The lake is about a mile long, of irregular shape, in places half a mile wide, the further shore broken in a series of inviting coves covered with evergreen trees reaching to the water's edge. To our right Wiwaxy Peaks, a huge buttress of oddly-shaped rock pinnacles, rose abruptly from the water, cutting off the further end from view, while across rose Mount Schaffer. It was then about three o'clock, and the afternoon light brought out the vivid blue of the water. Not a trace of human presence, not a trace of any disturbing element, the whole scene was the personification of majestic peace.
The Alpine Club had established a temporary camp on the shore of the lake to take care of parties making the circuit from the main camp, the tents and supplies being packed in over a trail from Hector. We looked for the camp but failed to locate it, as it was hidden in one of the distant coves. Hesitating to break the stillness, we finally hallooed, the call echoing and re-echoing from shore to shore, but no one answered. We were puzzled at first how to reach the lake as the descent was almost a sheer drop of several hundred feet, but after careful experimenting, a route was selected requiring caution, and we were soon at the water's edge.
Satisfying our thirst from a small torrent of pure water, we followed the left shore over a mossy bank, through a natural park, and came in sight of the camp about three-quarters of the way down the lake, a most welcome sight. A refreshing plunge in the water gave additional zest to our appetite for the evening meal, which soon followed. The air was cool enough to make the fire welcome, and the hard tramp, bath and supper had put us in a condition of blissful laziness. Lounging there we could see the evening glow and the deepening shadows on the lake, and on the mountains and glaciers beyond. Going up to a meadow about a mile distant, we secured the full effect of the afterglow on the snow peaks back of the camp. The twilight was gracious in its length,
