I Had A
Hard Time Crossing The Divide Glacier, On Which I Camped.
Half a mile
back from the lake I gleaned a little fossil wood and made a fire on
moraine boulders for tea.
I slept fairly well on the sled. I heard
the roar of four cascades on a shaggy green mountain on the west side
of Howling Valley and saw three wild goats fifteen hundred feet up in
the steep grassy pastures.
July 14. I rose at four o'clock this cloudy and dismal morning and
looked for my goats, but saw only one. I thought there must be wolves
where there were goats, and in a few minutes heard their low, dismal,
far-reaching howling. One of them sounded very near and came nearer
until it seemed to be less than a quarter of a mile away on the edge
of the glacier. They had evidently seen me, and one or more had come
down to observe me, but I was unable to catch sight of any of them.
About half an hour later, while I was eating breakfast, they began
howling again, so near I began to fear they had a mind to attack
me, and I made haste to the shelter of a big square boulder, where,
though I had no gun, I might be able to defend myself from a front
attack with my alpenstock. After waiting half an hour or so to see
what these wild dogs meant to do, I ventured to proceed on my journey
to the foot of Snow Dome, where I camped for the night.
There are six tributaries on the northwest side of Divide arm,
counting to the Gray Glacier, next after Granite Canyon Glacier going
northwest. Next is Dirt Glacier, which is dead. I saw bergs on the
edge of the main glacier a mile back from here which seem to have
been left by the draining of a pool in a sunken hollow. A circling
rim of driftwood, back twenty rods on the glacier, marks the edge
of the lakelet shore where the bergs lie scattered and stranded. It
is now half past ten o'clock and getting dusk as I sit by my little
fossil-wood fire writing these notes. A strange bird is calling and
complaining. A stream is rushing into a glacier well on the edge of
which I am camped, back a few yards from the base of the mountain for
fear of falling stones. A few small ones are rattling down the steep
slope. I must go to bed.
July 15. I climbed the dome to plan a way, scan the glacier, and take
bearings, etc., in case of storms. The main divide is about fifteen
hundred feet; the second divide, about fifteen hundred also, is
about one and one half miles southeastward. The flow of water on the
glacier noticeably diminished last night though there was no frost.
It is now already increasing. Stones begin to roll into the crevasses
and into new positions, sliding against each other, half turning over
or falling on moraine ridges.
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