After Forty Years

J. Henry Scattergood

ONLY seven of us who were founding members of the American Alpine Club in 1902 still survive. Of these, three—Prof. Parker, George Weed and myself—were among the early climbers in the Canadian Rockies and Selkirks.

Two summer vacation trips in Switzerland in boyhood and college days had developed my love of mountains. I was, therefore, only too happy to plan a return journey from Alaska in 1900 by way of the Canadian Pacific. In those days, before the cutting of the tunnel under the Selkirk Range, the railroad climbed through its many miles of snowsheds, passed the old Glacier hotel and through Rogers Pass—a long series of wonderful mountain views largely missed now by the tunnel route. Also up the Kicking Horse Pass in the Rockies, there was a grade of over 4 percent which required one locomotive for every three cars—usually two in front, one in the middle and one pusher for every train. This was before the spiral tunnels into the mountains were built. The Canadian Pacific hotels at Glacier House and Field were then in charge of two of the famous trio of Mollison sisters, who enthusiastically helped all climbing parties. The chalet at Lake Louise then consisted of one combination living and dining room with ten or a dozen small bedrooms. Tom Wilson was the standby for packing trips. Only the peaks nearest the railway had been climbed, viz., at Field, Mt. Stephen (1887); at Glacier, Avalanche (1881), Sir Donald (1890), Swiss Peaks (1890), Eagle (1893), Dawson (1899),and some of the lesser mountains; at Lake Louise, Temple (1894), Lefroy (1897), Victoria (1897); up the Bow Valley—Hector(1895), Gordon (1897), and Balfour (1898). The next few years were to see first ascents of many more mountains within reasonable distance from the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Swiss guides were first available for the use of guests at the hotels in 1900—notably Eduard Feuz, Sr. and Muller at Glacier, and Christian Hasler, Sr. at Field. The guide Peter Sarbach had been brought over privately in 1897 by the group of Appalachian Mountain Club climbers and by Collie of England, who had made most of the above ascents in the Rockies. Walter Wilcox was just bringing out his delightful “Camping in the Canadian Rockies” with its exquisite descriptions of Lake Louise, Valley of the Ten Peaks (then called by him Desolation Valley) and neighborhood.

My climb of Sir Donald in 1900 with Feuz and Muller was the fourth time it had been ascended. There was in that year a formidable bergschrund that had to be crossed by a snow bridge.

I well remember how thrilled I was, and how I recalled the famous picture of the bergschrund on the Zinal Rothhorn in Edward Whymper’s “Scrambles Amongst the Alps.” Besides Sir Donald, I had delightful days in climbing Eagle and Avalanche, and upon the icefalls of the Illecillewaet and Asulkan Glaciers. The former glacier has receded nearly a mile in these forty years, as shown by the measuring and photographing of the Vaux family of Philadelphia, carried on over a long period.

Coming E. to Field, I first climbed Mt. Stephen. The Cambrian fossil beds, with their large and small trilobites, were of great interest. The difficult places on the mountain were the traverse and ascent of the steep ice gully, and a few parts of the last 600 ft. of cliffs and ledges. The view from Mt. Stephen is one of the very best. It was my first sight of the mountains to the N. of the Yoho Valley, of the Lake O’Hara region, Victoria, Goodsir and the Ottertail group and away to the S. E., Mt. Assini- boine. My time was limited, but I had a fine walk on a crude trail to Emerald Lake. Also Prof. Michael, Christian Hasler and I, starting late in a clearing morning, made the first try of Cathedral Spires, the abrupt mountain above the Kicking Horse E. of Mt. Stephen. There is a long stretch of scree to master, then we mounted steeply in a long and care-needing difficult couloir of rotten rock. At the top of this we were forced to seek shelter from a terrific awe-inspiring thunder storm, with very close lightning flashes and ear-splitting thunder followed by long reverberations and echoes. Time was so limited after this storm that all we could do was to make a hurried try at the final steep cliffs above the glacier, but it proved too long and difficult in the short time available to us, and we turned back, some 100 ft. below the summit.

On my climbs of Mt. Stephen and Cathedral Spires, I had had good views from the N. of the Ottertail group of mountains, Goodsir, Vaux, and Chancellor. These were old names, but the topography was unmapped and confused in the few existing records. Accordingly I interested myself in a reconnaissance trip around to the S. by the Beaverfoot and Ice River Valleys with a view to solving the enigma. I took Jacob Muller and Christian Hasler as guides, and had a strenuous journey. There were no bridges over any of the rivers except those of the railroad. Hence we had to go as far W. as Palliser to get to the far side of the Kicking Horse River, and work our way back for miles up that river and thence up the Beaverfoot Valley, the latter by an old Indian trail. Then the problem loomed of getting to the E. side of Beaverfoot River—a wide and deep stream. Almost a day was consumed in hunting for some place to cross, with success in the end by the felling with our little hatchet of an enormous tree on the stream’s bank, thus providing a bridge which probably has lasted to this day. Then the problem later developed for us pioneers to cross the Ice River stream. Again a tree was felled across the torrent, but so small a one that it was a ticklish balancing operation to get safely over with our loads. We climbed the sharp peak which terminates the ridge E. of the Ice River Valley, and I named it Mt. Mollison after the hospitable manager at Field Hotel. From this summit we had marvelous new views of Chancellor, Mt. Vaux, and Goodsir, and I had no difficulty in straightening out the topography of the region. This reconnaissance trip whetted my desire to climb all of these three peaks the following summer.

Being entranced with the beauties of the O’Hara Lake region as seen from Mt. Stephen, I made the journey in from Hector with the intention of climbing virgin Mt. Biddle at the head of exquisite Lake McArthur, but bad weather turned us back, and Iwas forced to go on to Lake Louise and Banff. From Lake Louise I made the trip to Moraine Lake in Desolation Valley, as first named by Wilcox, later changed to the fine descriptive title of Valley of the Ten Peaks. The trail had just been built and was just good enough for pack animals. At the lake was a little shelter shanty. Later, in 1905, when I brought a party of eight to this lovely spot we found much enlarged quarters, and delighted in a three-day stay, with good fishing, a restful Sunday in Consolation Valley, and a finejourney around Mt. Temple over Sentinel Pass. On the latter we were much interested in seeing the Wenkchemna Glacier advancing its snout and E. side, and uprooting the forest trees.

I had one climb that first summer of 1900 at Lake Louise— a first ascent of the N. peak of Mt. Victoria, made with James (later Sir James) Outram, his younger brother William, and guides A. Clarke and Zurfluh. The weather turned very gusty, but we pressed on and made the summit after a stiff climb up a steep snow curtain followed by a razor-edge ridge with steep precipices on either side. From this N. peak to the higher S. peak there is a connecting ridge, absolutely knife-edge and full of dangerous pinnacles and gendarmes—a truly difficult traverse. This traverse climb was first made in 1909 by G. W. Culver, with E. Feuz, Jr. and R. Aemmer, and later by others. My trip in the Rockies that year ended with a short stay at Banff, then of course just beginning its wonderful growth.

Prof. Fay of Tufts College, the veteran president of the Appalachian Mountain Club and editor of Appalachia, induced me to write of my 1900 adventures for his publication, and thus was formed a dear and lasting friendship. It was natural, therefore, that plans were made for the summer of 1901 for Fay, Outram and myself to join forces with the special aim of making first ascents of Vaux, Chancellor and Goodsir. Accordingly, meeting at Field in July, 1901, we made our course up the Ottertail Valley and thence tackled the range connecting Goodsir on the E. with Vaux on the W. It was the usual succession of wearisome climbing up trackless slopes of forests, then open alpland and snow slopes and interesting rock aretes. The unusual feature of Mt. Vaux proved to be a very steep snow col that had to be surmounted, and then a long pull up the steep neve above the great Vaux Glacier with its huge crevasses. Unfortunately a thunder storm developed, and although we waited a chilling half hour upon the summit (10,891 ft.) we had only fleeting glimpses of the world around. We were happy, however, to have made this first ascent of one of the higher peaks.

Descending from Mt. Vaux, we dropped into the great cirque at the head of the Ice River Valley and thence down to the camp which our packer had ready for us, having come around by the Beaverfoot Valley. Next day the attempt was made upon the S. (highest) tower of Mt. Goodsir (11,686 ft.). The rocks near this summit were unusually rotten and the greatest care was needed to surmount a 100-ft. cliff forming part of the arete. From the top of this, the route seemed certain to the summit some 500 ft. away

However, a unique condition of alternating, hanging cornices, first one side and then on the other, all upon a veritable knife-edge (that Profs. Fay and Parker two years later found quite free of cornices) made it necessary to beat away vast quantities of snow with our ice-axes or to turn back. The summit lay only about 300 ft. ahead and not much higher on the ridge. It was heartrending not to gain this completed first ascent, but all four of us including Hasler, the guide, felt it would be folly to attempt to traverse those unknown cornices or attempt to break them off unless there were several hours available, and so we sorrowfully made our return.

Mt. Chancellor was the next great mountain in our program. From the camp in Ice River Valley, we climbed the range between it and the Beaverfoot, reaching the crest at peak four in the series S. E. from Chancellor. The traverse of this crest over mountain tops proved more difficult and time-consuming than expected as we were forced to find ways around or over many gendarmes, and the last stretch to get over the gap to Chancellor itself was not possible in the limited daylight left. Hence we made our descent to the Kicking Horse River, and the next day trekked wearily through terrible windfalls to the Ottertail railroad bridge and thence back to Field. A few days later the attack on Chancellor was resumed, this time with George M. Weed of Boston taking Prof. Fay’s place, he having meanwhile sprained his knee on a trip that our same party took over Abbot Pass and into the Lake O’Hara and Lake McArthur region. Again we had aimed at making the virgin ascent of Mt. Biddle, but were foiled by bad weather. On this second trip we attacked the W. face of Chancellor, right up from the railroad. From a treeline camp we first tried the N. W. arete, but finding the rocks slanting the wrong way and getting more and more steep and difficult, we crossed the mountain and worked our way down to the great snow couloir that leads up to the col between Chancellor and the next peak of Chancellor ridge, on which latter our previous route had lain. From the col a four-hour climb on icy rocks requiring the greatest of care, brought us to the summit (10,761 ft.), another virgin ascent. The weather was fine and the views of the Selkirks, of the almost unknown peaks to the N., and of Vaux and Goodsir, and those near Lake Louise were magnificent. The descent to the col consumed almost as long a time as the ascent, so that it was dark when the descent of the snow couloir began and camp at treeline was reached at 9.00 p.m.—a day of eighteen hard hours.

I had one more climb in 1901—the first ascent and traverse of Mt. Wapta. This was with Outram and Christian Bohren, the guide. It was a long day from Field—Burgess Pass in all its beauties, Mt. Field, the ridge to Mt. Wapta, and then a really difficult rock climb up precipitous couloirs, reaching the summit at 5.00 p.m. The descent was made rapidly by the great amphitheatre, thence to what has since become the Yoho trail to Emerald Lake and back to Field in the moonlight.

No opportunities for further climbing came to me until 1912 when on a business trip to the coast, I stopped off for two days at Lake Louise and climbed Mt. Lefroy by the usual but delightful route via Abbot Pass.