the most suitable of all spots, viz., at the summit of Rogers Pass. Here, seated upon a grassy knoll, amidst the very climax of Selkirk scenery, the meeting was held. What more appropriate! Around, in full view, are all the adjuncts that go to make alpine climbing of interest. The rugged black precipices of Mts. Macdonald and Tupper stand grim sentries over an apparently closed gateway. To the north and west the primeval forest rises to grassy alpine slopes decked with brilliant flowers; beyond are icy glaciers and fields of pure white, sloping gently to the curving ridges that lead upwards to rocky peaks capped with snow. The sharp-cut pyramid of "Cheops" is silhouetted in space; below, the '"Little Corporal" stands at attention, on guard over the hazy blue vistas reaching into the south-west. Around are gently swaying spruce and not far distant a murmuring brook. Aloft, wrapt in silent meditation, the "Hermit" stands upon his ledge of rock and gazes for all time upon the marvels of creation that surround him."
The account of the meeting is given in Sir Sandford Fleming's book: '"The horses are still feeding and we have some time at our command. As we view the landscape, we feel as if some memorial should be preserved of our visit here, and we organize a Canadian Alpine Club. The writer, as a grandfather, is appointed interim president; Dr. Grant, secretary, and my son, S. Hall Fleming treasurer. A meeting was held and we turn to one of the springs rippling down to the Illecillewaet and drink success to the organization. Unanimously we carry resolutions of acknowledgment to Major Rogers, the discoverer of the pass, and to his nephew for assisting him. "The bold idea of climbing Mt. Sir Donald, then known as Syndicate Peak (so named by Major Rogers in 1881; subsequently re-named after Sir Donald A. Smith, now Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal) was conceived as a fitting virgin attempt of the Alpine Club, but the idea was not put into execution."
Leaving the summit, the party proceeds down the valley of the Illecillewaet. At a distance of fourteen miles, the last surveyor's camp is reached. Thenceforward it is the primeval wilderness of the Selkirks. Again quoting from Sir Sandford's account: "The walking is dreadful, we climb over and creep under fallen trees of good size, and then men show that they feel the weight of their burdens. Their halts for rest are frequent. It is hot work for all. The dropping rain from the bush and branches saturates us from above. Tall ferns, sometimes reaching to the shoulder, and devil's club, through which we had to climb our way, made us feel as if dragged through a horsepond and our perspiration is that of a Turkish bath. The devil's club may be numbered by millions and they are perpetually wounding us with their spikes, against which we strike.
"The rain continues falling incessantly. Although Sunday, owing to limited supplies, we are compelled to travel. We make little headway, and every tree, every leaf is wet and casts oft' rain. In a short time we are as drenched as the foliage. We have many fallen trees to climb over, and it is no slight matter to struggle over trees ten feet and upwards in diameter. We have rocks to ascend and descend; we have a marsh to cross in which we sink often to the middle. For half a mile we have waded, I will not say picked, our way to the opposite side through a channel filled with stagnant
