I Have Been
Out On The Glacier Examining A Moraine-Like Mass About A Third Of A
Mile From Camp.
It is perhaps a mile long, a hundred yards wide, and
is thickly strewn with wood.
I think that it has been brought down
the mountain by a heavy snow avalanche, loaded on the ice, then
carried away from the shore in the direction of the flow of the
glacier. This explains detached moraine-masses. This one seems to
have been derived from a big roomy cirque or amphitheatre on the
northwest side of this Snow Dome Mountain.
To shorten the return journey I was tempted to glissade down what
appeared to be a snow-filled ravine, which was very steep. All went
well until I reached a bluish spot which proved to be ice, on which
I lost control of myself and rolled into a gravel talus at the
foot without a scratch. Just as I got up and was getting myself
orientated, I heard a loud fierce scream, uttered in an exulting,
diabolical tone of voice which startled me, as if an enemy, having
seen me fall, was glorying in my death. Then suddenly two ravens came
swooping from the sky and alighted on the jag of a rock within a few
feet of me, evidently hoping that I had been maimed and that they
were going to have a feast. But as they stared at me, studying my
condition, impatiently waiting for bone-picking time, I saw what they
were up to and shouted, "Not yet, not yet!"
July 16.
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