started from Glacier, the 
terminus of the Bellingham Bay and British 
Columbia Railway, Thursday morning, July 23, 
carrying packs weighing thirty pounds apiece. 
The summit of Mt. Baker could be seen above 
the treetops about nine miles away. Our trail 
led us seven miles due south through the dense 
forest to timberline on Grouse Mountain, 
thence along an open ridge due east six miles 
toward the coveted dome of Baker. Four days 
were spent along this route and much of the 
time the weather was threatening. But Satur¬ 
day night it cleared. Our third night’s camp 
was then within two and a half miles of the 
summit on the ridge between glaciers, about 
7,000 feet altitude, just at the extreme limit of 
vegetation. 
The view from this camp was truly magnifi¬ 
cent. The usual haze of smoke in the lowlands 
had been cleared by the rains and Puget Sound 
with its thousand islands lay spread out before 
us like a great map. The broad silvery ribbon 
outlining the Frazer River, of British Columbia, 
could be traced a hundred miles, while the 
Nooksack and the Skagit, on the American 
side, were equally conspicuous. Mt. Rainier 
and Mt. Saint Helens, sister volcanos to Mt. 
Baker, were marvels of grandeur though more 
than a hundred miles distant. Many steaniships 
plying the Sound could be seen here and there 
sending their black clouds of smoke into a clear 
sky, and lumber-laden schooners were being towed 
seaward out through the straits of San Juan 
de Fuca with cargoes consigned to foreign 
lands. When night came on and the scene 
faded into darkness there could yet be seen, by 
electric illumination, Bellingham, Anacortes, 
Port Townsend and Victoria, thirty to sixty 
miles away. When we retired for the night it 
was with the retrospect that this grand pano¬ 
rama was the very region explored in detail by 
Vancouver, in the summer of 1792, at which 
time Coma Kulshan (the Indian name for the 
mountain upon which we were then camped) 
was rechristened Mt. Baker, by him, in honor 
of one of his officers, Lieut. Joseph Baker. 
Sunday morning the sky was perfectly clear 
and the weather conditions ideal. We cached 
two days’ provision and a portion of our outfit 
as a matter of precaution, not knowing whether 
we wotild be able to ascend the mountain peak 
along the route chosen; now, in case of failure, 
we would have a base of supplies to which to 
return. Our packs were now reduced to about 
half their original weight. 
From this point forward the way was inter¬ 
rupted by many crevasses and some inclines al¬ 
most too steep to cut a passage up. At one 
place in particular, at the base of an immense 
pinnacle of lava, we were obliged to lift our¬ 
selves out of a box canon, by cutting steps in 
the solid ice at an angle of fifty to sixty de¬ 
grees, a feat that proved to be alarming. Forty- 
five degree slant in ice work is bad enough, 
fifty degrees is worse, but sixty is about the 
limit. To return by such a route would be 
e.xtra hazardous and make it necessary to face 
about and climb down backward. By means of 
ropes the packs were drawn up to landings cut 
for them, then the individuals were assisted in 
a similar manner, the burden of course falling 
upon the leader in using the ice pick and in 
planting the rope. But when once out of this 
gorge, the ascent was uneventful, aside from 
THE CLIMBERS ARE OFTEN BAFFLED BY IMMENSE 
CREVASSES IN THE ICE FIELDS, CROSS¬ 
CUTTING THE ROUTE SELECTED. 
Photograph by Asahel Curtis. 
some engineering feats to round crevasses and 
avoid breaking through into others crusted 
over with the previous winter’s snow, until 
within a very short distance of the top when 
we were overtaken by a stinging gale of wind 
and suddenly enveloped in clouds. 
We went prepared with the necessary bed¬ 
ding to remain at least one night on the moun¬ 
tain top, but reeking with perspiration from 
hard climbing in a thin atmosphere and with 
wet feet and caught here on the steep in a 
merciless blizzard, we were at our wits’ ends. 
Chilled to the very bones, our clothing began 
to freeze to our bodies. A hundred steps more 
cut in the ice cliff would have brought us to 
the level surface on the top, but a blinding fog 
of clouds, drifting snow and temperature not 
far from zero, put a quietus on our mountain 
climbing. The sudden change produced nausea 
and vomiting. Two of our party became prac¬ 
tically helpless and there we were hung up on 
the face of a sheer wall of ice with little hope 
of getting higher and a serious consciousness 
of the frightful declivity below. As leader, I 
felt the responsibility and realized the import¬ 
ance of immediate action. 
Fortunately right at hand there was a gap 
of four feet of space beside a rim of exposed 
lava, where the sagging of the ice had drawn 
itself away. On the edge of this ice we seated 
the two sick ones and wrapped them in 
blankets. Then the other two of us, standing 
in the gap, worked vigorously with the ice pick 
to carve out a cave large enough for a hospital. 
In an hour’s time, working alternately, we made 
a chamber in the solid ice large enough to make 
a bed for the invalids, and, by fastening a 
blanket with alpenstocks over the entrance to 
keep out the blast, we succeeded in transform¬ 
ing our condition of peril into one of safety and 
comparative comfort. A little more time and 
we could have provided ourselves with com¬ 
modious apartments, but the boys were freez¬ 
ing and we were forced to occupy our quarters 
as quickly as possible. One had his stockings 
frozen to his feet and they could not be re¬ 
moved at once. We gave them what care we 
could and soon had them covered and sound 
asleep. Here we put in the long hours of the 
night until eleven o’clock Monday forenoon, 
nursing our frost-bites, dozing along, shifting 
positions, as we were badly cramped for room, 
and by melting hot drink with an alcohol lamp 
we had thoughtfully provided. By this means 
we also dried our stockings and shoes and some 
articles of clothing. 
In reality we were encamped above the 
clouds, but by being on the windward side of 
the dome the clouds below drifted up along the 
slope with the wind and completely obscured 
us to our surroundings. Toward mid-day we 
got faint glimpses of sunshine filtering through 
the mist, and, having now recovered from the 
first shock of the storm and feeling comfortable 
with dry footwear, we decided to get out of our 
cave and cut our way to the summit. No 
sooner was it su.ggested than it was under¬ 
taken. A hundred steps up the steep cornice 
put us into the sunshine. In cutting these steps 
with the pick hammer. I froze the tips of my 
fingers white to the joints. Gloves were little 
protection. The wind blew a tornado and it was 
bitterly cold. Thin films of drifting fog went 
spinning over the smooth top. It was diffi- 
