The Mountain 
of the 
Big Snows 
The ascent of Rainier requires 
hardihood and courage, 
but is well worth — 
the effort 
By GEORGE V. CAESAR 
“When the days grow long in the 
Spring of the year, 
And the nights bring soft, warm rain, 
There’s a call that a man can’t help 
but hear, 
A quiet call but its words are clear: 
Come back to the trail again.” 
—C. RIPLEY. 
ENERALLY speaking, there are 
four types of mountain cranks, 
to wit: Automobilists; the com- . 
mon, garden variety of tourists; popu- 
lous mountaineering societies who move 
over the hills like a cloud of locusts; 
lastly, the solitary cranks whose one 
aim in life is to escape “far from the 
madding crowd.” 
Mt. Rainier National Park has long 
held a place peculiarly dear to the 
heart of hermits of this type, for it 
is probably the least developed of 
any of our elder national parks. Of 
its ten largest glaciers, varying in 
length from three to six miles, only 
one, the Nisqually Glacier, is widely 
known to the general public and 
may be seen at close range from 
a road. Approximately four-fifths of 
the Park’s total area of nearly four 
hundred square miles is a wilderness 
of ragged, snow-flecked peaks, bisected 
by profound glacial canyons. Trails, 
few in number, wander over certain 
sections, seeking the easiest levels, and 
some of the finest scenic areas of al- 
pine park and glacier exact the old- 
fashioned measure of toil and sweat 
as the price of their enjoyment. In 
line with the modern tendency of com- 
mercialization we shall witness at 
some later date the complete “develop- 
ment” of this wilderness into a region 
of roads, aerial cable-ways, camps, ho- 
tels, and garbage heaps. The march 
of “progress” cannot be delayed! At 

A halt at timberline. 
present, however, we have not as yet 
improved on Nature in the Rainier 
National Park quite as fast as the 
“improvers” would like. 
The dominating landmark of the 
Park, and from which it derives its 
name, is the great, extinct volcano, 
officially named Rainier but more in- 
timately known as “Tacoma,” the In- 
dian appellation for “Mountain of the 
Big Snow.” The bare statement that 
the peak itself covers an area of one 
hundred square miles, including forty- 
five square miles of glacier of the true 
alpine type, many of them huge rivers 
of ice in canyons thousands of feet 
deep; or to say that the summit pierces 
the clouds at an elevation of 14,408 
feet, rising some ten thousand feet 
above its immediate base; these things 
convey but a small idea of Rainier’s 
grandeur. It must be seen to be ap- 
preciated. 
Few events furnish the thrill of ex- 
pectation which comes from planning 
a trip on foot into these glaciers. That 
old, old problem of the back-packer— 
comfort and weight—must be savagely 
attacked once more, with of course the 
inevitable result. A good rule to fol- 
low is to jot down on paper what you 
believe to be the barest necessities, 
and then put the blue pencil through 
half of the items. In this way you 
save much needless waste: thrown into 
the brush en route. 
@ of the most pleasing features 
of the summer climate of the Pa- 
cific Northwest is the absence of rain. 
In town, this feature appeals to you 
from the point of view of tennis, auto 
rides, and picnics; in the hills, you 
offer up prayers of thanksgiving for 
the dry nights and the absence of the 
bulk and weight of a tent on your 
aching back. Tents, therefore, are 
usually unnecesary here, but plenty 
of warm clothing for the freezing 
nights at high altitudes is essential 
for comfort. 
nee regards climbing equipment the 
most useful tool for all around 
work is the alpenstock, a strong pole 
heavily spiked with iron and about six 
feet in length. A thong through the 
upper end enables it to be hung from 
the wrist on rock climbs. Any black- 
smith will make one for a nominal 
price. It is also a good idea for at 
least one member of the party to carry 
a real ice-axe of the Swiss pattern 
with the blade at right angles to the 
shaft. Unfortunately, it appears to 
be very difficult to obtain a really good 
axe in this country. I recall one which 
was bought in New York for a high 
price and which shook apart on its 
maiden trip. About fifty feet of rope 
per three persons is required for use 
on glaciers. The finest alpine rope I 
have ever seen was a ten millimetre, 
hundred-foot length of soft, braided 
linen, made in Switzerland. It was 
practically rot-proof, weighed about 
four pounds, and was exceedingly 
strong and pliable. Such a rope can 
still be obtained, I believe, from Aber- 
crombie & Fitch of New York. 
Snow glasses of either smoked or 
dark amber glass must be worn on 
snowfield or glacier to protect the eyes 
from the ice-blink which is very in- 
tense in these latitudes in summer. A 
liberal application of cold cream will 
serve to protect the skin from severe 
burning. 
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