I. The Club House and the Camp.

'The Alpine members of the British Association who are guests of the Canadian Alpine "Camp" this year include many noted men of the Alpine Club of the British Isles, and the party will be under the leadership of Professor Harold Dixon, F.R.S., of the University of Manchester.'

Such was the official announcement in the Canadian Gazette, and the 'party' and its 'leader' had to try to live up to it.

The invitation had been originally made to Whymper, Woolley, Collie, and myself. The letter inviting these four had been sent to the local secretaries of the British Association at Winnipeg, but was only forwarded to the office in London some months afterwards. The Council sent me the letter, asking me (as the senior member of the Association) to make arrangements for any members who wished to climb.

Meantime Whymper had written that he did not intend to go, Collie found himself tied to Skye, and Woolley could not be sure of the time. Thus, by the elimination of the fittest, Dame Fortune transferred the uncertain honours of leadership to me.

As so often happens in getting up such a party, things go swimmingly at first and the disappointments come later. From the descriptions which reached me of the Canadian Alpine camps, I gathered that our party might be called upon not only to walk but to talk; it was therefore very gratifying to receive the definite promise of Haskett-Smith to join us: and while Woolley was still a 'possible,' I felt that the A.C. would be properly represented. But when first Woolley, and at the last moment Haskett-Smith declared they could not go, I began to think we should be something of an Alpine frost.

I fear I must have sent Wheeler, the president of the Canadians, rather a lugubrious letter, for, in addition to my page 2 disappointments, I was hors de combat with a torn muscle in my leg and congestion of the lungs. Wheeler, however, replied most cheerily. 'Bring anybody you like, climbers or non-climbers, and we'll give you all a good time.' I hope these pages will show how well he kept his promise.

With returning spring the barometer rose. I found some walking and mild scrambling possible in April; and when I made sure of G. A. Solly, A. L. Mumm, L. S. Amery, G. Hastings, and A. M. Bartleet, I felt happier. Encouraged by Wheeler's letter we made up our numbers with younger climbers and with ladies, and of course at the end I had so many applications to join 'the party' that I had to sternly refuse. Several went out on their own and joined the Club as graduating members, and one or two crossed the Pacific and met us at the Camp.

We arrived at Banff, by the 'Pacific Express,' at 6.20 a.m. on Wednesday, July 28, having disposed of an early breakfast in the dining-car. We were met by the Secretary of the Alpine Club, who soon had our lighter baggage packed on 'skips.' We then packed ourselves on top, and so drove up through the woods, about two miles, to the Club House, which is perched among the pines on the side of Sulphur Mountain. It was hard for us to grasp the fact that less than four months ago the site of this Club House was an unbroken mountain slope. What a substantial monument it is to the energy and capacity of the executive! Here we were welcomed by Mrs. Wheeler, who combines the onerous offices of Quartermaster-General and of Guardian-Angel of the Club, and by Mrs. Parker, whose love for literature and mountains makes her an ideal proselytising secretary. Under their auspices we entered at once on our mountain régime by sitting down to our second breakfast, where we were introduced to the members of the Canadian A.C. who were making a stay at the Club House on their way to the camp at Lake O'Hara.

The house itself and the outlook are delightful. There is a large assembly-room, with polished floors, a piano, and a wonderful stone fire-place, and a wide veranda runs round it. Above are a library and smoking-room; at the back are the dining-room and kitchen. Little trails through the wood lead to the frame-tents which serve as our sleeping quarters. The tents stand on neat wooden platforms, and are furnished with two canvas bedsteads and a small wash-hand-stand. The ladies' tents are near the House, and the men's some 60 yards above them. They, the ladies, are out of sight, but we can hear them talking and laughing far into the night. The page break

Mt. Hungabee, from Lake O'Hara.

H. B. Dixon, Photo.

Scan Electric Engarcing Co., Ltd.

page 3 Club provides us with a thin mattress on which we stretch our sleeping bags, and for a pillow we use one of our canvas sacks stuffed with the softest clothing we can find. Of course there is one drawback to this haven of delight: mosquitoes are also guests of the Club, and find we 'make them light and salutary meals.' Dr. Benson, my tent companion, objects strongly to their attentions, so we have a nightly battue after making the door fast. Then we rig up muslin nets to go over our heads, so we are fairly safe during the night; but sleep is coy at first and needs some wooing.

We are royally entertained by our hosts, and live, literally, upon the fat of the land. Most of our party enjoy the national dish—fried bacon and beans. O dura ilia! How I envied them. Still, the advantages of vegetarianism ought to be tested, and here was the opportunity.

By day we stretch our limbs on Sulphur Mountain, some 8,000 ft. high, or make boating excursions up the Bow Biver or on Lake Minnewanka. Then we swim in the Sulphur Bath, fed direct with hot-water (with more than a suspicion of H2S, in it) from the mountain side. A dive into hot water is a delightful novelty. At night there is music followed by impromptu dances, and one night was consecrated to my lantern lecture on the Rockies—on behalf of the Club House fund—a performance which caused unexpected amusement. At 4 p.m. on the eventful day I went down with the President to Banff to see that things were ready at the 'Opera House,' carrying my slides and some pretty ones borrowed from Woolley and Collie. The man who was to run the lantern—he answered to the name of Bob—had promised to meet us at 4. No one was about. We got out the lantern (a new one of American design) and managed to put the lenses right and get the thing ready. But no screen and no current was to be found. At 6.15 Bob turned up, optimistic and merry. He knew where the terminals and fuses were to be got at—but he had no connections or appliances for joining up the lantern. However, he sent out for sticking-plaster to cover the wire joints, and swore loudly he would have screen and everything ready by 8, the lecture being advertised for 8.30. So I went back to the Club House for a meal, and when I returned at 8, a screen of sorts, made of four bed sheets quaintly pinned together, formed the proscenium, but no current had Bob succeeded in obtaining. At 8.5 a messenger was sent on the best horse we could find to the electric station—four miles away—to request the services of an electrician. Luckily one was found and came, but he was in a still merrier mood than Bob. Meantime the audience page 4 collected on the veranda of the Opera House, and as the mosquitoes were active, they demanded admittance. I told them the lecture was very unlikely to come off; but they didn't seem to mind that, and planked down their 50 cents. Then I got up and explained matters as tactfully as I could, and suggested we should either clear the chairs out of the hall and have a dance, or begin with a concert and see what happened. The audience good humouredly accepted the suggestion of a concert, and various members of the company were kind enough to 'oblige.' At 9 o'clock, in the middle of a chorus, a loud noise at the back of the gallery announced that the electrician had arrived. After half an hour's struggling a half-moon appeared on the screen, so Hastings took the slides to the gallery, and after a few sharp discussions the sheets were illuminated. I climbed the stage and made a start. The lantern was about twice the right distance from the screen, so that only the middle of the picture was visible; and the efforts of the operators to bring the summits into view on the sheet caused shouts of laughter. One elusive peak I chased across the screen with the pointer, but the whole thing disappeared before I could traverse the stage. After half an hour a voice came down from the gallery, 'Sorry, we must put the light out, but the wire's red-hot and the floor is smoking.' So we had a dark interval, during which I told a story, and then, amid great cheering, the light came up again and I rushed along to the end, breathless, but in time. I hope they 'cleared' a few dollars for the Club House out of the 'entertainment.'

Sunday, August 1, was a day of packing and unpacking. The rules of the camp declared that only sacks could be taken up to O'Hara, and the weight was to be limited to 40 lb. per person. Actually the number of sacks allowed appeared, at all events in our case, to be unlimited; and we found that a fair-sized hand-bag would easily go in a sack. So our united luggage made a very handsome pile—more in fact than could be taken up by the horses in one journey. An hour's run by train brought us to Hector station, still a mere shanty in the mountaias. There the Club had provided for the ladies a few saddle-ponies, but they were no sooner spied than bags and cameras of every description were strapped on, fore and aft, by the pedestrian crowd. Having started off our party, I returned like a dutiful leader to the station to see our sacks safely packed. Then for the first time this year I shouldered a rucksack and started into the wilds, along the bank of Cataract Brook. After an hour's walk up the path—for a real path had been cut—I came on our ladies, reclined under the trees, watch- page break

Mt. Odaray and Lake O'Hara.

R. Harmon, Photo.

Scan Electric Engraving Co. Ltd.

page 5 ing Hastings brewing tea. Half an hour's rest and refreshment gave us spirit for the next two hours' walk, which brought us to the shore of Lake O'Hara, 6,660 feet above the sea and ten minutes from the camping-ground. It is hard to imagine how a more perfect spot could be chosen for the camp. The lake, wooded to the water's edge, lies in a valley at the feet of three of the boldest mountains in the range—Victoria, Lefroy and Hungabee. Westward the land rises a little to an open meadow just beneath the pine-clad slopes of Mount Odaray. On one side of this meadow we found a Union Jack flying and three tents pitched for the English party. The smallest tent we left for Whymper and other late comers, the other two we divided four in each. Solly, Mumm, Amery and Rohde shared one; Hastings, Priestley, Pilkington and I the other. We soon had our beds laid out on the 'brush,' and our belongings arranged alongside. Here a 'well-brushed' tent does not mean that anything has been swept out, but that the soft needley ends of pine branches have been thickly strewn within. It must have been no small business to prepare accommodation for some two hundred climbers, and to supply their daily wants at such a distance from the railway.

The ladies' quarters consisted of some dozen tents arranged like ours. The six British ladies (English, Scotch and Irish) had one tent, so had to lie close. We found the evening meal (I don't say 'tea' because they were all teas) set out on three long tables under a large 'fly-tent.' Pine stems, roughly 'smoothed' with the axe, formed the benches. Here we were waited on assiduously by our hosts, and afterwards were introduced to the 'charmed-circle' of the camp-fire. Seated round the blazing logs, in the centre of an amphitheatre of mountains, and looking up at their snowy peaks, clear-cut against the sky long after the forests below were lost in the black of night, we each fell under the spell and became one of the worshippers. The glow of the huge fire lighted up fitfully the ways to our tents, and soon the last camp-fire song was mingling with our dreams.

Next morning six of us made an early start—not unreasonably early—for Mount Odaray, which had just been struck out from the 'official' climbs on account of a 'blocked' chimney and the danger of falling stones. To qualify as an active member each aspirant has to go up something over 10,000 feet, including rock or snow for four or five thousand feet-There were many 'graduating' members in the camp, all eager to be led up the necessary peak, and the danger from stones was very considerable for a large party. Hastings and I took Mrs. Spence between us, and V. A. Fynn took Pilkington and page 6 Priestley. I think we only made one mistake in the ascent-taking a narrow chimney up the first peak, which I found rather small to negotiate even with Hastings to stand upon. However, I managed to wriggle up, and Hastings came up more in the open. It was annoying to find the other party (who had found the orthodox staircase) sitting above us enjoying our struggles. But we had some consolation in hearing that Solly (whose guiding instinct is almost uncannily developed) took his party up the same chimney a few days afterwards. The descent of the first peak into the gap leading to the second needed care, as the rocks were steep and friable, and led on to a small but steep ice slope. A few steps brought us on to the snow and then the blocked chimney was immediately opposite us. This we were told was the crux of the climb, but it was not difficult. It was not easy, however, to get out of the chimney above without sending down showers of rock.

The view from the top was splendid. Victoria, Lefroy, and Hungabee are just across the O'Hara Valley—in which the green lake and our white tents were nestling—with Mts. Biddle and Goodsir to the W. and S.W., and away in the distance the fine peak of Mt. Assiniboine. We came down the blocked chimney accompanied with a meteoric shower of shale, but without difficulty; and we carefully avoided the narrow cleft by which we had wormed up the lower peak. On our return it was announced that Mrs. Spence was the first lady to climb Mount Odaray, and she was gazetted as a 'graduate' with due honours. These honours lists are posted on a large tree just outside the diningtent, together with the lists of the next day's climbs and the 'guides' chosen to accompany each party. We have two Swiss guides, brought over by the C.P.R.—Edouard and Godfried Feuz—and Conrad Kain, engaged by the Club. A. L. Mumm had also brought his Swiss guide, Inderbinnen, and they all had a busy time taking aspirants up Mt. Huber, the official 'graduating climb.'

On Tuesday, August 3, I am asked to 'orate' at the camp fire. As this is the anniversary of Philip Abbot's death (in 1896) and of our first ascent of Mt. Lefroy (in 1897), it is natural that these two climbs should be the chief topics of the oration. The night was fine and the light just enough to allow me to point out the details of our route up the snow-face of Lefroy, which looked down on our camp, and to show the rocks where Abbot fell. And then by way of comic relief I fired off all the stories I could remember, and as they seemed new to an audience very willing to be amused, the oration, begun in seriousness, ended in laughter. Indeed, I believe page break

View from Mount Huber

page 7 the camp got an impression that I had an inexhaustible sack full of stories, and at last it was necessary to fall back on recollections of Punch to eke out the camp-fire entertainments.

On August 4 we wandered up the valley to the S.W., visiting Lake McArthur at the foot of Mt. Biddle, whose great glacier melts into the lake, throwing off small bergs of white ice to navigate the blue waters. We found a few rocks to scramble about on and made tea in the forest.

On Thursday, the 5th, we all volunteered as 'guides' to take graduating members up Mt. Huber, and Hastings and I v/ere assigned to three novices, Mrs. Spence also joining us. We had a long 2 hrs.' grind up a steep shaley slope to the col below the rocks—eight or ten parties all struggling up by slightly different routes. By the time we reached the col two of our novices were obviously done; indeed, one promptly turned back. And then a storm (which had been threatening for the last half-hour) fell on us with a lash of hail. We huddled under the lea of what cover we could find, and braved it for 40 rains. Then the absurdity of fifty-six people trying to get up iced rocks on such a day, where long waits would be necessary, was borne in on us. We had a short consultation, and the English 'guides' decided to climb down. Our example was quickly followed, and all but three ropes were soon racing down to camp. One party did get up. Two others, after an hour's wait below the 'roped rocks,' gave it up in a state of freezing despair. I believe it would have been dangerous to take more than one novice on a rope under such conditions. The graduating climb gives immense zest to the camp, and many of the men have become good craftsmen by acting as guides, but there is, it seems to me, a possibility of zeal getting the better of discretion where so many novices go together. Again, one climb does not make a mountaineer. One learns, I think, very little on one's first climb; it is only on his second or third that a man is able to look about and take notice of how and why things are done. Possibly two or three passes would make a better training than one mountain. But I must admit that the 'graduating climb' gives a wonderful impetus to the Club.

Our failure on Mt. Huber in no way damped the enthusiasm at the camp fire that evening. Amery gave an amusing account of some climbs in Basutoland, and Hastings, after much persuasion, described his attempt on Nanga Parbat with Collie and Mummery. We enjoyed some excellent recitations and songs by members of the Club.

Next day several of our party (Solly and Mrs. Solly, Miss page 8 Maclay, Mrs. Spence and 1) were escorted by the Vice-President of the Club, J. D. Patterson, on the 'two-day' round. The route was up Abbot Pass between Victoria and Lefroy', down the Victoria Glacier, up the Lefroy Glacier, and over the Mitre Pass to a small standing camp in Paradise Valley. As usual I found the first 2 hrs. rather trying, but recovered when we reached the snow. We sat by the lovely little Lake Oesa and ate our luncheon, and then had a weary grind up broken shale till we reached the snow. The upper part of the pass is a wilderness of loose slabs ready to slip before you tread on them. On the col I was on familiar ground, at the foot of the snow slope of Mt. Lefroy. Here we saw the last of Hastings, Mumm and Amery, who ran down the snow to Lake Louise en route for their long tramp to Mount Robson. We followed more cautiously. To avoid the seracs under Mt. Lefroy we crossed over to our left beneath the hanging glacier of Victoria, and had to wind round several crevasses; but Solly's guiding instinct was not called upon, for the well-worn track of previous parties could not be mistaken.

At the angle of Mt. Lefroy we caught sight of Lake Louise and the 'Chalet,' now grown out of recognition. We went along the Lefroy Glacier at such a pace that we nearly caught the first party' which had started 2 hrs. before us. The Mitre Pass was fairly steep, but the snow was good and we got to the top without difficulty. I thought I saw a white tent in the dark wood below. We glissaded down the snow and loose shale, spirited with the thought of a prompt supper at the camp which (we had been told) lay at our feet. Alas! when we reached the valley nothing was visible but a fairly broad stream and a wood. Our 'Vice' thought the camp must be down the river. But the President had told us the camp was visible from the pass and therefore must be across the river and through the forest. So we crossed the river, with some difficulty, and strode into the forest. Then we had out our map, and it was already too dark to see. We lighted a candle and again penetrated into the forest and shouted and howled. It was just coming home to us that we should have to make a very cold and supperless bivouac—quite romantic, as one lady remarked—when another lady suggested we should all howl together. We did make the most discordant yell, with all the agony of darkness, cold and hunger thrown in, and then most musically came to us an answering call from the depths of the forest ahead. A few hundred yards, though we stumbled over bushes and fallen trees, seemed nothing, and there was party No. 1 busy round the fire cooking page 9 supper for us and wondering where we had been hiding. We had lost just an hour looking for the camp. Our willing hosts were soon waiting on us, and we turned in warm and refreshed. The night was cold and the blankets not quite enough to go round, so we had to snuggle together for warmth, and were not altogether sorry to get our boots on and take a turn with the frying pan and kettle for early breakfast. We cleaned up the camp, extinguished the fire carefully and nailed up the boxes of provisions and candles, lest inquisitive bears or porcupines should nose out the eatables. Then we marched up the Wastach Pass at the E. of Hungabee and down into the Valley of the Ten Peaks. Turning to the W., we crossed the Wenkchemna Pass between Hungabee and Neptuak, and then, after a long descent down scree, we came to the curious rock called the Eagle's Eyrie, where we ate our luncheon, and, as the day was young and the sun hot, we slept peacefully on the grass. Then we ascended the Opabin Pass up a fine snow-slope to the W. of Hungabee and heard a call from Fynn and Oliver Wheeler (son of the President), who had climbed it that morning and were descending the W. face. It was the second ascent of Hungabee, and the first made without guides. The descent of the Opabin Pass was easy until we reached tree level, and then we lost our way half a dozen times and had several fine rock scrambles before we got down to O'Hara.

On reaching the camp we heard that Whymper had arrived and that he was to give the 'oration' at the camp fire that night. With a voice that age has not weakened, he read to the large listening circle messages from many old members of the Alpine Club, and declared his regret that this was to be his one and only appearance before the Canadian Club. The orator then became an auctioneer, and various items of climbers' outfit were disposed of for the benefit of the Club. True to his word, he departed early on the morrow.

Sunday, August 8, was another day of packing, for the camp was to break up on the morrow. It also turned out a day of unexpected literary effort. After luncheon the President produced a large 'Minute Book/which had been presented to the Club, and declared that it had been kept for me to make the first 'minute' in it. In vain were the protests that a Minute Book was meant to record the resolutions and proceedings of the Club; I had got to make the first entry on any subject I pleased. These 'opening remarks' cost me many a grievous pang throughout the afternoon. Whether it is the high air, or the exercise, or the vegetable food, or a page 10 combination of all three which produces this mental atrophy is hard to say. A lithe and grey-haired member of the Club, whom I knew for a week before discovering in him an old Christ Church contemporary, is an ardent vegetarian and preaches the doctrine to all and sundry. 'Look at me!' he exclaims, 'my limbs are not stiff with age, my mind is not worried by thought, I am now a perfect man—a man as God made me.' With the blank page of the 'Minute Book' open before me, and a desire to do anything but think, I imagine I must have been approaching the 'perfect man.'

I wish I could have found words to express in that Minute Book what each and all of our party felt, for we should have liked the Canadian members to know what enjoyment we found in our visit, and what admiration we have for the splendid work the Club is doing for mountaineering and for Canada. I find it, indeed, hard to believe that only twelve years ago I thought the Canadians, as a people, so indifferent to their wonderful mountain heritage, that I could write in this journal, 'I fear the Canadians have not yet reached that state of over-civilisation which drives people to climb for the mere fun of the thing.' This reproach has passed away. To-day hundreds of Canadians have a living interest in the mountains, and in the preservation of their romance and beauty, thanks to the strong will, the practical sense and the enthusiasm of Wheeler and his officers. More power to their elbows! Of such material is our empire made.