Meanwhile the greater part of this expedition continued their way through the mountains by the Athabasca Pass. Here, when surrounded by all the glory and grandeur of lofty mountains clad in eternal snow and icy glaciers, and amid the frequent crash and roar of descending avalanches, one of the voyageurs exclaimed, after a long period of silent wonder and admiration—“I’ll take my oath, my dear friends, that God Almighty never made such a place.”

On the summit of the Athabasca Pass they were on the Atlantic side of the watershed, and here let us take leave of them while they pursue their toilsome journey across the great plains of Canada to the eastern side of the continent.

All of these early expeditions were undertaken in the interests of the fur trade, and carried out by the agents of the various fur companies, except for occasional bands of emigrants on their way to the Pacific Coast, the accounts of whose journeys are only referred to by later writers in a vague and uncertain manner.

The expedition in 1841 of Sir George Simpson, however, to which reference has been made in a previous chapter, is in many respects different from all the others. The rapidity of his movements, the great number of his horses, and the ease and even luxury of his camp life indicate the tourist and traveller, rather than the scientist, the hardy explorer, or the daring seeker after wealth in the wilderness. His narrative is the first published account of the travels of any white man in that part of the mountains now traversed by the Canadian Pacific Road, though he mentions a party of emigrants which immediately preceded him in this part of his journey. The rapidity with which Sir George Simpson was wont to travel may be appreciated from the fact that he crossed the entire continent of North America in its widest part, over a route five thousand miles in length, in twelve weeks of actual travelling. The great central plains were crossed with carts, and the mountainous parts of the country with horses and pack-trains.

In 1858, gold was discovered on the upper waters of the Fraser River, and a great horde of prospectors and miners, together with the accompanying hangers-on, including all manner of desperate characters, came rushing toward the gold-fields, from various parts of Canada and the United States. This year may be considered as marking the birth of a new enterprise and the comparative decline of the fur trade ever after.

About this time, or, more precisely, in 1857, Her Majesty’s Government set an expedition on foot, the object of which was to examine the route of travel between eastern and western Canada, and to find out if this route could be shortened, or in any other manner improved upon. Moreover, the expedition was to investigate the large belt of country, hitherto practically unknown, which lies east of the Rocky Mountains and between the United States boundary and the North Saskatchewan River. The third object of this expedition was to find a pass, or passes, available for horses across the Rocky Mountains south of the Athabasca Pass, but still in British territory.

As this was an excellent opportunity for the advancement of science without involving great additional expense, four scientists, Lieut. Blackiston, Dr. Hector, Mr. Sullivan, and M. Bourgeau, were attached to the expedition. The party were under the control and management of Captain John Palliser.

The third object of this expedition is the only one that concerns the history of explorations in the Canadian Rockies. In their search for passes, Captain Palliser and Dr. Hector met with many interesting adventures, of which it is, of course, impossible to give more than the merest outline, as the detailed account of their journeys fills several large volumes. In August, 1858, Captain Palliser entered the mountains by following the Bow River, or south branch of the Saskatchewan. He then followed a river which comes in from the south, and which he named the Kananaskis, after an Indian, concerning whom there is a legend of his wonderful recovery from the blow of an axe, which merely stunned instead of killing him outright.

When they approached the summit of the pass, a lake about four miles long was discovered, round the borders of which they had the utmost difficulty in pursuing their way on account of the burnt timber, in which the horses floundered about desperately. One of the animals, wiser than his generation, plunged into the lake before he could be caught and proceeded to swim across. Unfortunately this animal was packed with their only luxuries, their tea, sugar, and blankets.

On the very summit of the pass is a small lake some half an acre in extent, which overflows toward the Pacific, and such was the disposition of the drainage at this point that while their tea-kettle was supplied from the lake, their elk meat was boiling in water from the sources of the Saskatchewan.

A few days later, Captain Palliser made a lone mountain ascent near one of the Columbia lakes, but was caught by night in a fearful thunder-storm so that he could not reach camp till next day. His descent through the forests was aided by the frequent and brilliant flashes of lightning.

A little later they met with a large band of Kootanie Indians, who, though very destitute and miserable in every other way, were very rich in horses. Captain Palliser exchanged his jaded nags for others in better condition, and despairing of pursuing his way farther, as the Indians were at war and would not act as guides, he started, on the first of September, to return across the mountains, and reached Edmonton in three weeks.

In the meantime Dr. Hector made a branch expedition which has some incidents of interest in connection with it. He was accompanied at first by the indefatigable botanist, M. Bourgeau, and by three Red River men, besides a Stoney Indian, who acted as guide and hunter for the party. Eight horses sufficed to carry their instruments and necessary baggage, as it was not considered necessary to take much provision in those parts of the mountains which he intended to visit.

Some reference has already been made to Dr. Hector’s experiences in the vicinity of Banff, and we shall only give one or two of the more interesting details of his later travels. He left the Bow River at the Little Vermilion Creek, and followed this stream over the Vermilion Pass. The name of this pass is derived from the Vermilion Plain, a place where the ferruginous shales have washed down and formed a yellow ochre. This material the Indians subject to fire, and thus convert it into a red pigment, or vermilion.

Perhaps the most interesting detail of Dr. Hector’s trip is that which occurred on the Beaverfoot River, at its junction with the Kicking Horse River. The party had reached the place by following down the Vermilion River till it joins the Kootanie, thence up the Kootanie to its source, and down the Beaverfoot. Here, at a place about three miles from where the little railroad station known as Leanchoil now stands, Dr. Hector met with an accident which gave the name to the Kicking Horse River and Pass. A few yards below the place, where the Beaverfoot River joins the Kicking Horse, there is a fine waterfall about forty feet high, and just above this, one of Hector’s horses plunged into the stream to escape the fallen timber. They had great difficulty in getting the animal out of the water, as the banks were very steep. Meanwhile, Hector’s own horse strayed off, and in attempting to catch it the horse kicked him in the chest, fortunately when so near that he did not receive the full force of the blow. Nevertheless, the kick knocked Hector down and rendered him senseless for some time. This was the more unfortunate, as they were out of food, and had seen no sign of game in the vicinity. His men ever after called the river the Kicking Horse, a name that has remained to this day despite its lack of euphony.

To the transcontinental traveller, one of the most beautiful and inspiring points along the entire railroad is the descent of the Kicking Horse Pass from the station of Hector to Field. Here, in a distance of eight miles, the track descends 1000 feet, in many a curve and changing grade, surrounded by the towering cliffs of Mount Stephen and Cathedral Peak, while the rich forests of the valley far below are most beautiful in swelling slopes of dark green. Certainly, whoever has ridden down this long descent at breakneck speed, on a small hand-car, or railway velocipede, while the alternating rock cuts, high embankments, and trestles or bridges of dizzy height fly by in rapid succession, must feel at the same time a grand conception of the glories of nature and the triumphs of man. In striking contrast to this luxury of transportation was the old-time method of travelling through these mountains. The roaring stream which the railroad follows and tries in vain to descend in equally rapid slope is now one of the most attractive features of the scenery of the pass.

When Dr. Hector first came through this pass he had an adventure with one of his horses on this stream. They were climbing up the rocky banks of the torrent when the incident occurred. The horses had much difficulty in getting up, and in Hector’s own words, “One, an old gray, that was always more clumsy than the others, lost his balance in passing along a ledge, which overhung a precipitous slope about 150 feet in height, and down he went, luckily catching sometimes on the trees; at last he came to a temporary pause by falling right on his back, the pack acting as a fender. However, in his endeavors to get up, he started down hill again, and at last slid on a dead tree that stuck out at right angles to the slope, balancing himself with his legs dangling on either side of the trunk of the tree in a most comical manner. It was only by making a round of a mile that we succeeded in getting him back, all battered and bruised, to the rest of the horses.”

That night they camped at one of the lakes on the summit of the pass, but were wellnigh famished. A single grouse boiled with some ends of candles, and odd bits of grease, served as a supper to the five hungry men.

The next day they proceeded down the east slope and came to a river that the Indian recognized as the Bow. About mid-day the Stoney Indian had the good fortune to shoot a moose, the only thing that saved the life of the old gray that had fallen down the rocky banks of the Kicking Horse River, for he was appointed to die, and serve as food if no game were killed that day.

Here we shall take leave of Dr. Hector and the Palliser expedition, and only briefly say that Hector followed the Bow to its source and thence down the Little Fork to the Saskatchewan and so out of the mountains. The next year Dr. Hector again followed up the Bow River and Pipestone River to the Saskatchewan, and thence over the Howse Pass to the Columbia, where he found it impossible to travel either west or northwest, and was forced to proceed southward to the boundary.

The main objects of the Palliser expedition were in a great measure accomplished, though the Selkirk Range of mountains was not penetrated by them, and no passes discovered through this formidable barrier. The vast amount of useful scientific material collected by the members of this expedition was published in London by the British Government, but it is now, unfortunately, so rare as to be practically inaccessible to the general reader.

The account of an expedition across the Rockies in 1862, by Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle, is perhaps the most interesting yet published. It abounds in thrilling details of unusual adventures, and no one who has read The Northwest Passage by Land will ever forget the discovery of the headless Indian when they were on the point of starvation in the valley of the North Thompson, or the various interesting details of their perseverance and final escape where others had perished most miserably. The object of this expedition was to discover the most direct route through British territory to the gold mines of the Caribou region, and to explore the unknown regions in the vicinity of the north branch of the Thompson River.

A period of very rapid growth in the Dominion of Canada now follows close upon the date of this expedition. In 1867, the colony of Canada, together with New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, united to form the new Dominion of Canada, and, in 1869, the Hudson Bay Company sold out its rights to the central and northwestern parts of British North America.

In the meantime the people of the United States had been vigorously carrying on surveys, and preparing to build railroads across her vast domains, where lofty mountain passes and barren wastes of desert land intervened between her rich and populous East and the thriving and energetic West, but in Canada no line as yet connected the provinces of the central plains with her eastern possessions, while British Columbia occupied a position of isolation beyond the great barriers of the Rocky Mountains.

On the 20th of July, 1871, British Columbia entered the Dominion of Canada, and on the same day the survey parties for a transcontinental railroad started their work. One of the conditions on which British Columbia entered the Dominion was, that a railroad to connect her with the east should be constructed within ten years.

More than three and one half millions of dollars were expended in these preliminary surveys, and eleven different lines were surveyed across the mountains before the one finally used was selected. Nor was this vast amount of work accomplished without toil and danger. Many lives were lost in the course of these surveys, by forest fires, drowning, and the various accidents in connection with their hazardous work. Ofttimes in the gloomy gorges and canyons, especially in the Coast Range, where the rivers flow in deep channels hemmed in and imprisoned by precipitous walls of rock, the surveyors were compelled to cross awful chasms by means of fallen trees, or, by drilling holes and inserting bolts in the cliffs, to cling to the rocks far above boiling cauldrons and seething rapids, where a fall meant certain death. The ceaseless exertion and frequent exposure on the part of the surveyors were often unrewarded by the discovery of favorable routes, or passes through the mountains. The Selkirk Range proved especially formidable, and only after two years of privation and suffering did the engineer Rogers discover, in 1883, the deep and narrow pass which now bears his name, and by which the railway seeks a route across the crest of this range, at the bottom of a valley more than a mile in depth.

The romance of an eagle leading to the discovery of a pass is connected with a much earlier date. Mr. Moberly was in search of a pass through the Gold Range west of the Selkirks, and one day he observed an eagle flying up a narrow valley into the heart of these unknown mountains. He followed the direction of the eagle, and, as though led on by some divine omen, he discovered the only route through this range, and, in perpetuation of this incident, the name Eagle Pass has been retained ever since.

But all these surveys were merely preliminary to the vast undertaking of constructing a railroad. At first, the efforts of the government were rewarded with only partial success, and at length, in 1880, the control and management of railroad construction was given over to an organization of private individuals. In the mountain region there were many apparently insuperable obstacles, to overcome which there were repeated calls for further financial aid. However, under the able and efficient control of Sir William Van Horne, the various physical difficulties were, one by one, overcome, while his indomitable courage and remarkable energy inspired confidence in those who were backing the undertaking financially. Moreover, he had a thorough knowledge of railroad construction, together with unusual perseverance and resolution, combined with physical powers which enabled him to withstand the nervous strain and worry of this gigantic enterprise.

In short, after a total expenditure of one hundred and forty million dollars, the Canadian Pacific Railroad, which is acknowledged to be one of the greatest engineering feats the world has ever seen, was completed, five years before the stipulated time.

With the opening of the railroad came the tourists and mountaineers, and the commencement of a new period in the history of the Canadian Rockies.

The short period of one hundred years which nearly covers the entire history of the Canadian Rockies may be divided into four divisions. The first is the period of the fur trade, which may be regarded as beginning with the explorations of Sir Alexander Mackenzie in 1793, and lasting till 1857.

From 1858 to 1871 might be called the gold period, for at this time gold-washing and the activity consequent upon this new industry were paramount.

The next interval of fifteen years might be called the period of railroad surveys and construction,—a time of remarkable activity and progress,—and which rationally closes in 1886, when the first trains began to move across the continent on the new line.

The last period is that of the tourists, and though as yet it is the shortest of all, it is destined without doubt to be longer than any.

Every one of these periods may be said to have had a certain effect on the growth and advance of this region. The first period resulted in a greater knowledge of the country, and the opening up of lines of travel, together with the establishment of trading posts at certain points.

The second period brought about the construction of wagon roads in the Fraser Canyon leading to the Caribou mining region and to other parts of British Columbia. These roads were the only routes by which supplies and provisions could be carried to the mining camps. The method of gold mining practised in British Columbia has hitherto been mostly placer mining, or mere washing of the gravels found in gold-bearing stream beds.

With the commencement of the railroad surveys, a great deal of geographical information was obtained in regard to the several ranges of the Rocky Mountain system, and the culmination of this period was the final establishment of a new route across the continent, and the opening up of a vast region to the access of travellers.

Year by year there are increasing numbers of sportsmen and lovers of wild mountain life who make camping expeditions from various points on the railroad, back into the mountains, where they may wander in unexplored regions, and search for game or rare bits of scenery.

The future popularity of these mountains is in some degree indicated by the fact that those who have once tried even a brief period of camp life among them almost invariably return, year after year, to renew their experiences. The time will eventually come when the number of tourists will warrant the support of a class of guides, who will conduct mountaineers and sportsmen to points of interest in the wilder parts of the mountains, while well made roads will increase the comfort and rapidity of travel through the forests.

CHAPTER XV.

The Pleasures of the Natural Sciences—Interior of the Earth—Thickness of the Crust—Origin and Cause of Mountains—Their Age and Slow Growth—System in Mountain Arrangement—The Cordilleran System—The Canadian Rockies—Comparison with Other Mountain Regions—Climate—Cause of Chinook Winds—Effect of High Latitude on Sun and Moon—Principal Game Animals—Nature of the Forests—Mountain Lakes—Camp Experiences—Effect on the Character.

Those who have spent a few weeks or months in a mountain region, such as that of the Canadian Rockies, must soon come to feel an interest in those more striking features of the wilderness which have been constantly revealed. The special character of the mountains, which have given so much pleasure; the climate, on which, in a great measure, every action depends; the fauna, which adds so much of interest to the environment; and the flora, which increases the beauty of every scene—must all excite some degree of interest in those who have passed a short period of time surrounded by nature in her primeval state.

They spend their time to little advantage who do not thus become interested in the wonders of nature. A very slight knowledge of the habits and kinds of birds and animals, the principal characteristics of trees and plants, the nature of minerals, the structure and formation of the earth’s crust, and the laws which govern the circulation of currents in the atmosphere will, in every case, offer wide and boundless fields of research and pleasure. The camper, the huntsman, the explorer, and the mountaineer, armed with such information, will be prepared to spend the many hours of enforced idleness, which frequently occur by reason of fickle weather or a smoky atmosphere, in an interesting and profitable manner.

In the preceding chapters, the details of the flora and fauna, together with digressions on other topics, have been, from time to time, set forth in connection with various exploring excursions.

It is the purpose of this chapter, however, to discuss, in a general and very brief manner, such questions as have a special interest, and to present them in a somewhat more systematic manner than was possible, or natural, in connection with accounts of adventures.

To begin then with the foundation of things, the question first arises as to the origin and cause of mountains.

Astronomy teaches us that the earth is a mass of molten or semi-viscid matter, covered with a crust which has formed from the cooling of the exterior. As to the relative or absolute thickness of this crust, there is much diversity of opinion, but the great majority of estimates ranges between the limits of one hundred and one thousand miles.

The general features of the earth and the formation of mountains—subjects which lie in the province of geology—likewise point to a comparatively thin crust covering a molten interior. Some geologists contend that the centre is likewise solid, and that there is a partially molten layer between the centre and crust. Now as the earth gradually cools by radiation, its volume diminishes, and the solid crust not having the strength to hold up its own weight, is forced to adapt itself to the contracting interior. The pressure thus brought to bear on the thin shell causes wrinkles or folds, so that the earth’s surface is raised in some places and depressed in others. Moreover, the strata are folded, fractured, and thrown one over another as they are compressed, till at length lofty mountain ranges are formed, with all the phenomena of faults, flexures, and the wonderful contortions of the originally horizontal beds, that are to be observed in all mountain regions.

In some respects the mountains on the earth are comparable to the wrinkles on a drying apple, but in size, the highest peaks of the Himalayas and Andes have been compared more justly to the minute roughness on an egg shell.

Thus the mountain ranges of the world which appear so vast and lofty are exceedingly small and insignificant as compared with the great mass of the earth. The strength of the earth’s crust seems incapable of supporting the weight of even these relatively small masses, for the highest peaks in the world never exceed an altitude of five and one half miles, a height which, if represented on a globe of ordinary size, would hardly be observable.

All the great mountain ranges of the world have been raised to their present altitude since the Tertiary Age, but, nevertheless, we must conceive of mountain growth as a very slow and gradual process, a few feet or yards of elevation each century. That mountain chains have been upheaved at one or two violent convulsions of nature, is not in accordance with reason or geological facts. Faults are often found with a displacement of the strata through several thousand feet, a fact that has been used to prove a sudden catastrophe. But it should be held in mind that, after the strata were once fractured and made to slide one on another, the sliding would tend to be repeated at long intervals in this same place. Even then a yielding of but a few inches would be attended by a violent earthquake.

Beside the comparatively low altitude and very slow growth of mountain chains, there is a system in their arrangement which adds simplicity to the study of this subject. Dana calls attention to the fact that the great mountain chains of the earth are arranged along the borders of continents, and are proportional in height to the size of the oceans near them. The continents of North and South America reveal this law in a striking manner. The stupendous chain of the Andes in South America, and the more extensive Rocky Mountains in North America, stand opposite to the vast Pacific Ocean, and run nearly parallel to its shores, while the lesser systems on the eastern borders of each continent face the lesser area of the Atlantic Ocean. Moreover, almost all mountain chains show evidence of a pushing force from the direction of the sea, and a resisting force from the direction of the land.

The erosion of valleys commenced as soon as the strata were elevated above the sea-level, and thus the valleys of the world, being mostly those of erosion, are older than the mountains themselves.

Turning now to the Rocky Mountains or the Cordilleran System of North America, we observe that the chain extends from the region of the City of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean, and westward into the Alaskan Peninsula and the Aleutian Islands, a total distance of about five thousand miles. The Rocky Mountain system attains its greatest width in the latitude of Colorado, where it extends one thousand miles from east to west. Thence northward, the range becomes narrower toward the International boundary. From this point the system is only about four hundred miles in width, and the eastern range follows a line parallel to the Pacific Coast, nearly to the Arctic Circle.

Having thus very briefly glanced at the cause of mountain chains, the system in their arrangement, and the area covered by the Rocky Mountains of North America, let us turn our attention more particularly to the main features of the chain in its extension through Canada. In all, there are four ranges of mountains composing the Canadian Rockies. The most easterly is the highest and most important, and is, besides, the watershed between the Atlantic and Pacific drainage. Next to the west lie the Selkirk and Gold ranges, which must be grouped together. Near the Pacific Coast is a third range called the Coast Range, while Vancouver Island and the chain of islands extending north represent a fourth range of mountains. Between the two inner of these four ranges, there is a plateau region with an average altitude of 3500 feet.

Our attention centres with peculiar interest on the watershed or Summit Range, as in these mountains are found the grandest scenery and the most lofty peaks, and they are withal the most accessible to the traveller. On the eastern side, the Rocky Mountains rise abruptly from the plains and reach altitudes of 9000 to 11,000 feet. The plain is here, according to Dr. Dawson, about 4350 feet in altitude, while on the western side of the range the altitude of the Columbia valley is only 2450 feet, or nearly 2000 feet lower. The Summit Range is from forty to fifty miles wide in this portion of its course, and is made up of about five sub-ranges. The rivers and streams follow the valleys between these ranges, and find their way out of the mountains by occasional, transverse valleys, cutting through the ranges at right angles, so that every stream has a zig-zag course.

It would lead us too far to discuss the formations represented in the strata, and it is more important to learn the altitudes of the mountains above the valleys, and their other physical features, since these characteristics have a more direct bearing on the scenery and on the general nature of the mountains. The highest peaks of the Canadian Rockies rise from 5000 to 7000 feet above the valleys, and rarely surpass 11,000 or 12,000 feet altitude above sea-level. Thus they cannot compare in magnitude with the Himalayas, the Andes, or even the Swiss Alps. They, however, are more accessible than the Himalayas, are far more attractive than the Andes, and afford much greater variety of scenery, together with more beauty of vegetation, than the Alps. No picturesque hamlets adorn these valleys, no herds of cattle with tinkling bells pasture on these hillsides, and no well-made roads or maps guide the tourist to every point of interest; but, on the other hand, the climber may ascend mountains never tried before, the explorer may roam in wild valleys hitherto practically unseen by white men; and the camper may fish or hunt where no one besides the savage Indian has ever lowered a baited hook or joined in the stealthy chase.

Before leaving the discussion of geology, it would be well to call attention to the wonderful effects of ancient glacial action, everywhere in evidence among these mountains. The countless lakes were, almost without exception, formed in the Quaternary ice invasion. A few of the lakes occupy rock basins, and more are dammed by old terminal moraines, while the vast majority are held in by ridges of drift formed underneath the glaciers where they joined together at the confluence of valleys. Mention has already been made of the evidence of ice action on the summit of Tunnel Mountain, near Banff, showing that the ice was at least 1000 feet in thickness, but on the neighboring mountains there are further evidences that the ancient glaciers flooded this valley to a depth of 2700 or 2800 feet. Such evidences may be traced up the valley of the Bow to its source, where the upper surfaces of the glaciers were no less than 8500 or 9000 feet above sea-level, though these ice streams were about the same thickness as at Banff, because the valleys are much higher at this point. Throughout the eastern range, all the valleys were flooded, while only the mountain tops rose above the fields of ice, and the creeping glaciers moved slowly down the valleys and discharged in a great sheet of ice upon the plains to the east.

The climate of the Canadian Rockies is exceedingly cold in winter and temperate in summer, but the air is at all times so dry that changes of temperature are not felt as in lowland regions. The rainfall in summer is light, and rarely attended by heavy showers. The amount of snow and rainfall varies locally in a remarkable manner, by reason of the mountains themselves. Thus the maximum winter depth of the snow in the Bow valley may be two or three feet, when up in the higher regions, only five or six miles distant, the depth will approach fifteen or twenty feet. That mountains have a great influence on the climate and the amount of rainfall, is universally admitted. In fact, climate and mountains are mutually dependent one on the other. A range of mountains near the sea coast, if the circulation of the atmosphere carries the moist air over them, will cause a great precipitation of rain and snow, and, vice versa, the amount of precipitation decides the erosive power of streams, and consequently, the altitude and form of the mountains.

One of the most interesting features of the Canadian Rockies is the Chinook wind. These peculiar winds occur at all seasons of the year but are most noticeable in winter. At such times, after a period of intense frost, a wind springs up from the west, directly from the mountains, the temperature rises, and the snow disappears as if by magic. The air is so dry that the snow and moisture evaporate at once, leaving the ground perfectly free of moisture, where a few hours before was a deep covering of snow. Identical winds called Foehn winds occur in Switzerland, and in other mountain regions of the world. The explanation of these winds has been stated by Ferrel and others, but it is difficult of demonstration to those who do not understand the laws governing condensation and evaporation of moisture in our atmosphere. Most of these laws may be clearly illustrated by an experiment not very difficult to perform. A stout glass cylinder, closed at one end, is fitted with a closely fitting plunger. Now if a tuft of cotton, moistened with ether, be placed in the cylinder, and the plunger be suddenly and forcibly pushed in, the cotton will take fire. The compression of the air raises the temperature so that the cotton ignites. The experiment might have been reversed, and the plunger pulled suddenly outwards so as to rarefy the enclosed air. In this case the temperature of the air would have been much reduced, and, if there were sufficient moisture, it would condense on the sides of the cylinder or form a cloud of vapor. These experiments are exceedingly valuable, as they demonstrate the laws of temperature under changing pressure. Moreover, it shows how cold air discharges its moisture in the form of a mist, and thus illustrates the formation of the clouds in the upper cold regions of our atmosphere. Now the circulation of the air in the Canadian Rockies is, in general, from the Pacific Ocean across the mountains in an easterly direction. It is, of course, interfered with by the circular cyclonic storms which, from time to time, pass over the mountains. But when one or both causes of air motion compel the wind to blow from the west towards the east, the moist currents are forced to ascend and flow over the mountains. In this case the air becomes colder as it rises, mist and clouds are formed, and rain or snow falls, especially on the mountains themselves. As the air descends on the eastern side it becomes warmer in the increasing pressure, and the clouds evaporate and disappear. Now this air is much drier than when it left the other side of the mountains, because a great deal of rain and snow have been precipitated from it. Moreover, the latent heat given out as the clouds form, raises the temperature of the air above the normal temperature of those altitudes. This air gains heat as it descends, and is subjected to the increasing pressure of lower altitudes, and it finally appears as a warm and very dry wind on the east side of the mountains. Such a wind evaporates the snow, and causes it to disappear in a remarkably rapid manner.

The cause of Chinook winds is thus not difficult of explanation, if one understands the effects of atmospheric pressure and condensation. The latent heat given out by the condensing vapors and falling rain is of course equal to the heat furnished by the sun, when it was evaporating the surface waters of the ocean, and rendering the air full of invisible water vapor.

The aspect of the sky and clouds is one of the most beautiful features of the mountains. Except when obscured by the smoke of forest fires, the sky is at all times of that deep hue rarely seen near the sea-coast or in lowland regions. The dark blue extends without apparent paleness to the very horizon, while the zenith is of such a deep color, especially when seen from the summit of a lofty mountain, as to suggest the blackness of interstellar space. Against such a background, the brilliant cumulus clouds stand out in striking contrast, and every internal movement of the forming or dissolving vapors, as they rise, and descend, or curl about, is distinctly seen, because the clouds are so near.

The high latitude of this region has, of course, a considerable effect on the length of the days. Near the summer solstice the twilight is faintly visible all night, and the sun is below the horizon only a little more than six hours. The moon, however, is rarely visible in the summer months, because when near the full it occupies that part of the ecliptic opposite the sun, which, in this latitude, is much depressed. In consequence, the full moon runs her short arc so near the horizon that the high mountains shut out all view of her. In winter, these conditions are reversed, and the moon shines from the clear and frosty sky with unusual brilliancy, for many hours continuously, while the low-lying sun leaves many of the deeper mountain valleys without the benefit of his slanting rays for several months together.

It would be impossible to enumerate even the principal varieties of game animals, birds, and fish that inhabit this region. The mountain goat and sheep have been mentioned in previous chapters, and many of the interesting animals frequently met with have been described in more or less detail. The ordinary explorer or camper will see very little of the larger game, as he moves along with a noisy train of pack-horses and shouting men to drive them. He may occasionally see a bear, or catch sight of an elk or caribou, but the wary moose and the other members of the deer tribe will rarely or never be seen without an organized hunt. The camper will come to rely on the smaller game to give variety to his camp fare. Chief among these will be the grouse, of which there are six species in the Canadian Rockies. One variety is tame, or rather very stupid, and may be knocked down with stones, or snared with a strong elastic noose at the end of a pole. These birds are so numerous in the forests that one may always rely on getting a brace for dinner, after a little search, and I have even seen them walking about on the main street of Banff, where, of course, they are protected by law. Most of the mountain streams abound in trout, except where a high waterfall below has intercepted their coming up the stream. The larger lakes likewise afford fine fishing, and in many cases swarm with lake trout of a remarkable size. The camper will often obtain wild fowl, the black duck, mallards, and teal, in his excursions. Outside of these game birds and fish, there is little left for him to rely on, unless he chooses to dine on marmots and porcupines. These are often extolled by travellers as most excellent eating, but I have tried them both, and would prefer to leave my share to others, while there is anything else on hand.

The vegetation of the Canadian Rockies deserves a few remarks. The principal trees are all conifers. There are about six or seven species of these in the eastern range, and several more in the Selkirks. The paucity in the variety of deciduous trees in the Rocky Mountains, and the great number of conifers on the Pacific slope of North America, are in striking contrast to the wonderful number of deciduous species in the forests east of the Mississippi River. In the latter region, the number of species of forest trees is nowhere exceeded in the world, outside of tropical regions. Another remarkable fact in this connection was stated by Gray. He calls attention to the fact that there is a greater similarity, and affinity of species, between the Atlantic Coast trees and those of far distant Japan, than with those of the Pacific slope.

In the Canadian Rockies, trees cease to grow at altitudes above 7500 feet, under the most favorable circumstances, and the average tree line is in reality about 7000 feet. Bushes of the heath family and Alpine plants, however, reach much higher, while dwarfed flowering herbs may be found in blossom as high as 8700 or 8800 feet. I once found a small mat of bright yellow sedums on the summit of a mountain, 9100 feet above sea-level, but this was an exceptional case. Above this altitude, various stone-gray, bright yellow, or red lichens, are the only sign of vegetable life. Nevertheless, in such cheerless regions of high altitudes, one sees a considerable variety of insect life—butterflies, wasps, mosquitoes, and spiders. The latter insects may sometimes be seen crawling about on the snow after winter has commenced, and naturalists have often described them as one of the most abundant insects on barren, volcanic islands of the Atlantic Ocean, where there is scarcely a trace of vegetation.

The pleasures of camping in the Canadian Rockies are almost infinite in their variety. They vary with the locality and the scenic interest of the surroundings, and suffer a constant change of mood and aspect with the changing weather. There is an exhilarating buoyancy in the mountain air that conspires to make all things appear as though seen through some cheerful medium, and where nature is so lavish with countless things of rare interest on every side, one comes at length to regard all other places unworthy of comparison. The formation of these mountains is such as to present an infinite variation of outline and altitude, such as one observes in almost no other mountain region of the world. The mountaineer may stand on the summit of a lofty peak and behold a sea of mountains extending fifty or one hundred miles in every direction, with no plains or distant ocean to suggest a limit to their extent. Such a vast area, nearly half a thousand miles in width, and thousands of miles in length, presents an extent of mountain ranges such as are found in no other part of the world.

The exquisite charm and beauty of the lakes, so numerous in every part of the mountains, is one of the chief delights of the camper. Some are small and solitary, perched in some amphitheatre far up among the mountains, surrounded by rocky walls, and hemmed in by great blocks of stone. Here, no trees withstand the Alpine climate, and the water surface is free of ice only during a short season. A few Alpine flowers and grasses wave in the summer breezes, while the loud whistling marmots, and the picas ever sounding their dismal notes, live among the rocks, and find shelter in their crevices.

Other lakes, at lower altitudes, are concealed among the dark forests, and, with deep waters, richly colored, appear like gems in their seclusion. Here the wild duck, the diver, and the loon resort in search of food, for the sedgy shores abound with water rice, and the waters with fish.

Most of the mountain lakes are small, and hide in secluded valleys, but many are large enough to become rough and angry in a storm, and have beaten out for themselves narrow beaches of gravel and shores lined with sand.

Even the sounds of the mountains and the forests give constant pleasure. There is every quality and volume of sound, from the loud rumble of thunder, or the terrible crash of avalanches, re-echoed among the mountains, to the sharp, interrupted report of falling rocks, the roar of torrents, or the gentle murmur of some purling stream. The sighing of the wind in the forests, the susurrant pines and spruces, the drowsy hum of insects, the ripple of water on the shores of a lake, and the myriad sounds of nature—half heard, half felt—conspire to make up the sum of the camper’s pleasure; though in a manner so vague and indescribable that they must needs be experienced to be understood.

Nor are all the experiences of camp life attended by pure enjoyment alone. Mountain adventures comprise a multitude of pleasures, mingled many times with disappointment and physical suffering. They comprise all the scale of sensations, from those marked by the pains of extreme exhaustion, physical weakness, hunger, and cold, to those of the greatest exhilaration and pleasure. Fortunately, the sensations of pleasure are by far the more abundant, while those of pain almost invariably follow some rash act or error in judgment.

The effect on the health and strength is, of course, one of the chief advantages of camp life. But there is another beneficial result brought about by this manner of life that is more important, though less often taken into consideration. This is the effect that camp life has on the character. In the first place, one learns the value of perseverance, for without this quality nothing can be accomplished in such a region as the Canadian Rockies. The explorer will realize this when he comes to a long stretch of burnt timber, where his horses flounder in a maze of prostrate trees; and the climber will feel the need of continued resolution when, after a long and arduous climb to an apparent summit, he reaches it only to find the slope extending indefinitely upwards.

The quality of patience under toil and aggravation while on the march—patience with tired horses and weary men—patience under the distress of wet underbrush, or uncomfortable quarters, or, indeed, when tormented by mosquitoes, is one of the prime requisites of life in the wilderness.

While these qualities are more or less common to every one, they are much developed in mountain camp life. But, perhaps, the ability to judge quickly and well is that characteristic which is most needed among the mountains, and the one which is attended by the most suffering if it is not brought into play. If the explorer or mountaineer decides on the time of day when he must turn back, and then, under the temptation of seeing a little more, or of reaching another summit, delays his return, let him not bewail his fate if he is caught by darkness in the forest and is compelled to pass a sleepless, hungry night. The laws of nature are inexorable, and while we obey them there is abundant opportunity of pleasure, but if we expose ourselves to the grinding of her vast machinery, one must suffer the consequence. The storm will not abate merely because we are exposed to it, nor will our strength be renewed merely because we are far from camp.