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.
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