A FEW days later I set out with Professor Reid's
party to visit some of the other large glaciers
that flow into the bay, to observe what changes have
taken place in them since October, 1879, when I
first visited and sketched them. We found the upper
half of the bay closely choked with bergs, through
which it was exceedingly difficult to force a way.
After slowly struggling a few miles up the east side,
we dragged the whale-boat and canoe over rough
rocks into a fine garden and comfortably camped for
the night.

The next day was spent in cautiously picking a way
across to the west side of the bay; and as the strangely
scanty stock of provisions was already about done,
and the ice-jam to the northward seemed impenetra-
ble, the party decided to return to the main camp by
a comparatively open, roundabout way to the south-
ward, while with the canoe and a handful of food-
scraps I pushed on northward. After a hard, anxious
struggle, I reached the mouth of the Hugh Miller
fiord about sundown, and tried to find a camp-spot
on its steep, boulder-bound shore. But no landing-
place where it seemed possible to drag the canoe
above high-tide mark was discovered after examining
a mile or more of this dreary, forbidding barrier, and
as night was closing down, I decided to try to grope
my way across the mouth of the fiord in the starlight

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