Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 75, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 March 1914 — AMONG the GLACIERS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AMONG the GLACIERS

by E. W. PICKARD

» w Y some It is called the “Switzerland of America.” True, it has the ma- ■ jestic, snow-topped mountains crowdfl ed closely together, the glittering —HI H ice fields of glaciers, the sparkling little lakes lying cupped between the heights, and the magnificent forests pine and fir. But not, as in Switzerland, are there towns and —' hamlets and scattered cottages; the visitor must gain the summits afoot or on horseback, without the aid of “funicular” or cog railway; over and through and about it there are not the Immense swarms of “trippers” that infest the old world country; hordes of guides do not dog yout footsteps, and ravenous hotelkeepers are not found at every turn. Others have dubbed it “Uncle Sam’s Newest Playground,” and so It is, but it will not be that very long. So some writer with a vivid Imagination must find a new name for the Glacier National Park. About 14,000 persons visited Glacier park last summer, and in the coming season it is probable fully twice as many will view its beauties and wonders. Although as a national park it is only three years old, its name is already familiar in

this country because of the .extensive advertising it has received and of the enthusiastic accounts of those who have seen it; and it seems destined to become one of the most popular regions for persons who like to spend their holidays in a somewhat unconventional way and at moderate expense. Occupying 1,400 square miles near the northwest corner of Montana, Glacier park is right in the heart of the Rockies and in the matter of mountain scenery It yields to no place. Dozens of magnificent peaks crowd the landscape, some

towering to heights of more than 10,000 feet. On the upper slopes of many of them shine thei glaciers that give the park its name, and from these everlasting beds of snow and ice are born scores of torrents that dash down the mountain sides and hurl themselves over tremendous cliffs. Scattered all about among the mountains are deep lakes that lie like burnished mirrors in the calm of a sunny day or are lashed into black rage when the storm sweeps down on them from the heights. Perilous passes, steep and rocky climbs, slippery scrambles across glaciers and miles of dense forest are there for those who like the more strenuous life. For the others there are automo-

bile, coach, launch and horseback trips, rest and recreation in an excellent hotel and delightful "’’chalet camps," and aI s days and cool nights. If one wishes to get away from hotel life entirely he can have camping trips in the wilderness, and it is really wilderness, in which he can wander for weeks without seeing a human habitation. Big game is there in abundance —bears, mountain sheep, mountain goats and various kinds of "varmints” —but of course it is strictly protected by Uncle Sam. But fish are there, too, especially trout, and the visitor is free to catch them if he can. Adding their own touch of picturesqueness are the Indians of the Blackfeet tribe, whose home is in the reservation Immediately east of the park. The usual entrance to the park is at its southeast corner where, at Glacier Park station, is one of the most remarkable and attractive hotels in the country. The main building is constructed largely of immense logs. _frdm .®ashington and Oregon and the spacious lobby is flanked by these natural pillars which tower three stories to the roof. Enormous fireplaces, scores of pelts of wild animals and the heads of buffalo and deer add to the attractions; and more comfort and better food cannot be obtained in metropolitan hotels. Tourists, guides and Indians mingle here, and formality is discarded.

I haven’t the slightest intention of writing a guidebook to the Glacier National Park, but I do wish to tell of some of its wonders and beauties that can be seen in a visit of a few days. So first let’s climb into this big touring car and go to Lake St. Mary. Our chauffeur is a "breed,” capable, courteous and well educated, who knows the country as you know your back yard. For some 20 miles our route lies through the Indian reservation and we skim along the boulevard road across sweeps of prairie, up hills and along the edges of precipices, now dipping down into lovely valleys, now crossing rushing streams, with the mountains ever growing more imposing and more fascinating. Twisting up a long climb and swerving to the west, we come to the continental watershed near Triple Divide mountain. Thence the waters flow on one side to Hudson bay, on another to the Pacific and on the third to the Mississippi valley and the gulf. This is truly the roof of the continent. Now for 16 miles the road runs through the great pine forests and winds gradually downward, on the slopes of the mountain, until with a loud honking our motor car draws up beside the charming log chalets of St. Mary camp that cling to the steep shores of the lake, whose waters sparkle and ripple under the midday sun. Dinner awaits in the biggest chalet —plain food, well cooked and plentiful, served by attractive waitresses. It is eaten with a relish and without formalities, and then, after a few yiinutes In the "recreation” chalet with Its player piano and dance floor, we all pile aboard a powerful gasoline launch and head yp the lake for Going-to-the-Sun CampOn the right stretches the long ridge of Single Shot mountain, and on the left rise Citadel, Al-mosto-Dog (lovely name) and other fine peaks. But our eyes are fixed forward to Where Going-to-, ; the-Sun mountain rears Its magnificent snowtopped head. It is one of the most picturesque mountains in America, and hanging near its summit is a large glaoier whose stream, falling headlong, is constantly blown upward into spray by the never ceasing winds- From the camp, built tUh on a promontory that projects far into the

lake, the view of this mountain, of Blackfeet glacier, of Citadel, Reynolds, and Fusillade mountains and of the heights about Gunsight pass far beyond is most impressive. While we linger here marveling at the “upside down" waterfall, the vivid colors of the mountains and the ice-green Jake spread ht our feet, the sharp peak of Fusillade is veiled by clouds that pour swiftly over and about the nearer heights, and away up there a snowstorm is raging. For us it is rain, however, and driven to shelter, we crowd into the cabin of the launch and hustle back to St. Mary eamp. - ■

From St. Mary camp the automobile road has Just been extended some 20 miles to Many-Glacier camp on Lake McDermott. This place, in itself fine enough, is the headquarters from which we make short trips to some of the park’s greatest attractions—Morning Eagle falls, Cataract creek, Swift Current pass and, most wonderful of all, Iceberg lake. This little body of exquisitely blue water is almost wholly surrounded by serrated, splintered ridges that tower 3,000 feet above its ’ surface. On a kind of shelf lies what is left of the ancient glacier that scooped out this basin ages ago, and from its edges icebergs, large and small, are continually breaking off to go floating lazily about in the lake. Iceberg lake is the habitat of the polar trout discovered by Hoke Smith, who says they have fur instead of scales. Now back to the Glacier Park hotel for mail and a little rest, for we are seeing the park in a lazy, leisurely fashion. And what next? Well, suppose we give at least one day to Two Medicine lake, a region that for sheer beauty can hold its own with any in the park. The trip is made by stage in about three hours, and on the way up the lovely valley we tie up the horses and are led through the forest to the Trick falls. Here in high water times Two Medicine river plunges over the edge of a mass of rocks down among huge boulders: but in the dry season it drops into a hole above and emerges more quietly through a cavern in the rocky wall. The mountain that especially dominates Two Medicine lake is Rising Wolf, and it is almost as handsome as Going-to-the-Sun. Here, too, is another of those delightful chalet camps, and what with the view, the food and the air, it is hard to tear one’s self away from it.

If there are any real fishermen in our party the best thing they can do is to go to St. Mary’s camp again, and from there by trail to Red Eagle lake, three hours distant. This beautiful green lake, only a mile long and half a mile wide, is from 200 to 500_ feet deep, and fairly swarms with cutthroat trout, while in the streams that flow Into and out of It the Dolly Varden trout Is found in great numbers. These fish are good fighters and the angler who gets one on his hook and undertakes to yank It from its ice-cold home has a task that delights his soul. Since there is a stretch of shallow water In front of the camp, the fisherman often rides out on horseback to deeper water and there, still astride his steed, casts for the trout The first time you sit on a horse and try to land a ten-pound cut-throat you will forget there is anything else on earth except that little lake surrounded by a dozen magnificent mountains, that horse and that trout. Being still somewhat averse to strenuous exercise, we are now going to board the train at Glacier Park station and ride luxuriously over the continental divide, in itself a trip well worth tak-

ing. Alighting at the village of Belton, we have a delicious meal in the Great Northern’s pretty Swiss chalet hotel and climb aboard a stage coach for the ride to Lake McDonald. For an hour we travel a boulevard cut through a dense forest of ' pine, spruce and balsam, and then, where a group of cottages are clustered on its shore, the lake opens out before us. This 11-mile stretch of water is so beautiful, in setting and color, that no words are adequate to describe it. Lake McDonald was a popular resort long before the national park was established, and there are several hotels and camps about its northern end. To one of these, the Glacier hotel, we are taken by launch to be greeted cordially by its proprietor, J. E. Lewis, who for years has been taking care of fishermen and other folk who wanted to spend a week or a summer in the open. So near that it seems but a moment’s walk from the shore, the mountains of the park tower to the skies, casting their jagged reflections in the still waters of the lake. A tenmile ride through the forest that clothes their lower slopes brings us to Avalanche lake. Pea green in color, reflecting the spruce and pine and hemlock that crowd to its v#ry edge, it lies like a precious gem in a deep basin that is a veritable mountain garden. At one end the rock wall rises almost perpendicularly for 6,000 feet, and over its edge and down its face dash four torrents discharged from Sperry glacier, two miles away. Not very easy of access, but wonderfully imprbssive when you get to it after some five hours of climbing, is Sperry glacier. Just a great field of ice and snow, about three miles in extent and of unknown depth, it. lies glittering and sparkling under the midsummer sun. Crevasses cross its expanse here and there, and the tourist must be exceedingly careful if he ventures out bn its surface. Indeed, the authorities do not permit this, unless with guides and ropes, on any of the glaciers in the park. The wind is always high up there, and snow and rock slides are frequent. The mquntains and glaciers and lakes and passes we have seen are only a few of the wonders of this wonderful park—only a few, indeed, of that part that is open to ordinary sight-seers.

Almost half of the park, the northern part, is known to few except forest rangers, guides, Indians and some scientists. Doubtless before many years the whole region will be and the remarkably satisfactory system of camps established by the Great Northern Railway company will be extended to the Canadian border. Within the last year these accommodations have been enlarged greatly to meet the demands of the rapidly increasing stream of visitors. One more thing must be said for Glacier National Park: It Is a pleasure ground for the people, not for the millionaire. No fine clothes, no expensive luxuries there. All charges are regulated by the government, and It la the ambition of Louis Hill, chairman of the board of directors of the Great Northern, to keep the necessary expenses of visitors down to the minimum. Glacier park is his hobby and his pride, and he is as familiar with Its trails and passes as are the guldefeand the Indians. Of course, tourist travel to the park helps bis railway, and at some time in the far future the company may begin break even on its lavish expenditure of mope/ to make things comfortable for those who gc/ all the way to Montana to see the Switzerland of America—l haven't yet devised a better name for It