VI Mount McKINLEY
The ascent of Ruwenzori unriddled the mystery of equatorial snows. There now remained the question of great peaks in the extreme North, where the mountaineering problems must obviously be very different from those found at a similar altitude in the temperate zones. Something had been done to solve the problem by the ascent of Mount St. Elias, in Alaska, on July 31, 1897. But Mount St. Elias was only just over 18,000 feet, and it was peculiarly accessible, for it lies close to the coast, on the borders of British and American territory. The eyes of explorers began to turn towards Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America, which reached a height of 20,300 feet. Its latitude was 63° N., and so within 250 miles of the Arctic Circle. The nearest salt water, Cook Inlet, was 140 miles from the southern face as the crow flies. It was therefore almost unreachable, lying as it did in the midst of an unexplored wilderness and surrounded by a mighty glacier system.
On the south these glaciers were drained by the Susitna River, with its tributaries the Yentna and the Chulitna, and on its northern face by the affluents of the Yukon. If the traveller attempted to reach it in summer he might find a difficult waterway up to the beginning of the glaciers, but then he had thirty miles of ice to cross before he reached the base, and over these he must transport everything on his back. In winter the journey might be made by dogs, but winter in those latitudes was scarcely the time to travel. Moreover, Mount McKinley, unlike the other great peaks in the world, rose from a low elevation. In the case of the South American and Himalayan peaks climbing does not begin until an altitude of at least 10,000 feet has been reached, and their line of perpetual snow is very high. It is possible, for example, to cover the 22,860 feet of Aconcagua without ever touching snow. But in Mount McKinley the snow-line was not much more than 2,500 feet, and there was something like 15,000 feet of climbing. Again, its position so far north did not permit the snows to melt properly in the summer, or to grow hard and pack. Its snowfall was so great that the snow never got into the condition which eases the path of the mountaineer. Finally—and this applied especially to a winter journey—it was situated in a land of desperate storms. The severest weather conditions ever recorded by the American Meteorological Bureau occurred at Mount Washington, which is only 6,000 feet above the sea, where the temperature was 40 degrees below zero and the wind 180 miles an hour. What might the climber expect 20,000 feet up in the sky, with nothing between him and the North Pole?
The attempt on Mount McKinley, therefore, was not a thing to be lightly undertaken. It meant a journey to the remote Alaskan coast, and then some 200 miles through difficult and little known country before even the base was reached. What the climbing would be like no one could tell. The obvious route, as the map will show, was the Susitna River, by which, indeed, its first explorer, a young Princeton graduate called Dickey, had approached it in 1896. It was he who christened it Mount McKinley. He fell into an argument with another prospector who was a rabid champion of free silver, and after many weary days’ dispute retaliated by naming the mountain after the champion of the gold standard. In 1903 an expedition, led by the too famous Dr. Cook, reached the base from the north, but failed to do any climbing. Then, in 1906, began the explorations of Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne, who were destined six years later to be the conquerors of the peak.
I
The 1906 expedition may be roughly sketched, for, though it was a failure, it at least taught its leaders what routes were not possible. They started with pack-horses and a motor-boat, with the intention of trying the north-western face. They ascended the Yentna River, which enters the Susitna from the west, but found it impossible to cross the southern flanks of the Alaskan range. They then turned up the south side of the range, and reached the glacier out of which the Tokositna River flows. By this time their transport was in a precarious condition, and their horses could go no farther. They were within view of Mount McKinley, and saw not only the impossibility of the southern face, but the extraordinary difficulties of approaching even its base from that direction. They accordingly returned to the coast, where Dr. Cook left them, announcing that he intended to make one final desperate attempt on the mountain.
Presently Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne heard, to their surprise, the rumour that Dr. Cook had succeeded. Knowing that the feat was impossible in so short a time, they disbelieved the tale, and stated their views publicly in New York. Then appeared Dr. Cook’s notorious book; but before it was published he had departed for the Arctic regions. Geographical circles in America were torn with the controversy. A committee of the Explorers’ Club investigated the question, but Dr. Cook refused to give evidence. Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne were meantime busy with their own plans for another attempt.
The 1910 expedition was again directed to the southern face. Their reasons were that for most of the journey to that face a water route was possible, and that if they failed there they believed they would be able to go on to the southern North-East ridge, which, from what they had heard and seen, they believed to be the most promising avenue of attack. They also wished to duplicate the photographs which Dr. Cook had published, and so prove or disprove his bona fides. Also, the northern side of the great mountain had been already fairly well mapped, but nothing had been done on the south side.
The notion of a pack train was discarded, and all their energies were directed towards designing the right kind of boat in which to ascend the Susitna and its tributary the Chulitna till they reached the glaciers. The party consisted of eight, including a young man from Seattle, Mr. Merl La Voy, who was exceptionally fitted by Providence for the work of a pioneer. The present writer had many dealings with Mr. La Voy during the Great War, and can confidently say that he never met any one more intrepid, audacious, and resourceful.
It was a summer-time expedition, and the party left Susitna station on the 26th May. The ascent of the two rivers was difficult and exciting enough, but they reached without misadventure the foot of the Tokositna tributary, where they established their base camp. This camp was thirty-seven and a half miles from Mount McKinley, and a few miles away was the terminal moraine of a great glacier, which they hoped would give them a roadway to the mountain. Up that glacier they would have to carry all their belongings on their backs. In Mr. Belmore Browne’s narrative there is an interesting passage describing the process by which men are hardened to wilderness work.
“The day’s work consisted in travelling through brush, soft sand, swamps, and glacier streams for about ten hours. With the exception of one or two men, who put a biscuit in their pockets, we took no food with us. The day’s work was in no way difficult, for we carried (during the preliminary reconnaissance) no loads; our condition from the civilized standpoint was splendid; we were well-fed, sun-browned, and fairly hard—and yet we all came into camp thoroughly tired out. Two months after our adventures on Mount McKinley’s ice flanks we came down through the same stretch of country. The snow, however, had melted, leaving dense thickets through which we had to chop our way; mosquitoes hung in clouds, and four of us... were carrying packs running from 95 to 120 lbs. From the civilized standpoint we were not well-fed and we did not look well—our eyes and cheeks were sunken and our bodies were worn down to bone and sinew; and yet we came into camp as fresh and happy as children, and after a bite to eat and a smoke we could have gone on cheerfully.”
It was no light task carrying an outfit of 1,200 lbs. over the thirty-seven and a half miles of glacier, a distance which by the actual route used was much farther. Most of the weight was in pemmican and alcohol for the stoves. The pemmican consisted of pulverized raw meat, mixed with sugar, raisins, currants, and tallow. Their principal drink was tea. On 11th June they had their last wood fire, and after that there was only the stove. The days were spent in sheer hard navvy labour, trudging along on snow-shoes under heavy packs, and trotting back for others. They had various misadventures. Frequent blizzards of wind and snow compelled them to shut up their tent fast at night, with the result that on one occasion they were nearly asphyxiated.
On 27th June they reached the head of the main glacier, beyond which, through a narrow gorge, a secondary glacier descended from the mountains, Another glacier came down on their right, and here they achieved an interesting piece of detective work. At the top of it they saw some peaks which recalled an illustration in Dr. Cook’s book. The illustration purported to be the summit of Mount McKinley, and showed on the left a rock shoulder which Dr. Cook described as a cliff of 8,000 feet. It was really a faked picture of the small peaks at the head of this glacier, miles and miles from the main mountain, and the cliff of 8,000 feet turned out only to rise 300 feet above the floor, and to be only 5,300 feet above sea-level. One legend at any rate had been dispelled for ever.
Now began the patient relaying of provisions up the great gorge. It was desperately hard manual labour, their faces were burnt black by the glare of the sun, and every now and then there would be a slip into a crevasse, which only the highest good fortune saved from being a tragedy. After thirty-six days of hard travelling, they were at last within two miles of the base of the southern cliffs of Mount McKinley. They found themselves in a great ice basin, hemmed in by colossal precipices down which avalanches thundered. Before them rose the mountain, 15,000 feet of rock and ice. Their glasses showed them that the South-West ridge became utterly unclimbable after an altitude of about 15,000 feet. The southern North-East ridge looked more promising, and to this they turned their attention. In that Northern summer there was no dark. “The advance and retreat of the night shadows went on with scarcely a pause, and sometimes we would be uncertain whether the Alpine glow on the big mountain’s icy crest was the light of the rising or the setting sun.” They had now a short spell of rest from their toil; and as the mind of man on such occasions turns to food, they invented out of their scanty larder a new pudding. Here is the recipe.
“First soak three broken hard-tack in snow-water until they are soft. Add 60 raisins and pemmican the size of 4½ eggs. Stir slowly but energetically until the mess is thoroughly amalgamated. Boil slowly over an alcohol stove, add three tablespoonfuls of granulated sugar, and serve in a granite-ware cup.”
But between them and the North-East ridge lay a gigantic serac. For a day and a half they lay storm-bound under it, and then, on the morning of 11th July, tried to cut their way up the ice wall. It proved most difficult and dangerous work, and presently, owing to the diminishing provisions, they realized it was impossible. Again and again they attempted it, for only that way was there a road to the North-East ridges. But at last they had to give it up as hopeless, and turn their attention to the South-West arête.
This, too, proved too hard for them. They laboured on under constant ice-falls and avalanches, and reached a height of 10,300 feet, where they had perforce to halt. During these days they saw some marvellous mountain scenery. “The whole of the great cliffs of the box-cañon appeared at first glance to be on fire. Unnumbered thousands of tons of soft snow were avalanching from the southern flanks of Mount McKinley on to the glacier floor 5,000 feet below. The snow fell so far that it was broken into heavy clouds that rolled downward like heavy waves. The force of the rolling mass was terrific, and as it struck the blue-green glacier mail it threw a great snow cloud that raced like a live thing for 500 feet; whirling in the wind the avalanche had caused, the white wall swept across the valley, and almost before we were aware of it we were struggling and choking in a blinding and stinging cloud of ice dust.”
They began their retreat, and their return to greenery and summer out of a hyperborean hell was like a man’s recovery from a dangerous illness. Though the expedition failed, they were a merry party, for though every man was sunken-eyed and lean and hatchet-faced, he was in the pink of condition. It was nothing to them to carry a load of 120 lbs., which would have broken their backs in the first days. The party included men of diverse temperaments and multifarious attainments, and Mr. La Voy observed, “It is an education to travel with a bunch like ours; if anything should happen you can listen to a whole dictionary.” In the end they came to their cache on the Chulitna, and they emptied it as children empty their Christmas stockings. “We were actually ravenous,” says Mr. Belmore Browne, “and as jars of chow-chow, cans of maple-syrup, and tins of meat appeared we hugged them in our arms and danced delirious dances on the sand! One of the great truths of life that one learns to understand in the North is that it is well worth while to go without the things one wants, for the greater the sacrifice the greater the reward when the wish is consummated. I have eaten with all manner of hungry men, from the sun-browned riders of the sage to the bidarka-men of the Aleutians, and I have feasted joyously on ‘seal-liver,’ ‘seagull-omelets,’ and ‘caribou spinach’; but never have I seen men eat more, or better food!”
II
As soon as the explorers returned to civilization they began to plan a third attempt. It was clear to them that the western and southern faces of the mountain were impracticable, and that their best chance was on the North-East ridge. This, however, could not be approached from the south; so it became their object to get in on the north side. Their explorations in 1910 had proved the difficulties of a summer trip, for loads had to be transported on men’s backs over many miles of glacier. They therefore decided to make a winter expedition of it and to use Alaskan dog teams. The best route seemed to be up the Susitna and Chulitna rivers, and they hoped somewhere near the head of the Chulitna to find a pass in the Alaskan range which would take them round the north face of Mount McKinley.
Mount McKinley: View of the Southern Approach.
(From the painting by Mr. Belmore Browne.
By permission of Messrs. Putnam’s Sons.)
In October, 1911, Mr. La Voy began to relay supplies up the Chulitna, the plan being for him to join Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne at Susitna in February of 1912. As Cook Inlet is choked by ice during winter the travellers had to leave the steamer at Seward, and make a long and difficult overland journey by way of Glacier City and the Knik fjord to the Susitna River. There they found Mr. La Voy with the dog teams. He reported that he had taken the bulk of the outfit to a cache on the Chulitna, several miles beyond the mouth of the Tokositna.
The journey up the Susitna, which was now a flat snow trail, went easily and pleasantly. When they reached the cache they found to their disgust that a wolverine, which is the arch-fiend of those northern wildernesses, had managed to break in, though it was placed for greater security on a platform of logs among the trees. The brute had destroyed a good deal of the dog-feed and bacon, and a new and expensive camera of Mr. La Voy’s, which had been swung on the top of a 30-foot pole. The wolverine had climbed the pole, cut off the corners of the leather case, and gnawed its way into the camera!
From the cache began a long system of relays, for it was impossible to carry all the equipment in one journey. There was now no trail, and a road had to be “broken” before each stage. The route lay up the Chulitna, and the travellers hoped to find some large stream coming down on their left which would indicate a gap in the Alaskan range. Any such gap would, of course, be filled with glaciers, the water from which must form a river. On the whole, winter travelling compared favourably with summer. The men used snow-shoes to break the trail, and after equipment had been transported for five miles, returned on the empty sleds for new loads. Winter had not killed all signs of wild life, though hunting was difficult, and the snow was dotted with the tracks of innumerable wild things. Even a finch was heard singing. Camping was perfectly comfortable, and in a tent with the stove lit and beds of green spruce prepared, the nights were warm and peaceful.
At last, as the trees began to thin, they came to a point where the valley split and a great cañon turned north towards the range. Travel now became rougher, for the broad level flats gave way to snow-covered rapids and big drifts. As they advanced up the gorge a glacier was seen winding down from the centre of the mountains. One night Mr. Belmore Browne had an accident which might have proved serious. He went out to shoot an owl for food, and as the ejector of his little rifle had been removed the cartridge came back on his eye and just missed his right eyeball. It gave him an eerie feeling to see the friendly dogs lapping up the bloodstained snow. Shortly after he made a reconnaissance of twenty-five miles ahead, and found the glacier they had seen from afar off running like a great white road into the hills. The route seemed possible, but there were ugly ice precipices at the head which suggested that the crossing of the pass might not be easy.
A second reconnaissance took him to the head of the glacier. At first no crossing could be discerned, but suddenly at the head of the right-hand basin the mountains broke away and he saw a smooth snow-field leading to the crest. He climbed to the top of it, and at first saw nothing but a sheer precipice. At length, however, he discovered on the right a gentle snow slope leading down into a great snow cup, and realized that the pass could be crossed.
On 3rd April the main camp was pushed up to a height of 6,000 feet. Then came a delay from a blizzard, which confined the explorers for twenty-four hours to their tents. It was bitterly cold, and everything, including the alarm clock, froze stiff. They managed, however, to get a little fire with an empty pemmican case, and, with the stove, had a sort of party in the tent—men, dogs, and everything. The party was, however, unceremoniously broken up by one of the dogs backing into the stove, and filling the tent with a cloud of smoke from singed hair.
Next morning they crossed the divide, partly shooting and partly lowering their belongings over the 1,000-feet drop into the hollow. They were no sooner across when another blizzard arrived, and they were storm-bound for thirty-six hours. But their spirits were high. For the time they were done with uphill climbs, and they saw that by crossing a low pass at the head of another glacier they could reach the great Muldrow Glacier, which had been known to the world since 1902. This glacier would take them into the very heart of the mountain.
Without much difficulty they crossed the pass, and, descending to the Muldrow moraine, they realized with joy that they were on the northern side of the Alaskan range. It was now nearly the middle of April, and they found themselves in the kind of country that hunters dream of. There was a chance of fresh meat, and, to men who had been seventeen days on the ice, the hope of a change in their menu and the sight of vegetation were an intoxication. Mr. Belmore Browne went out one morning, and fell in with a herd of white sheep (Ovis Dalli). He secured three, and that night the camp feasted. “In cold weather,” he writes, “one has a craving for fat, and in the wilderness one is less particular about the way meat is cooked. Our desire for fat was so intense that we tried eating the raw meat, and finding it good beyond words, we ate freely of the fresh mutton. I can easily understand now why savage tribes make a practice of eating uncooked flesh.” The white sheep was not the only game. There was a special variety of caribou; there was the Alaskan moose; there was an occasional grizzly; and there were quantities of ptarmigan. The travellers showed the most sportsmanlike spirit in refraining from killing females or immature beasts.
From the Muldrow Glacier they turned westward and struck the McKinley fork of the Kantishna River, which flows to the Yukon. Presently they were in timber country, and realized that they had crossed the Alaskan range “from wood to wood,” and incidentally had added two new glacier systems to the map. After snow and ice and pemmican they had greenery and fresh meat, and, as they worked their way to the lowlands, the first flush of spring. Above all, they had the North-East ridges (of which there were three) above them to offer an apparently possible route to the summit. They saw a glacier running between the central and northern North-East ridges which they decided would be their road. Mr. Belmore Browne went out to prospect, and, climbing the head of a valley, found himself looking down upon the upper Muldrow Glacier, which he now realized was split in two by the central North-East ridge. He saw also that the northern branch of it gave a road to the very base of the central peak.
A base camp was established on 24th April, and four days later began the chief reconnaissance. They took with them a dog team, and, for equipment, their mountain tent, instruments, alcohol lamps, and provisions of pemmican, chocolate, hard-tack, sugar, and raisins. The total outfit weighed about 600 lbs. They started at night, when the snow was in better condition, and found the northern branch of the Muldrow, which they called the McKinley Glacier, rising in steps like a huge staircase. Camp was pitched at the base of a serac between two great cliffs of solid blue ice.
On 3rd May they reached the top of the serac at an altitude of 8,500 feet, after a very difficult journey. Mr. La Voy, who was leading, fell into a crevasse, and the strain on the rope pulled Mr. Belmore Browne to the very edge. Mr. La Voy, however, stuck on a ledge of ice, which eased the strain; without that ledge it may well be that the whole expedition would have ended in tragedy. Bit by bit they fought their way to the head of the glacier, suffering severely from the glare of the sun, though the temperature was only one degree above freezing. They had now attained an altitude of 11,000 feet, and saw a low col on the mountain ridge, where they decided to make a high camp. This would be about 12,000 feet high, which would leave them between 3,000 and 5,000 more feet to climb before they reached the basin between the north and south peaks. It was now time to send the dogs home; so, after caching their equipment, they started back for the base camp, which they reached on the evening of 8th May.
Some pleasant days were spent at the base camp. When they left it the countryside had still been in the grip of winter, but now everywhere there were grass and flowers and running streams. So far they had managed well. They had crossed the Alaskan range early enough to find the snow in good condition for dog sledding, and they had cached 300 lbs. weight of mountain provisions at 11,000 feet. They could therefore afford to wait till the days lengthened before venturing on a final climb. Here is Mr. Belmore Browne’s picture of the landscape:—
“The mountain country at the northern base of Mount McKinley is the most beautiful stretch of wilderness that I have ever seen, and I will never forget those wonderful days when I followed up the velvety valleys or clambered among the high rocky peaks as my fancy led me. In the late evening I have trotted downward through valleys that were so beautiful that I was forced against my will to lie down in the soft grass and drink in the wild beauty of the spot, although I knew that I would be late for supper, and that the stove would be cold. The mountains were bare of vegetation, with the exception of velvety carpets of green grass that swept downward from the snow-fields; in the centres of the cup-shaped hollows ran streams of crystal-clear water; as the sun sank lower and lower the hills would turn a darker blue, until the cold, clean air from the snow-fields would remind you that night was come and that camp was far away.”
The sight of big avalanches on Mount McKinley warned the explorers that great risks had to be faced. On the 5th day of June they started out for their final attack. Unfortunately the weather became very bad, and soon they were enveloped in a heavy snowstorm. Mr. La Voy had hurt his knee hunting, and the ascent through the seracs was for him very arduous. The nervous strain, too, was great, for they had to be perpetually on the outlook for avalanches. They feared that one might have buried their cache, and it was an immense relief when they reached the 11,000-feet point and saw the top of their sled sticking out of the snow.
They now moved their supplies up to a camp on the col of the ridge at a height of 11,800 feet. On 19th June they made a reconnaissance, taking with them food for six days, and intending to climb up to the big basin between the two main peaks. They reached a height of 13,200 feet up a sensational arête, when Mr. La Voy’s knee gave out and they were compelled to return. Three days later they made a camp on the ridge at 13,600 feet. It was a wild and most laborious journey, with a drop of 5,000 feet on the left and of 2,000 on the right. It would take them two hours of hard work to make 500 feet. Apart from the handicap of Mr. La Voy’s knee, Mr. Belmore Browne’s eyes were very bad. They now realized that they could not reach the summit with their food supply of six days’ rations, and they were forced to change their plans, and go back for more food.
They returned to the camp on the col and packed up ten days’ rations. With tremendous difficulty they transported them up to a 15,000-feet camp on the ridge, where they were on the edge of the big glacier-filled basin between the two summits. All three found their health beginning to suffer. The pemmican proved to be impossible food, giving them all violent stomach pains, and they were forced to confine themselves to tea and hard-tack. The cold was intense, and inside the tent, with the alcohol stove burning and the warmth of three bodies, the temperature at 7.30 p.m. was five degrees below zero, and three hours later nineteen degrees below zero. “Despite elaborate precautions,” says Mr. Belmore Browne, “I can say in all honesty that I did not have a single night’s normal sleep above 15,000 feet on account of the cold.” By this time their appearance was, as Mr. La Voy said, “sufficient to frighten children into the straight and narrow path.” All were more or less snow-blind, burnt black, unshaven, with lips, noses, and hands swollen, cracked, and bleeding.
On 27th June the packs were carried in relays to just under the last serac, which was the highest point in the big basin. The altitude was 16,615 feet. Their one comfort was that a snow-field seemed to lead easily up to the sky-line of the central North-East ridge, and that from there they saw what appeared to be a reasonable gradient to the final summit. On 28th June they rested and prepared for their last effort. They were now convinced that nothing could stop them except storm. The night was fine, and the weather promised well for the morrow. The summit appeared to them to be nearly flat with a slight hummocky rise, which must be the highest point in North America.
On 29th June they left camp at 6 a.m., moving very quietly and steadily and conserving their strength. Mr. La Voy and Mr. Belmore Browne led alternately. Slowly they made their way up the snow slopes at the rate of about 400 feet an hour. At 18,500 feet they stopped and congratulated each other, for they had beaten the Duke of the Abruzzi’s record on Mount St. Elias. Presently they were on the sky-line of the ridge, and looking down on the arena where they had struggled two years before. Now, for the first time, came a threat from the weather. The sky was clear to the north, but from the south a great sea of clouds rolled against the mountain like surf on a shore.
As they moved up the ridge breathing became more difficult. At 19,000 feet they had passed the last rock, and were looking at the summit. It rose as innocently as a snow-covered tennis court, but now the wind was rising and the southern sky darkening, and just at the base of the last lift the gale broke. In a fierce scurry of snow they crawled up the round dome, Mr. La Voy leading and hacking steps. Then came Mr. Belmore Browne’s turn, and he realized that his hands were freezing, and that the bitter wind was cutting through his flesh. He dare not get dry mittens from his rucksack lest his hands should be frozen during the change. When his second turn was three-fourths finished, Professor Parker’s barometer registered 20,000 feet, and they were within 300 feet of the top.
The rest was an evil dream. To each man the other two seemed to be lost in the ice mist, and the cold was freezing their marrow. The storm was growing fiercer, and as they topped a little rise its full fury burst upon them. The story must be given in Mr. Belmore Browne’s own words:—
“The breath was driven from my body, and I held to my axe with stooped shoulders to stand against the gale; I could not go ahead. As I brushed the frost from my glasses and squinted upward through the stinging snow I saw a sight that will haunt me to my dying day. The slope above me was no longer steep! That was all I could see. What it meant I will never know for certain—all I can say is that we were close to the top!”
There was no going on in the teeth of that gale. The three chopped a seat in the ice, trying to find a shelter; but they were not huddled there a second before they discovered they were freezing. There was nothing for it but to return, for the snow was obliterating their back trail. Dead tired and sick at heart they began the journey back, and found that the steps they had cut had disappeared. It took them nearly two hours to go down an easy slope of 1,000 feet. They reached the base of the dome, guiding themselves only by the direction of the wind, and at last at 7.35 p.m. crawled into their upper camp. All their apparel down to their underclothes was filled with ice. They were beaten by the wind, and by the wind only. On a conservative estimate its pace was fifty-five miles an hour, and the temperature fifteen degrees below zero. Otherwise they suffered little from the altitude. Mr. Belmore Browne was able to roll and smoke a cigarette between 18,000 and 19,000 feet.
They spent a day in their tent, trying to thaw their clothes. Pemmican they could not touch, their chocolate was finished, and their food was tea, sugar, hardtack, and raisins. It was a cruel fate that they had lost ten days’ rations in useless pemmican since leaving their 13,200-feet camp, and they had not only lost the food but carried useless weight.
They made one more attempt on the summit, and reached the base of the final dome; but there another storm assailed them, and, after waiting an hour, they went back. There was now a real risk of being caught with insufficient food in a blizzard which would destroy life, and they made haste down the mountain. They had spent seven days above 15,000 feet, six days above 16,000 feet, and four days above 16,650 feet.
As they descended their health improved, and at last they came off the glacier on to the moraine, and lay down on the bare earth. It was the first time for thirty days that they had lain on anything but snow and ice. They slept like logs till the afternoon, and when they awoke a warm wind was blowing up the pass, carrying with it the smell of grass and flowers. “Never can I forget,” says Mr. Belmore Browne, “the flood of emotions that swept over me. Professor Parker and La Voy were equally affected by this first smell of the lowlands, and we were wet-eyed and chattered like children as we prepared our packs for the last stage of our journey.”
How dangerous was the climatic condition of the mountain may be judged from what happened on the evening of 6th July. From their camp in the foothills they saw the sky suddenly turn a sickly green. There came a deep rumbling from the Alaskan range, and as they looked the mountains melted into mist and the earth began to heave and roll. In front of them a boulder weighing 200 lbs. broke loose from the earth and moved. The surface of the hills seemed to open and the cracks to spout liquid mud. The whole range was wrapped in dust, and as it cleared they saw the peaks spouting avalanches. Had this earthquake overtaken them on the high ground all must have perished.
III
The story has always seemed to me one of the boldest and most patient adventures in the history of mountaineering. Slowly the travellers fought their way to the discovery of the only practical route. Mount McKinley was conquered, though they had failed to cover the hundred or so feet which would have given them the actual summit. They had blazed the path to the top and solved its mysteries. Only that maleficent blizzard at the last moment robbed them of the full fruit of six years’ pioneering.
Next year the actual summit was reached. The late Dr. Hudson Stuck, the Archdeacon of the Yukon, ever since he came to the country nine years before, had contemplated an attempt on the mountain. In the autumn of 1912 he sent on supplies by way of the Kantishna River to a point fifty miles from the base. In March, 1913, he and Mr. W. P. Karstens set out to reach the peak from the north. At their base camp, 4,000 feet up, they made a fresh supply of caribou pemmican which proved more satisfactory than that used by Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne. The road taken was the same as that of their predecessors—up the Muldrow Glacier and then up the central North-East ridge. They found that the earthquake of 1912 had completely changed the character of that ridge, and instead of being a reasonable snow gradient, it had become a confused mass of rock and ice, most difficult to surmount. Bit by bit they forced their way up it till they reached the upper basin, and then, being favoured with clear, bright, still weather, they managed to attain the highest point, the southern summit. There had been a story of two miners, called McGonogall and Anderson, who had reached the top in 1910. Dr. Stuck discovered that the top they had reached was the lesser northern peak, for he saw the remains of their flagstaff.
With this ascent the story of the conquest of Mount McKinley is complete.*
Notes
* Dr. Stuck argued with much reason that the present name of the mountain is unsuitable, and that the Indian name “Denali”—which means “the Great One”—should be restored. It is to be feared that the suggestion comes too late in the day. Ever since the expedition of 1906 Mount McKinley has become too familiar a name in the Western Hemisphere to be readily changed for another. The story of the Parker-Browne expedition is contained in The Conquest of Mount McKinley (New York, Putnams, 1913), and that of Dr. Stuck in The Ascent of Denali (New York, Scribners, 1914).