I think that it has been brought down
the mountain by a heavy snow avalanche, loaded on the ice, then
carried away from the shore in the direction of the flow of the
glacier. This explains detached moraine-masses. This one seems to
have been derived from a big roomy cirque or amphitheatre on the
northwest side of this Snow Dome Mountain.
To shorten the return journey I was tempted to glissade down what
appeared to be a snow-filled ravine, which was very steep. All went
well until I reached a bluish spot which proved to be ice, on which
I lost control of myself and rolled into a gravel talus at the
foot without a scratch. Just as I got up and was getting myself
orientated, I heard a loud fierce scream, uttered in an exulting,
diabolical tone of voice which startled me, as if an enemy, having
seen me fall, was glorying in my death. Then suddenly two ravens came
swooping from the sky and alighted on the jag of a rock within a few
feet of me, evidently hoping that I had been maimed and that they
were going to have a feast. But as they stared at me, studying my
condition, impatiently waiting for bone-picking time, I saw what they
were up to and shouted, "Not yet, not yet!"
July 16. At 7 A.M. I left camp to cross the main glacier. Six ravens
came to the camp as soon as I left. What wonderful eyes they must
have! Nothing that moves in all this icy wilderness escapes the eyes
of these brave birds. This is one of the loveliest mornings I ever
saw in Alaska; not a cloud or faintest hint of one in all the wide
sky. There is a yellowish haze in the east, white in the west, mild
and mellow as a Wisconsin Indian Summer, but finer, more ethereal,
God's holy light making all divine.
In an hour or so I came to the confluence of the first of the seven
grand tributaries of the main Muir Glacier and had a glorious view of
it as it comes sweeping down in wild cascades from its magnificent,
pure white, mountain-girt basin to join the main crystal sea, its
many fountain peaks, clustered and crowded, all pouring forth their
tribute to swell its grand current. I crossed its front a little
below its confluence, where its shattered current, about two or three
miles wide, is reunited, and many rills and good-sized brooks glide
gurgling and ringing in pure blue channels, giving delightful
animation to the icy solitude.
Most of the ice-surface crossed to-day has been very uneven, and
hauling the sled and finding a way over hummocks has been fatiguing.
At times I had to lift the sled bodily and to cross many narrow,
nerve-trying, ice-sliver bridges, balancing astride of them, and
cautiously shoving the sled ahead of me with tremendous chasms on
either side.
