The ascent of Hood is, considering its height, not difficult
on the south side. There are the usual obstructions to alpine
travel,—canons to be crossed, precipices to be avoided, snow too
soft at mid-day and too icy at morning or evening, and a temperature, with wind, on the peak which makes a protracted
stay, if not impossible, undesirable and dangerous. A great
crevasse is to be crossed, which is opened in an immense glacier
extending quite across the side of the mountain and constantly
moving south. The opening varies in width from a mere crack
to a gorge of thirty feet across. The walls of the chasm are
of solid ice, green for some distance beneath the snow, changing
to blue, growing darker and darker until the line dividing it
from space becomes invisible; nor does sound reveal when the
rocks rolled into it reach bottom. This crevasse is crossed on a
bridge of ice, which brings the adventurer to the last abrupt
ascent of four hundred feet to the summit, which is accomplished by cutting steps in the ice.
The summit is an irregular arc of a circle once surrounding a great chimney vomiting forth molten lava, and is now rapidly crumbling away. Sulphurous fumes and steam are still thrown out at a point below the present summit called the crater, where mountain climbers stop to warm and take refreshments.
Some changes are reported as recently occurring on Mount Hood, the crevasses on the northwest side of the crater appearing to have widened, and the ice surface to be lowered. One of these crevasses can be seen to yawn conspicuously for fifteen miles. Many rocks have become detached and rolled down ; among others, the one to which the record box of the Alpine Club was chained, which was, however, recovered in a battered condition and replaced by a new one.
Whoever has the hardihood to make the ascent of Mount Hood—and the number increases annually—has his reward in the prospect to be gained from it. From this altitude all the other peaks are plainly visible, both in Oregon and Washington, and the coast range as well. East and west Oregon and a large part of Washington are spread out like a map. The lordly Columbia may be seen wending its way to the sea, a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, the capes at the mouth showing plainly where it unites with the Pacific. A sunset view, with
