Ridge]

At last when we had been camped for three weeks at the head of the
glacier, losing scarce an hour of usable weather, but losing by far the
greater part of the time, when the advance party the day before had
reached a tiny flat on the ridge where they thought camp could be made,
we took a sudden desperate resolve to move to the ridge at any cost. All
the camp contained that would be needed above was made up quickly into
four packs, and we struck out, staggering under our loads. Before we
reached the first slope of the ridge each man knew in his heart that we
were attempting altogether too much. Even Karstens, who had packed his
"hundred and a quarter" day after day over the Chilkoot Pass in 1897,
admitted that he was "heavy." But we were saved the chagrin of
acknowledging that we had undertaken more than we could accomplish, for
before we reached the steep slope of the ridge a furious snow-storm had
descended upon us and we were compelled to return to camp. The next day
we proceeded more wisely. We took up half the stuff and dug out a
camping-place and pitched the little tent. Every step had to be
shovelled out, for the previous day's snow had filled it, as had
happened so many times before, and it took five and one-half hours to
reach the new camping-place. On Sunday, 25th May, the first Sunday after
Trinity, we took up the rest of the stuff, and established ourselves at
a new climbing base, about thirteen thousand feet high and one thousand
five hundred feet above the glacier floor, not to descend again until we
descended for good.

We were now much nearer our work and it progressed much faster, although
as the ridge rose it became steeper and steeper and even more rugged and
chaotic, and the difficulty and danger of its passage increased. Our
situation up here was decidedly pleasanter than below. We had indeed
exchanged our large tent for a small one in which we could sit upright
but could not stand, and so narrow that the four of us, lying side by
side, had to make mutual agreement to turn over; our comfortable
wood-stove for the little kerosene stove; yet when the clouds cleared we
had a noble, wide prospect and there was not the sense of damp
immurement that the floor of the glacier gave. The sun struck our tent
at 4.30 A. M., which is nearly two and one-half hours earlier than we
received his rays below, and lingered with us long after our glacier
camp was in the shadow of the North Peak. Moreover, inste