The Mountain that was God | Page 6

Puget Sound the most interesting body of water in
America. We grow a bit boastful about the lakes that cluster around our
cities. Nowhere better than from sea level, or from the lakes raised but
little above it, does one realize the bulk, the dominance, and yet the
grace, of this noble peak. Its impressiveness, indeed, arises in part from
the fact that it is one of the few great volcanic mountains whose entire
height may be seen from tide level. Many of us can recall views of it
from Lake Washington at Seattle, or from American or Spanaway Lake
at Tacoma, or from the Sound, which will always haunt the memory.
[Illustration: Storm King Peak and Mineral Lake, viewed from near
Mineral Lake Inn.]
Early one evening, last summer, I went with a friend to Point Defiance,
Tacoma's fine park at the {p.021} end of the promontory on which the
city is built. We drank in refreshment from the picture there unrolled of
broad channels and evergreen shores. As sunset approached, we
watched the western clouds building range upon range of golden
mountains above the black, Alp-like crags of the Olympics. Then,
entering a small boat, we rowed far out northward into the Sound.
Overhead, and about us, the scenes of the great panorama were swiftly
shifted. The western sky became a conflagration. Twilight settled upon
the bay. The lights of the distant town came out, one by one, and those
of the big smelter, near by, grew brilliant. No Turner ever dreamed so
glorious a composition of sunlight and shade. But we were held by one
vision.

[Illustration {p.019}: View from Electron, showing west side of the
mountain, with a vast intervening country of forested ranges and deep
canyons.]
{p.021} [Illustration: Nisqually Canyon.
... "Where the mountain wall Is piled to heaven, and through the narrow
rift Of the vast rocks, against whose rugged feet Beats the mad torrent
with perpetual roar: Where noonday is as twilight, and the wind Comes
burdened with the everlasting moan Of forests and far-off
waterfalls."--Whittier.]
Yonder, in the southeast, towering above the lower shadows of harbor
and hills, rose a vast pyramid of soft flame. The setting sun had thrown
a mantle of rose pink over the ice of the glaciers and the great cleavers
of rock which buttress the mighty dome. The rounded summit was
warm with beautiful orange light. Soon the colors upon its slope
changed to deeper reds, and then to amethyst, and {p.023} violet, and
pearl gray. The sun-forsaken ranges below fell away to dark neutral
tints. But the fires upon the crest burned on, deepening from gold to
burnished copper, a colossal beacon flaming high against the sunset
purple of the eastern skies. Finally, even this great light paled to a
ghostly white, as the supporting foundation of mountain ridges dropped
into the darkness of the long northern twilight, until the snowy summit
seemed no longer a part of earth, but a veil of uncanny mist, caught up
by the winds from the Pacific and floating far above the black sky-line
of the solid Cascades, that
* * * heaven-sustaining bulwark, reared Between the East and West.
[Illustration {p.022}: Copyright, 1900, By A. H. Waite. North Peak, or
Liberty Cap, and South Mowich Glacier in storm, seen from an altitude
of 6,000 feet, on ridge between South Mowich and Puyallup Glaciers.
The glacier, 2,000 feet below, is nearly half a mile wide. Note the
tremendous wall of ice in which it ends.]
[Illustration: Copyright, 1900, By A. H. Waite. Basaltic Columns, part
of the "Colonnade" on south side of South Mowich Glacier. These

curious six-sided columns of volcanic rock are similar to those
bordering the Cowlitz Glacier.]
[Illustration: Mountain Goat, an accidental snap-shot of the fleet and
wary Mazama; godfather of the famous Portland mountain club.]
And when even that apparition had faded, and the Mountain appeared
only as an uncertain bulk shadowed upon the night, then came the
miracle. Gradually, the east, beyond the great hills, showed a faint
silver glow. Silhouetted against this dim background, the profile of the
peak grew definite. With no other warning, suddenly from its summit
the full moon shot forth, huge, majestic and gracious, flooding the
lower world with brightness. Clouds and mountain ranges alike shone
with its glory. But the great peak loomed blacker and more sullen. Only,
on its head, the wide crown of snow gleamed white under the cold rays
of the moon.
[Illustration {p.024}: West Side of the summit, seen from Tahoma Fork
of the Nisqually, on road to Longmire Springs. Note the whiteness of
the glacial water. This stream is fed by the united Tahoma glaciers. See
pp. 32 and 37.]
{p.025} [Illustration: Iron and Copper Mountains (right) in Indian
Henry's. The top of Pyramid Peak shows