Since this is the era of surveying that the project I'm working on involves, and I was looking at some Mt. Shasta observations yesterday, I thought I'd post a story written by one of our chief of parties. I've got a paper copy of this some where - thanks go to the
College of the Siskiyous for their
Mt. Shasta Collection for putting it online for others. I've stolen their web page as is here.
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Nine Days on the Summit of Mt. Shasta
By B.A. Colonna
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Benjamin Azariah Colonna
Courtesy of NOAA Coast and Geodetic Survey Historic Image Collection
In what follows I state facts for the information of those interested, rather
than draw on my imagination to please the reader. Every one who ascends a high
mountain has his own experience, and there are sensations peculiar to each individual.
For my own part, although accustomed to mountain climbing, I have found nothing
more difficult than to describe accurately what I have seen, and it is even
more difficult to describe the sensations of one who remains for a long time
at a great elevation.
During the summer of 1878 Mr. Carlisle P. Patterson, Superintendent United States
Coast and Geodetic Survey, authorized Professor George Davison, Assistant, to
place a theodolite and heliotrope on Mount Shasta, in connection with the work
then going on under the Professor's direction. Professor Davidson assigned the
duty to me, and in executing it I arrived at Sisson's July 18th. Sisson's, a
country inn and summer resort, is a place pleasant in itself, but to the dusty
traveler by stage or the weary tourist after an expedition in the mountains
or on the lakes or river in the vicinity, it is a paradise. From Sisson's to
the summit of Mount Shasta is about twelve miles, in a straight line, and the
ascent about 10,440 feet. Sisson's house is about 4,000 feet above the sea.
Mount Shasta is 14,440 feet high, as determined by barometer. Mr. A.F. Rodgers,
Assistant United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, and his party, were the first
from the Survey to ascend Shasta and remain over night. His first ascent was
April 30th, 1875, and his second in October of the same year. He had the weather
no colder than I did, and all of his party seem to have suffered from the rarefied
atmosphere. He was up three days, and
erected an iron signal surmounted by a parabolic reflector, which is yet standing.
On the 24th of July we left Sisson's Hotel to make the ascent. The day was a
delightful one, and we were all in fine spirits. The outfit which I proposed
taking up weighed seven hundred and fifty pounds, and had to packed from the
snow line to the summit on the backs of twenty stout Indians. Besides the packers
there was the usual number of squaws, papooses, and lean dogs - the indispensable
impedimenta of Indian bucks. If there is anything outside of these household
chattels that a buck in this neighborhood prides himself on it if his linen
duster and jaunty straw hat. The former, to be stylish, must reach to within
six inches of the ground, and for the latter a broad blue or red band is most
desirable. Nearly every one in the party was mounted, and it was a somewhat
noisy company, in which the voices of the bucks and squaws were mingled with
the crying of papooses and the barking of dogs, so that no one sound was clearly
distinguishable. Our route was over a beautiful smooth mountain trail, which
at first wound about in splendid forests of sugar-pine. The ascent was so gradual
that it would have been imperceptible to a casual observer. To the mountaineer,
however, no better evidence of increasing elevation was necessary than the gradual
change, first in size and shape, and finally in the species of the trees. By
the time we had ridden two hours the sugar-pine was much smaller, and interspersed
with red fir. At the end of three hours the sugar-pine had disappeared entirely,
and we had red fir only. An hour later and we passed through the most beautiful
forest of these trees that I have ever seen. It was entirely free from underbrush,
the trees were young and vigorous, and their symmetrical and beautifully tapering
trunks and branches, towering many feet above our heads, were decorated with
very delicate and pretty yellow mosses. There were tracks of deer in and across
the trail everywhere, and occasionally a bear's track could be seen, but our
noise frightened them and they hid away.
We arrived at the upper edge of the timber at 3 P.M., where above us towered
the beautiful snow-clad peak of Shasta. Here we were to spend the night and
be ready for the ascent in the morning. The squaws picketed the ponies where
they could obtain a scanty meal from the grass, which was just beginning to
spring up among the rocks. The guide sent some of the bucks to walk over the
snow while it was soft from the noonday sun, in order that we might save cutting
places in it for our feet when we began the ascent in the morning. Near our
camp-fire was the dry bed of a brook. By sunset it was a noisy mountain stream,
which gradually increased in volume until nearly sunrise, when it began to fall,
and by noon it was dry again. This takes place every day in summer when there
are no clouds, and is caused by the melting of the snow on the mountain side.
Before dark we had partaken of our evening meal of cold food and hot coffee.
Our blankets were then spread on the ground, and we were soon asleep. This was
a short-lived pleasure; for we were awakened in a short time by the Indians,
who, under their medicine-man - a shred old knave, and not to fond of work -
were performing such ceremonies as are customary with them before undertaking
any important affair. How long they continued their monotonous chanting, I do
not know; for I quickly fell asleep under its influence, and did not awake until
the first light streak was visible in the east, announcing the approach of sunrise
and the beginning of our day's labor.
Comparatively few Indians have ever been to the summit of Mount Shasta, and
these generally with white men. With them it seems to be a sacred place, and
its snowy mantle they regard with reverence as an emblem of purity; nor will
they defile it even with tobacco-juice. We partook of a hasty breakfast of hot
coffee and cold food, and were soon at the place where the packs had been sorted
out and left. They averaged from thirty-five to forty pounds each, which is
a fair load for one man to carry to the summit. The morning was clear. There
was no wind, and the atmosphere was sharp and bracing - the thermometer standing
at 32". The trail that the Indians had previously tramped in the snow was
followed step by step. But for this precaution no footing would have been secure
without expending much time and labor in chopping our way in the snow. The first
red snow was found at about ten thousand feet. The microscopic fungi which constitute
the coloring matter were very abundant. Where the footprints were deep enough
to pass through it, they presented the appearance of one's having left stains
of blood around the edges of his tracks. It had decidedly a fruity taste; but
none of us agreed as to what it was like. Sisson thought it resembled the flavor
of ripe pears, while to me it was water-melon A handful of it melted on a newspaper,
leaves, after the water has evaporated, a red, powdery substance, feeling on
the hands much like fine Indian meal. The upper part of the snow, for a depth
of two inches, was as white as usual, and of the ordinary granular form of old
snow, like finely ground alum salt, hard packed. Below this came the red stratum,
which was about three inches thick - the white again appearing under this. As
we ascended slowly over the snow-field, it became steeper and steeper - our
trail finally bearing off in the direction of an abrupt rocky hillside, leading
up to the backbone of one of the ridges that radiate from the summit. Should
one lose footing here, while the snow is frozen, there is little probability
of being able to stop until he had slid some three or four thousand feet. He
would make it very quickly, however; and I should apprehend no danger beyond
the loss of a little skin, which would probably be rubbed off. The worst part
of such a performance on my own account would have been the necessity of climbing
back again.
While on the snow-field some one shouted, "Look! look!" and there,
about a mile off, where a large rock, called "The Thumb," projects
from the backbone, was a cloud effect more beautiful than I ever expect to see
again. A small cloud seemed to have been hovering just behind the ridge from
us; the morning sun had warmed it up, and just as the sun was high enough to
welcome us with his genial warmth, the cloud came creeping over the ridge, and
partially enveloped "The Thumb" in a robe, the colors of which were
more beautiful than I can describe, and which changed incessantly, and finally,
in a few moments, disappeared as silently as it had some before us. The impression
left on my mind was that of al the colors of many rainbows passing rapidly into
each other in endless confusion. We were soon over the snow-field, and at the
foot of the rocky slope before alluded to. I did not like the looks of the immense
boulders that I saw piled up above us on a hillside - so steep that in ascending
it both hands and feet were constantly required - many of them so evenly balanced
that a man's weight would start them tumbling from their resting places. It
is this alone that constitutes the danger of an ascent of Shasta; even this
danger can and should be avoided by going around such places. I was behind all
the others, encouraging those who showed signs of exhaustion, when one of the
packers accidentally dislodged a boulder about six feet in diameter. We were
all on the lookout and endeavoring to avoid such an accident, and as soon as
it started several called, "Look out!" On looking up I saw it coming
down about fifty yards above me. I sprang aside as quickly as I could, and was
just in time. I felt the wind from it as it went tearing by me, and was hit
by some small fragments, but not at all injured. I followed it with my eyes
as it went plunging downward. It was at once followed by a steam of other rocks
that it had set in motion, and at the foot of the rocky hill the whole was launched
in a confused mass on the hard, frozen snow-field, where stones of all sizes
joined in a "go-as-you-please" rolling match, tracing curves that
crossed and recrossed each other in all kinds of complications. They finally
disappeared behind a turn, but we heard them some seconds after, when they had
passed the line of the snow and were crashing and grinding among the rocks in
the canon below. As they gradually came to rest the sound died away as in the
distance, leaving silence again to reign in its kingdom.
At the top of this hill we passed around the foot of "
The Thumb" and
found ourselves under the red bluff, a steep wall of pumice that is readily
distinguishable from Sisson's. We passed around this wall over a snow-drift
to the eastward of it. This drift seemed to have formed against a perpendicular
wall, but it had melted away and left a deep, narrow chasm, the bottom of which
was not visible. On top it was about thirty feet wide, and on the outside it
fell off precipitously for three or four hundred feet. This is at an elevation
of about thirteen thousand feet, and is where tourist generally begin to feel
the effects of the light atmosphere. The medicine-man gave out here, and his
pack was taken by one of the supernumeraries. The strongest of the men now advanced
but slowly and only fifty or sixty yards at a time before stopping to get wind.
The last of the packers had not yet passed the snow-drift when we were enveloped
in a very dense, cold fog, the approach of which I had not observed, being busily
engaged at the time in getting the packers over the drift. Frost formed rapidly
on our beards and clothing, and exercise was necessary for comfort. The packers
were scattered, the stronger ones being considerably in advance, and not being
able to see twenty feet in any direction, they all began calling at once. I
hastened to the front and stopped the calling, and detained those in advance
until those behind came up, when we resumed our journey again. Although there
only remained about thirteen hundred feet to climb, it proved by far the most
fatiguing part of the journey; the rarefied atmosphere making frequent halts
necessary. During these halts each buck who had a linen duster would straighten
himself up, look around in a patronizing way at his companions less fortunate
than himself, and with an air of comfort wonderful to behold, would button it
to the throat as carefully as one's overcoat is buttoned to bid defiance to
the cold. Two squaws, who came to pack, gave out here, but they went on without
their packs to the Hot Springs. I shall always remember with pleasure the gallant
manner in which the stronger bucks vied with each other in carrying the packs
of these women, and the kindly words with which they were encouraged to go on
to the end would be creditable to any people.
By noon the last pound of the outfit was deposited near the Shasta Hot Springs,
two hundred and fifteen feet below the summit, where I intended to camp. As
each Indian threw down his pack he swore in good plain English that he would
never come up again, and cursed white men in general for doing such work. I
noted carefully, and was surprised to see how varied their physical condition
was. Some were panting from their exertions, and perspiring freely; in which
condition they threw themselves at full length on the snow and refused to move.
Others who had done the same work were shivering with cold, and sought the hot
ground around the springs, where, stretching themselves on the warm sulphur
beds, they remained shivering in spite of their linen dusters until they were
sufficiently rested to begin the descent. A fair estimate of the condition of
these men may be made when it is known that there were twenty in all; that only
five of them had ever been to the summit' that they were now within two hundred
and fifteen feet of it; that the fog was clearing away beautifully - and not
one of them went up. When the last packer had gone, I found myself, with two
attendants - Richard Hubbard and Thomas Sullivan, both fine specimens of vigorous
manhood - ready to go to work to make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances
would permit. Our first care was to provide water, which was done by melting
snow in a large tin vessel at the Hot Springs. Then our tent was pitched in
as comfortable a place as we could find; and soon our little coal-oil stove
was in operation and we were preparing our coffee. Thomas Sullivan was then
taken sick. His head troubled him so that he could not work, he began to suffer
from cold hands and feet, and in a short time this was followed by sickness
at the stomach, which compelled him to give up entirely. We wrapped him in blankets,
and placed him in a corner of the tent on some robes to thaw out. By the time
we had made our tent secure and snug it was dark. The thermometer was standing
at 30", there was a light wind from the southward, and a clear sky, in
which the stars were shining with extraordinary brilliancy, We spread our bed
on the rocky floor of the ten, and crawled under the blankets, with Sullivan
between us, in order, if possible, to warm him up, He was very restless all
night, and was up from time to time, suffering very much from violent nausea.
This interfered very much with our rest, and I was glad when it was light enough
to get up. Sullivan's purple, haggard face and bloodshot eyes showed that he
had suffered considerably, and I was glad to see him leave as soon as the sun
was up, Being now unencumbered and in a splendid condition for work, we began
with a will, ad although compelled to stop frequently for want of breath, we
had by noon packed the instruments and observing tent to the summit, and made
fair progress in setting them up. By night I was ready to observe on Lola and
Helena, or show a heliotrope to Professor Davidson, who was at the former place.
Heliotrope being used in western United States circa 1878
Photograph by Benjamin A. Colonna, Courtesy of NOAA Coast and Geodetic Survey Historic Image Collection
The summit of Mount Shasta consists of two conical peaks about two hundred yards
apart. The northeast one is about fifty feet the higher, and is called Shasta
Peak; the southwest one I called McLean's Peak, in honor of Doctor McLean of
Oakland, who spend two nights and a day on the summit with me. It is in the
valley between these peaks that the Shasta Hot Springs are situated. They are
dotted about over an area of about twenty yards square, and constantly send
up steam strongly impregnated with light sulphureted hydrogen and other gases,
the odor of which is offensive and very oppressive, so much so that in making
examinations of them it is impossible to hold one's head in the fumes near the
ground, and breathe. The temperature of these springs was carefully measured,
and found to be 184o. One can walk about easily over them, but I always considered
it safe to have some one near to give assistance in case of accident, and to
carry an alpenstock in my hand to assist myself with in case I fell through
the crust, which consist of loose earth and small stones cemented together with
sulphur, alum, and other minerals. Hubbard broke the crust over on of the springs
with his alpenstock, and disclosed the mouth of quite a cavern, from which the
steam rolled out in great volumes. Another opening sent out the steam in a small
jet that caused a hissing noise much like that made by the steam escaping from
a locomotive. I thought them all more active on some days than on others; but
was unable to discover any change of temperature on these occasions. Mr. Carneal,
of Oakland, spent two nights on the summit with me, and standing at my side
on the north end of Shasta Peak, he discovered another group of hot springs
on the north side, resembling in all respects the Shasta Hot Springs, but by
no means so active. I named them Carneal Hot Springs. Whether the heat form
these springs is volcanic or chemical I do not know, but I am inclined to think
it chemical.
The whole top of the mountain consists of ashes, lava, and igneous rocks. They
are disintegrating all the time, and a camping-place should be selected with
a view of being out of the way of any of the large rocks that are liable to
tumble at any time. Seldom a night passed that we did not hear one that had
lost its balance, go tearing and crashing down to the next bench. Once we left
our tent, not exactly panic-stricken, but at least in fair haste, when on came
quite near us. On McLean's Peak the pock is of a dark-brown color, is of igneous
origin, and broken into immense boulders, that are now so much displaced as
to leave room for conjecture as to whether the long, deep grooves that apparently
extended, at one time, for hundreds of feet, are due to glacial action or not.
They have been so long exposed to the weather that small striae would have had
time to wear out entirely. The Whitney glacier has its origin about one thousand
feet below the northwest from these furrows. Many of the stones have very beautiful
lichens on them, but on the Shasta Peak there are none. One day I found some
snow-birds and sparrows dead in the snow; they had probably been caught on the
mountain in a cold fog, and perished before they could get away. I saw chipmunks
one thousand feet above the timber line, and once I saw a hawk on the top of
McLean's Peak; but it only remained a few seconds and then flew away. There
were a few of the ordinary blue-flies that crawled about sluggishly inside the
tent during the warmer hours of the day, but they were quite torpid by three
o'clock. The delicate little spiders that I have seen floating about with their
webs on other high mountains, as though carried there by the wind, were not
seen here.
Most Californians are aware that from the latter part of July util the first
rains - which generally fall in October - the atmosphere is filled with smoke,
which is often so dense that one can only see a mile or two in any direction.
This season had just begun when I climbed Shasta, and although on many days
it prevented my seeing the surrounding country, it enabled me to see that it
seldom reached higher than twelve thousand feet. Looking to the westward, the
line of smoke was always as well defined as a sea horizon. It seemed always
to terminate on the side next me in an immense wall, and on some occasions I
saw great cumulus clouds that appeared to be floating in the smoke, just as
immense icebergs would float in the ocean. I was very much disappointed in the
view from Mount Shasta, on the one or two clear days that I had. Many thousands
of square miles of beautiful country were spread out before me, but I was so
high above that which was near, and so far from the rest, that the whole landscape
was flattened. I have seen many mountains not half so high where the landscape
was much more interesting.
At the top of Shasta Peak there is an old register that has been left there
for visitors to record their exploits in. Once it was a well bound volume, but
now it has no back and has lost many of its leaves. Visitors who ascend early
in the season find the book wet and frozen. In opening it it is mutilated, and
of course leaf after leaf is lost. I give a few of the entries, from which can
be inferred what the others are like, and how the persons felt who wrote them:
"1874, July 3 - Dimmis of Philadelphia - one-half way up and gave out.
GUIDE."
"1875, July 26 - Left Sisson's July 25, 1875, at 10.30 A. M. and arrived
at camp at 4 P. M. Left camp July 26 at 3.30 A. M. and arrived at the summit
at 8 A. M. Time, four and one-half hours. If any man weighting two hundred pounds
ever beats this time, and will call on the undersigned at Sacramento, he can
receive ample satisfaction. D. M. ADAMS."
"1877, June 25 - Left Sisson's June 25 in company with sixteen ladies and
gentlemen, who came as far as the camp. N. Kelsey and I stayed all night at
camp, and started for the summit at 4.45 A. M. Kelsey made about half the distance,
and then weakened and returned to camp. I arrived at the summit in company with
R. D. Hubbard, guide, at 11.30 A. M. View on the west side is fair, but totally
obscured on the east side by clouds. If any one catches me up here again I hope
them will pitch me over into the McCloud River. H. J. TODD, Oakland, Cal."
"1878, July 19 - I hope all fools will reach this place in due time. J. E. PUTNAM,
Yreka."
"1878, August 15 - Charles Lowley, of the Phoenix Mine, Napa County, California,
and Myron Gesford, of Napa City, ascended this mountain, to-day, for the first
and last time, so help us "Bob". We were our own guides."
"1878, September 14 - Aaron Bill, Shasta; James W. Shanklin, Oakland, California
- Alpha and Omega - hereby promise not to come again. FINIS."
These are fair samples of the inscriptions in the register.
For several days after I was ready for work the smoke was so dense below me
that I could not see twenty miles in any direction. I spent the time in making
such preparations as would insure success when it cleared, and in making occasional
excursions about the summit. In all of these I was alone, and did not dare to
explore the beautiful ice-caverns and crevasses that I peeped into. Many of
them were hundreds of feet deep any very beautiful, but not tempting enough
to allure me into them unless I had a rope and strong hands at the other end
of it to haul me out again. I think if safe to say that the nights are never
warm on Mount Shasta. During the time I was there the thermometer was at 100o
and a little over in the shade, at Sisson's during the day. The highest that
I had it on those days, with thermometer in the sun and out of the wind, was
67o. By four o'clock in the afternoon ice would form in the sun, and generally
by sundown the thermometer was at 25o. The coldest that I had it was 18o. When
the wind blew hardest it was warmest, probably because the warm air from the
valleys was blown up the sides of the mountain. It was the most comfortable
when there was no wind and the thermometer stood lowest. The cirrus clouds that
occasionally passed overhead seemed to be as high above me as they usually do
at the level of the sea. When a fog settled on the mountain the thermometer
generally went down to 32o or lower. The fog seemed to have congealed, and to
be microscopic crystals that formed a delicate coating for everything they touched.
If that wind blew, these particles began forming long frost crystals that stuck
out straight to the windward on everything exposed.
One lives fast at a great elevation. I weighed two hundred pound when I went
up, and lost fifteen pounds in the nine days that I remained. My pulse in repose
ranged from one hundred to one hundred and five per minute, and very little
exertion would send it up to one hundred and twenty. My head was clear, and
I had no difficulty in breathing. My appetite was fair; but, as my food was
all cold, except coffee and a little toasted cheese, I soon tired of it, and
craved hot bread and soup. I remained on the summit nine days and nights consecutively.
Richard Hubbard, a faithful guide and true man, remained four days, was one
day down (I was compelled to send him on business), and returned and stayed
four days. He worked continuously while on the mountain, and stood it splendidly.
His pulse was lower than mine, and his appetite first-rate. As an assistant
on such an expedition I do not know of his equal.
Thomas Sullivan, a fine-looking specimen of physical development, spent the
first night, and was so sick that he could remain no longer. His extremities
were cold, his pulse feeble, eyes blood-shot, and lips, nose, and ears purple.
Mr. Thomas D. Carneal, of Oakland, came and remained with me two nights and
a day. He was restless the first night, and suffered from cold hands and feet;
he rallied next day and expressed a desire to remain longer, but yielded his
place to Doctor McLean, of Oakland. Doctor McLean suffered some with cold, and
was a little affected in the head. He remained two nights and a day, and was
glad to leave. Randolph Random, a laborer, came up in the afternoon, and we
broke camp the next morning. He was sick and restless, just as Sullivan had
been, and was unable to do much the next morning, although he made a manly effort.
Mr. A. F. Rodgers, Assistant United States Coast Survey, speaking of his sojourn
here, says:
"1875, Tuesday, October 5 - By sunset the temperature had fallen to twenty-five
degrees, and it became necessary to go to bed to keep warm. I may here mention
a singular circumstance connected with our sojourn on the summit - every one
suffered with an intense headache, and no one could sleep; nor was any special
inconvenience experienced from the want of it. Mr. Eimbeck, Assistant United
States Coast Survey, who happened to visit the mountain while I was there, was
constantly affected with nausea, which he called sea-sickness, and ascribed
to the essayed the duties of cooking in these springs affected with symptoms
of fainting; and every one without exception suffered great inconvenience, no
doubt from the rarefied air of the summit. Whether this effect was increased
by any influence of the vapors is, I think, doubtful; personally I was not conscious
of any effect, even when standing among them, although I suffered while on the
summit, as every one did, from an unceasing and intolerable headache."
Friday, August 1, proved to be the day I had been waiting for. The wind had
hauled to the northward during the night, and the smoke had vanished as if by
magic. At sunrise, I turned my telescope in the direction of Mount Lola, and
there was the heliotrope, one hundred and sixty-nine miles off, shining like
a star of the first magnitude. I gave a few flashes from by own, and they were
at once answered by flashes from Lola. Then turning my telescope in the direction
of Mount Helena, there, too, was a heliotrope, shining as prettily as the one
at Lola. My joy was very great; for the successful accomplishment of my mission
was now assured. As soon as I had taken a few measures, I called Doctor McLean
and Hubbard to let them see the heliotrope at Mount Helena, one hundred and
ninety-two miles off, and the longest line ever observed in the world. In the
afternoon the smoke had arisen, and Helena was shut out; but on the following
morning I got it again, and my mission on Mount Shasta was finished. The French
have been trying for some years to measure, trigonometrically, some lines from
Spain across the Mediterranean to Algiers; they have only recently succeeded,
and it has been a source of great satisfaction to French geodesists. Their longest
line is one hundred and sixty-nine miles. The line from Mount Shasta to Mount
Helena is one hundred and ninety-two miles long, or twenty-three mile longer
than their longest. And the glory is ours; for America, and not Europe, can
boast of the largest trigonometrical figures that have ever been measured on
the globe.
On Sunday morning, August 3d, the north wind had died out, and the smoke had
again enveloped everything. I saw that nothing else would be seen for many days,
and at once set about packing up. By nine o'clock everything was packed. We
made a light sled, adapted for use both on the sow-fields and the rocky, mountain
slopes, and with it made two trips to the edge of the great snow-field, carrying
about three hundred and thirty pounds at a time. By noon we had the last of
our outfit at the brink of the snow precipice, where we did them all up in packages
which were securely lashed, and as nearly round as we could make them. The sow-field
stretched out before us, beautifully white and ever. At the top there was, first,
a precipitous descent of about three hundred feet; then away it stretched for
about two miles, in which distance it had a descent of about three thousand
feet. The plan was to let the packages loose, to go as they would, and while
Hubbard rolled the first one to the brink and let it go, I stood on a projecting
point and watched it. The snow lying at the top like a crest of an immense wave,
each package had a perpendicular distance of about three hundred feet to fall
after leaving the brink before it touched anything. Its velocity was very great
by the time it reached this point, and as soon as it hit the snow, away it bounded.
Sometimes a slight inequality would incline one to the right or left and so
they went until, rounding an intervening hill, they were lost to sight. As soon
as the last package had gone out of sight, we strapped the instruments on our
backs and began the descent. We had about forty pounds each, and had to pack
it about a mile along the ridge before we came to a place where the snow was
not too steep to slide on. When we found such a place, each put a gunny-sack
on the snow and sat down on it. The alpenstock was next placed under one arm,
so as to project to the rear and form a brake. Than a slight motion with the
feet, and we were off like a shot. I have had many pleasant rides, but for rapidity
and ease of motion this beat them all. I had perfect control of myself by means
of my alpenstock. Every foot of descent was bringing me into a denser atmosphere,
and the effect of the whole was that of a very delightful stimulant.
This delightful ride terminated just where the packages stopped rolling. Looking
back, I could follow with my eyes the track I had made in the snow, and away
up toward the place where I had started I saw my gunny sack. In the keen enjoyment
of my ride I had not missed it, but a preliminary examination satisfied me that
I had lost not only the gunny sack, but the seat of my trousers, and I congratulated
myself in having escaped so easily. The packages had all stopped near each other,
and we soon hauled them to a place from which we could pack them on horses.
It was four o'clock when this was finished, and leaving Hubbard to spend the
night with some hunters that we found on the mountain, I completed my day's
work and the expedition to Shasta by walking to Sisson's, a distance of about
twelve miles, and arrived there before dark, successful in my undertaking, pleased
with my trip, and glad that it was over.
Signed,
B. A. COLONNA
