Sometimes instead of these virgin forests the trail--and this is especially true when one is near a pass at 6000 feet or 7000 feet--passes along wide expanses of meadow, with small rhododendron bushes and clumps of pines every here and there. Masses of flowers can be seen in every direction, many kinds of anemone, large yellow daisies, and many others. Near the watershed of a pass beautiful lakes of pure blue water are often found, and in a quiet summer afternoon the long slanting shadows and the reflection of pines, peaks, and glaciers lie still in the clear water. The contrast of colours often is almost dazzling. One instance in particular I shall never forget: it was in a valley thirty miles north of the line called Bear Creek, near two lakes where some years before a fire had burnt out several square miles of forest. The gaunt, shining black stems of the trees formed a curious but fitting background--shining like black satin--for the mass of brilliant golden yellow daisies that were in full bloom amongst the stones at their feet. There was no green of grass, in fact no other colour except that of the sky. This blaze of golden orange against satin black tree trunks, with a sapphire sky beyond, formed a contrast of colours but rarely seen in a landscape. These burnt forests are one of the worst obstacles for delaying a party with horses. For a few years the ground is cleared excellently; but soon an undergrowth of pines springs up, then for many years the burnt dead trunks, which never seem to rot after having been charred by the fire, and the new thick undergrowth, make often a mile a day with a pack team good work. Often even without burnt timber to delay one, the progression up an unknown valley is very tedious. In 1900, whilst exploring the Bush valley on the western side of the mountains, our first view of the valley held out hopes to us that we should soon get to the head waters and the snow peaks fifteen miles away. Stretched out at our feet, as we looked down from a neighbouring hill, lay the valley, wide and level. There were no canyons or defiles that might necessitate lengthy détours up precipitous hill-sides. The valley was open and flat. It is true we saw some muskegs at the sides, but along the level bottom stretched shingle flats, with streams all tangled together, looking like a skein of ravelled grey wool thrown down between the dull green hills, whilst the main river, winding first toward one hillside and then towards the other, sometimes branching, again reuniting, formed a veritable puzzle of interlacing channels, islands of pebbles, stretches of swamps, and small lakes all hopelessly intermingled. The first ten miles up that valley took us ten days' incessant work. Our way was alternately through immense timber, dense thickets of willows, through swamps, streams, small lakes, along insecure river banks, climbing up the hill-sides, jumping logs, cutting through fallen trees and undergrowth so thick one could hardly see