Trail and timberline . We mightas well have been standing on theplains of Kansas instead of a shortdistance from the famous black dykeof the Grand. To the west, we knew,the rocks dropped off sharply into theneat, patterned farm lands of the east, we remembered TaggartLake and Bradley Lake a few thousandfeet below. On either side of us werethe Middle and Grand Tetons. This werecalled, because less than 24 hoursbefore we had arrived at the Lower Saddle ahead of the storm. But it hadbroken in all its fury, and we had lostall sense of reality and time. For three weeks there had been norai
Trail and timberline . We mightas well have been standing on theplains of Kansas instead of a shortdistance from the famous black dykeof the Grand. To the west, we knew,the rocks dropped off sharply into theneat, patterned farm lands of the east, we remembered TaggartLake and Bradley Lake a few thousandfeet below. On either side of us werethe Middle and Grand Tetons. This werecalled, because less than 24 hoursbefore we had arrived at the Lower Saddle ahead of the storm. But it hadbroken in all its fury, and we had lostall sense of reality and time. For three weeks there had been norain. Phil Trumbo from Denver; GeorgeRosenfeld from Glendive, Montana; JoeMerhar from Pueblo; and I had left theJenny Lake campground Sunday morn-ing, August 14. We had met numerousclimbers who were descending, and theLower Saddle was deserted when wearrived at 6 oclock Sunday evening. We found a cave just off the Saddleon the west side. It protected us fromthe wind, but the sun had never warmed 184 TRAIL AND TIMBERLINE. Photo By Myron Dunn its interior. It was cold, damp, dark. Itsrawness permeated our very being. Anassortment of canvas covered the the storm broke, the wind in-creased its velocity and tore at theimprovised roof like a million found out only too soon that thecanvas leaked like a sieve, and therewas a reason for the numerous canslined up near the entrance. It was al-most impossible to stop all the leaks inspite of the combined efforts of theparty. We would place a can to catch the drip; then the wind would blow thecanvas at a different angle and therain water that had accumulated on theoutside would cascade down into thecave in a different spot. The shelter was meant to accommo-date about two people comfortably andperhaps a stray marmot. There werefour of us, plus four packs, and thestray marmot. With the roof leaking allover the place and the wind blowingicy cold, we crawled into sleeping bags—it seemed the only way to keep we were
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectmountaineering, booky
