Mount Rainier Part 13

[Attention has already been directed to the westward curvature of the streams from Mount Rainier on reaching the tilted peneplain on which the mountain stands, and the explanation has been suggested that they are consequent streams the direction of which was determined by the original slope of the now deeply dissected plateau.]

Looking to the more distant country, the whole stretch of Puget Sound, seeming like a pretty little lake embowered in green, could be seen in the northwest, beyond which the Olympic Mountains extend out into the Pacific Ocean. The Cascade Mountains, lying dwarfed at our feet, could be traced northward into British Columbia, and southward into Oregon, while above them, at comparatively regular intervals, rose the ghost-like forms of our companion volcanoes. To the eastward the eye ranged for hundreds of miles over chain on chain of mountain ridges, which gradually disappeared in the dim, blue distance.

In the truncated summit of Mount Rainier there are three craters. The largest one, partially filled by the building of the two others, is the oldest, and has suffered so greatly from subsequent volcanic explosions and erosion that no more than its general outline can be traced. Peak Success and Liberty Cap are prominent points on the rim of what remains of this huge crater. Its diameter, as nearly as can be judged, is about 2-1/2 miles. Within the great crater, in the formation of which the mountain was truncated and, as previously stated, lost fully 2,000 feet of its summit, there are two much smaller and much more recent craters. The larger of these, the one in which we took refuge, is about 300 yards in diameter, and the second, which is an incomplete circle, its rim having been broken by the formation of its more recent companion, is perhaps 200 yards across.

The rim of each now partially snow-filled bowl is well defined, and rises steeply from within to a sharp crest. The character of the inner slopes shows that much rocky material has been detached and has fallen into the cavities from which it was ejected. The rock in the crater walls is in fragments and ma.s.ses, some of them well rounded and probably of the nature of volcanic bombs. In each of the smaller craters there are numerous steam jets. These show that the rock below is still hot, and that water percolating downward is changed to steam.

These steam jets evidently indicate the presence of residual heat and not an actual connection with a volcanic center deep below the surface. All the evidence available tends to show that Rainier is an extinct volcano. It belongs, however, to the explosive type of volcanoes, of which Vesuvius is the best-known example, and there is no a.s.surance that its energies may not be reawakened.

In descending we chose the south side of the mountain, knowing from the reports of many excursionists who had ascended the peak from that direction that a practicable route could probably be found. Threading our way between numerous creva.s.ses we soon came in sight of a bold, outstanding rock ma.s.s, which we judged to be Gibraltar, and succeeded in reaching it with but little difficulty. On gaining the junction of the rock with the snow fields rising above it, we found evidences of a trail, which was soon lost, however, and only served to show that our general course was the right one. A deep, narrow s.p.a.ce between the border of Nisqually Glacier and the precipitous side of Gibraltar, from which the snow and ice had been melted by the heat reflected from the cliffs on our left, led us down to a shelf on the lower side of the promontory, which proved a safe and easy way to the crest of a rocky rib on the mountain side which extended far down toward the dark forests in view below.

Gibraltar is a portion of the cone of Rainier built before the explosion which truncated the mountain. It is an outstanding and very prominent rock ma.s.s, left in bold relief by the ice excavation which has carved deep valleys on each side. The rock divides the descending neve in the same manner as does The Wedge, and causes a part of the snow drainage to flow to the Cowlitz and the other part to be tributary to the Nisqually Glacier. The rocks forming Gibraltar consist largely of fragments ejected from the crater above, but present a rude stratification due to the presence of lava flows. When seen from the side and at a convenient distance, it is evident that the planes of bedding, if continued upward at the same angle, would reach above the present summit of the mountain. Gibraltar, like The Wedge, and several other secondary peaks on the sides of Mount Rainier, are, as previously explained, the sharp, upward-pointing angles of large V-shaped ma.s.ses of the original volcanic cone, left in bold relief by the excavation of deep valleys radiating from the central peak. On the backs, so to speak, of these great V-shaped portions of the mountain which now seem to rest against the central dome, secondary glaciers, or interglaciers as they may be termed, have excavated valleys and amphitheaters. In the V-shaped ma.s.s of which Gibraltar is the apex, a broad amphitheater-like depression has been cut out, leaving a bold cliff above it. The excavation of the amphitheater did not progress far enough up the mountain to cut away the apex of the V-shaped ma.s.s, but left it with a precipice on its lower side. This remnant is Gibraltar. An attempt will be made later to describe more fully the process of glacial erosion of a conical mountain, and to show that the secondary topographic features of Mount Rainier are not without system, as they appear at first view, but really result from a process which may be said to have a definite end in view.

Below Gibraltar the descent was easy. Our life line was no longer needed. Tramping in single file over the hard surfaces of the snow field, remnants of the previous winter's snow, we made rapid progress, and about noon gained the scattered groves of spruce trees which form such an attractive feature of Paradise Park.

Fortunately, we found Prof. E. S. Ingraham, of Seattle, and a party of friends, including several ladies, encamped in Paradise Park, and the hospitality of the camp was extended to us. During the afternoon we basked in the warm suns.h.i.+ne, and in the evening gathered about a roaring campfire and enjoyed the society of our companions, who were enthusiastic in their praise of the wonderful scenes about their camp.

The southern side of Mount Rainier is much less precipitous than its northern face, and the open park-like region near timber line is broader, more diversified, and much more easy of access. The general elevation of the park is between 5,000 and 7,000 feet, and it is several thousand acres in extent. Its boundaries are indefinite. It merges into the heavily forested region to the south, and into more alpine regions on the side toward the mountain, which towers above it on the north. To the east it is bordered by Cowlitz Glacier, and on the west by Nisqually Glacier. Each of these fine ice rivers descends far below timber line. The small interglacier, known as the Paradise Glacier, may be considered as lying within the limits of the park.

Paradise Park presents many and varied charms. It is a somewhat rugged land, with a deep picturesque valley winding through it. The trees grow in isolated groves. Each bunch of dark-green firs and balsams is a cl.u.s.ter of gracefully tapering spires. The undulating meadows between the shady groves are brilliant in summer with a veritable carpet of gorgeous blossoms. In contrast to the exquisite charms of the groves and flower-decked rolling meadows are desolate ice fields and rugged glaciers which vary, through many tints and shades, from silvery whiteness to intense blue. Added to these minor charms, and towering far above them, is the ma.s.sive summit of Rainier. At times the sublime mountain appears steel blue in the unclouded sky, or rosy with the afterglow at sunset, or all aflame with the glories of the newborn day. Clouds gather about the lofty summit and transform it into a storm king. Avalanches rus.h.i.+ng down its side awaken the echoes in the neighboring forest. The appearance of the mountain is never the same on different days; indeed, it changes its mood and exerts a varying influence on the beholder from hour to hour.

While the central attraction to the lover of mountain scenery in Paradise Park is the vast snow-covered dome of Mount Rainier, there are other mountains in view that merit attention. To the east rises the serrate and rugged Tattoosh range, which is remarkable for the boldness with which its bordering slopes rise from the forested region about it and the angularity of its many serrate summits. This range has never been explored except by miners and hunters, who have made no record of their discoveries. It is virgin ground to the geologist and geographer. Distant views suggest that the Tattoosh Mountains have been sculptured from a plateau, probably an upraised peneplain in which there existed a great ma.s.s of igneous rock rounded by less resistant Tertiary sediments. The softer rocks have been removed, leaving the harder and more resistant ones in bold relief, to become sculptured by rain and frost into a mult.i.tude of angular peaks. This attractive, and as yet unstudied, group of peaks is in plain view from Paradise Park, and may be easily reached from there by a single day's tramp. Many other delightful excursions are open to one who pitches his tent in the alpine meadows on the south side of Mount Rainier.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Called the North Mowich Glacier on the present map.

[26] Since shown to be 14,408 feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PROFESSOR EDGAR MCCLURE.]

XII. McCLURE'S ACHIEVEMENT AND TRAGIC DEATH, 1897

BY HERBERT L. BRUCE AND PROFESSOR H. H. McALISTER

Visitors to Paradise Valley, who climb above the Camp of the Clouds to the snowfields, are sure to be attracted to McClure Rock. It is the scene of one of the mountain's earliest tragedies, in which Professor Edgar McClure of the University of Oregon lost his life. He was trying to measure accurately the height of the great mountain as he had already done for Mount Adams and other peaks.

The record of his extensive observations was computed with the greatest care by his colleague, Professor H. H. McAlister of the University of Oregon. An account of the work so tragically ended was prepared by Herbert L. Bruce. Both articles were published in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer for November 7, 1897, from which paper they are here reproduced.

The portrait of Professor McClure is furnished by his brother, Horace McClure, editorial writer for the Seattle Daily Times.

The height of the mountain, 14,528 feet, thus obtained, remained in use until 1914, when the United States Geological Survey announced its new and latest findings to be 14,408 feet.

One of the most tragic incidents in modern science was the death of Professor Edgar McClure, who lost his life on Mount Rainier July 27, 1897. Occupying, as he did, the chair of chemistry in the University of Oregon, his personal tastes, instincts and ambitions were essentially scientific. In addition to this he was a member of the Mazamas, whose purposes in the line of scientific exploration have lent a romantic interest and a c.u.mulative value to the geography of the northwest. The particular expedition with which Professor McClure was a.s.sociated when he met his untimely death, left Portland with the distinct object of making the ascent of Mount Rainier, recording such geographical and topographical observations as might be feasible. As a member of the expedition Professor McClure was placed in charge of the elevation department and set before himself a somewhat more distinct and definite purpose, viz., to ascertain by the most approved methods and with the most accurately graduated instruments the precise height of the famous and beautiful mountain. How well he accomplished this purpose will best appear in the subjoined letter from Professor E. H.

McAlister, his friend and colleague, who with infinite care and sympathetic zeal has worked out the data, which would otherwise have been undecipherable not only to the general public but to the average scholar. As he himself said when he had completed his arduous task: "I have done everything possible to wring the truth from the observations. In my judgment they should become historic on account of the probability of their great accuracy."

To the accomplishment of this object Professor McClure brought all the varied resources of a ripe culture and an ardent, vigorous young manhood. His plans were all laid with the greatest care. To him their fulfillment meant not so much a personal or selfish triumph as a victory for science. The very instrument on which he most relied for accurate determinations, as will be seen from Professor McAlister's statement, was not only hallowed by scientific a.s.sociations, but was prepared for its high mission more lovingly and a.s.siduously than a favorite racer would be groomed for the course. Twice had it looked upon the beauties of the Columbia river from the summit of Mount Hood, and on three other lofty peaks it had served its silent but efficient ministry to the cause of science. On one of these, Mount Adams, the alt.i.tude determined with this instrument was accepted by the United States government, yet a new tube was filled for it, Professor McClure himself preparing the mercury by distillation, and seeing to it that the vacuum was exceptionally perfect. That the barometer was most carefully handled at the time of observation will fully appear from the record below. It was suspended by a ring and allowed to hang until it had a.s.sumed the temperature of the surrounding air before being read. Not only this, but all the subsidiary phenomena which could have the slightest bearing on the result were laboriously determined.

Concurrent observations were made at all salient surrounding stations, while for a week before the date of actual observation Professor McClure himself had made numerous observations both of pressure and of temperature at various sub-stations in the vicinity of Mount Rainier, and his collaborateur has secured simultaneous observations from Seattle and Portland. Uniting as he did the fervor of the pioneer explorer with the accuracy of the laboratory chemist, Professor McClure was peculiarly fitted to obtain a result which bids fair to become historic.

The broken barometer will appeal powerfully to every lover of science.

If, as has been suggested, a monument be reared to mark the spot where the young scientist gave up his life, no fitter design could be adopted than a stone shaft bearing on its face a bas-relief of the historic instrument which he bore on his back with sacred care. It is entirely probable that this barometer, coupled with his unselfish solicitude for the safety of other members of the expedition, was the immediate cause of his death. He carried it in a double case; a wooden one which his own hands had constructed, and outside of this a strong leather tube. From the latter stout thongs enabled him to strap the instrument on his back, much as a pioneer huntsman would wear his trusty rifle. While standing on the perilous ledge whence he took the fatal plunge, he turned to sound warning to his companions whom he was leading in a search for the lost pathway down the mountain. "Don't come down here; it is too steep," he called, turning so as to make his voice more audible. These were his last words. He vanished in the night and the abyss. It is likely that the tube, three and a half feet in length, caught as he turned and helped to hurl him from his precarious footing. Like his own high strung frame, the delicate instrument was shattered; but neither of the twain went away from the world without leaving an imperishable record.

It is interesting to note the close correspondence of his independent observations with those made by others. The height of the mountain had been measured many times before he essayed to measure it. Some observers had measured it by triangulation, and others, notably Major E. S. Ingraham, of Seattle, had given its alt.i.tude from the readings of mercurial barometers. Major Ingraham gave the height at 14,524 feet. It will be noticed that the result obtained by Professor McClure was just four feet greater, a remarkable coincidence at that vast alt.i.tude and among conditions of hards.h.i.+p, exposure and uncertainty.

Prior to Professor McClure's record, the latest measurement of Rainier had been made by George F. Hyde, of the United States Geological Survey, in 1896. He pursued the method of triangulation, and, taking as his base a line at Ellensburg, in connection with the sea level gauge at Tacoma, he figured out the extreme height of Rainier at 14,519 feet.

The value of Professor McClure's determination will be heightened rather than lessened by the peculiar difficulty and rareness of scientific work in an unexplored territory and from a base which has not all the appurtenances and advantages of the older scientific stations of the East and of Europe. In this respect his work is like that of Aga.s.siz and of Audubon. Not unlike those great masters was he in his intense and lofty devotion to science. Not unlike them he wrought with rigid accuracy where others had worked almost at random.

Not unlike them he aroused among his friends and students the conviction that he was a born high priest of nature, whose chief mission in the world was to reveal her secrets to mankind. He offered up his life virtually a sacrifice to the cause of popular and practical science, and in as lofty a sense as ever dignified a Roman arena he was a martyr to the cause of truth. To use the matchless figure employed by Byron in describing the death of Henry Kirk White, who died a victim to his own pa.s.sionate devotion to literary art, he was like the struck eagle whose own feather "winged the shaft that quivered in his heart."

Just in harmony with this thought came countless expressions of sympathy and condolence to the members of Professor McClure's family when the sad news of his death went abroad. One of the most touching, and, to my mind, one of the most typical of all these came from an obscure man in an obscure corner of Kentucky. He was not a great man himself, as the world counts greatness, this man in Kentucky; but he knew a great man when he saw him. He had known Edgar McClure; and when he heard the circ.u.mstances of his death he sat down and wrote a brief note. One sentence in it was worthy of Whittier or Emerson. It was this: "Edgar McClure died as he had always lived--on the mountain top."

In transmitting his results to Horace McClure, brother of the deceased scientist, Professor McAlister brings to a proper close a labor of love, one that is as creditable to his scholarly culture as it is to his unselfish and devoted friends.h.i.+p.

HERBERT L. BRUCE.

LETTER OF TRANSMISSION

University of Oregon, Eugene, Or., October 28, 1897.

MR. HORACE MCCLURE--Dear Sir: I herewith transmit to you for publication my report upon the observations of your late brother, Professor Edgar McClure, relative to the alt.i.tude of Mount Rainier, the data having been referred to me for reduction and computation by yourself and by the officials of the Mazama Club.

It is but just to myself to say that the long delay in the appearance of this report has been caused by unavoidable difficulties in the collection of subsidiary data; in particular, the comparison sheet showing the instrumental error of Professor McClure's barometer could not be found until the 9th of this month, when it was discovered among some effects left by him in Portland. A further delay has been occasioned in obtaining a few other important data. A report approximately correct could have been made some time ago, but I felt it was due to the memory of Professor McClure's reputation for extreme accuracy that no report whatever should be published until I was able to state a result for which I could vouch as being the very best that the observations were capable of affording.

The thanks of all concerned are due to Mr. B. S. Pague, Director of the Oregon Weather Bureau, for numerous courtesies and for his efficient aid in the collection of data.

Very respectfully,

E. H. MCALISTER, Professor of Applied Mathematics.

THE RESULT

For the benefit of those not interested in the scientific details of this report, it may be stated at once that the summit of Mount Rainier, according to Professor McClure's observations, is 14,528 feet above sea level. The alt.i.tudes of various sub-stations occupied en route will be found further on. An account of the data, with description of the methods employed in reduction and computation, is given, to indicate the degree of reliance to be placed upon the result.

The princ.i.p.al observation to which this report refers was made by Professor Edgar McClure, of the University of Oregon, on the summit of Mount Rainier, Was.h.i.+ngton, July 27, 1897, at 4:30 P.M., Pacific standard time. The observation consists of a reading of Green's standard mercurial barometer, No. 1612, together with readings of attached and detached thermometers. It appears that the barometer, which was suspended by a ring at the top, was allowed so to hang until it had a.s.sumed the temperature of the surrounding air, before being read; that the sky was clear at the time; and that the place of observation, the highest on the mountain, is designated as Columbia Crest.

The barometric reading, corrected for instrumental error and temperature, was 17.708 inches; the air temperature was 29 degrees Fahrenheit.

Concurrent observations were made at 9:30 A.M. and hourly during the afternoon by the regular observers at Seattle, Portland, Fort Canby, the University of Oregon at Eugene, Roseburg, and one observation at Walla Walla at 5 P.M.

In addition to these, during the week preceding the 27th Professor McClure made numerous observations both of pressure and temperature at various sub-stations in the vicinity of Mount Rainier, and simultaneous observations are furnished from Seattle and Portland.

At the very outset of the work of reduction it was evident that Eugene and Roseburg were under an area of relatively low barometric pressure on the 27th, representing atmospheric conditions that did not prevail in the region of Mount Rainier. I therefore rejected the observations at both these places, using only those at Seattle, Portland, Fort Canby and Walla Walla. The strategic position of these four points will be seen at once by a glance at the map.

The method followed in making the reduction was, in brief, to deduce from the observations at the four base stations surrounding the mountain the actual atmospheric conditions prevailing in the immediate region of the mountain. More specifically, the process consisted in determining the atmospheric pressure and temperature at an imaginary sea level vertically under the mountain, which level I shall subsequently call the "mean base."

In this I was greatly a.s.sisted by a careful study of the daily weather charts issued by the government, Mr. Pague having kindly loaned me his official file for July. I thus practically had at my disposal observations from all the important points on the Coast, both before and after the princ.i.p.al observation. With due regard to the position and direction of the isobars, and giving proper weight to the observations at each of the four base stations, I finally deduced 30.130 inches as the value of the pressure at the mean base which best satisfied all the data. It ought to be said, perhaps, that this result does not depend upon my judgment to any appreciable extent, but was legitimately worked out from the observations and isobaric lines.

In determining the mean temperature of the air column extending from the mean base to the summit of the mountain, the observations made by Professor McClure during the previous week in the vicinity were so numerous and well timed as to leave far less than the usual amount of uncertainty. Making due allowance for the moderate elevations of the stations, these observations show clearly that the temperature about the mountain at that time followed that of Seattle very closely, and was also not much different from that of Portland, but departed notably from both the heat of Walla Walla and the low temperature of Fort Canby. Allowing proper weight to these facts, the observations at the base stations, with that of Professor McClure at the summit, gave 49 degrees Fahrenheit as the mean temperature of the air column.