The Yosemite

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THE YOSEMITE

THE YOSEMITE

THE YOSEMITE

BY JOHN MUIR

NEW TOEK

THE CENTDBY CO.

MOMXiC

StHvyjL or
WMOSCAPE ARCHITECTURt
HARVARD liHliUilJi

Z ^^■2>

Copyright, 1912, by
The Gentubt CJo.

Pvhli%hed, April, 1912

f ^ •

^ t. J-^

^ «« «. t

r

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO MY FRIEND,

EOBEET UNDEEWOOD JOHNSON,

FAITHFUL

LOVEB AND DEFENDER

OF OUR GLORIOUS FORESTS

AND ORIGINATOR OF

THE YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK.

CONTENTS

FAGB

L THE APPROACH TO THE VALLEY .... 3

IL WINTER STORMS AND SPRING FLOODS . . 61

— HL SNOW STORMS 61

— IV. SNOW BANNERS 70

V. THE TREES OP THE VALLEY 87

— VI. THE FOREST TREES IN QENERAL .... 93

— Vn. THE BIG TREES 127

Vin. THE FLOWERS 148

rX. THE BIRDS 168

-V X. THE SOUTH DOME 166

XI. THE ANCIENT YOSEMTTE GLACIERS: HOW

THE VALLEY WAS FORMED 173

XII. HOW BEST TO SPEND YOUR YOSEMITE TIME 196

XIII. LAMON 237

XIV. GALEN CLARK 240

XV. HETCH HETCHY VALLEY 249

APPENDICES 263

INDEX 275

••

VII

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

^Yoeemite Fall FronUspiece

FACING PAGB

^Cathedral Rocks and Cathedral Spires as seen across

Merced River 28

•^The Three Brothers 68

^In the Mariposa Grove 96

"^ Mirror Lake, Mt. Watkins and Slopes of Clouds' Rest . 124

>/ Slope of Mt. Dana and Lake Tioga, Tuolumne Meadows 180

^Looking up Hetch-Hetchy Valley from Surprise Point . 204

^Hetch-Hetchy Valley 244

IX

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

On the early history of Yosemite the
-writer is indebted to Prof. J. D. Whit-
ney for quotations from his volume en-
titled ** Yosemite Qnide-BooV* and to
Dr. Bunnell for extracts from his inter-
esting volume entitled "Discovery of
the Yosemite.*'

THE YOSEMITE

THE YOSEMITE

THB AFPBOAOH TO THE VALLEY

WSEN I set out on the long excursion that
finally led to California I wandered afoot and
alone^ from Indiana to the Gulf of Mexico, with a
plant-press on my back, holding a generally south-
ward course, like the birds when they are going from
summer to winter. From the west coast of Florida
I crossed the gulf to Cuba, enjoyed the rich tropical
flora there for a few months, intending to go thence
to the north end of South America, make my way
through the woods to the headwaters of the Amazon,
and float down that grand river to the ocean. But
I was unable to flnd a ship bound for South America
— fortunately perhaps, for I had incredibly little
money for so long a trip and had not yet fully re-
covered from a fever caught in the Florida swamps.
Therefore I decided to visit California for a year or
two to see its wonderful flora and the famous Yosem-
ite Valley. All the world was before me and every

9

4: THE YOSEMITE

day was a holiday^ so it did not seem important to
which one of the world's wildernesses I first should
wander.

Arriving by the Panama steamer, I stopped one
day in San Fl*ancisco and then inquired for the near-
est way out of town. " But where do you want to
go ? " asked the man to whom I had applied for this
important information. " To any place that is wild/'
I said. This reply startled him. He seemed to
fear I might be crazy and therefore the sooner I was
out of town the better, so he directed me to the Oak-
land ferry.

So on the first of April, 1868, I set out afoot for
Yosemite. It was the bloom-time of the year over the
lowlands and coast ranges; the landscapes of the
Santa Clara Valley were fairly drenched with sun-
shine, all the air was quivering with the songs of the
meadow-larks, and the hills were so covered with flow-
ers that they seemed to be painted. Slow indeed was
my progress through these glorious gardens, the first
of the California flora I had seen. Cattle and culti-
vation were making few scars as yet, and I wandered
.enchanted in long wavering curves, knowing by my
pocket map that Yosemite Valley lay to the east and
that I should surely find it.

THE SIEKKA FROM THE WEST

THE SIEREtA FROM THE WEST

Looking eastward from the summit of the Pacheco
Pass one shining mornings a landscape was displayed
that after all my wanderings still appears as the most
beautiful I have ever beheld. At my feet lay the
Great Central Valley of California, level and flowery,
like a lake of pure simshine, forty or fifty miles wide,
five hundred miles long, one rich furred garden of
yellow CompositcB. And from the eastern boundary
of this vast golden flower-bed rose the mighty Sierra,
miles in height, and so gloriously colored and so
radiant, it seemed not clothed with light, but wholly
composed of it^ like the wall of some celestial city.
Along the top and extending a good way down, was
a rich pearl-gray belt of snow; below it a belt of
blue and dark purple, marking the extension of the
forests; and stretching along the base of the range
a broad belt of rose-purple ; all these colors, from the
blue sky to the yellow valley smoothly blending as
they do in a rainbow, making a wall of light ineffably
fine. Then it seemed to me that the Sierra should
be called, not the Nevada or Snowy Bange, but the
Range of Light And after ten years of wandering
and wondering in the heart of it^ rejoicing in its
glorious floods of light, the white beams of the morn-
ing streaming through the passes, the noonday radi-

6 THE YOSEMITE

ance on the crystal rocks^ the flush of the alpenglow^
and the irised spray of countless waterfalls^ it still
seems above all others the Range of Li^t

In general views no mark of man is visible upon
ity nor anything to suggest the wonderful depth and
grandeur of its sculpture. None of its magnificent
forest-crowned ridges seems to rise much above the
general level to publish its wealth. No great valley
or river is seen^ or group of well-marked features of
any kind standing out as distinct pictures. Even
the simunit peaks, marshaled in glorious array so
high in the sky, seem comparatively r^ular in form.
Nevertheless the whole range five hundred miles long
is furrowed with canons 2,000 to 5,000 feet deep, in
which once flowed majestic glaciers, and in which
now flow and sing the bright rejoicing rivers.

OHABACTEBISnOS OF THE CAJ^ONS

Though of such stupendous depth, these canons are
not gloomy gorges, savage and inaccessible. With
rough passages here and there they are flowery path-
ways conducting to the snowy, icy fountains ; moun-
tain streets full of life and light, graded and
sculptured by the ancient glaciers, and presenting
throughout all their courses a rich variety of novel
and attractive scenery — the most attractive that has

INCOMPARABLE YOSEMITE 7

yet been discovered in the mountain ranges of the
world. In many places, especially in the middle re-
gion of the western flank, the main canons widen into
spacious valleys or parks diversified like landscape
gardens with meadows and groves and thickets of
blooming bushes, while the lofty walls, infinitely
varied in form, are fringed with ferns, fiowering
plants, shrubs of many species, and tall evergreens
and oaks that find footholds on small benches and
tables, all enlivened and made glorious with rejoicing
streams that come chanting in chorus over the cliffs
and through side cafions in falls of every conceivable
form, to join the river that fiows in tranquil, shining
beauty down the middle of each one of them.

THE mOOMPABABLB T06BMITB

The most famous and accessible of these cafion
valleys, and also the one that presents their most strik-
ing and sublime features on the grandest scale^ is
the Yosemite, situated in the basin of the Merced
River at an elevation of 4000 feet above the level of
the sea. It is about seven miles long, half a mile
to a mile wide, and nearly a mile deep in the solid
granite flank of the range. The walls are made up
of rocks, mountains in size, partly separated from
each other by side cafions, and they are so sheer in

/

8 THE YOSEMITE

front; and so compactly and harmonionsly arranged
on a level floor, that the Valley, comprehensively
seen, looks like an immense hall or temple lighted
from above.

But no temple made with hands can compare with
Yosemite. Every rock in its walls seems to glow
with life. Some lean back in majestic repose ; others,
absolutely sheer or nearly so for thousands of feet,
advance beyond their companions in thoughtful atti-
tudes, giving welcome to storms and calms alike,
seemingly aware, yet heedless, of everything going
on about them. Awful in stem, immovable majesty,
how softly these rocks are adorned, and how fine
and reassuring the company they keep: their feet
among beautiful groves and meadows, their brows
in the sky, a thousand flowers leaning confidingly
against their feet, bathed in floods of water, floods of
light, while the snow and waterfalls, the winds and
avalanches and clouds shine and sing and wreathe
about them as the years go by, and myriads of small
winged creatures — birds, bees, butterflies — give
glad animation and help to make all the air into
music Down through the middle of the Valley
flows the crystal Merced, River of Mercy, peacefully
quiet, reflecting lilies and trees and the onlooking
rocks; things frail and fleeting and types of endur-
ance meeting here and blending in countless forms,
as if into this one mountain mansion Nature had

APPROACH TO THE VALLEY 9

gathered her choicest treasures, to draw her lovers
into dose and confiding communion with her.

THE APPROACH TO THE VALLEY

Sauntering up the foothills to Yosemite by any of
the old trails or roads in use before the railway was
built from the town of Merced up the river to the
boundary of Yosemite Park, richer and wilder be-
come the forests and streams. At an elevation of
6000 feet above the level of the sea the silver firs are
200 feet hi^, with branches whorled around the
colossal shafts in regular order, and every branch
beautifully pinnate like a fern frond. The Doug-
las spruce, the yellow and sugar pines and brown-
barked Libocedrus here reach their finest develop-
ments of beauty and grandeur. The majestic Se-
quoia is here, too, the king of conifers, the noblest of
all the noble race. These colossal trees are as won-
derful in fineness of beauty and proportion as in
stature — an assemblage of conifers surpassing all
that have ever yet been discovered in the forests of
the world. Here indeed is the tree-lover's paradise ;
the woods, dry and wholesome, letting in the light in
shimmering masses of half sunshine, half shade ; the
night air as well as the day air indescribably spicy
and exhilarating ; plushy fir-boughs for campers' beds.

10 THE YOSEMITE

and cascades to sing us to sleep. On the highest
ridgesy over which these old Yosemite ways passed,
the silver fir (Abies magnifica) forms the bulk of
the woods, pressing forward in glorious array to the
very brink of the Valley walls on both sides, and be-
yond the Valley to a height of from 8000 to 9000
feet above the level of the sea. Thus it appears that
Yosemite, presenting such stupendous faces of bare
granite, is nevertheless imbedded in magnificent for-
ests, and the main species of pine, fir, spruce and
libocedrus are also found in the Valley itself, but
there are no ^^ big trees '' (Sequoia gigantea) in the
Valley or about the rim of it The nearest are
about ten and twenty miles beyond the lower end
of the valley on small tributaries of the Merced and
Tuolumne Rivers.

\
I

THE FIRST VIEW: THE BRIDAL VEIL

From the margin of these glorious forests the first
general view of the Valley used to be gained — a
revelation in landscape affairs that enriches one's
life forever. Entering the Valley, gazing over-
whelmed with the multitude of grand objects about
us, perhaps the first to fix our attention will be the
Bridal Veil, a beautiful waterfall on our right Its

THE BRIDAL VEIL 11

brow, where it first leaps free from the cliff, is about
900 feet above us ; and as it sways and sings in the
wind, dad in gauzy, sun-sifted spray, half falling,
half floating, it seems infinitely gentle and fine ; but
the hymns it sings tell the solemn fateful power hid-
den beneath its soft clothing.

The Bridal Veil shoots free from the upper edge
of the cliff by the velocity the stream has acquired in
descending a long slope above the head of the fall.
Looking from the top of the rock-avalanche talus on
the west side, about one hundred feet above the foot
of the fall, the under surface of the water arch is
seen to be finely grooved and striated; and the sky
is seen through the arch between rock and water,
making a novel and beautiful effect

Under ordinary weather conditions the fall strikes
on flat-topped slabs, forming a kind of ledge about
two-thirds of the way down from the top, and as the
fall sways back and forth with great variety of mo-
tions among these flat-topped pillars, kissing and
plashing notes as well as thunder-like detonations
are produced, like those of the Yosemite Eall, though
on a smaller scale.

The rainbows of the Veil, or rather the spray- and
foam-bows, are superb, because the waters are dashed
among angular blocks of granite at the foot, pro-
ducing abundance of spray of the best quality for

la THE YOSEMITE

iris effects, and also for a luxuriant growth of grass
and maiden-hair on the side of the talus^ which lower
down is planted with oak, laurel and willows.

GENERAL FEATUBES OF THE YALLET

On the other side of the Valley, almost immedi-
ately opposite the Bridal Veil, there is another fine
fall, considerably wider than the Veil when the
snow is melting fast and more than 1000 feet in
height, measured from the brow of the cliff where
it first springs out into the air to the head of the
roc^ talus on which it strikes and is broken up into
ragged cascades. It is called the Bibbon Fall or
Virgin's Tears. During the spring floods it is a
magnificent object, but the suffocating blasts of spray
that fill the recess in the wall which it occupies pre-
vent a near approach. In autumn, ho\^ever, when
its feeble current falls in a shower, it may then pass
for tears with the sentimental onlooker fresh from a
visit to the Bridal Veil.

Just beyond this glorious flood the El Capitan
Bock, regarded by many as the most sublime feature
of the Valley, is seen through the pine groves, stand-
ing forward beyond the general line of the wall in
most imposing grandeur, a type of permanence. It
is 3300 feet high, a plain, severely simple, glacier-

GENERAL FEATURES 18

sculptured face of granite, the end of one of the most
compact and enduring of the mountain ridges, un-
rivaled in height and breadth and flawless strength.

Across the Valley from here, next to the Bridal
Veil, are the picturesque Cathedral Rocks, nearly
2700 feet high, making a noble display of fine yet
massive sculpture. They are closely related to El
Capitan, having been eroded from the same moun-
tain ridge by the great Yosemite Glacier when the
Valley was in process of formation.

Next to the Cathedral Rocks on the south side
towers the S^itinel Rock to a height of more than
3000 feet, a telling monument of the glacial period.

Almost immediately opposite the Sentinel are the
Three Brothers, an immense mountain mass with
three gables fronting the Valley, one above another,
the topmost gable nearly 4000 feet high. They were
named for three brothers, sons of old Tenaya, the
Yosemite chief, captured here during the Indian
War, at the time of the discovery of the Valley in
1852.

Sauntering up the Valley through meadow and
grove, in the company of these majestic rocks, which
seem to follow us as we advance, gazing, admiring,
looking for new wonders ahead where all about us
is so wonderful, the thunder of the Yosemite Fall
is heard, and when we arrive in front of the Sentinel
Rock it is revealed in all its glory from base to sum-

14 THE TOSEMITE

mit, half a mile in height, and seeming to spring
out into the Valley sunshine direct from the sky.
But even this f all, perhaps the most wonderful of
its kind in the world^ cannot at first hold our atten-
tion, for now the wide upper portion of the Valley
is displayed to view, with the finely modeled North
Dome, the Boyal Arches and Washington Column on
our left; Glacier Point, with its massive, magnificent
sculpture on the right; and in the middle, directly
in front, looms Tissiack or Half Dome, the most
beautiful and most sublime of all the wonderful Yo-
semite rocks, rising in serene majesty from flowery
groves and meadows to a height of 4750 feet

THE UPPER OASONS

Here the Valley divides into three branches, the
Tenaya, Nevada, and Hlilouette Canons, extending
back into the fountains of the High Sierra, with
scenery every way worthy the relation they bear to
Yosemite.

In the south branch, a mile or two from the main
Valley, is the Hlilouette Fall, 600 feet high, one of
the most beautiful of all the Yosemite choir, but to
most people inaccessible as yet on account of its
rough, steep, boulder-choked canon. Its principal
fountains of ice and snow lie in the beautiful and

THE UPPER CAfJONS 16

interestiiig mountains of the Meroed group, while
its broad open basin between its fountain mountains
and canon is noted for the beauty of its lakes and
forests and magnificent moraines.

Betuming to the Yallej, and going up the north
branch of Tenaya Canon, we pass between the ITorth
Dome and Half Dome, and in less than an hour
come to Mirror Lake, the Dome Cascades, and
Tenaya FalL Beyond the Fall, on the north side
of the cafion, is the sublime El Capitan-like rock
called Mount Watkins ; on the south the vast granite
wave of Clouds' Best, a mile in height ; and between
them the fine Tenaya Cascade with silvery plumes
outspread on smooth glacier-polished folds of granite,
making a vertical descent in all of about 700 feet

Just beyond the Dome Cascades, on the shoulder of
Mount Watkins, there is an old trail once used by
Indians on their way across the range to Mono, but
in the canon above this point there is no trail of any
sort Between Mount Watkins and Clouds' Best the
canon is accessible only to mountaineers, and it is
so dangerous that I hesitate to advise even good
dimbers, anxious to test their nerve and skill, to at-
tempt to pass through it. Beyond the Cascades no
great difficulty will be encountered. A succession of
charming lily gardens and meadows occurs in filled-
up lake basins among the rock-waves in the bottom
of the cafion^ and everywhere the surface of the gran-

le THE YOSEMITE

ite has a smooth-wiped appearance, and in many
places reflects the sunbeams like glass, a phenomenon
due to glacial action, the canon having been the chan-
nel of one of the main tributaries of the ancient Yo-
semite Glacier.

About ten miles above the Yallej we come to the
beautiful Tenaya Lake, and here the canon termi-
nates. A mile or two above the lake stands the grand
Sierra Cathedral, a building of one stone, hewn from
the living rock, with sides, roof, gable, spire and
ornamental pinnacles, fashioned and finished sym-
metrically like a work of art, and set on a well-
graded plateau about 9000 feet high, as if ITature in
making so fine a building had also been careful that
it should be finely seen. From every direction its

peculiar form and graceful, majestic beauty of ex-
pression never fail to charm. Its height from its
base to the ridge of the roof is about 2500 feet, and
among the pinnacles that adorn the front grand views
may be gained of the upper basins of the Merced and
Tuolumne Bivers.

Passing the Cathedral we descend into the deli^t-
ful, spacious Tuolumne Valley, from which excur-
sions may be made to Mounts Dana, Lyell, Bitter,
Conness, and Mono Lake, and to the many curious
peaks that rise above the meadows on the south, and
to the Big Tuolumne Cafion, with its glorious abun-
dance of rocks and falling, gliding, tossing water.

NATURAL FEATURES 17

For all these the beautiful meadows near the Soda
Springs form a delightful center.

NATURAL FEATURES NEAR THE VALLEY

Returning now to Yosemite and ascending the mid-
dle or Nevada branch of the Valley, occupied by the
main Merced River^ we come within a few miles to
the Yemal and Nevada Falls^ 400 and 600 feet high,
pouring their white, rejoicing waters in the midst
of the most novel and sublime rock scenery to be
found in all the world. Tracing the river beyond the
head of the Nevada Fall we are led into the Little
Yosemite, a valley like the great Yosemite in form,
sculpture and vegetation. It is about three miles
long, with walls 1500 to 2000 feet high, cascades
coming over them, and the river flowing through the
meadows and groves of the level bottom in tranquil,
richly-embowered reaches.

Beyond this Little Yosemite in the main canon,
there are three other little yosemites, the highest sit-
uated a few miles below the base of Mount Lyell, at
an elevation of about 7800 feet above the sea. To
describe these, with all their wealth of Yosemite
furniture, and the wilderness of lofty peaks above
them, the home of the avalanche and treasury of the
fountain snow^ would take us far beyond the bounds

18 THE TOSEMITE

of a single book. ITor can we here consider the for-
mation of these mountain landscapes — how the crys-
tal rocks were brought to light by glaciers made up
of crystal snow, making beauty whose influence is so
mysterious on every one who sees it.

Of the small glacier lakes so characteristic of these
upper regions, there are no fewer than sixty-seven in
the basin of the main middle branch, besides count-
less smaller pools. In the basin of the Illilouette
there are sixteen, in the Tenaya basin and its
branches thirte^ in the Yosemite Creek basin four-
teen, and in the Pohono or Bridal Veil one, making
a grand total of one hundred and eleven lakes whose
waters come to sing at Yosemite. So glorious is the
background of the great Valley, so harmonious its re-
lations to its widespreading fountains.

The same harmony prevails in all the other
features of the adjacent landscapes. Climbing out
of the Valley by the subordinate canons, we find the
ground rising from the brink of the walls: on the
south side to the fountains of the Bridal Veil Creek,
the basin of which is noted for the beauty of its
meadows and its superb forests of silver fir; on the
north side through the basin of the Yosemite Creek
to the dividing ridge along the Tuolumne Canon
and the fountains of the Hoffman Bange.

DOWN YOSEMITE CEEEK 19

DOWN THE YOSEMITE GREEK

In general views the Yosemite Creek basin seems
to be paved with domes and smooth, whaleback
masses of granite in every stage of development —
some showing only their crowns; others rising high
and free above the girdling forests, singly or in
groups. Others are developed only on one side,
forming bold outstanding bosses usually well fringed
with shrubs and trees, and presenting the polished
surfaces given them by the glacier that brought them
into relief. On the upper portion of the basin
broad moraine beds have been deposited and on these
fine, thrifty forests are growing. Lakes and
meadows and small spongy bogs may be found hid-
ing here and there in the woods or back in the foun-
tain recesses of Mount Hoffman, while a thousand
gardens are planted along the banks of the streams.

All the wide, fan-shaped upper portion of the
basin is covered with a network of small rills that
go cheerily on their way to their grand fall in the
Valley, now flowing on smooth pavem^its in sheets
thin as glass, now diving under willows and laving
their red roots, oozing through green, plushy bogs,
plashing over small falls and dancing down slanting
cascades, calming again, gliding through patches
of smooth glacier meadows with eod of alpine

20 THE TOSEMITE

agrostis mixed with blue and white violets and
daisies, breaking, tossing among rough boulders and
fallen trees, resting in calm pools, flowing together
until, all united, they go to their fate with stately,
tranquil gestures like a full-grown river. At the
crossing of the Mono Trail, about two miles above
the head of the Yosemite Eall, the stream is nearly
forty feet wide, and when the snow is melting
rapidly in the spring it is about four feet deep,
with a current of two and a half miles an hour.
This is about the volume of water that forms the
Fall in May and June when there had been much
snow the preceding winter; but it varies greatly from
month to month. The snow rapidly vanishes from
the open portion of the basin, which faces southward,
and only a few of the tributaries reach back to
perennial snow and ice fountains in the shadowy
amphitheaters on the precipitous northern slopes of
Mount HofiEman. The total descent made by the
stream from its highest sources to its confluence with
the Merced in the Valley is about 6000 feet, while
the distance is only about ten miles, an average fall
of 600 feet per mile. The last mile of its course
lies between the sides of sunken domes and swelling
folds of the granite that are clustered and pressed
together like a mass of bossy cumulus clouds.
Through this shining way Yosemite Creek goes to
its fate, swaying and swirling with easy, graceful

THE YOSEMITE FALL 21

gestures and singing the last of its mountain songs
before it reaches the dizzy edge of Yosemite to fall
2600 feet into another world^ where climate, vege-
tation, inhabitants, all are different Emerging
from this last canon the stream glides, in flat, lace-
like folds, down a smooth incline into a small pool
where it seems to rest and compose itself before
taking the grand plunge. Then calmly, as if leav-
ing a lake, it slips over the polished lip of the pool
down another incline and out over the brow of the
precipice in a magnificent curve thick-sown with
rainbow spray.

THE YOSEMITE FALL

Long ago before I had traced this fine stream
to its head back of Mount Hoffman, I was eager
to reach the extreme verge to see how it behaved
in flying so far throug^i the air; but after enjoying
this view and getting safely away I have never ad-
vised any one to follow my steps. The last incline
down which the stream journeys so gracefully is so
steep and smooth one must slip cautiously forward
on hands and feet alongside the rushing water,
which so near one^s head is very exciting. But to
gain a perfect view one must go yet farther, over a
curving brow to a sli^t shelf (m the extreme brink.

22 THE TOSEMITE

This shelf, fonned by the flaking off of a fold of
granite, is about three inches wide, just wide enough
for a safe rest for one's heels. To me it seemed
nerve-trying to slip to this narrow foothold and
poise on the edge of such a precipice so close to the
confusing whirl of the waters; and after casting
longing glances over the shining brow of the fall
and listening to its sublime psalm, I concluded not
to attempt to go nearer, but, nevertheless, against rea-
sonable judgment, I did. Noticing some tufts of ar-
temisia in a cleft of rock, I filled my mouth with the
leaves, hoping their bitter taste might help to keep
caution keen and prevent giddiness. In spite of
myself I reached the little ledge, got my heels well
set, and worked sidewise twenty or thirty feet to
a point close to the out-plunging current Here the
view is perfectly free down into the heart of the
bright irised throng of comet-like streamers into which
the whole ponderous volume of the fall separates, two
or three hundred feet below the brow. So glorious
a display of pure wildness, acting at close range
while cut off from all the world beside, is terribly
impressive. A less nerve-trying view may be ob-
tained from a fissured portion of the edge of the
cliff about forty yards to the eastward of the fall.
Seen from this point towards noon, in the spring,
the rainbow on its brow seems to be broken up and
mingled with the rushing comets until all the fall

A WONDERFUL ASCENT 28

is stained with iris colors, leaving no white water
visible. This is the best of the safe views from
above, the hnge steadfast rocks, the flying waters, and
the rainbow light forming one of the most glorious
pictures ccmceivable.

The Yosemite Eall is separated into an upper and
a lower fall with a series of falls and cascades be-
tween th^n, but when viewed in front from the bot-
tom of the Valley they all appear as one.

So grandly does this magnificent fall display itself
from the floor of the Valley, few visitors take the
trouble to dimb the walls to gain nearer views, una-
ble to realize how vastly more impressive it is near by
than at a distance of one or two miles.

A WONDERFUL ASCENT.

The views developed in a walk up the zigzags of
the trail leading to the foot of the Upper Fall are
about as varied and impressive as those displayed
along the favorite Glacier Point Trail. One rises
as if (m wings. The groves, meadows, fern-flats and
reaches of the river gain new interest, as if never
seen before; all the views changing in a most strik-
ing manner as we go higher from point to point.
The foreground also changes every few rods in the
most surprising manner, although the earthquake

24 THE YOSEMITE

talus and the level bench on the face of the wall
over which the trail passee seem monotonous and
commonplace as seen from the bottom of the Valley.
Up we climb with glad exhilaration, through
shaggy fringes of laurel, ceanothus, glossy-leaved
manzanita and live-oak, from shadow to shadow
across bars and patches of sunshine, the leafy open-
ings making charming frames for the Valley pic-
tures beheld through th^n, and for the glimpses of
the high peaks that appear in the distance. The
higher we go the farther we seem to be from the
summit of the vast granite wall. Here we pass a
projecting buttress whose grooved and rounded sur-
face tells a plain story of the time when the Valley,
now filled with sunshine, was filled with ice, when
the grand old Yosemite Glacier, flowing river-like
from its distant fountains, swept through it, crush-
ing, grinding, wearing its way ever deeper, develop-
ing and fashioning these sublime rocks. Again we
cross a white, battered gully, the pathway of rock
avalanches or snow avalanches. Farther on we
come to a gentle stream slipping down the face of
the cliff in lace-like strips, and dropping from ledge
to ledge — too small to be called a fall — trid^Iing,
dripping, oozing, a pathless wanderer from one of
the upland meadows lying a little way back of the
Valley rim, seeking a way century after century
to the depths of the Valley without any appreciable

n

A WONDEEFUL ASCENT 26

ohanneL Every morning after a cool night, evapora-
tion being checked, it gathers strength and sings like
a bird, but as the day advances and the sun strikes
its thin currents outspread on the heated precipices,
most of its waters vanish ere the bottom of the Valley
is reached. Many a fine, hanging^rden aloft on
breezy inaccessible heights owes to it its freshness
and fulhiess of beauty; ferneries in shady nooks,
filled with Adiantum, Woodwardia, Woodsia, Aspid-
ium, Pellaea, and Cheilanthes, resetted and tufted
and ranged in lines, daintily overlapping, thatching
the stupendous difis with softest beauty, some of the
delicate fronds seeming to float on the warm moist
air, without any connection with rock or stream.
Nor is there any lack of colored plants wherever they
can find a place to cling to; lilies and mints, the
showy cardinal mimulus, and glowing cushions of
the golden bahia, enlivened with butterflies and bees
and all the other small, happy humming creatures
that belong to them.

After the highest point on the lower division of
the trail is gained it leads up into the deep recess
occupied by the great fall, the noblest display of
falling water to be found in the YaUey, or perhaps
in the world. When it flrst comes in si^t it seems
almost within reach of one's hand, so great in the
spring is its volume and velocity, yet it is still
nearly a third of a mile away and appears to recede

26 THE YOSEMITE

as we advance. The sculpture of the walls about
it is on a scale of grandeur, according nobly with
the fall — plain and massive, though elaborately fin-
ished, like all the other cliffs about the Valley.

In the afternoon an immense shadow is cast
athwart the plateau in front of the fall, and over
the chaparral bushes that clothe the slopes and
benches of the walls to the eastward, creeping upward
until the fall is wholly overcast, the contrast between
the shaded and illumined sections being very strik-
ing in these near views.

Under this shadow, during the cool centuries im-
mediately following the breaking-up of the Glacial
Period, dwelt a small residual glacier, one of the
few that lingered on this sun-beaten side of the
Valley after the main trunk glacier had vanished.
It sent down a long winding current through the
narrow canon on the west side of the fall, and must
have formed a striking feature of the ancient scenery
of the Valley ; the lofty fall of ice and fall of water
side by side, yet separate and distinct

The coolness of the afternoon shadow and the
abundant dewy spray make a fine climate for the
plateau ferns and grasses, and for the beautiful
azalea bushes that grow here in profusion and Uoom
in September, long after the warmer thickets down
on the floor of the Valley have withered and gone to

A WONDERFUL ASCENT 27

seed. Even dose to the f all^ and behind it at the base
of the cliff, a few venturesome plants may be found
undisturbed by the rock-shaking torrent.

The basin at the foot of the fall into which the
current directly pours, when it is not swayed by the
wind, is about ten feet deep and fifteen to twenty
feet in diameter. That it is not much deeper is
surprising, when the great height and force of the
fall is considered. But the rock where the water
strikes probably suffers less erosion than it would
were the descent less than half as great, since the
current is outspread, and much of its force is spent
ere it reaches the bottom — being received on the
air as upon an elastic cushion, and borne outward
and dissipated over a surface more than fifty yards
wide.

This surface, easily examined when the water is
low, is intensely clean and fresh looking. It is the
raw, quick flesh of the mountain wholly untouched
by the weather. In summer droughts, when the
snowfall of the preceding winter has been light, the
fall is reduced to a mere shower of separate drops
without any obscuring spray. Then we may safely
go back of it and view the crystal shower from be-
neath, each drop wavering and pulsing as it makes
its way through the air, and flashing off jets of
colored li^t of ravishing beauty. But all this is

28 THE YOSEMITE

invisible from the bottom of the Valley, like a
thousand other interesting things. One mxist labor
for beauty as for bread, here as elsewhere.

THE QEUin)£XJB OF THE YOSEMITE FALL

During the time of the spring floods the best near
view of the fall is obtained from Fern Ledge on the
east side above the blinding spray at a height of about
400 feet above the base of the f alL A climb of about
1400 feet from the Valley has to be made, and there
is no trail, but to any one fond of climbing this will
make the ascent all the more delightful. A narrow
part of the ledge extends to the side of the fall and
back of it, enabling us to approach it as closely as we
wish. When the afternoon sunshine is streaming
through the throng of comets, ever wasting, ever re-
newed, the marvelous fineness, firmness and variety
of their forms are beautifully revealed. At the top
of the fall they seem to burst forth in irregular spurts
from some grand, throbbing mountain heart Now
and then one mighty throb sends forth a mass of
solid water into the free air far beyond the others,
which rushes alone to the bottom of the fall with
long streaming tail, like combed silk, while the
others, descending in clusters, gradually mingle and
lose their id^itity. But they all rush past us with

GRAKDEUB OF YOSEMITE FALL 29

amazing velocity and display of power, though
apparently drowsy and deliberate in their movements
when observed from a distance of a mile or two.
The heads of these comet-like masses are composed
of nearly solid water, and are dense white in color
like pressed snow, from the friction they suffer in
rushing through the air, the portion worn off form-
ing the tail, between the white lustrous threads and
films of which faint, grayish pencilings appear, while
the outer, finer sprays of water-dust, whirling in
sunny eddies, are pearly gray throughout At the
bottom of the fall there is but little distinction of
form visible. It is mostly a hissing, clashing,
seething, upwhirling mass of scud and spray, through
which the light sifts in gray and purple tones, while
at times when the sun strikes at the required angle,
the whole wild and apparently lawless, stormy,
striving mass is changed to briUiant rainbow hues,
manifesting finest harmony. The middle portion
of the fall is the most openly beautiful; lower, the
various forms into which the waters are wrought are
more closely and voluminously veiled, while higher,
towards the head, the current is comparatively simple
and undivided. But even at the bottom, in the
boiling clouds of spray, there is no confusion, while
the rainbow light makes all divine, adding glorious
beauty and peace to glorious power. This noble
fall has far the richest, as well as the anoet powerful.

80 THE YOSEMITE

▼oice of all the falls of the Valley, its tones varying
from the sharp hiss and rustle of the wind in the
glossy leaves of the live-oaks and the soft^ sifting,
hnshing tones of the pines, to the loudest rush and
roar of storm winds and thunder among the crags
of the summit peaks. The low bass, booming, re-
verberating tones, heard under favorable circum-
stances five or six miles away, are formed by the
dashing and exploding of heavy masses mixed with
air upon two projecting ledges on the face of the
cliff, the one on which we are standing and another
about 200 feet above it The torrent of massive
comets is continuous at time of high water, while
the explosive, booming notes are wildly intermitr
tent, because, unless influenced by the wind, most of
the heavier masses shoot out from the face of the
precipice, and pass the ledges upon which at other
times they are exploded. Occasionally the whole
fall is swayed away from the front of the cliff, then
suddenly dashed flat against it, or vibrated from side
to side like a pendulum, giving rise to endless variely
of forms and sounds.

THE NEVADA PALL

The ITevada Fall is 600 feet high and is usually
ranked next to the Yosemite in general interest

THE NEVADA FAIL 81

among the five main falls of the Valley. Coming
through the Little Yosemite in tranquil reaches, the
river is first broken into rapids on a moraine boulder-
bar that crosses the lower end of the Valley. Thence
it pursues its way to the head of the fall in a rough,
solid rock channel, dashing on side angles, heaving
in heavy surging masses against elbow knobs, and
swirling and swashing in pot-holes without a
moment's rest. Thus, already chafed and dashed to
foam, overfolded and twisted, it plunges over the
brink of the precipice as if glad to escape into the
open air. But before it reaches the bottom it is pul-
verized yet finer by impinging upon a sloping por-
tion of the cliff about half-way down, thus making
it the whitest of all the falls of the Valley, and
altogether one of the most wonderful in the world.

On the north side, close to its head, a slab of
granite projects over the brink, forming a fine point
for a view, over its throng of streamers and wild
plunging, into its intensely white bosom, and, through
the broad drifts of spray, to the river far below,
gathering its spent waters and rushing on again down
the cafion in glad exultation into Emerald Pool,
where at length it grows calm and gets rest for what
still lies before it All the features of the view cor-
respond with the waters in grandeur and wildness.
The glacier-sculptured walls of the canon on either
hand, with the sublime mass of the Glacier Point

82 THE YOSEMITE

Bidge in front, form a huge triangular pit^like basin,
which, filled with the roaring of the falling river,
seems as if it might be the hopper of one of the mills
of the gods in which the mountains were being
ground.

THE VEHNAL FALL

The yemal, about a mile below the Nevada, is
400 feet high, a staid, orderly, graceful, easy-going
fall, proper and exact in every movement and ges-
ture, with scarce a hint of the passionate enthusiasm
of the Yosemite or of the impetuous Nevada, whose
chafed and twisted waters hurrying over the cliff
seem glad to escape into the open air, while its
deep, booming, thunder-tones reverberate over the
listening landscape. Nevertheless it is a favorite
with most visitors, doubtless because it is more ac-
cessible than any other, more closely approached
and better seen and heard. A good stairway ascends
the cliff beside it and the level plateau at the head
enables one to saunter safely along the edge of the
river as it comes from Emerald Pool and to watch
its waters, calmly bending over the brow of the preci-
pice, in a sheet eighty feet wide, changing in color
from green to purplish gray and white until dashed
on a boulder talus. Thence issuing from beneath

THE ILLILOUETTE FAIL 88

its fine broad spray-douds we see the tremendously
adventurous river still unspent^ beating its way
down the wildest and deepest of all its canons in gray
roaring rapids, dear to the ouzel, and below the con-
fluence of the niilouette, sweeping around the
shoulder of the Half Dome on its approach to the
head of the tranquil levels of the Valley.

THE ILLILOUETTE FALL

The Hlilouette in general appearance most resem-
bles the Nevada. The volume of water is less than
half as great, but it is about the same height (600
feet) and its waters receive the same kind of pre-
liminary tossing in a rocky^ irregular channel.
Therefore it is a very white and fine-grained fall.
When it is in full springtime bloom it is partly
divided by ro<^ that roughen the lip of the precipice,
but this division amounts only to a kind of fluting
and grooving of the column, which has a beautiful
effect It is not nearly so grand a fall as the upper
Yosemite, or so symmetrical as the Vernal, or so
airily graceful and simple as the Bridal Veil, nor
does it ever display so tremendous an outgush of
snowy magnificence as the Nevada; but in the ex-
quisite fineness and richness of texture of its flowing
folds it surpasses them alL

3

84 THE YOSEMITE

One of the finest effects of sunlight on falling water
I ever saw in Yosemite or elsewhere I found on the
brow of this beautiful fall. It was in the Indian
summer, when the leaf colors were ripe and the great
cliffs and domes were transfigured in the hazy golden
air. I had scrambled up its rugged talus-dammed
canon, oftentimes stopping to take breath and look
back to admire the wonderful views to be had there
of the great Half Dome, and to enjoy the ^dreme
purity of the water, which in the motionless pools
on this stream is almost perfectly invisible; the
colored foliage of the maples, dogwoods, Btibus
tangles, etc, and the late goldenrods and asters.
The voice of the fall was now low, and the grand
spring and summer floods had waned to sifting,
drifting gauze and thin-broidered folds of linked
and arrowy lace-work. When I reached the foot of
the fall sunbeams were glinting across its head,
leaving all the rest of it in shadow; and on its illu-
mined brow a group of yellow spangles of singular
form and beauty were playing, flashing up and dan-
cing in large flame-shaped masses, wavering at times,
then steadying, rising and falling in accord with the
shifting forms of the water. But the color of the
dancing spangles changed not at alL ITothing in
clouds or flowers, on bird-wings or the lips of shells,
could rival it in fineness. It was the most divinely
beautiful mass of rejoicing yellow light I ever be-

THE MINOR FALLS 86

held — one of Nature's precious gifts that perchance
may come to us but once in a lifetime.

THE MINOB FALLS

There are many other oomparativelj small falls
and cascades in the Valley. The most notable are
the Yosemite Qorge Fall and Cascades, Tenaja Fall
and Cascades, Boyal Arch Falls, the two Sentinel
Cascades and the faUs of Cascade and Tamarack
Creeks, a mile or two below the lower end of the
Valley. These last are often visited. The others
are seldcon noticed or mentioned ; although in almost
any other country they would be visited and described
as wonders.

The six intermediate falls in the gorge between the
head of the Lower and the base of the Upper
Yosemite Falls, separated by a few deep pools and
strips of rapids, and three slender, tributary cascades
on the west side form a series more strikingly varied
and combined than any other in the Valley, yet very
few of all the Valley visitors ever see them or hear
of them. No available standpoint commands a view
of them all. The best general view is obtained from
the mouth of the gorge near the head of the Lower
FalL The two lowest of the series, together with
one of the thre^ tributaiy cascades, are visible from

86 THE TOSEMITE

this Btandpoint, but in reaching it the last twenty oi
thirty feet of the descent is rather dangerous in time
of high water, the shelving rocks being then slippery
on account of spray^ but if one should chance to
slip when the water is low, only a bump or two and
a harmless plash would be the penalty. No part of
the gorge, however, is safe to any but cautious
climbers. /

Though the dark gorge hall of these rejoicing
waters is never flushed by the purple light of morn-
ing or evening, it is warmed and cheered by the
white light of noonday, which, falling into so much
foam and spray of varying degrees of fineness, makes
marvelous displays of rainbow colors. So filled, in-
deed, is it with this precious light, at favorable times
it seems to take the place of common air. Laurel
bushes shed fragrance into it from above and live-
oaks, those fearless mountaineers, hold fast to angular
seams and lean out over it with their fringing sprays
and bright mirror leaves.

One bird, the ouzel, loves this gorge and flies
through it merrily, or cheerily, rather, stopping to
sing on foam-washed bosses where other birds could
find no rest for their feet I have even seen a gray
squirrel down in the heart of it beside the wild re-
joicing water.

One of my favorite night walks was along the
rim of this wild gorge in times of high water when

THE MINOR FALLS 87

the moon was fuU^ to see the lunar bows in the spray.

For about a mile above Mirror Lake the Tenaya
Canon is levels and richly planted with fir, Douglas
spruce and libocedrus, forming a remarkably fine
grove, at the head of which is the Tenaya Fall.
Though seldom seen or described, this is, I think,
the meet picturesque of all the small falls. A con-
siderable distance above it, Tenaya Creek comes
hurrying down, white and foamy, over a flat pave-
ment inclined at an angle of about eighteen degrees.
In time of high water this sheet of rapids is nearly
seventy feet wide, and is varied in a very striking
way by three parallel furrows that extend in the
direction of its flow. These furrows, worn by the
action of the stream upon cleavage joints, vary in
width, are slightly sinuous, and have large boulders
firmly wedged in them here and there in narrow
places, giving rise, of course, to a complicated series
of wild dashes, doublings, and upleaping arches
in the swift torrent Just before it reaches the head
of the fall the current is divided, the left division
making a vertical drop of about eighty feet in a
romantic, leafy, flowery, mossy nook, while the other
forms a rugged cascade.

The Boyal Arch Fall in time of high water is a
magnificent object, forming a broad ornamental sheet
in front of the arches. The two Sentinel Cascades,
3000 feet high, are also grand spectacles when the

88 THE YOSEMITE

snoTv is meltiiig fast in the spring, but hj the mid-
dle of summer they have diminished to mere
streaks scarce noticeable amid their sublime sur-
roundings.

THE BEAUTY OP THE RAINBOWS

The Bridal Veil and Vernal Falls are famous for
their rainbows; and special visits to them are often
made when the sun shines into the spray at the most
favorable angle. But amid the spray and foam and
fine-groimd mist ever rising from the various falls
and cataracts there is an affluence and variety of
iris bows scarcely known to visitors who stay only
a day or two. Both day and nighty winter and sum-
mer, this divine light may be seen wherever water
is falling, dancing, singing; telling the heart-peace
of Nature amid the wildest displays of her power.
In the bright spring mornings the black-walled
recess at the foot of the Lower Yosemite Fall is
lavishly filled with irised spray; and not simply
does this span the dashing foam, but the foam itself,
the whole mass of it, beheld at a certain distance,
seems to be colored, and drifts and wavers from
color to color, mingling with the foliage of the ad-
jacent trees, without suggesting any relationship to
the ordinary rainbow. This is perhaps the largest

BEAUTY OF RAINBOWS 39

and most reservoir-like fountain of iris colors to be
found in the Valley.

Lunar rainbows or spray-bows also abound in the
glorious affluence of dashing^ rejoicings hurrahing,
enthusiastic spring floods, their colors as distinct as
those of the sun and regularly and obviously banded,
though less vivid. Fine specimens may be found any
night at the foot of the Upper Yosemite Fall, glow-
ing gloriously amid the gloomy shadows and thunder-
ing waters, whenever there is plenty of moonlight and
spray. Even the secondary bow is at times dis-
tinctly visible.

The best point from which to observe them is on
Fern Ledge. For some time after moonrise, at time
of high water, the arc has a span of about five
hundred feet, and is set upright ; one end planted in
the boiling spray at the bottom, the other in the edge
of the fall, creeping lower, of course, and becoming
less upright as the moon rises higher. This grand
arc of color, glowing in mild, shapely beauty in so
weird and huge a chamber of night shadows, and
amid the rush and roar and tumultuous dashing of
this thxmder-voiced fall, is one of the most impres-
sive and most cheering of all the blessed mountain
evangels.

Smaller bows may be seen in the gorge on the
plateau between the Upper and Lower Falls. Once
toward midnight, after spending a few hours with the

40 THE YOSEMITE

wild beauty of the Upper Fall, I sauntered along the
edge of the gorge, looking in here and there, wherever
the footing felt safe, to see what I could learn of
the night aspects of the smaller falls that dwell
there. And down in an exceedingly black, pit-like
portion of the gorge, at the foot of the highest of
the intermediate falls, into which the moonbeams
were pouring through a narrow opening, I saw a
well-defined spray-bow, beautifully distinct in colors,
spanning the pit from side to side, while pure white
foam-waves beneath the beautiful bow were con-
stantly springing up out of the dark into the moon-
light like dancing ghosts.

AN UNEXPECTED ADVENTTJBE

A wild scene, but not a safe one, is made by the
moon as it appears through the edge of the Yosemite
Fall when one is behind it Once, after enjoying the
night-song of the waters and watching the formation
of the colored bow as the moon came round the domes
and sent her beams into the wild uproar, I v^itured
out on the narrow bench that extends back of the
fall from Fern Ledge and began to admire the dim-
veiled grandeur of the view. I could see the fine
gauzy threads of the falFs filmy border by having
the light in front; and wishing to look at the moon

AN UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE 41

throng the meshee of some of the denser portions
of the f all^ I ventured to creep farther behind it
while it was gently wind-swayed, without taking
su£Scient thought about the consequences of its sway-
ing back to its natural position after the wind-pres-
sure should be removed. The effect was enchanting :
fine, savage music sounding above, beneath, around
me; while the moon, apparently in the very midst of
the rushing waters, seemed to be struggling to keep
her place, on account of the ever-varying form and
density of the water masses through which she was
seen, now darkly veiled or eclipsed by a rush of
thick-beaded comets, now flashing out through open-
ings between their tails. I was in fairyland between
the dark wall and the wild throng of illumined
waters, but suffered sudd^i disenchantment; for,
like the witch-scene in Alloway Kirk, ^^ in an instant
all was dark." Down came a dash of spent comets,
thin and barmless-looking in the distance, but they
felt deq>erately solid and stony when they struck my
shoulders, like a mixture of choking spray and
gravel and big hailstones. Instinctively dropping on
my knees, I gripped an angle of the rock, curled
up like a young fern frond with my face pressed
against my breast, and in this attitude submitted
as best I could to my thundering bath. The heavier
masses seemed to strike like cobblestones, and there
was a confused noise of many waters about my ears

42 THE YOSEMITE

— hissing, gargling, dashing sounds that were not
heard as music. The situation was quickly realized.
How fast one's thoughts bum in such times of stress !
I was weighing chances of escape. Would the col-
umn be swayed a few inches away from the wall, or
would it come yet closer? The fall was in flood
and not so lightly would its ponderous mass be
swayed. My fate seemed to depend on a breath of
the " idle wind.'* It was moved gently forward, the
pounding ceased, and I was once more visited by
glimpses of the moon. But fearing I might be
caught at a disadvantage in making too hasty a re-
treat, I moved only a few feet along the bench to
where a block of ice lay. I wedged myself between
the ice and the wall, and lay face downwards, until
the steadiness of the light gave encouragement to rise
and get away. Somewhat nerve-shaken, drenched,
and benumbed, I made out to build a fire, warmed
myself, ran home, reached my cabin before day-
light, got an hour or two of sleep, and awoke sound
and comfortable, better, not worse, for my hard mid-
night bath.

OLIMATE AND WEATHER

Owing to the westerly trend of the Valley and its
vast depth there is a great difference between the

CLIMATE AND WEATHER 43

climates of the north and south sides — greater than
between many countries far apart ; for the south wall
is in shadow during the winter months^ while the
north is bathed in sunshine every clear day. Thus
there is mild spring weather on one side of the
Valley while winter rules the other. Far up the
north-side cliffs many a nook may be found closely
embraced by sim-beaten rock-bosses in which flowers
bloom every month of the year. Even butterflies
may be seen in these high winter gardens except when
snow-storms are falling and a few days after they
have ceased. Near the head of the lower Yosemite
Fall in January I found the ant lions lying in wait in
their warm sand-cups^ rock ferns being unrolled,
dub mosses covered with fresh-growing points, the
flowers of the laurel nearly open, and the honey-
suckle resetted with bright young leaves; every plant
seemed to be thinking about summer. Even on the
shadow-side of the Valley the frost is never very
sharp. The lowest temperature I ever observed
during four winters was 7^ Fahrenheit The flrst
twenty-four days of January had an average tempera-
ture at 9 A. M. of 32^, minimum 22^ ; at 3 p. m. the
average was 40^ 3(K, the minimum 32^. Along the
top of the walls, 7000 and 8000 feet high, the tem-
perature was, of course, much lower. But the differ-
ence in temperature between the north and south sides
is due not so much to the winter sunshine as to the

U THE YOSEMITE

heat of the preceding summer^ stored up in the
rocks, Tvhich rapidly melts the snow in contact with
them. For though summer sun-heat is stored in the
rocks of the south side also, the amount is much less
because the rays fall obliquely on the south wall even
in summer and almost vertically on the north*

The upper branches of the Yosemite streams are
buried every winter beneath a heavy mantle of snow,
and set free in the spring in magnificent floods.
Then, all the fountains, full and overflowing, every
living thing breaks forth into singing, and the glad
exulting streams, shining and falling in the warm
sunny weather, shake everything into music, making
all the mountain-world a song.

The great annual spring thaw usually b^ins in
May in the forest region, and in June and July on the
high Sierra, varying somewhat both in time and full-
ness with the weather and the depth of the snow.
Toward the end of summer the streams are at their
lowest ebb, few even of the strongest singing much
above a whisper as they slip and ripple through gravel
and boulder-beds from pool to pool in the hollows of
their channels, and drop in pattering showers like
rain, and slip down precipices and fall in sheets of
embroidery, fold over fold. But, however low their
singing, it is always ineffably flne in tone, in har-
mony with the restful time of the year.

The first snow of the season that comes to the

1

WINTEK BEAUTY 46

help of the streams usually falls in September or
October, sometimes even in the latter part of August^
in the midst of yellow Indian summer, when the
goldenrods and gentians of the glacier meadows are
in their prime. This Indian-summer snow, how-
ever, soon melts, the chilled flowers spread their
petals to the sun, and the gardens as well as the
streams are refreshed as if only a warm shower
had fallen. The snow-storms that load the moun-
tains to form the main fountain supply for the year
seldom set in before the middle or end of November.

WINTER BEATJTT OP THE VALLEY

When the first heavy storms stopped work on the
high mountains, I made haste down to my Yosemite
den, not to ^^ hole up '' and sleep the white months
away; I was out every day, and often all night,
sleeping but little, studying the so-called wonders
and common things ever on show, wading, climbing,
sauntering among the blessed sterms and calms, re-
joicing in almost everything alike that I could see
or hear : the glorious brightness of frosty mornings ;
the sunbeams pouring over the white domes and
crags inte the groves and waterfalls, kindling mar-
velous iris fires in the hoarfrost and spray ; the great
forests and mountains in their deep noon sleep ; the

46 THE TOSEMITE

good-night alpenglow; the stars; the solemn gazing
moon^ drawing the huge domes and headlands one bj
one glowing white out of the shadows hushed and
breathless like an audience in awful enthusiasm,
while the meadows at their feet sparkle with frost-
stars like the sky; the sublime darkness of storm-
nights, when all the lights are out; the clouds in
whose depths the frail snow-flowers grow; the be-
havior and many voices of the different kinds of
storms, trees, birds, waterfalls, and snow-avalanches
in the ever-changing weather.

Every clear, frosty morning loud sounds are
heard booming and reverberating from side to side
of the Valley at intervals of a few minutes, b^in-
ning soon after sunrise and continuing an hour or
two like a thunder-storm. In my first winter in the
Valley I could not make out the source of this
noise. I thought of falling boulders, rock-blasting,
etc. l^ot till I saw what looked like hoarfrost drop-
ping from the side of the Fall was the problem ex-
plained. The strange thunder is made by the fall
of sections of ice formed of spray that is frozen on
the face of the cliff along the sides of the Upper
Yosemite Fall — a sort of crystal plaster, a foot
or two thick, cracked off by the sunbeams, awaken-
ing all the Valley like cock-crowing, announcing the
finest weather, shouting aloud Nature's infinite in-
dustry and love of bard work in creating beauty.

EXPLOEINQ AN ICE CONE 47

EXPLOBINO AN ICE CONE

This frozen spray gives rise to one of the most in-
teresting winter features of the Valley — a cone of
ice at the foot of the fall, four or five hundred feet
hi^. From the Fern ledge standpoint its crater
like throat is seen, down which the fall plunges with
deep, gasping explosions of compressed air, and, after
being well churned in the stormy interior, the water
bursts forth through ardied openings at its base, ap-
parently scourged and weary and glad to escape, while
belching spray, spouted up out of the throat past the
descending current, is wafted away in irised drifts to
the adjacent rocks and groves. It is built during the
night and early hours of the morning; only in spells
of exceptionally cold and cloudy weather is the work
continued through the day. The greater part of the
spray material falls in crystalline showers direct to
its place, something like a small local snow-storm ; but
a considerable portion is first frozen on the face of the
cliff along the sides of the fall and stays there until
expanded and cracked off in irregular masses, some
of them tons in weight, to be built into the walls of
the cone; while in windy, frosty weather, when the
fall is swayed from side to side, the cone is well
drenched and the loose ice masses and spray-dust are
aU firmly welded and frozen together. Thus the

48 THE YOSEMITE

finest of the downy wafts and curls of spray-dnst^
which in mild nights fall about as silently as dew, are
held back until sunrise to make a store of heavy ice
to reinforce the waterfall's thunder-tones.

While the cone is in process of formation, growing
higher and wider in the frosty weather, it looks like a
beautiful smooth, pure-white hill; but when it is
wasting and breaking up in the spring its surface is
strewn with leaves, pine branches, stones, sand, etc,
that have been brought over the fall, making it look
like a heap of avalanche detritus.

Anxious to learn what I could about the structure
of this curious hill I often approached it in calm
weather and tried to climb it, carrying an ax to cut
steps. Once I nearly succeeded in gaining the sum-
mit At the base I was met by a current of spray
and wind that made seeing and breathing difficult I
pushed on backward, however, and soon gained the
slope of the hill, where by creeping dose to the sur-
face most of the choking blast passed over me and I
managed to crawl up with but little difficulty. Thus
I made my way nearly to the summit, halting at
times to peer up through the wild whirls of spray at
the veiled grandeur of the fall, or to listen to the
thunder beneath me ; the whole hill was sounding as
if it were a huge, bellowing drum. I hoped that by
waiting until the fall was blown aslant I should be
able to dimb to the lip of the crater and get a view

EXPLOBING AN ICE CONE 49

of the interior ; but a suffocating blast, half air, half
water, followed by the fall of an enormous mass of
frozen spray from a spot high up on the wall, quickly
discouraged me* The whole cone was jarred by the
blow and some fragments of the mass sped past me
dangerously near; so I beat a hasty retreat, chilled
and drenched, and lay down on a sunny rock to dry.

Once during a wind-storm when I saw that the
fall was frequently blown westward, leaving the cone
diy, I ran up to Fern Ledge hoping to gain a dear
view of the interior. I set out at noon. All the
way up the storm notes were so loud about me that
the voice of the fall was almost drowned by them.
Notwithstanding the rocks and bushes everywhere
were drenched by the wind-driven spray, I approached
the brink of the precipice overlooking the mouth of
the ice cone, but I was almost suffocated by the
drenching, gusty spray, and was compelled to seek
shelter. I searched for some hiding-place in the wall
from whence I might run out at some opportune mo-
ment when the fall with its whirling spray and torn
shreds of comet tails and trailing, tattered skirts was
borne westward, as I had seen it carried several times
before, leaving the cliffs on the east side and the ice
hill bare in the sunlight. I had not long to wait^ for,
as if ordered so for my special accommodation, the
mighty downrush of comets with their whirling
drapery swung westward and remained aslant for

60 THE YOSEMITE

nearly half an hour. The oone was admirably
lighted and deserted by the water, which fell most of
the time on the rod^ western slopes mostly outside of
the cone. The mouth into which the fall pours was,
as near as I could guess, about one hundred feet in
diameter north and south and about two hundred
feet east and west, which is about the shape and size
of the fall at its best in its normal condition at this
season.

The crater-like opening was not a true oval, but
more like a huge coarse mouth. I could see down the
throat about one himdred feet or perhaps farther.

The fall precipice overhangs from a height of 400
feet above the base ; therefore the water strikes some
distance from the base of the cliff, allowing space
for the accumulation of a considerable mass of ice
between the fall and the walL

n

WINTER STOBMS AND SPBING FLOODS

THE Bridal VeU and the Upper Tosemite Falls,
on acooxmt of their height and exposure, are
greatly influenced by winds. The conunon summer
winds that oome up the river cafion from the plains
are seldom very strong; but the north winds do some
▼ery wild work, worrying the falls and the forests,
and hanging snow-banners on the comet^peak& One
wild winter morning I was awakened by a storm-wind
that was playing with the falls as if they were mere
wisps of mist and making the great pines bow and
sing with glorious enthusiasm. The Valley had been
visited a short time before by a series of fine snow-
storms, and the floor and the cliffs and all the region
round about were lavishly adorned with its best win-
ter jewelry, the air was full of fine snow-dust, and
pine branches, tassels and empty cones were flying in
an almost continuous flock.

Soon after sunrise, wh^i I was seeking a place safe
from flying branches, I saw the Lower Yosemite Fall
thrashed and pulverized from top to bottom into one
glorious mass of rainbow dust ; while a thousand feet

51

52 THE TOSEMITE

above it the main Upper Fall was snspended on the
face of the cliff in the form of an inverted bow, all
silvery; white and fringed with short wavering strips.
Then, suddenly assailed by a tremendous blast, the
whole mass of the fall was blown into threads and
ribbons, and driv^i back over the brow of the cliff
whence it came, as if denied admission to the Val-
ley. This kind of storm-work was continued about
ten or fifteen minutes; then another change in the
play of the huge exulting swirls and billows and up-
heaving domes of the gale allowed the baffled fall
to gather and arrange its tattered waters, and sink
down again in its place. As the day advanced, the
gale gave no sign of dying, excepting brief lulls, the
iValley was filled with its weariless roar, and the
cloudless sky grew garish-white from myriads of
minute, sparkling snow-spicules. In the afternoon,
while I watched the Upper Fall from the shelter of
a big pine tree, it was suddenly arrested in its descent
at a point about half-way down, and was neither
blown upward nor driven aside, but simply held sta-
tionary in mid-air, as if gravitation below that point
in the path of its descent had ceased to act The
ponderous flood, weighing hundreds of tons, was sus-
tained, hovering, hesitating, like a bunch of thistle-
down, while I counted one hundred and ninety. All
this time the ordinary amount of water was coming
over the cliff and accumulating in the air, swedging

AN EXTRAORDINARY STORM 68

and widening and forming an irregular cone about
seven hundred feet high, tapering to the top of the
wall, the whole standing still, resting on the invisible
arm of the North Wind. At length, as if com-
manded to go on again, scores of arrowy comets shot
forth from the bottom of the suspended mass as if
escaping from separate outlets.

The brow of El Capitan was decked with long
snow-streamers like hair. Clouds' Rest was fairly en-
veloped in drifting gossamer films, and the Half
Dome loomed up in the garish light like a majestic,
living creature dad in the same gau^, wind-woven
drapery, while upward currents meeting at times
overhead made it smoke like a volcano.

AN EXTBAOBDINABY STOBM AND FLOOD

Glorious as are these rocks and waters arrayed in
storm robes, or chanting rejoicing in every-day dress,
they are still more glorious when rare weather condi-
tions meet to make them sing with floods. Only
once during all the years I have lived in the Valley
have I seen it in full flood bloom. In 1871 the early
winter weather was delightful ; the days all simshine,
the nights all starry and calm, calling forth fine crops
of frost-crystals on the pines and withered ferns and
grasses for the morning sunbeams to sift Ihrough.

64r THE YOSEMITE

In the afternoon of December 16^ when I was sannr
tering on the meadows, I noticed a massive crimson
doud growing in solitary grandeur above the Ca-
thedral Bocks, its form scarcely less striking than its
color. It had a picturesque, bulging base like an old
sequoia, a smooth, tapering stem, and a bossy, down-
curling crown like a mushroom; all its parts were
colored alike, making one mass of translucent crim-
son. Wondering what the meaning of that strange,
lonely red cloud might be, I was up betimes next
morning looking at the weather, but all seemed tran-
quil as yet Towards noon gray clouds with a dose,
curly grain like bird's-eye maple began to grow, and
late at night rain fell, which soon changed to snow.
Next morning the snow on the meadows was about
ten inches deep, and it was still falling in a fine,
cordial storm. During the night of the 18th heavy
rain fell on the snow, but as the temperature was 34^,
the snow-line was only a few hundred feet above the
bottom of the Valley, and one had only to climb a
little higher than the tops of the pines to get out of
the rain-storm into the snow-storm. The streams, in-
stead of being increased in volume by the storm, were
diminished, because the snow sponged up part of their
waters and choked the smaller tributaries. But
about midnight the temperature suddenly rose to 42^,
carrying the snow-line far beyond the Valley walls,
and next morning Yosemite was rejoicing in a glori-

AN EXTRAOEDINARY STORM 56

ous flood. The comparatively warm rain falling on
the snow was at first absorbed and held back, and so
also was that portion of the snow that the rain melted,
and all that was melted by the warm wind, until the
whole mass of snow was saturated and became sludgy,
and at length slipped and rushed simultaneously from
a thousand slopes in wildest extravagance, heaping
and swelling flood over flood, and plunging into the
Valley in stupendous avalanches.

Awakened by the roar, I looked out and at once
recognized the extraordinary character of the storm.
The rain was still pouring in torrent abundance and
the wind at gale speed was doing all it could with the
flood-making rain.

The section of the north wall visible from my cabin
was fairly streaked with new falls — wild roaring
singers that seemed strangely out of place. Eager to
get into the midst of the show^ I snatched a piece of
bread for breakfast and ran out The mountain wa-
ters, suddenly liberated, seemed to be holding a grand
jubilee. The two Sentinel Cascades rivaled the great
falls at ordinary stages, and across the Valley by the
Three Brothers I caught glimpses of more falls than
I could readily count; while the whole Valley
throbbed and trembled, and was filled with an awful,
massive, solemn^ sea-like roar. After gazing a while
enchanted with the network of new falls that were
adorning and transfiguring every rock in sight, I

56 THE YOSEMITE

tried to reach the upper meadows, where the Yallej
is widest, that I might be able to see the walls on
both sides, and thus gain g^ieral views. But tlie
river was over its banks and the meadows were
flooded, forming an almost continuous lake dotted
with blue sludgy islands, while innumerable streams
roared like lions across my path and were sweeping
forward rocks and logs with tremendous energy over
ground where tiny gilias had been growing but a
short time before. Climbing into the talus slopes,
where these savage torrents were broken among earth-
quake boulders, I managed to cross ihem, and force
my way up the Valley to Hutchings* Bridge, where
I crossed the river and waded to the middle of the
upper meadow. Here most of the new falls were in
sight, probably the most glorious assemblage of wa-
terfalls ever displayed from any one standpoint. On
that portion of the south wall between Hutchings'
and the Sentinel there were ten falls plimging and
booming from a height of nearly three thousand feet,
Hie smallest of which might have been heard miles
away. In the neighborhood of Glacier Point there
were six ; between the Three Brothers and Yosemite
Fall, nine ; between Yosemite and Royal Arch Falls,
ten; from Washington Column to Mount Watkins,
ten; on the slopes of Half Dome and Clouds' Rest,
facing Mirror Lake and Tenaya Canon, eight; on
the shoulder of Half Dome, facing the Valley, three :

AN EXTKAORDINAKY STORM 67

fifty-six new falls oooupying the upper end of the
Valley, besides a countless host of silvery threads
gleaming everywhere. In all the Valley there must
have been upwards of a hundred. As if celebrating
some great event, falls and cascades in Yosemite cos-
tume were coming down everywhere from fountain
basins, far and near; and, though newcomers, they
behaved and sang as if they had lived here always.

All summer-visitors will remember the comet forms
of the Yosemite Fall and the laces of the Bridal Veil
and Nevada. In the falls of this winter jubilee the
lace forms predominated, but there was no lack of
thunder-toned comets. The lower portion of one of
the Sentinel Cascades was composed of two main
white torrents with the space between them filled in
with chained and beaded gauze of intricate pattern,
through the singing threads of which the purplish-
gray rock could be dimly seen. The series above
Glacier Point was still more complicated in structure,
displaying every form that one could imagine water
might be dashed and combed and woven into. Those
on the north wall between Washington Column and
the Boyal Arch Fall were so nearly related they
formed an almost continuous sheet, and these again
were but slightly separated from those about Indian
Canon. The group about the Three Brothers and
El Capitan, owing to the topography and cleavage
of the difb back of them, was more broken and ir-

68 THE YOSEMITE

regular. The Tissiack Cascades were comparatively
small) yet sufficient to give that noblest of mountain
rocks a glorious voice. In the midst of all this ex-
travagant rejoicing the great Yosemite Fall was
scarce heard until about three o'clock in the after-
noon. Then I was startled by a sudden thundering
crash as if a rock avalanche had come to the help of
the roaring waters. This was the flood-wave of To-
semite Creek, which had just arrived, delayed by the
distance it had to travel, and by the choking snows
of its widespread fountains, ^ow, with volume ten-
fold increased beyond its springtime fullness, it took
its place as leader of the glorious choir.

And the winds, too, were singing in wild accord,
playing on every tree and rock, surging against the
huge brows and domes and outstanding battlements,
deflected hither and thither and broken into a thou-
sand cascading, roaring currents in the canons, and
low bass, drumming swirls in the hollows. And these
again, reacting on the clouds, eroded immense cavern-
ous spaces in their gray depths and swept forward
the resulting detritus in ragged trains like the mo-
raines of glaciers. These cloud movements in turn
published the work of the winds, giving them a visi-
ble body, and enabling us to trace them. As if en-
dowed with independent motion, a detached cloud
would rise hastily to the very top of the wall as if
on some important errand, examining the faces of

AK EXTRAORDINARY STORM 69

the clifiiB^ and then perhaps as suddenly descend to
sweep imposingly along the meadows, trailing its
draggled fringes through the pines, fondling the
waving spires with infinite gentleness, or, gliding be-
hind a grove or a single tree, bringing it into striking
relief, as it bowed and waved in solemn rhythm.
Sometimes, as the busy clouds drooped and condensed
or dissolved to misty gauze, half of the Valley would
be suddenly veiled, leaving here and there some lofty
headland cut off from all visible connection with the
walls, looming alone, dim, spectral, as if belonging
to the sky — visitors, like the new falls, come to take
part in the glorious festival Thus for two days and
nights in measureless extravagance the storm went on,
and mostly without spectators, at least of a terrestrial
kind. I saw nobody out — bird, bear, squirrel, or
man. Tourists had vanished months before, and the
hotel people and laborers were out of sight, careful
about getting cold, and satisfied with views from
windows. The bears, I suppose, were in their canon-
boulder dens, the squirrels in their knot-hole nests,
the grouse in close fir groves, and the small singers
in the Indian Cafion chaparral, trying to keep warm
and dry. Strange to say, I did not see even the
waterouzels, though they must have greatly enjoyed
the storm.

This was the most sublime waterfall flood I ever
aaw — clouds, winds, rocks, waters, throbbing to-

60 THE YOSEMITE

gether as one. And then to contemplate what was
going on simultaneously with all this in other moun-
tain temples; the Big Tuolumne Canon — how the
white waters and the winds were singing there ! And
in Hetch Hetchy Valley and the great King's River
yosemite^ and in all the other Sierra canons and val-
leys from Shasta to the southernmost fountains of
the Eem, thousands of rejoicing flood waterfalls
chanting together in jubilee dress.

in

SNOW-STORMS

AS has been already stated, the first of the great
snow-storms that replenish the Tosemite foun-
tains seldom sets in before the end of ^November.
Then, warned by the sky, wide-awake mountaineers,
together with the deer and most of the birds, make
haste to the lowlands or foothills; and burrowing
marmots, mountain beavers, wood-rats, and other
small mountain people, go into winter quarters, some
of them not again to see the light of day until the
general awakening and resurrection of the spring in
June or July. The fertile clouds, drooping and con-
densing in brooding silence, seem to be thoughtfully
examining the forests and streams with reference to
the work that lies before them. At length, all their
plans perfected, tufted flakes and single starry crys-
tals come in sight, solemnly swirling and glinting to
their blessed appointed places; and soon the busy
throng fills the sky and makes darkness like night.
The first heavy fall is usually from about two to four
feet in depth ; then with intervals of days or weeks of

bri^t weather storm succeeds storm, heaping snow

61

62 THE YOSEMITE

on SDOW; until thirty to fifty feet has fallen. But
on account of its settling and compacting; and waste
from melting and evaporation, the average depth ac-
tually found at any time seldom exceeds ten feet in
the forest regions, or fifteen feet along the slopes of
the summit peaks. After snow-storms come ava-
lanches, varying greatly in form, size, behavior and
in the songs they sing; some on the smooth slopes of
the mountains are short and broad ; others long and
river-like in the side canons of yosemites and in the
main canons, flowing in regular channels and boom-
ing like waterfalls, while countless smaller ones fall
everywhere from laden trees and rocks and lofty
canon walls. Most delightful it is to stand in the
middle of Yosemite on still dear mornings after
snow-storms and watch the throng of avalanches as
they come down, rejoicing, to their places, whisper-
ing, thrilling like birds, or booming and roaring like
thunder. The noble yellow pines stand hushed and
motionless as if under a spell until the morning sun-
shine begins to sift through their laden spires ; then
the dense masses on the ends of the leafy branches
begin to shift and f all^ those from the upper branches
striking the lower ones in succession, enveloping each
tree in a hollow conical avalanche of fairy fineness ;
while the relieved branches spring up and wave with
startling effect in the general stillness, as if each tree
was moving of its own volition. Hundreds of broad

AVALANCHES 68

doud-shaped masses may also be seen, leaping over
the brows of the cliffs from great heights, descending
at first with regular avalanche speed until, wonf into
dust by friction, they float in front of the precipices
like irised clouds. Those which descend from the
brow of El Capitan are particularly fine; but most
of the great Tosemite avalanches flow in regular
channels like cascades and waterfalls. When the
snow first gives way on the upper slopes of their
basins, a dull rushing, rumbling sound is heard which
rapidly increases and seems to draw nearer with ap-
palling intensity of tone. Presently the white flood
comes bounding into sight over bosses and sheer
places, leaping from bench to bench, spreading and
narrowing and throwing off clouds of whirling dust
like the spray of foaming cataracts. Compared with
waterfalls and cascades, avalanches are short-lived,
few of them lasting more than a minute or two, and
the sharp, clashing sounds so common in falling water
are mostly wanting ; but in their low massy thunder-
tones and purple-tinged whiteness, and in their dress,
gait, gestures and general behavior, they are much
alike.

AYALANOHES

Besides these common after-storm avalanches that
are to be found not only in the Yosemite but in all

64 THE TOSEMITE

the deepy sheer-walled canons of the Range there are
two other important kinds, which may be called an-
nual and century avalanches, which still further en-
rich the scenery. The only place about the Valley
where one may be sure to see the annual kind is on
the north slope of Clouds' Best They are composed
of heavy, compacted snow, which has been subjected
to frequent alternations of freezing and thawing.
They are developed on cafion and mountainnsides at an
elevation of from nine to ten thousand feet, where
the slopes are inclined at an angle too low to shed off
the dry winter snow, and which accumulates until
the spring thaws sap their foundations and make them
slippery ; then away in grand style go the ponderous
icy masses without any fine snow-dust Those of
Clouds' Best descend like thunderbolts for more than
a mile.

The great century avalanches and the kind that
mow wide swaths through the upper forests occur
on mountain-sides about ten or twelve thousand feet
high, where under ordinary weather conditions the
snow accumulated from winter to winter lies at rest
for many years, allowing trees, fifty to a hundred
feet high, to grow undisturbed on the slopes beneath
them. On their way down through the woods they
seldom fail to make a perfectly clean sweep, stripping
off the soil as well as the trees, clearing paths two
or three hundred yards wide from the timber line to

RIDE ON AN AVALANCHE 66

the glacier meadows or lakes^ and piling their up-
rooted trees, head downward, in rows along the sides
of the gaps like lateral moraines. Scars and broken
branches of the trees standing on the sides of the gaps
record the depth of the overwhelming flood ; and when
we come to count the annual wood-rings on the up-
rooted trees we learn that some of these immense ava-
lanches occur only once in a century or even at still
wider intervals.

A BIDE ON AN AVALANCHE

Few Yosemite visitors ever see snow avalanches
and fewer still know the exhilaration of riding on
them. Li all my mountaineering I have enjoyed
only one avalanche ride, and the start was so sud-
den and the end came so soon I had but little time
to think of the danger that attends this sort of
travel, though at such times one thinks fast. One
fine Yosemite morning after a heavy snowfall, being
eager to see as many avalanches as possible and wide
views of the forest and summit peaks in their new
white robes before the sunshine had time to change
them, I set out early to dimb by a side cafion to the
top of a commanding ridge a little over three thou-
sand feet above the Valley. On account of the loose-
ness of the snow that blocked the cafion I knew the
s

«« THE YOSEMITE

dimb would require a long time^ some three or
four hours as I estimated; but it proved far more
difficult than I had anticipated. Most of the way
I sank waist deep, almost out of sight in some places.
After spending the whole day to within half an
hour or so of sundown, I was still several hundred
feet below the summit Then my hopes were re-
duced to getting up in time to see the sunset. But
I was not to get summit views of any sort that day,
for deep trampling near the canon head, where the
snow was strained, started an avalanche^ and I was
swished down to the foot of the canon as if by en-
chantment The wallowing ascent had taken nearly
all day, the descent only about a minute. When the
avalanche started I threw myself on my back and
spread my arms to try to keep from sinking. For-
tunately, though the grade of the canon is very
steep, it is not interrupted by precipices lai^ enough
to cause outbounding or free plunging. On no part
of the rush was I buried. I was only moderately im-
bedded on the surface or at times a little below it, and
covered with a veil of backnatreaming dust particles ;
and as the whole mass beneath and about me joined
in the flight there was no friction, though I was
tossed here and there and lurched from side to side.
When the avalanche swedged and came to rest I
found myself on top of the crumpled pile without a
bruise or soar. This was a fine experience. Haw-

STREAMS IN OTHER SEASONS 67

thome says somefwhere that steam has spiritualized
trayd ; thou^ unspiritnal smells, smoke, etc., still at-
tend steam trayeL This flight in what might be called
a milky way of snow-stars was the most spiritual and
exhilarating of all the modes of motion I have ever
experienced. Elijah's flight in a chariot of flre
could hardly have been more gloriously exciting.

THE STREAMS IN OTHER SEASONS

In the spring, after all the avalanches are down
and the snow is melting fast, then all the Yosemite
streams, from their fountains to their falls, sing their
grandest songa Countless rills make haste to the
rivers, running and singing soon after sunrise, louder
and louder with increasing volume until sundown;
then they gradually fail through the frosty hours of
the ni^t In this way the volume of the upper
brandies of the river is nearly doubled during the
day, rising and falling ae regularly as the tides of
the sea. Then the Merced overflows its banks, flood-
ing the meadows, sometimes almost from wall to wall
in some places, beginning to rise towards sundown
just when the streams on the fountains are beginning
to diminish, the difference in time of the daily rise
and fall being caused by the distance the upper flood
streams have to travel before reaching the Valley.

68 THE YOSEMITE

In the wannest weather thej seem fairly to shout for
joy and dash their npleaping waters together like
dapping of hands; racing down the canons with
white manes flying in glorious exuberance of
strength, compelling huge, sleeping boulders to wake
up and join in their dance and song, to swell th^
exulting chorus..

In early summer, after the flood season, the Yo-
Semite streams are in their prime, running crystal
dear, deep and full but not overflowing their banks
— about as deep through the night as the day, the
difference in volume so marked in spring being now
too slight to be noticed. N'early all the weather is
cloudless and everything is at its brightest — lake^
river, garden and forest with all their life. Most of
the plants are in full flower. The blessed ouzels
have built their mossy huts and are now singing their
best songs with the streams.

In tranquil, mellow autumn, when the year's work
is about done and the fruits are ripe^ birds and seeds
out of their nests, and all the landscape is glowing
like a benevolent countenance^ then the streams are
at their lowest ebb, with scarce a memory left of their
wild spring floods. The small tributaries that do not
reach back to the lasting snow fountains of the sum-
mit peaks shrink to whispering, tinkling currents.
After the snow is gone from the basins, excepting oc-
casional thunder-showers, they are now fed only by

Thf Thrci' Brolhers

STREAMS IN OTHER SEASONS 69

small springB whose waters are mostly evaporated in
passing over miles of warm pavements, and in feel-
ing their way slowly from pool to pool through the
midst of boulders and sand. Even the main rivers
are so low they may easily be forded, and their grand
falls and cascades, now gentle and approachable, have
waned to sheets of embroidery.

IV

SNOW BANNERS

BUT it is on the mountain tops, when they are
laden with loose, dry snow and swept by a gale
from the north, that the most magnificent storm
scenery is displayed. The peaks along the axis of
the Range are then decorated with resplendent ban-
ners, some of them more than a mile long, shining,
streaming, waving with solemn exuberant enthusi-
asm as if celebrating some surpassingly glorious
event

The snow of which these banners are made falls on
the high Sierra in most extravagant abundance, some-
times to a depth of fifteen or twenty feet, coming
from the fertile clouds not in large tangled flakes
such as one oftentimes sees in Yosemite, seldom even
in complete crystals, for many of the starry blossoms
fall before they are ripe, while most of those that •at-
tain perfect development as six-petaled flowers are
more or less broken by glinting and chafing against
one another on the way down to their work. This
dry frosty snow is prepared for the grand banner-
waving celebrations by the action of the wind. In-
stead of at once finding rest like that which falls into

70

SNOW BANNERS 71

the tranquil depths of the forest, it is shoved and
rolled and beaten against boulders and out-jntting
rocks, swirled in pits and hollows like sand in river
pot-holes, and ground into sparkling dust And
when storm winds find this snow-dust in a loose con-
dition on the slopes above the timber-line they toss
it back into the sky and swe^ it onward from peak
to peak in the form of smooth regular banners, or in
cloudy drifts, according to the velocity and direction
of the wind^ and the conformation of the slopes over
which it is driv^i. While thus flying through the
air a small portion escapes from the mountains to the
sky as vapor; But far the greater part is at length
locked fast in bossy overourling cornices along the
ridgeSy or in stratified sheets in the glacier cirques,
some of it to replenish the small residual glaciers and
remain silent and rigid for centuries before it is finally
melted and sent singing down home to the sea.

But, though snow-dust and storm-winds abound on
the mountains, regular shapely banners are, for causes
we shall presently see, seldom produced. During the
five winters that I spent in Yosemite I made many
excursions to high points above the walls in all kinds
of weather to see what was going on outside ; from all
my lofty outlooks I saw only one banner:^torm that
seemed in every way perfect This was in the win-
ter of 1873, when the snow-laden peaks were swept
by a powerful norther. I was awakened early in

72 THE YOSEMITE

the morning bj a wild stonn-wind and of course I
had to make haste to the middle of the Valley to
enjoy it Bugged torraits and avalanches from the
main wind-flood overhead were roaring down the side
cafions and over the diffs^ arousing the rocks and
the trees and the streams alike into glorious hurrah-
ing enthusiasm^ shaking the whole Valley into one
huge song. Yet inconceivable as it must seem even
to those who love all Nature's wildness, the storm
was telling its story on the mountains in still grander
characters.

A WONDEBFTJL WINTER SOENE

I had long been anxious to study some points in
th& structure of the ice-hill at the foot of the Upper
Yosemite Fall, but, as I have already explained,
blinding spray had hitherto prevented me fr<Hn get-
ting sufficiently near it This, morning the entire
body of the Fall was oftentimes torn into gauzy strips
and blown horizontally along the face of the diff,
leaving the ice-hill dry; and while making my way
to the top of Fern Ledge to seize so favorable an op-
portunity to look down its throat, the peaks of the
Merced group came in sight over the shoulder of the
South Dome, each waving a white glowing banner
against the dark blue sky, as r^ular in form and

WdNDERFlTi: WINTER SCENE 78

firm and fine in texture as if it were made of silk
So rare and splendid a picture, of course, smothered
everything else and I at once began to scramble and
wallow up the snow-choked Indian Cafion to a ridge
about 8000 feet high, conmianding a general view of
the main summits along the axis of the Bange, feeling
assured I should find them bannered still more glori-
ously ; nor was I in the least disappointed. I reached
the top of the ridge in four or five hours, and through
an opening in the woods the most imposing wind-
storm effect I ever beheld came full in sight; un-
numbered mountains rising sharply into the cloudless
sky, their bases solid white, their sides plashed with
snow, like ocean rocks with foam, and on every sum-
mit a magnificent silvery banner, from two thousand
to six thousand feet in length, slender at the point of
attachment, and widening gradually until about a
thousand or fifteen himdred feet in breadth, and as
shapely and as substantial looking in texture as the
banners of the finest silk, all streaming and waving
free and clear in the sun-glow with nothing to blur
the sublime picture they ma<lt>.

Fancy yourself standing beside me on this Yo-
semite Bidge. There is a strange garish glitter in
the air and the gale drives wildly overhead, but you
feel nothing of its violence, for you are looking out
throu^ a sheltered opening in the woods, as through
a window. In the inunediate foreground there is a

74 THE YOSEMITE

forest of silyer firs, their foliage warm yellow-green,
and the snow beneath them is strewn with their
plmnes, plucked off by the storm ; and beyond a broad,
ridgy, canon-furrowed, dome-dotted middle ground,
darkened here and there with belts of pines, you be-
hold the lofty snow-laden mountains in glorious array,
waving their banners with jubilant enthusiasm as if
shouting aloud for joy. They are twenty miles away,
but you would not wish them nearer, for every feature
is distinct, and the whole wonderful show is seen in
its right proportions, like a painting on the sky.

And now after this general view, mark how sharply
the ribs and buttresses and summits of the mountains
are defined, excepting the portions veiled by the ban-
ners ; how gracefully and nobly the banners are wav-
ing in accord with the throbbing of the wind-flood ;
how trimly each is attached to the very sunmiit of its
peak like a streamer at a mast-head ; how bright and
glowing white they are, and how finely their fading
fringes are penciled on the sky I See how solid white
and opaque they are at the point of attachment and
how filmy and translucent toward the end, so that the
parts of the peaks past which they are streaming look
dim as if seen through a veil of ground glass. And
see how some of the longest of the banners on the
highest peaks are streaming perfectly free from peak
to peak across intervening notches or passes, while
others overlap and partly hide one another.

WONDEEFUL WINTER SCENE 76

As to their f onnation^ we find that the main causes
of the wondrous beauty and perfection of those we are
looking at are the favorable direction and force of
the wind, the abundance of snow-dust, and the form
of the north sides of the peaks. In general, the north
sides are concave in both their horizontal and vertical
sections, having been sculptured into this shape
by the residual glaciers that lingered in the protecting
northern shadows, while the sun-beaten south sides,
having never been subjected to this kind of glaciation,
are convex or irr^ular. It is essential, therefore,
not only that the wind should move with great ve-
locity and steadiness to supply a sufficiently- copious
and continuous stream of snow-dust, but that it should
come from the north. No perfect banner is ever
hung on the Sierra peaks by the south wind. Had
the gale to-day blown from the south, leaving the
other conditions unchanged, only swirling, interfer-
ing, cloudy drifts would have been produced ; for the
snow, instead of being spouted straight up and over
the tops of the peaks in condensed currents to be
drawn out as streamers, would have been driven over
the convex southern slopes from peak to peak like
white pearly fog.

It appears, therefore, that shadows in great part
determine not only the forms of lofly ice mountains,
but also those of the snow banners that the wild
winds hang upon them.

16 THE YOSEMITE

EARTHQUAKE STOBMS

The avalanche taluses, leaning against the walls
at intervals of a mile or two, are among the most
striking and interesting of the secondary features
of the Valley. They are from about three to five
hundred feet high, made up of huge^ angular, well-
preserved, unshifting boulders, and instead of be-
ing slowly weathered from the cliffs like ordinary
taluses, they were all formed suddenly and simul-
taneously by a great earthquake that occurred at
least three centuries ago. And though thus hurled
into existence in a few seconds or minutes, they are
the least changeable of all the Sierra soil-beds. Ex-
cepting those which were launched directly into the
channels of swift rivers^ scarcely one of their wedged
and interlacing boulders has moved since the day of
their creation ; and though mostly made up of huge
blocks of granite, many of them from ten to fifty feet
cube, weighing thousands of tons with only a few
small chips, trees and shrubs make out to live and
thrive on them and even delicate herbaceous plants
— ^ draperia, collomia, zauschneria, eta, soothing and
coloring their wild rugged slopes with gardens and
groves.

I was long in doubt on some points concerning the
origin of these taluses. Plainly enough they were de-

EARTHQUAKE STORMS 77

rived from the cliffs above them^ because they are of
the size of scars on the wall, the rough angular surface
of which contrasts with the rounded, glaciated, unf rao-
tured parts. It was plain, too, that instead of being
made up of material slowly and gradually weathered
from the cliffs like ordinary taluses, almost every one
of them had been formed suddenly in a single ava-
lanche, and had not been increased in size during the
last three or four centuries, for trees three or four
hundred years old are growing on them, some stand-
ing at the top close to the wall without a bruise or
bn^oi branch, showing that scarcely a single boulder
had ever fallen among them. Furthermore, all these
taluses throughout the Range seemed by the trees and
lichens growing on them to be of the same age. All
the phenomena thus pointed straight to a grand an-
cient earthquake. But for years I left the question
open, and went on from cafion to cafion, observing
again and again; measuring the heights of taluses
throughout the Range on Both flanks, and the varia-
tions in the angles of their surface slopes; studying
the way their boulders had been assorted and re-
lated and brought to rest, and their correspondence
in size with the deavage joints of the cliffs from
whence they were derived, cautious about making up
my mind. But at last all doubt as to their forma-
tion vanished.
At half-past two o'clock of a moonlit morning in

18 THE TOSEMITE

March, I was awakened by a tremendoua earthquake,
and though I had never before enjoyed a Btorm of
this sort, the strange thrilling motion could not be
mistaken, and I ran out of my cabin, both glad and
frightened, shouting, ^^ A noble earthquake I A noble
earthquake I " feeling sure I was going to learn some-
thing. The shocks were so violent and varied, and
succeeded one another so closely, that I had to balance
myself carefully in walking as if on the deck of a
ship among waves, and it seemed impossible that the
high cliffs of the Valley could escape being shattered.
In particular, I feared that the sheer-fronted Sentinel
Bock, towering above my cabin, would be shaken
down, and I took shelter back of a large yellow pine,
hoping that it might protect me from at least the
smaller outbounding boulders. For a minute or two
the shocks became more and more violent — flashing
horizontal thrusts mixed with a few twists and bat-
tering, explosive, upheaving jolts, — ^as if Nature were
wrecking her Yosemite temple, and getting ready to
build a still better one.

I was now convinced before a single boulder had
fallen that earthquakes were the talus-makers and
positive proof soon came. It was a calm moonlight
night, and no sound was heard for the first minute
or so, save low, muffled, undergroimd, bubbling rum-
blings, and the whispering and rustling of the agi-
tated trees, as if Nature were holding her breath*

EAETHQUAKE STORMS 79

Then, suddenlj, out of the strange silence and strange
motion there came a tremendous roar. The Eagle
Bock on the south wall, about a half a mile up the
Valley, gave way and I saw it falling in thousands of
the great boulders I had so long been studying, pour-
ing to the Valley floor in a free curve luminous from
friction, making a terribly sublime spectacle — an
arc of glowing, passionate fire, fifteen hundred feet
span, as true in form and as serene in beauty as a
rainbow in the midst of the stupendous, roaring rock-
storm. The sound was so tremendously deep and
broad and earnest, the whole earth like a living crea-
ture seemed to have at last found a voice and to be
calling to her sister planets. In trying to tell some-
thing of the size of this awful sound it seems to me
that if all the thunder of all the storms I had ever
heard were condensed into one roar it would not equal
this rock-roar at the birth of a mountain talus.
Think, then, of the roar that arose to heaven at the
simultaneous birth of all the thousands of ancient
canon-taluses throughout the length and breadth of
the Range!

The first severe shocks were soon over, and eager
to examine the new-bom talus I ran up the Valley in
the moonlight and climbed upon it before the huge
blocks, after their fiery fiight, had come to complete
rest They were slowly settling into their places,
diafing, grating against one another, groaning, and

80 THE YOSEMITE

whispering; but no motion was visible except in a
stream of small fragm^its pattering down the face of
the diff. A doud of dust particles^ lighted by the
moon, floated out across the whole breadth of the Val-
ley, forming a ceiling that lasted until after sunrise,
and the air was filled with the odor of crushed Doug-
las spruces from a grove that had been mowed down
and mashed like weeds.

After the ground began to calm I ran across the
meadow to the river to see in what direction it was
flowing and was glad to find that down the Valley
was still down. Its waters were muddy from por-
tions of its banks having given way, but it was flow-
ing around its curves and over its ripples and shal-
lows with ordinary tones and gestures. The mud
would soon be cleared away and the raw slips on the
banks would be the only visible record of the shaking
it suffered.

The Upper Tosemite Fall, glowing white in the
moonlight^ seemed to know nothing of the earthquake,
manifesting no change in form or voice, as far as I
could see or hear.

After a second startling shock, about half-past
three o'clock, the ground continued to tremble gently,
and smooth, hollow rumbling sounds, not always dis-
tinguishable from the rounded, bumping, explosive
tones of the falls, came from deep in the mountains
in a northern direction.

EAKTHQUAKE STORMS 81

The few Indians fled from dieir huts to the middle
of the Valley, fearing that angry spirits were trying to
kill them ; and, as I afterward learned, most of the
Yoflemite tribe, who were spending the winter at their
village on Bull Creek forty miles away, were so ter-
rified that they ran into the river and washed them-
selves, — getting themselves clean enough to say their
prayers, I suppose, or to die. I asked Dick, one of
the Indians with whom I was acquainted, ^^What
made the ground shake and jump so much ? '' He
only shook his head and said, '^ Ko good. Ko good,"
and looked appealingly to me to give him hope that
his life was to be spared.

In the morning I found the few white settlers as-
sembled in front of the old Hutchings Hotel com-
paring notes and meditating flight to the lowlands,
seemingly as sorely frightened as the Indians.
Shortly after sunrise a low, blunt, muffled rumbling,
like distant thunder, was followed by another series
of 8ho(^, which, though not nearly so severe as the
first, made the cliffs and domes tremble like jelly,
and the big pines and oaks thrill and swish and wave
their branches with startling effect Then the talkers
were suddenly hushed, and the solemnity on their
faces was sublime. One in particular of these winter
neighbors, a somewhat speculative thinker with whom
I had often conversed, was a firm believer in the
cataclysmic origin of the Valley ; and I now jokingly

82 THE TOSEMITE

remarked that his wild tumble-down-and-eognlfment
hypothesis might soon be proved, since these under-
ground rumblings and shakings might be the fore-
runners of another Yosemite-making cataclysm,
whidi would perhaps double the depth of tlie Valley
by swallowing the floor, leaving the ends of the roads
and trails dangling three or four thousand feet in the
air. Just then came the third series of shocks, and
it was fine to see how awfully silent and solemn he
became. His belief in the existence of a mysterious
abyss, into which the suspended floor of the Valley
and all the domes and battlements of the walls might
at any moment go roaring down, mightily troubled
him. To diminish his fears and laugh him into
something like reasonable faith, I said, ^^ Come, cheer
up ; smile a little and clap your hands, now that kind
Mother Earth is trotting us on her knee to amuse us
and make us good." But the well-meant joke seemed
irreverent and utterly failed, as if only prayerful ter-
ror could rightly belong to the wild beauty-maldng
business. Even after all the heavier shocks were
over I could do nothing to reassure him. On the
contrary, he handed me the keys of his little store
to keep, saying that with a companion of like mind
he was going to the lowlands to stay until the fate
of poor, trembling Tosemite was settled. In vain I
rallied them on their fears, calling attention to the

EAKTHQUAKE STORMS 8«

strength of the granite walls of our Valley home, the
very best and solidest masonry in the world, and less
likely to collapse and sink than the sedimentary low-
lands to which they were looking for safety ; and say-
ing that in any case they sometime would have to die,
and so grand a burial was not to be slighted. But
they were too seriously panic-stricken to get comfort
from anything I could say.

During the third severe shock the trees were so
violently shaken that the birds flew out with frightr
ened cries. In particular, I noticed two robins flying
in terror from a leafless oak, the branches of which
swished and quivered as if struck by a heavy batter-
ing-ram. Exceedingly interesting were the flashing
and quivering of the elastic needles of the pines in
the sunlight and the waving up and down of the
branches while the trunks stood rigid. There was no
swaying, waving or swirling as in wind-storms, but
quick, quivering jerks, and at times the heavy tasseled
branches moved as if they had all been pressed down
against the trunk and suddenly let go, to spring up
and vibrate until they came to rest again. Only the
owls seemed to be undisturbed. Before the rumbling
echoes had died away a hollow-voiced owl b^an to
hoot in philosophical tranquillity from near the edge
of the new talus as if nothing extraordinary had oc-
curred, although, perhaps, he was curious to know

84 THE YOSEMITE

what all the noise was about His ^' hoot-too-hoot-too-
whoo '' might have meant^ ^' what 's a' the steer, kim-
mer?''

It was long before the Valley fonnd perfect rest
The rooks trembled more or less every day for over
two months, and I kept a bucket of water on my table
to learn what I could of the movements. The blunt
thundef in the depths of the mountains was usually
followed by sudden jarring, horizontal thrusts from
the northward, often succeeded by twisting, upjolting
movements. More than a month after the first great
shock, when I was standing on a fallen tree up the
Valley near Lamon's winter cabin, I heard a distinct
bubbling thunder from the direction of Tenaya Canon*
Carlo, a large intelligent St Bernard dog standing be-
side me seemed greatly astonished, and looked intently
in that direction with mouth open and uttered a low
WoufI as if saying, " What 's that i ^^ He must have
known that it was not thunder, though like it The
air was perfectly still, not the faintest breath of wind
perceptible, and a fine, mellow, sunny hush pervaded
everything, in the midst of which came that subter-
ranean thunder. Then, while we gazed and listened,
came the corresponding shocks, distinct as if some
mighty hand had shaken the ground. After the
sharp horizontal jars died away, they were followed
by a gentle rocking and undulating of the ground so
distinct that Carlo looked at the log on which he was

EAETHQFAKE STORMS 86

to see who was shaking it. It was the sea-
son of flooded meadows and the pook about me, calm
as sheets of glass, were suddenly thrown into low
ruffling waves.

Judging by its effectSi this Yosemite, or Inyo
earthquake, as it is sometimes called, was gentle as
compared with the one that gave rise to the grand
talus system of the Bange and did so much for the
oanoa scenery. IsTature, usually so deliberate in her
operations, then created, as we have seen, a new set
of features, simply by giving the mountains a shake
—-changing not only the high peaks and cliffs, but
the streams. As soon as these ro<^ avalanches fell,
the streams began to sing new songs; for in many
places thousands of boulders were hurled into their
channels, roughening and half-damming them, com-
pelling the waters to surge and roar in rapids where
before they glided smoothly. Some of the streams
were completely dammed; driftwood, leaves, etc.,
gradually filling the interstices between the boulders,
thus giving rise to lakes and level reaches ; and these
again, after being gradually filled in, were changed
to meadows, through which the streams are now si-
lently meandering; while at the same time some of
the taluses took the places of old meadows and groves.
Thus rough places were made smooth, and smooth
places rough. But, on the whole, by what at first
si^t seemed pure confounded confusion and ruin,

86 THE YOSEMITE

the landscapes were enriched; for gradually every
talus was covered with groves and gardens, and made
a finely proportioned and ornamental base for the
cliffs* In this work of beauty, every boulder is pre-
pared and measured and put in its place more thought-
fully than are the stones of temples. If for a mo-
ment you are inclined to regard these taluses as mere
draggled, chaotic dumps, climb to the top of one of
them, and run down without any haggling, puttering
hesitation, boldly jumping from boulder to boulder
with even speed. You will then find your feet play-
ing a tune, and quickly discover the music and poetry
of these magnificent rock piles — a fine lesson ; and
all jN'ature's wildness tells the same story — the
shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes,
geysers, roaring, thundering waves and fioods, the
silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort —
each and all are the orderly beauty-making love-beats
of jN'ature's heart.

THE TBEES OF THE YALLEY

rIE most influential of the Valley trees is the yel-
low pine (Pin/us ponderosa). It attains its
noblest dimensions on beds of water-washed, coarsely-
stratified moraine material, between the talus slopes
and meadows, dry on the surface, well-watered be-
low and wheire not too closely assembled in groves
the branches reach nearly to the ground, forming
grand spires 200 to 220 feet in height The largest
that I have measured is standing alone almost op-
posite the Sentinel Rock, or a little to the west-
ward of it It is a little over eight feet in diameter
and about 220 feet high. Climbing these grand
trees, especially when they are waving and singing
in worship in wind-storms, is a glorious experience.
Ascending from the lowest branch to the topmost
is like stepping up stairs through a blaze of white
li^t^ every needle thrilling and shining as if with
religious ecstasy.

Unfortunately there are but few sugar pines in the
Valley, thou^ in the King's yosemite they are in

glorious abundance. The incense cedar (Lihocedrus

87

88 THE TOSEMITE

decurrens) with cinnamon-colored bark and yellow-
green foliage is one of the most interesting of the
Yosemite trees. Some of them are 150 feet high,
from six to ten feet in diameter, and they are ne^er
out of sight as you saunter among the yellow pines.
Their bright brown shafts and towers of flat, frond-
like branches make a striking feature of the land-
scapes throughout all the seasons. In midwinter,
when most of the other trees are asleep, this cedar
puts forth its flowers in millions, — the pistillate pale
green and inconspicuous, but the staminate bright
yellow, tingeing all the branches and making the trees
as they stand in the snow look like gigantic golden-
rods. The branches, outspread in flat plumes and,
beautifully f ronded, sweep gracefully downward and
outward, except those near the top, which aspire; the
lowest, especially in youth and middle age, droop to
the ground, overlapping one another, shedding off rain
and snow like shingles, and making fine tents for
birds and campers. This tree frequently lives more
than a thousand years and is well worthy its place
beside the great pines and the Douglas spruce.

The two largest specimens I know of the Douglas
spruce, about eight feet in diameter, are growing at
the foot of the Liberty Cap near the Nevada Fall,
and on the terminal moraine of the small residual
glacier that lingered in the shady lUilouette Gafion.

After the conifers, the most important of the

THE TREES OF THE VALLEY 89

Yofiemite trees are the oaks, two species; the Cali-
fornia liveH>ak (Quercua agrifolia)y with black
trunks, reaching a thickness of from four to nearly
seven feet, wide spreading branches and bright deeply-
scalloped leaves. It occupies the greater part of the
broad sandy flats of the upper end of the Valley, and
is the species that yields the acorns so highly prized
by the Lidians and woodpeckers.

The other species is the mountain live-oak, or gold-
cup oak (Quercus chrysolepis)^ a sturdy mountaineer
of a tree, growing mostly on the earthquake taluses
and benches of the sunny north wall of the Valley.
Li tough, unwedgeable, knotty strength, it is the oak
of oaks, a magnificent tree.

The largest and most picturesque specimen in the
Valley is near the foot of the Tenaya Fall, a ro-
mantic spot seldom seen on account of the rough
trouble of getting to it. It is planted on three huge
boulders and yet manages to draw sufficient moisture
and food from this craggy soil to maintain itself in
good health. It is twenty feet in circumference,
measured above a large branch between three and four
feet in diameter that has been bn^en off. The main
knotty trunk seems to be made up of craggy granite
boulders like those on which it stands, being about the
same color as the mossy, lichened boulders and about
as rough. Two moss-lined caves near the ground
open back into the trunk, one on the north side, the

90 THE YOSEMITE

other on tlie west, forming picturesque, romantio
seats. The laigest of the main branches is eighteen
feet and nine inches in circumference, and some of
the long pendulous branchlets droop over the stream
at the foot of the fall where it is gray with spray.
The leaves are glossy yellow-green, ever in motion
from the wind from the falL It is a fine place to
dream in, with falls, cascades, cool rocks lined with
hypnum three inches thick ; shaded with maple, d(^
wood, alder, willow; grand clumps of lady-ferns
where no hand may touch them; light filtering
through translucent leaves; oaks fifty feet high;
lilies eight feet high in a filled lake basin near by,
and the finest libocedrus groves and tallest ferns and
gold^irods.

In the main river canon below the Yemal Fall and
on the shady south side of the Valley there are a few
groves of the silver fir (Abies concolar), and superb
forests of the magnificent species around the rim of
the Valley.

On the tops of the domes is found the sturdy,
storm-enduring red cedar (Jvmperus occidentaUs).
It never makes anything like a forest here> but
stands out separate and independent in the wind,
clinging by slight joints to the rock, with scarce a
handful of soil in sight of it, seeming to depend
chi^y on snow and air for nourishment, and yet it

THE TREES OF THE VALLEY 91

has maintained tough health on this diet for two
thousand years or more. The largest hereabouts are
from five to six feet in diameter and fifty feet in
hei^t

The principal river-side trees are poplar^ alder,
willow, broad-leaved maple, and jN'uttall's flowering
dogwood. The poplar {Populua trichocarpa)^ often
called balm-of-Gilead from the gum on its buds, is a
tall treoy towering above its companions and grace-
fully embowering the banks of the river. Its
abxmdant foliage turns bright yellow in the fall, and
the Indian-summer sunshine sifts through it in de-
lightful tones over the slow-gliding waters when they
are at their lowest ebb.

Some of the involucres of the flowering dogwood
measure six to ei^t inches in diameter, and the whole
tree when in flower looks as if covered with snow.
In the spring when the streams are in flood it is the
whitest of trees. In Indian summer the leaves be-
come bright crimson, making a still grander show
than the flowers.

The broad-leaved maple and mountain maple are
found mostly in the cool canons at the head of the
Valley, spreading their branches in beautiful arches
over the foaming streams.

Scattered here and there are a few other trees,
moeily small — the mountain mahogany, cherry,

92 THE TOSEMITE

chestnut-oak^ and laurel The California nutmeg
(Torreya calif arnica) y a handsome evergreen, be-
longing to the yew family, forms small groves near
the cascades a mile or two hAovr the foot of the
Valley.

VI

THE FOREST TBEES IN GENERAL

FOR the use of the ever-increasing number of Yo-
semite visitors who make extensive excursions
into the mountains beyond the Valley, a sketch of the
forest trees in general will probably be found useful.
The different species are arranged in zones and seo-
tions^ which brings the forest as a whole within the
comprehension of every observer. These species are
always found as controlled by the climates of differ-
ent elevations, by soil and by the comparative strength
of each species in taking and holding possession
of the ground ; and so appreciable are these relations
the traveler need never be at a loss in determin-
ing within a few hundred feet his elevation above sea-
level by the trees alone ; for, notwithstanding some of
the species range upward for several thousand feet
and all pass one another more or less, yet even those
species possessing the greatest vertical range are avail-
able in measuring the elevation; inasmuch as they
take on new forms corresponding with variations in
altituda Entering the lower fringe of the forest
composed of Douglas oaks and Sabine pine6> the trees

98

t

1

94 THE TOSEMITE

grow 80 far apart that not one-twentieth of the snr^
face of the ground is in shade at noon. After ad-
vancing fifteen or twenty miles towards Yosemite and
making an ascent of from two to three thousand feet
you reach the lower margin of the main pine belt,
composed of great sugar pine, yellow pine, incense
cedar and sequoia. jN'ext you oome to the magnifi-
cent silver-fir belt and lastly to the upper pine belt,
which sweeps up to the feet of the summit peaks in a
dwarfed fringe, to a height of from ten to twelve
thousand feet. That this general order of distribu-
tion depends on climate as affected by height above
the sea, is seen at once^ but there are other harmonies
that become manifest only after observation and
study. One of the most interesting of these is the
arrangement of the forest in long curving bands,
braided together into lace-like patterns in some places
and outspread in charming variety. The key to
these striking arrangements is the system of ancient
glaciers; where they flowed the trees followed, tracing
their courses along the sides of cafions, over ridges,
and high plateaus. The cedar of Lebanon, said Sir
Joseph Hooker, occurs upon one of the moraines
of an ancient glacier. All the forests of the Sierra
are growing upon moraines^ but moraines vanish like
the glaciers that make them. Every storm that falls
upon them wastes them, carrying away their decay-
ing, disint^rating material into new f ormaticms, until

FOREST TREES 96

they are no longer recognizable without tracing their
transitional forms down the Range from those still in
process of formation in some places through those that
are more and more ancient and more obscured by
vegetation and all kinds of post-glacial weathering.
It appears^ therefore, that the Sierra forests indicate
the extent and positions of ancient moraines as well
as they do belts of climate.

One will have no difficulty in knowing the Nut
Pine (Ptnua Sabiniana)^ for it is the first conifer met
in ascending the Range from the west, springing up
here and there among Douglas oaks and thickets of
oeanothus and manzanita ; its extreme upper limit be-
ing about 4000 feet above the sea, its lower about
from 500 to 800 feet It is remarkable for its loose,
airy, wide-branching habit, and thin gray foliage.
Full-grown specimens are from forty to fifty feet in
hei^t and from two to three feet in diameter. The
trunk usually divides into three or four main branches
about fifteen or twenty feet from the ground that,
after bearing away from one another, shoot straight up
and form separate summits. Their slender, grayish
needles are from eight to twelve inches long, and in-
clined to droop, contrasting with the rigid, dark-col-
ored trunk and branches. No other tree of my
acquaintance so substantial in its body has foliage so
thin and pervious to the light. The cones are from
five to ei^t inches long and about as large in thick-

96 THE TOSEMITE

ness; rich diooolate-brown in color and protected by
strong, down-curving hooks which terminate the scales.
lETevertheless the little Douglas squirrel can open
them. Indians climb the trees like bears and beat off
the cones or recklessly cut off the more fruitful
branches with hatchets, while the squaws gather and
roast them until the scales open sufficiently to allow
the hard-shell seeds to be beaten out. The curious
little Pimis attenuata is found at an elevation of from
ISOO to 3000 feet, growing in close groves and belts.
It is exceedingly slender and graceful, although trees
that chance to stand alone send out very long, curved
branches, making a striking contrast to the ordi-
nary grove form. The foliage is of the same peculiar
gray-green color as that of the nut pine, and is worn
about as loosely, so that the body of the tree is scarcely
obscured by it At the age of seven or eight years
it begins to bear cones in whorls on the main axis,
and as they never fall off, the trunk is soon pictur-
esquely dotted with them. Branches also soon be-
come f ruitfuL The average size of the tree is about
thirty or forty feet in height and twelve to fourteoi
inches in diameter. The cones are about four indies
long, and covered with a sort of varnish and gum,
rendering them impervious to moisture.

No observer can fail to notice the admirable adapta-
tion of this curious pine to the fire-swept regions
where alone it is found. After a running fire has

THE SUGAE PINE 97

scorched and killed it the cones open and the ground
beneath it is then sown broadcast with all the seeds
ripened during its whole life. Then up spring a
crowd of bright, hopeful seedlings, giving beauty for
ashes in lavish abundance.

THE SUGAB PINE, KINO OF PINE TREES

Of all the world's eighty or ninety species of pine
trees, the Sugar Pine {Firms Lamhertiana) is king,
surpassing all others, not merely in size but in lordly
beauty and majesty. In the Yosemite region it
grows at an elevation of from 3000 to 7000 feet
above the sea and attains most perfect development at
a height of about SOOO feet The largest specimens
are commonly about 220 feet high and from six to
eight feet in diameter four feet from the ground,
though some grand old patriarch may be met here and
there that has enjoyed six or eight centuries of storms
and attained a thickness of ten or even twelve feet,
still sweet and fresh in every fiber. The trunk is a
remarkably smooth, round, delicately-tapered shaft,
straight and regular as if turned in a lathe, mostly
without limbs, purplish brown in color and usually
enlivened with tufts of a yellow lichen. Toward the
head of this magnificent colunm long branches sweep
gracefully outward and downward, sometimes form-

7

98 THE TOSEiaTE

ing a palm-like crown^ but far more impressive than
any palm orown I ever beheld. The needles are
about three inches long in f asicles of &ve, and ar^
ranged in rather dose tassels at the ends of slender
branchlets that clothe the long outsweeping limbs.
How well they sing in the wind, and how strikingly
harmonious an effect is made by the long cylindrical
cones, dep^iding loosely from the ends of the long
brandies I The cones are about fifteen to eighteen
inches long, and three in diameter; green, shaded
with dark purple on their sunward sides. Th^ are
ripe in September and October of the second year
from the flower. Then the flat, thin scales open and
the seeds take wing, but the empty cones become still
more beautiful and effective as decorations, for their
diameter is nearly doubled by the spreading of the
scales, and their color changes to yellowish brown
while th^ remain, swinging on the tree all the follow-
ing winter and summer, and continue effectively beau-
tiful ev^i on the ground many years after they fall.
The wood is deliciously fragrant, fine in grain and
texture and creamy yellow, as if formed of condensed
sunbeams. The sugar from which the common name
is derived is, I think, the best of sweets. It exudes
from the heart-wood where wounds have been made by
forest fires or the ax, and forms irregular, crisp,
candy-like kernels of considerable size, something
like dusters of resin beads. When fresh it is white^

THE SUGAR PINE 99

but because most of the wounds on which it is found
have been made by fire the sap is stained and the hard-
ened sugar becomes brown. Indians are fond of it,
but on account of its laxative properties only small
quantities may be eaten. No tree lover will ever for-
get his first meeting with the sugar pine. In most
pine trees there is the sameness of expression which
to most people is apt to become monotonous^ for the
lypical spiral form of conifers, however beautiful,
affords little scope for appreciable individual char-
acter. The sugar pine is as free from convention-
alities as the most picturesque oaks. No two are
alike, and though they toss out their immense arms in
what might seem extravagant gestures they never lose
their expression of serene majesty. They are the
priests of pines and seem ever to be addressing the
surrounding forest The yellow pine is found grow-
ing with them on warm hillsides, and the silver
fir on cool northern slopes; but, noble as these
are, the sugar pine is easily king, and spreads his
arms above them in blessing while they rock and wave
in sign of recognition. The main branches are some-
times forty feet long, yet persistently simple, seldom
dividing at all, excepting near the end ; but anything
like a bare cable appearance is prevented by the small,
tasseled branchlets that extend all around them ; and
when these superb limbs sweep out symmetrically on
all sides, a crown sixty or seventy feet wide is formed,

100 THE TOSEMITE

which, graoefolly poised on the summit of the noble
shaft, is a glorious object Commonly, however,
there is a preponderance of limbs toward the east,
away from the direction of the prevailing winds.

Although so unconventional when full-grown, the
sugar pine is a remarkably proper tree in youth — a
strict follower of coniferous fashions — slim, erect,
with leafy branches kept exactly in place, each taper-
ing in outline and terminating in a spiry point The
successive forms between the cautious neatness of
youth and the bold freedom of maturity offer a de-
lightful study. At the age of fifty or sixty years, the
shy, fashionable form begins to be broken up. Spe-
cialized branches push out and bend with the great
cones, giving individual character, that becomes more
marked from year to year. Its most constant com-
panion is the yellow pine. The Douglas spruce,
libocedrus, sequoia, and the silver fir are also
more or less associated with it; but on many
deep-soiled mountain-sides, at an elevation of about
5000 feet above the sea, it forms the bulk of the
forest, filling every swell and hollow and down-
plunging ravine. The majestic crowns, approadiing
each other in bold curves, make a glorious canopy
through which the tempered sunbeams pour, silver^
ing the needles, and gilding the massive boles and
the flowery, park-like ground into a scene of enchant-
ment

THE YELLOW PINE 101

On the most sunny slopes the white-flowered, fra-
grant chamaebatia is spread like a carpet, bright-
ened daring early summer with the crimson sarco-
des, the wild rose, and innumerable violets and gil-
ia& Not even in the shadiest no<^ will you And
any rank, untidy weeds or unwholesome darkness.
In the north sides of ridges the boles are more
slender, and the ground is mostly occupied by an
underbrush of hazel, ceanothus, and flowering dog-
wood^ but not so densdy as to prevent the traveler
from sauntering where he will; while the crowning
branches are never impenetrable to the rays of the
sun, and never so interblended as to lose their indi-
viduality.

THE YELLOW OB SnjYEB PINE

The Silver Pine (Pinus ponderoaa), or Yellow
Pine^ as it is commonly called, ranks second among
the pines of the Sierra as a lumber tree, and almost
rivals the sugar pine in stature and nobleness of
port. Because of its superior powers of enduring
variations of climate and soil, it has a more extensive
range than any other conifer growing on the Sierra.
On the western slope it is first met at an elevation
of about 2000 feet, and extends nearly to the
upper limit of the timber-line. Thence, crossing the

103 THE YOSEMITE

range by the lowest passes, it descends to the eastern
base, and pushes out for a considerable distance into
the hot, volcanic plains, growing bravely upon well-
watered moraines, gravelly lake basins, climbing old
volcanoes and dropping ripe cones among ashes and
cinders.

The average size of full-grown trees on the western
slope, where it is associated with the sugar pine,
is a little less than 200 feet in height and from
five to six feet in diameter, though specimens con-
siderably larger may easily be found. Where there
is plenty of free sunshine and other conditions are
favorable, it presents a striking contrast in form to
the sugar pine, being a synmietrical spire, formed
of a straight round trunk, clad with innumerable
branches that are divided over and over again. Un-
like the Yosemite form about one-half of the trunk is
commonly branchless, but where it grows at all close
three-fourths or more is naked, presenting then a more
slender and el^ant shaft than any other tree in the
woods. The bark is mostly arranged in massive
plates, some of them measuring four or five feet in
length by eighteen inches in width, with a thickness
of three or four inches, forming a quite marked and
distinguishing feature. The needles are of a fine,
warm, yellow-green color, six to eight inches long,
firm and elastic, and crowded in handsome, radiant

THE YELLOW PINE 108

tasselB on the upturning ends of the branches. The
oones are about three or four inches long, and two
and a half wide, growing in dose, sessile clusters
among the leaves.

The species attains its noblest form in filled-up
lake basins^ especially in those of the older yosemites,
and as we have seen, so prominent a part does it form
of their groves that it may well be called the Yosemite
Pine.

The Jeffrey variety attains its finest development
in the northern portion of the Range, in the wide
basins of the McCloud and Pitt Bivers, where it
forms magnificent forests scarcely invaded by any
other tree. It differs from the ordinary form in
size, being only about half as tall, in its redder and
more dosely-furrowed bark, grayish-green foliage,
lees divided branches, and much larger cones ; but in-
termediate forms come in which make a clear separa-
tion impossible, although some botanists regard it as a
distinct species. It is this variety of ponderosa that
climbs storm-swept ridges alone, and wanders out
among the volcanoes of the Great Basin. Whether
exposed to extremes of heat or cold, it is dwarfed
like many other trees, and becomes all knots and
angles, wholly unlike the majestic forms we have
been sketching. Old specimens, bearing cones about
as big as pineapples, may sometimes be found clinging

104 THE TOSEMITE

to rifted rocks at an elevation of 7000 or 8000 feet^
whose highest branches scarce reach above erne's
shoulders.

I have often feasted on the beauty of these
noble trees when they were towering in all their
winter grandeur^ laden with snow — (me mass of
bloom; in summer, too, when the brown, staminate
clusters hang thick among the shimmering needles,
and the big purple burrs are ripening in the mellow
light; but it is during cloudless wind-storms that
these colossal pines are most impressively beautifuL
Then they bow like willows, their leaves streaming
forward all in one direction, and, when the sun shines
upon them at the required angle, entire groves glow
as if every leaf were burnished silver. The fall of
tropic light on the crown of a palm is a truly glori-
ous spectacle, the fervid sun-flood breaking upon the
glossy leaves in long lance-rays, like mountain water
among boulders at the foot of an enthusiastic cat-
aract. But to me there is something more im-
pressive in the fall of light upon these noble, silver
pine pillars : it is beaten to the finest dust and shed
off in myriads of minute sparkles that seem to radiate
from the very heart of the tree, as if like rain, fall-
ing upon fertile soil, it had been absorbed to reap-
pear in flowers of light This species also gives forth
the finest wind music After listening to it in all
kinds of winds, night and day, season after season,

THE DOUGLAS SPRUCE 106

I ibmk I ooTild approximate to my position on the
mountain by tliis pine music alone. If yon would
catch the tone of separate needles climb a tree in
breezy weather. Every needle is carefully tempered
and gives forth no uncertain sound, each standing out
with no interference excepting during heavy gales;
then you may detect the click of one needle upon an-
other, readily distinguishable from the free wind-like
hum.

When a sugar pine and one of this species equal
in size are observed together, the latter is seen to be
more simple in manners, more lively and graceful, and
its beauty is of a kind more easily appreciated ; on the
other hand it is less dignified and original in de-
meanor. The yellow pine seems ever eager to
shoot aloft, higher and higher. Even while it is
drowsing in autumn sun^old you may still detect a
skyward aspiration, but the sugar pine seems too
unconsciously noble and too complete in every way
to leave room for even a heavenward care.

THE DOUGLAS SPBfCTGE

The Douglas Spruce (Pseudotsuga D(mgla8ii) is
one of the largest and longest-lived of the giants that
flourish throu^out the main pine belt, often attain-
ing a height of nearly 200 feet, and a diameter

108 THE TOSEMITE

its youth up to the age of sevenly or eighty jqbxs,
none of its companions forms so strictly tapered a
cone from top to bottom. As it becomes older it
oftentimes growSiStrikingly irr^ular and picturesque.
Large branches push out at right angles to the trunk,
forming stubborn elbows and shoot up parallel with
the axis. Very old trees are usually dead at the top.
The flat fragrant plumes are exceedingly beautiful:
no waving fern-frond is finer in form and texture. In
its prime the whole tree is thatched with them, but
if you would see the libocedrus in all its glory you
must go to the woods in midwinter when it is laden
with myriads of yellow flowers about the size of wheat
grains, forming a noble illustration of Nature's im-
mortal virility and vigor. The mature cones, about
three-fourths of an inch long, bom on the ends of the
plumy branchlets, serve to en];ich still more the sur-
passing beauty of this winter-blooming tree-golden-
rod.

THE SILYEB FIBS

We come now to the most regularly planted and
most clearly defined of the main forest belts, com-
posed almost exclusively of two Silver Firs — Abies
coneohr and Ahies magnifica — extending with but
little interruption 450 miles at an elevation of from

n

THE SILVER FIES 109

6000 to 9000 feet above the sea. In its youth A.
caneolor is a charmingly symmetrical tree with its
flat plmny branches arranged in r^ular whorls
around the whitish-gray axis which terminates in
a stout, hopeful shoot, pointing straight to the zenith,
like an admonishing finger. The leaves are ar-
ranged in two horizontal rows along branchlets that
commonly are less than eight years old, forming hand-
some plumes, pinnated like the fronds of ferns. The
cones are grayish-green when ripe, cylindrical, from
three to four inches long, and one and a half to two
inches wide, and stand upright on the upper hori-
zontal branches. Pull-grown trees in favorable situ-
ations are usually about 200 feet high and five or
six feet in diameter. As old age creeps on, ^e
rough bark becomes rougher and grayer, the branches
lose their exact regularity of form, many that are
snow-bent are broken off and the axis often becomes
double or otherwise irr^ular from accidents to the
terminal bud or shoot Nevertheless, throughout all
the vicissitudes of its three or four centuries of life,
come what may, the noble grandeur of this species,
however obscured, is never lost.

The magnificent Silver Kr, or California Red Fir
(Ahies magnifica) is the most symmetrical of all the
Sierra giants, far surpassing its companion species in
this respect and easily distinguished from it by the
purplish-red bark, which is also more closely furrowed

110 THE YOSEMITE

than that of the white^ and by its larger cones, its
more regularly whorled and f ronded branches, and its
shorter leaves, which grow all around the branches
and point upward instead of being arranged in two
horizontal rows. The branches are mostly whorled
in fives, and stand out from the straight, red-purple
bole in level, or in old trees in drooping, collars, every
branch regularly pinnated like fern-fronds, making
broad plumes^ singularly rich and sumptuous-looking.
The flowers are in their prime about the middle of
June ; the male red^ growing on the underside of the
branches in crowded profusion, giving a very rich
color to all the trees; the female greenish-yellow,
tinged with pink, standing erect on the upper side of
the topmost branches, while the tufts of young leaves,
about as brightly colored as those of the Douglas
spruce, make another grand show. The cones mature
in a single season from the flowers. When mature
they are about six to eight inches long, three or four
in diameter, covered with a fine gray down and
streaked and beaded with transparent balsam, very
rich and precious-looking, and stand erect like casks
on the topmost branches. The inside of the cone is,
if possible, still more beautiful. The scales and
bracts are tinged with red and the seed-wings are
purple with bright iridescence. Both of the silver
firs live between two and three centnries when the
conditions about them are at all favorable* Some

THE SILVER FIRS 111

venerable patriarch may be seen heavily storm-
marked, towering in severe majesty above the rising
generation, with a protecting grove of hopeful sap-
lings pressing close around his feet, each dressed with
such loving care that not a leaf seems wanting.
Other groups are made up of trees near the prime of
life, nicely arranged as if !N'ature had culled them
with discrimination from all the rest of the woods.
It is from this tree, called Eed Fir by the lumber-
men, that mountaineers cut boughs to sleep on when
th^ are so f ortimate as to be within its limit. Two
or three rows of the sumptuous plushy-fronded
branches, overlapping along the middle, and a crescent
of smaller plumes mixed to one's taste with ferns and
flowers for a pillow, form the very best bed imagin-
abla The essence of the pressed leaves seems to fill
every pore of one's body. Falling water makes a
soothing hush, while the spaces between the grand
spires afford noble openings through which to gaze
dreamily into the starry sky. The fir woods are fine
sauntering-grounds at almost any time of the year,
but finest in autumn when the noble trees are hushed
in the hazy light and drip with balsam ; and the fiy-
ing, whirling seeds, escaping from the ripe cones,
mottle the air like fiocks of butterflies. Even in the
richest part of these unrivaled forests where so many
noble trees challenge admiration we linger fondly
among the colossal firs and extol their beauty again

112 THE TOSEMITE

and again, as if no other tree in the world could hence-
forth claim onr lore. It is in these woods the great
granite domes arise that are so striking and character-
istic a feature of the Sierra. Here, too, we find the
hest of the garden-meadows full of lilies. A dry spot
a little way back from the margin of a silver fir
lily-garden makes a glorious camp-ground, especially
where the slope is toward the east with a view of the
distant peaks along the summit of the Bange. The
tall lilies are brought forward most impressively like
visitors by the light of your camp-fire and the nearest
of the trees with their whorled branches tower above
you like larger lilies and the sky seen through the
garden-opening seems one vast meadow of white lily
stars.

THE TWO-LEAVED PINE

The Two-Leaved Pine (Pinus contorta, var. Mur-
ray ana) j above the Silver Fir zone, forms the bulk
of the alpine forests up to a height of from 8000 to
9fi00 feet above the sea, growing in beautiful order on
moraines scarcely changed as yet by post-glacial
weathering. Compared with the giants of the lower
regions this is a small tree, seldom exceeding a height
of eighty or ninety feet The largest I ever measured
was ninety feet high and a little over six feet in
diameter. The average height of mature trees

THE TWO-LEAVED PINE 113

throu^out the entire belt is probably not far
from fifty or sixty feet with a diameter of
two feet It is a well-proportioned, rather hand-
some tree with grayish-brown bark and crooked,
much-divided branches which cover the greater part
of the trunk, but not so densely as to prevent it be-
ing seen* The lower limbs, like those of most other
conifers that grow in snowy r^ons, curve downward,
gradually take a horizontal position about half-way
up the trunk, then aspire more and more toward the
summit The short, rigid needles in fascicles of two
are arranged in comparatively long cylindrical tasr
sels at the ends of the tough up-curving branches.
The cones are about two inches long, growing in
clusters among the needles without any striking ef-
fect except while very young, when the flowers are of a
vivid crimson color and the whole tree appears to be
dotted with brilliant flowers. The staminate flowers
are still more showy on account of their great abun-
dance, often giving a reddish-yellow tinge to the whole
mass of foliage and filling the air with pollen. No
other pine on the Bange is so regularly planted as this
one, covering moraines that extend along the sides of
the high rocky valleys for miles without interruption.
The thin bark is streaked and sprinkled with resin as
though it had been showered upon the forest like
rain.

Therefore this tree more than any other is sub-

8

lU THE TOSEMITE

ject to deetruction hy fire. During strong winds
extensive forests are destroyed, the flames leaping
from tree to tree in continuous belts that go surging
and racing onward above the bending wood like
prairie-grass fires. During the calm season of In-
dian summer the fire creeps quietly along the ground,
feeding on the needles and cones ; arriving at the foot
of a tree, the resiny bark is ignited and the heated
air ascends in a swift current, increasing in velocity
and dragging the flames upward. Then the leaves
catch, forming an immense column of fire, beautifully
spired on the edges and tinted a rose-purple hue. It
rushes aloft thirty or forty feet above the top of the
tree, forming a grand spectacle, especially at night
It lasts^ however, only a few seconds, vanishing with
magical rapidity, to be succeeded by others along
the fire-line at irregular intervals, tree after tree, up-
flashing and darting, leaving the trunks and branches
scarcely scarred. The heat, however, is sufficient to
kill the tree and in a few years the bark shrivels and
falls off. Forests miles in extent are thus killed and
left standing, with the branches on, but peeled and
rigid, appearing gray in the distance like misly
clouds. Later the branches drop off, leaving a forest
of bleached spars. At length the roots decay and the
forlorn gray trunks are blown down during some
storm and piled one upon another, encumbering the
ground until, dry and seasoned, they are consumed by

THE MOUNTAIN PINE 116

another fire and leave the ground ready for a fresh
crop.

In sheltered lake-hollows^ on beds of alluvium, this
pine varies so far from the common form that fre-
quently it could be taken for a distinct species, grow-
ing in damp sods like grasses from forty to eighty
feet high, bending all together to the breeze and whir-
ling in eddying gusts more lively than any other tree
in the woods. I frequently found specimens fifty feet
high less than five inches in diameter. Being so
slender and at the same time clad with leafy boughs,
it is often bent and weighed down to the ground
when laden with soft snow ; thus forming fine orna-
mental arches, many of them to last until the melting
of the snow in the spring.

THE MOUNTAIN PINE

The Mountain Pine (Piivua monticola) is the
noblest tree of the alpine zone — hardy and long-
lived, towering grandly above its companions and be-
coming stronger and more imposing just where other
species b^n to crouch and disappear. At its best
it is usually about ninety feet high and five or six
feet in diameter, though you may find specimens here
and there considerably larger than this. It is as mas-

116 THE YOSEMITE

sire and as suggestive of enduring strength as an oak.
About two-thirds of the trunk is commonly free of
limbs, but close, f ringy tufts of spray occur nearly all
the way down to the ground. On trees that occupy
exposed situations near its upper limit the bark is
deep reddish-brown and rather deeply furrowed, the
main furrows running nearly parallel to each other
and connected on the old trees by conspicuous cross-
furrows. The cones are from four to eight inches
long, smooth, slender, cylindrical and somewhat
curved. They grow in clusters of from three to six
or seven and become pendulous as they increase in
weight This species is nearly related to the sugar
pine and, though not half so tall, it suggests its noble
relative in the way that it extends its long branches in
general habit. It is first met on the upper margin of
the silver fir zone, singly, in what appears as
chance situations without making much impression
on the general forest. Continuing up through the
forests of the two-leaved pine it begins to show its
distinguishing characteristic in the most marked way
at an elevation of about 10,000 feet, extending its
tough, rather slender arms in the frosty air, welcom-
ing the storms and feeding on them and reaching
sometimes to the grand old age of 1000 years.

THE WESTERN JUNIPER 117

THE WESTERN JUNIPEB

The Juniper or Red Cedar (Jumiperus occidetir
talis) is preeminently a rock tree, occupying the hald-
est domes and pavements in the upper silver fir
and alpine zones, at a height of from 7000 to 9500
feet In such situations^ rooted in narrow cracks or
fissures, where there is scarcely a handful of soil,
it is frequently over eight feet in diameter and not
much more in height. The tops of old trees are al-
most always dead, and large stubborn-looking limbe
push out horizontally, most of them broken and dead
at the end, but densely covered, and imbedded here
and there with tufts or mounds of gray-green scale-
like foliage. Some trees are mere storm-beaten
stumps about as broad as long, decorated with a few
leafy sprays, reminding one of the crumbling towers
of old castles scantily draped with ivy. Its homes
on bare, barren dome and ridge-top seem to have
been chosen for safety against fire, for, on iso-
lated mounds of sand and gravel free from grass and
bushes on which fire could feed, it is often found
growing tall and unscathed to a height of forty to
sixty feet, with scarce a trace of the rocky angularity
and broken limbs so characteristic a feature through-
out the greater part of its range. It never makes
anything like a forest ; seldom even a grove. Usually

118 THE TOSEMITE

it stands out separate and independent! clinging
bj slight joints to the rocks, living chiefly on snow
and thin air and maintaining sound health on this
diet for 2000 years or more. Every feature or
every gesture it makes expresses steadfast, dogged en-
durance. The bark is of a bright cinnamon color and
is handsomely braided and reticulated on thrifty
trees, flaking off in thin, shining ribbons that are
sometimes used by the Indians for tent matting. Its
fine color and picturesqueness are appreciated by
artists, but to me the juniper seems a singularly
strange and taciturn tree. I have spent many a day
and ni^t in its company and always have found it
silent and rigid. It seems to be a survivor of some
ancient race, wholly unacquainted with its neighbors.
Its broad stumpiness, of course, makes wind-waving
or even shaking out of the question, but it is not this
rocky rigidity that constitutes its silence. In calm,
sun-days the sugar pine preaches like an enthusiastic
apostle without moving a leaf. On level rocks the
juniper dies standing and wastes insensibly out of
existence like granite, the wind exerting about as little
control over it, alive or dead, as it does over a glacier
boulder.

I have spent a good deal of time trying to de-
termine the age of these wonderful trees, but as all of
the very old ones are honeycombed with dry rot I
never was able to get a complete count of the largest

THE JUNIPER 119

Some are undoubtedly more than 2000 years old, for
though on deep moraine soil they grow about as fast
as some of the pines, on bare pavements and smoothly
glaciated, overswept ridges in the dome region they
grow very slowly. One on the Starr King Ridge only
two feet eleven inches in diameter was 1140 years old
forty years ago. Another on the same ridge, only
one foot seven and a half inches in diameter, had
reached the age of 834 years. The first fifteen inches
from the bark of a medium-size tree six feet in
diameter, on the north Tenaya pavement, had 859
layers of wood. Beyond this the count was stopped
by dry rot and scars. The largest I examined
was thirty-three feet in girth, or nearly ten feet in
diameter and, although I have failed to get anything
like a complete count, I learned enough from this and
many other specimens to convince me that most of
the trees eight or ten feet thick, standing on pave-
ments, are more than twenty centuries old rather than
less. Barring accidents, for all I can see they would
live forever; even when overthrown by avalanches,
they refuse to lie at rest, lean stubbornly on their big
branches as if anxious to rise, and while a single root
holds to the rock, put forth fresh leaves with a grim,
never-say-die expression.

120 THE YOSEMITE

THE MOUNTAIN HEMLOCK

As the juniper is the most stuhbom and nnshake-
able of trees in the Yosemite region, the Mountain
Hemlock {Tsuga Mertensiana) is the most graceful
and pliant and sensitive. Until it reaches a height
of fifty or sixty feet it is sumptuously clothed down
to the ground with drooping branches, which are di-
vided again and again into delicate waving sprays,
grouped and arranged in ways that are indescribably
beautiful, and profusely adorned with small brown
cones. The flowers also are peculiarly beautiful and
effective; the female dark rich purple, the male blue,
of so fine and pure a tone that the best azure of the
mountain sky seems to be condensed in them.
Though apparently the most delicate and feminine of
all the mountain trees, it grows best where the snow
lies deepest, at a height of from 9000 to 9500 feet^ in
hollows on the northern slopes of mountains and
ridges. But under all circumstances, sheltered from
heavy winds or in bleak exposure to them, well fed
or starved, even at its highest limit, 10,500 feet above
the sea, on exposed ridge-tops where it has to crouch
and huddle close in low thickets, it still contrives
to put forth its sprays and branches in forms of
invincible beauty, while on moist, well-drained
moraines it displays a perfectly tropical luxuriance

THE MOUNTAIN HEMLOCK 121

of foliage^ flowers and frait The snow of the first
winter storm is frequently soft, and lodges in the
dense leafy branches, weighing them down against
the trunk, and the slender, drooping axis, bending
lower and lower as the load increases, at length
reaches the ground, forming an ornamental arch.
Then, as storm succeeds storm and snow is heaped on
snow, the whole tree is at last buried, not again to
see the light of day or more leaf or limb until set
free by the spring thaws in June or July. Not only
the young saplings are thus carefully covered and
put to sleep in the whitest of white beds for fire or
six months of the year, but trees thirty feet high or
more. From April to May, when the snow by re-
peated thawing and freezing is firmly compacted,
you may ride over the prostrate groves without seeing
a single branch or leaf of them. No other of our al-
pine conifers so finely veils its strength; poised in
thin, white sunshine, clad with branches from head
to foot, it towers in unassuming majesty, drooping as
if unaffected with the aspiring tendencies of its race,
loving the ground, conscious of heaven and joyously
receptive of its blessings, reaching out its branches
like sensitive tentacles, feeling the light and reveling
in it The largest specimen I ever found was nine-
teen feet seven inches in circumference. It was
growing on the edge of Lake Hollow, north of Mount
Hoffman, at an elevation of 9250 feet above the

122 THE TOSEMITE

level of the sea, and was probably about a bimdred
feet in height Eine groves of mature trees, ninety
to a hundred feet in height, are growing near the
base of Mount Conness. It is widely distributed
from near the south extremity of the high Sierra
northward along the Cascade Mountains of Or^on
and Washington and the coast ranges of British Co-
lumbia to Alaska, where it was first discovered in
1827. Its northernmost limit, so far as I have ob-
served, is in the icy fiords of Prince William Sound
in latitude 61^, where it forms pure forests at the
level of the sea, growing tall and majestic on the
banks of glaciers. There, as in the Yosemite r^cm,
it is ineffably beautiful, the very loveliest of all the
American conifers.

THE WHITE-BABK PINE

The Dwarf Pine, or White-Bark' Pine (Pinus
albicaulis)j forms the extreme edge of the timber-
line throughout nearly the whole extent of the Bange
on both fianks. It is first met growing with the two-
leaved pine on the upper margin of the alpine belt,
as an erect tree from fifteen to thirty feet high and
from, one to two feet in diameter; thence it goes
straggling up the flanks of the summit peaks, upon
moraineer or crumbling ledges, wherever it can get a

THE WHITE-BAEK PINE 123

foothold, to an elevation of from 10,000 to 12,000
feet, where it dwarfs to a mass of crumpled branches,
covered with slender shoots, each tipped with a short,
dose-packed, leaf tasseL The bark is smooth and
purplish, in some places almost white. The flowers
are bright scarlet and rose-purple, giving a very
flowery appearance little looked for in such a tree*
The cones are about three inches long, an inch and a
half in diameter, grow in rigid clusters, and are
dark chocolate in color while young, and bear
beautiful pearly-white seeds about the size of peas,
most of which are eaten by chipmunks and the
Clarke's crows. Pines are commonly regarded as
sky-loving trees that must necessarily aspire or die.
This species forms a marked exception, crouching and
creeping in compliance with the most rigorous de-
mands of climate ; yet enduring bravely to a more ad-
vanced age than many of its lofty relatives in the
sun-lands far below it Seen from a distance it
would never be taken for a tree of any kind. For
example, on Cathedral Peak there is a scattered
growth of this pine, creeping like mosses over the
roof, nowhere giving hint of an ascending axis.
While, approached quite near, it still appears matty
and heathy, and one experiences no difficulty in walk-
ing over the top of it, yet it is seldom absolutely
prostrate, usually attaining a hei^t of three or four
feet with a main trunk, and with branches outspread

124 THE YOSEMITE

above it, as if in ascending they had been checked by
a ceiling against which they bad been compelled to
spread horizontally. The winter snow t^ a sort of
ceiling, lasting half the year; while the pressed sur-
face is made yet smoother by violent winds armed
with cutting sand-grains that bear down any shoot
which offers to rise much above the general level, and
that carve the dead trunks and branches in beautiful
patterns.

During stormy nights I have often camped snugly
beneath the interlacing arches of this little pina
The needles, which have accumulated for centuries,
make fine beds^ a fact well known to other mountain-
eers, such as deer and wild sheep, who paw out oval
hollows and lie beneath the larger trees in safe and
comfortable concealment. This lowly dwarf reaches
a far greater age than would be guessed. A specimen
that I examined, growing at an elevation of 10,700
feet, yet looked as though it might be plucked up by
the roots^ for it was only three and a half inches in
diameter and its topmost tassel reached hardly three
feet above the ground. Cutting it half through and
counting the annual rings with the aid of a lens,
I found its age to be no less than 255 years.
Another specimen about the same height, with
a trunk six inches in diameter, I found to be
426 years old, forty years ago; and one of its
supple branchlets hardly an ei^th of an inch in di-

( Mirror Lake, Ml. Wntkiiis mid Slo|)es of Clouds' Kcsl

THE NUT PINE 126

ameter inside the bark, was seventy-five years old,
and so filled with oily balsam and seasoned by storms
that I tied it in knots like a whip-cord.

THE NUT PINE

In going across the Bange from the Tuolnmne
Biver Soda Springs to Mono Lake one makes
ihe acquaintance of the curious little Nut Pine,
{Pinus manophylla). It dots the eastern flank of
the Sierra to which it is mostly restricted in gray-
ish bush-like patches, from the margin of the sage-
plains to an elevation of from 7000 to 8000 feet A
more contented, fruitful and unaspiring conifer
could not be conceived. All the species we have been
sketching make departures more or less distant from
the typical spire form, but none goes so far as this.
Without any apparent cause it keeps near the
ground, throwing out crooked, divergent branches
like an orchard apple-tree, and seldom pushes a single
shoot higher than fifteen or twenty feet above the
ground.

The average thickness of the trunk is, perhaps,
about ten or twelve inches. The leaves are mostly
imdivided, like rotmd awls, instead of being sepa-
rated, like those of other pines, into twos and threes
and fives. The cones are green while growing, and

126 THE YOSEMITE

are usually found over all the tree, forming quite a
marked feature as seen against the bluish-gray
foliage. They are quite small, only about two inches
in length, and seem to have but little space for seeds ;
but when we come to open them, we find that about
half the entire bulk of the cone is made up of sweet,
nutritious nuts, nearly as large as hazel-nuts. This
is undoubtedly the most important food-tree on the
Sierra, and furnishes the Mona, Carson, and Walker
River Indians with more and better nuts than all the
other species taken together. It is the Indian's own
tree, and many a white man have they killed for cut-
ting it down. Being so low, the cones are readily
beaten off with poles, and the nuts procured by roast-
ing them until the scales open. In bountiful seasons
a single Indian may gather thirty or forty bushels.

yn

THE BIQ TBEES

BETWEEN the heavy pine and silver fir zones
towers the Big Tree {Sequoia gigantea)y the
king of all the conifers in the world, ^^ the noblest of
the noble race/' The groves nearest Yosemite Val-
ley are about twenty miles to the westward and
southward and are called the Tuolumne, Merced and
Mariposa groves. It extends, a widely interrupted
belt, from a very small grove on the middle fork of
the American Biver to the head of Deer Creek, a
distance of about 260 miles, its northern limit
being near the thirly-ninth parallel, the southern a
little below the thirty-sixth. The elevation of the
belt above the sea varies from about 5000 to 8000
feet From the American Biver to Kings Biver
the species occurs only in small isolated groups so
sparsely distributed along the belt that three of
the gaps in it are from forty to sixty miles wide.
But from Kings Biver southward the sequoia ia
not restricted to mere groves but extends across the
wide rugged basins of the Eaweah and Tule Bivera

in noble forests, a distance of nearly seventy

127

128 THE YOSEMITE

miles, the continuity of this part of the belt being
broken only by the main canons. The Fresno, the
largest of the northern groves, has an area of three or
four square miles, a short distance to the southward
of the famous Mariposa grove. Along the south rim
of the canon of the south fork of Kings Eiver there
is a majestic sequoia forest about six miles long
by two wide. This is the northernmost group that
may fairly be called a forest Descending the di-
vide between the Kings and Kaweah Rivers you
come to the grand forests that form the main con-
tinuous portion of the belt. Southward the giants be-
come more and more irrepressibly exuberant, heaving
their massive crowns into the sky from every ridge
and slope, waving onward in graceful compliance
with the complicated topography of the region.
The finest of the Kaweah section of the belt is
on the broad ridge between Marble Creek and the
middle fork, and is called the Qiant Forest It ex-
tends from the granite headlands, overlooking the hot
San Joaquin plains, to within a few miles of the cool
glacial fountains of the summit peaks. The extreme
upper limit of the belt is reached between the mid-
dle and south forks of the Kaweah at a height of
8400 feet, but the finest block of big tree forests
in the entire belt is on the north fork of Tule Eiver,
and is included in the Sequoia National Park.
In the northern groves there are comparatively few

THE BIG TREES 129

young trees or saplings. But here for every old
storm-beaten giant there are many in their prime and
for each of these a crowd of hopeful young trees and
saplings, growing vigorously on moraines, rocky
ledges, along water courses and meadows. But
though the area occupied by the big tree increases
so greatly from north to south, there is no marked in-
crease in the size of the trees. The height of 275
feet or thereabouts and a diameter of about twenty
feet, four feet from the ground is, perhaps, about the
average size of what may be called full-grown trees,
where they are favorably located. The specimens
twenty-five feet in diameter are not very rare and a
few are nearly three hundred feet high. In the Cala-
veras grove there are four trees over 300 feet in
height, the tallest of which as measured by the Geo-
logical Survey is 325 feet The very largest that I
have yet met in the course of my explorations is a
majestic old fire-scarred monument in the Kings
Biver forest. It is thirty-five feet and eight inches in
diameter inside the bark, four feet above the ground.
It is burned half through, and I spent a day in
clearing away the charred surface with a sharp ax and
counting the annual wood-rings with the aid of a
pocket lens. I succeeded in laying bare a section all
the way from the outside to the heart and counted a
little over four thousand rings, showing that this tree
was in its prime about twenty-seven feet in diameter

9

180 THE YOSEMITE

at the beginning of the Christian era. No other
tree in the world, as far as I know, has looked down
on so many centuries as the sequoia or opens so
many impressive and suggestive views into history.
Under the most favorable conditions these giants
probably live 6000 years or more, though few of even
the larger trees are half as old. The age of one that
was felled in Calaveras grove, for the sake of having
its stump for a dancing-floor, was about 1300 years,
and its diameter measured across the stump twenty-
four feet inside the bark. Another that was felled in
the Kings Hiver forest was about the same size but
nearly a thousand years older (2200 years), though
not a very old-looking tree.

So harmonious and finely balanced are even the
mightiest of these monarchs in all tiieir proportions
that there is never anything overgrown or mon-
strous about them. Seeing them for the first time
you are more impressed with their beauty than their
size, iheir grandeur being in great part invisible;
but sooner or later it becomes manifest to the loving
eye, stealing slowly on the senses like the grandeur of
Niagara or of the Tosemite Domes. When you ap-
proach them and walk around them you b^n to
wonder at their colossal size and try to measure them.
They bulge considerably at the base, but not more
than is required for beauty and safety and the only
reason that this bulging seems in some cases excessive

r

THE BIO TREES 181

is that only a comparatiyely small section is seen in
near views. One that I measured in the Kings
Biver forest was twenty-five feet in diameter at the
ground and ten feet in diameter 200 feet above the
ground, showing the fineness of the taper of the trunk
as a whole. No description can give anything like an
adequate idea of their singular majesty, much less of
their beauty. Except the sugar pine, most of their
neighbors with pointed tops seem ever trying to go
higher, while the big tree, soaring above them all,
seems satisfied. Its grand domed head seems to be
poised about as li^Uy as a doud, giving no impres-
sion of seeking to rise higher. Only when it is
young does it show like other conifers a heavenward
yearning, sharply aspiring with a long quick-growing
top. Indeed, the whole tree for the first century or
two, or until it is a hundred or one hundred and fifty
feet high, is arrowhead in form, and, compared with
the solemn rigidity of age, seems as sensitive to the
wind as a squirrel's taiL As it grows older, the lower
branches are gradually dropped and the upper ones
thinned out until comparatively few are left
These, however, are developed to a great size, divide
again and again and terminate in bossy, rounded
masses of leafy branchlets, while the head becomes
dome^haped, and is the first to feel the touch of the
rosy beams of the morning, the last to bid the sun
good nig^t Perfect specimens, unhurt by running

182 THE YOSEMITE

fires or lightning, are singularly regular and sym-
metrical in general f orm^ though not in the least oon-
yentionalized^ for they show extraordinary variely
in the unity and harmony of their general outline.
The immensely strong, stately shafts are free of
limhs for one himdred and fifty feet or so. The
large limbs reach out with equal boldness in every
direction, showing no weather side, and no other
tree has foliage so densely massed, so finely molded
in outline and so perfectly subordinate to an ideal
type. A particularly knotly, angular, imgovemable-
looking branch, from five to seven or ei^t feet in
diameter and perhaps a thousand years old, may
occasionally be seen pushing out from the trunk as if
determined to break across the boimds of the r^ular
curve, but like all the others it dissolves in bosses of
branchlets and sprays as soon as the general outline
is approached. Except in picturesque old age, after
being struck by lightning or broken by thousands of
snow-storms, the r^ularity of forms is one of their
most distinguishing characteristics. Another is the
simple beauty of the trunk and its great thickness as
compared with its height and the width of the
branches, which makes them look more like finely
modeled and sculptured architectural columns than
the stems of trees, while the great limbs look like
rafters, supporting the magnificent dome-head. But
though so coiwuromately beautiful, the big tree al*

THE BIG TREES 188

ways seems unfamiliar, with peculiar physiognomy,
awfully solemn and earnest ; yet with all its strange-
ness it impresses us as being more at home than any
of its neighbors, holding the best rig^t to the ground
as the oldest, strongest inhabitant. One soon be-
comes acquainted with new species of pine and fir and
spruce as with friendly people, shaking their out-
stretched branches like shaking hands and fondling
their little ones, while the venerable aboriginal
sequoia, ancient of other days, keeps you at a dis-
tance, looking as strange in aspect and behavior
among its neighbor trees as would the mastodon
among the homely bears and deers. Only the Sierra
juniper is at all like it, standing rigid and imconquer-
able on glacier pavements for thousands of years,
grim and silent, with an air of antiquity about as pro-
noimced as that of the sequoia.

The bark of the largest trees is from one to two
feet thick, rich cinnamon brown, purplish on young
trees, forming magnificent masses of color with the
imderbrush. Toward the end of winter the trees
are in bloom, while the snow is still eight or ten feet
deep. The female flowers are about three-eighths of
an inch long, pale green, and grow in countless thou-
sands on the ends of sprays. The male are still more
abundant, pale yellow, a fourth of an inch long and
when the pollen is ripe they color the whole tree and
dust the air and the ground. The cones are bright

184 THE YOSEMITE

grass-green in color^ about two and a half inches long,
one and a half wide, made up of thirty or forty
strong, cloeely-paoked, rhomboidal scales, with four to
eight seeds at the base of each. The seeds are won-
derfully small and light, being only from an eighth
to a fourth of an inch long and wide, including a
filmy surrounding wing, wfilch causes them to glint
and waver in falling and enables the wind to carry
them considerable distances. Unless harvested by
the squirrels, the cones discharge their seed and re-
main on the tree for many years* In fruitful seasons
the trees are fairly laden. On two small branches
one and a half and two inches in diameter I counted
480 cones. No other California conifer produces
nearly so many seeds, except, perhaps, the other
sequoia, the Bedwood of the Coast Mountains. Mil-
lions are ripened annually by a single tree, and in a
fruitful year the product of one of the northern
groves would be enough to plant all the mountain
ranges in the world.

As soon as any accident happens to the crown, such
as being smashed off by lightning, the branches be-
neath the wound, no matter how situated, seem to be
excited, like a colony of bees that have lost their
queen, and become anxious to repair the damage,
limbs that have grown outward for centuries at right
angles to the trunk begin to turn upward to assist in
making a new crown^ each speedily assuming the spe-

THE BIG TREES 186

cial form of true suminits. Even in the case of
mere stumps, burned half through, some mere orna-
mental tuft will try to go aloft and do its best as a
leader in forming a new head. Groups of two or
three are often found standing close together, the
seeds from which they sprang having probably grown
on ground cleared for their reception by the fall of a
large tree of a former generation. They are called
" loving couples," " three graces," etc When these
trees are young they are seen to stand twenty or
thirty feet apart, by the time they are full-grown
their trunks will touch and crowd against each other
and in some cases even appear as one.

It is generally believed that the sequoia was once
fair more widely distributed over the Sierra; but
after long and careful study I have come to the con-
clusion that it never was, at least since the close of
the glacial period, because a diligent search along the
margins of the groves, and in the gaps between fails
to reveal a single trace of its previous existence be-
yond its present bounds. Notwithstanding, I feel
confident that if every sequoia in the Eange were to
die to-day, numerous monuments of their existence
would remain, of so imperishable a nature as to be
available for the student more than ten thousand
years hence.

In the first place, no species of coniferous tree
in the Range keeps its manbers so well together as

186 THE YOSEMITE

the sequoia ; a mile is, perhaps, the greatest distance
of any straggler from the main body, and all of
those stragglers that have come under my observation
are young, instead of old monumental trees, relics of
a more extended growth.

Again, the great trunks of the sequoia last for
centuries after they f alL I have a specimen block
of sequoia wood, cut from a fallen tree, which is
hardly distinguishable from a similar section cut
from a living tree, although the one cut from the fal-
len trunk has certainly lain on the damp forest floor
more than 380 years, probably thrice as long. The
time-measure in the case is simply this: When the
ponderous tnmk to which the old vestige belonged
fell, it sunk itself into the ground, thus making a
long, straight ditch, and in the middle of this ditch
a silver fir four feet in diameter and 380 years old
was growing, as I determined by cutting it half
through and counting the rings, thus demonstrating
that the remnant of the trunk that made the ditch
has lain on the ground more than 380 years* For it
is evident that, to find the whole time, we must add
to the 380 years the time that the vanished portion
of the trunk lay in the ditch before being burned out
of the way, plus the time that passed before the seed
from which the monumental fir sprang fell into the
prepared soil and took root Now, because sequoia
trunks are never wholly consumed in one forest fire,

THE BIG TREES 187

and those fires recur only at considerable intervals,
and because sequoia ditches after being cleared are
often left unplanted for centuries, it becomes evident
that the trunk-remnant in question maj probably
have lain a thousand years or more. And this in-
stance is by no means a rare one.

Again, admitting that upon those areas supposed
to have been once covered with sequoia forests, every
tree may have fallen, and every trunk may have been
burned or buried, leaving not a remnant, many of
the ditches made by the fall of the ponderous trunks,
and the bowls made by their upturning roots, would
remain patent for thousands of years after the last
vestige of the trunks that made them had vanished.
Much of this ditch-writing would no doubt be quickly
effaced by the flood-action of overflowing streams and
rain-washing; but no inconsiderable portion would
remain enduringly engraved on ridge-tops beyond
such destructive action ; for, where all the conditions
are favorable, it is almost imperishable. Now these
historic ditches and root-bowls occur in all the pres-
ent sequoia groves and forests, but, as far as I have
observed, not the faintest vestige of one presents itself
outside of them.

We therefore conclude that the area covered by
sequoia has not been diminished during the last
eight or ten thousand years, and probably not at all
in post-glacial time. Nevertheless, the questions may

188 THE YOSEMITE

be asked : Is the species verging toward extinction t
What are its relations to climate^ soil, and associated
trees?

All the phenomena bearing on these questions also
throw light, as we shall endeavor to show, upon the
peculiar distribution of the species, and sustain the
conclusion already arrived at as to the question of
former extension. In the northern groups, as we
have seen, there are few young trees or saplings
growing up around the old ones to perpetuate the
race, and inasmuch as those aged sequoias, so nearly
childless, are the only ones commonly known, the
species, to most observers, seems doomed to speedy
extinction, as being nothing more than an expiring
remnant, vanquished in the so-called struggle for life
by pines and firs that have driven it into its last
strongholds in moist glens where the climate is sup-
posed to be exceptionally favorable. But the story
told by the majestic continuous forests of the south
creates a very different impression. No tree in the
forest is more enduringly established in concordance
with both climate and soiL It grows heartily every*
where — on moraines, rooky ledges, along water-
courses, and in the deep, moist alluvium of meadows
with, as we have seen^ a multitude of seedlings and
saplings crowding up around the aged, abundantly
able to maintain the forest in prime vigor. So that
if all the trees of any section of the main sequoia

THE BIG TKEES 139

forest were ranged together according to age, a very
promising oorve would be presented, all the way up
from last year's seedlings to giants, and with the
young and middle-aged portion of the curve many
times longer than the old portion. Even as far north
as the Fresno, I counted 536 saplings and seedlings,
growing promisingly upon a landslip not exceeding
two acres in area. This soil-bed was about seven
years old, and had been seeded almost simultaneously
by pines, firs, libocedrus, and sequoia, presenting
a simple and instructive illustration of the struggle
for life among the rival species ; and it was interest-
ing to note that the conditions thus far affecting them
have enabled the young sequoias to gain a marked
advantage. Toward the south where the sequoia
becomes most exuberant and numerous, the rival trees
become less so; and where they mix with sequoias
they grow up beneath them like slender grasses among
stalks of Indian com. Upon a bed of sandy flood-
soil I counted ninety-four sequoias, from one to
twelve feet high, on a patch of ground once occupied
by four large sugar pines which lay crumbling be-
neath them — an instance of conditions which have
enabled sequoias to crowd out the pines. I also
noted eighty-six vigorous saplings upon a piece of
fresh ground prepared for their reception by fire.
Thus fire, the great destroyer of the sequoia, also fur-
nishes the bare ground required for its growth from

140 THE YOSEMITE

the seed. Fresh ground is^ however^ famished in
sufficient quantities for the renewal of the forests
without the aid of fire — by the fall of old trees.
The soil is thus upturned and mellowed, and many
trees are planted for every one that falls.

It is constantly asserted in a vague way that the
Sierra was vastly wetter than now, and that the in-
creasing drought will of itself extinguish the sequoia,
leaving its ground to other trees supposed capable of
flourishing in a drier climate. But that the sequoia
can and does grow on as dry ground as any of its
present rivals is manifest in a thousand places.
" Why, then,** it will be asked, " are sequoias always
found only in well-watered places?" Simply be-
cause a growth of sequoias creates those streams.
The thirsty mountaineer knows well that in every
sequoia grove he will find running water, but it is
a mistake to suppose that the water is the cause of the
grove being there; on the contrary, the grove is the
cause of the water being there. Drain off the water
and the trees will remain, but cut off the trees, and
the streams will vanish. Kever was cause more com-
pletely mistaken for effect than in the case of these
related phenomena of sequoia woods and perennial
streams.

When attention is called to the method of sequoia
stream-making, it will be apprehended at once. The
roots of this immense tree fill the ground, forming a

THE BIG TREES 141

thick sponge that absorbs and holds back the rain
and melting snow, only allowing it to ooze and flow
gently. Indeed, every fallen leaf and rootlet, as
well as long clasping root, and prostrate trunk, may
be regarded as a dam hoarding the bounty of storm-
clouds, and dispensing it as blessings all through the
summer, instead of allowing it to go headlong in
short-lived floods.

Since, then, it is a fact that thousands of sequoias
are growing thriftily on what is termed dry ground,
and even clinging like mountain pines to rifts in
granite precipices, and since it has also been shown
that the extra moisture found in connection with the
denser growths is an effect of their presence, instead
of a cause of their presence, then the notions as to the
former extension of the species and its near approach
to extinction, based upon its supposed dependence on
greater moisture, are seen to be erroneous.

The decrease in the rain and snowfall since the
close of the glacial period in the Sierra is much less
than is commonly guessed. The hi^est post-glacial
water-marks are well preserved in all the upper river
channels, and they are not greatly higher than the
spring flood-marks of the present; showing conclu-
sively that no extraordinary decrease has taken place
in the volume of the upper tributaries of post-glacial
Sierra streams since they came into existence. But,
in the meantime, eliminating all this complicated

142 THE YOSEMITE

question of climatic change^ the plain fact remains
that the present rain and snowfall is abundantly suf-
ficient for the luxuriant growth of sequoia forests.
Indeed, all my observations tend to show that in a
prolonged drought the sugar pines and firs would
perish before the sequoia, not alone because of the
greater longevity of individual trees, but because
the species can endure more drought, and make the
most of whatever moisture falls.

Again, if the restriction and irregular distribution
of the species be interpreted as a result of the desic-
cation of the Bange, then instead of increasing as it
does in individuals toward the south where the rain-
fall is less, it should diminish. If, then, the peculiar
distribution of sequoia has not been governed by su-
perior conditions of soil as to fertility or moisture^ by
what has it been governed ?

In the course of my studies I observed that the
northern groves, the only ones I was at first ac-
quainted with^ were located on just those portions of
the general forest soil-belt that were first laid bare
toward the close of the glacial period when the ice-
sheet began to break up into individual glaciers.
And while searching the wide basin of the San
Joaquin, and trying to account for the absence of
sequoia where every condition seemed favorable for
its growth, it occurred to me that this remarkable
gap in the sequoia belt fifty miles wide is located ex-

THE BIG TREES 148

actly in the basin of the vast, ancient mer de glace of
the San Joaqnin and Kings Biver basins which
poured its frozen floods to the plain through this
gap as its channeL I then perceived that the next
great gap in the belt to the northward, forty miles
wide, extending between the Calaveras and Tuolumne
groves, occurs in the basin of the great ancient mer
de glace of the Tuolumne and Stanislaus basins ; and
that the smaller gap between the Merced and Mari-
posa groves occurs in the basin of the smaller glacier
of the Merced. The wider the ancient glacier, the
wider the corresponding gap in the sequoia belt

Finally, pursuing my investigations across the
basins of the Eaweah and Tule, I discovered that the
sequoia belt attained its greatest development just
where, owing to the topographical peculiarities of the
region, the ground had been best protected from the
main ice-rivers that continued to pour past from the
summit fountains long after the smaller local glaciers
had been melted.

Taking now a general view of the belt, beginning
at the south, we see that the majestic ancient glaciers
were shed ofp right and left down the valleys of Eem
and Kings Bivers by the lofty protective spurs out-
spread embracingly above the warm sequoia-filled
basins of the Eaweah and Tule. Then, next north-
ward, occurs the wide sequoia-less channel, or basin
of the ancient San Joaquin and Kings Biver mer de

144 THE TOSEMITE

glace ; then the warm, protected spots of Fresno and
Mariposa groves ; then the seqnoia-Iess channel of the
ancient Merced glacier; next the warm^ sheltered
ground of the Merced and Tnolnmne groves ; then the
sequoia-less channel of the grand ancient mer de
glace of the Tuolumne and Stanislaus ; then the warm
old ground of the Calaveras and Stanislaus groves.
It appears^ therefore, that just where, at a certain
period in the history of the Sierra, the glaciers were
not, there the sequoia is, and just where the glaciers
were, there the sequoia is not

But although all the ohserved phenomena bearing
on the post-glacial history of this colossal tree point
to the conclusion that it never was more widely dis^
tributed on the Sierra since the close of the glacial
epoch ; that its present forests are scarcely past prime,
if, indeed, they have reached prime; that the post-
glacial day of the species is probably not half done ;
yet, when from a wider outlook the vast antiquity of
the genus is considered, and its ancient richness in
species and individuals, — comparing our Sierra
Giant and Sequoia sempervirens of the Coast Range,
the only other living species of sequoia, with the
twelve fossil species already discovered and described
by Heer and Lesquereux, some of which flourished
over vast areas in the Arctic regions and in Europe
and our own territories, during tertiary and creta-
ceous times — then, indeed, it becomes plain that our

THE BIG TREES 146

two surviving species, restricted to narrow belts within
the limits of California, are mere remnants of the
genus, both as to species and individuals, and that
they may be verging to extinction. But the verge of
a period beginning in cretaceous times may have a
breadth of tens of thousands of years, not to mention
the possible existence of conditions calculated to mul-
tiply and re-extend both species and individuals.

There is no absolute limit to the existence of any
tree. Death is due to accidents, not, as that of ani-
mals, to the wearing out of organs. Only the leaves
die of old age. Their fall is foretold in their struc-
ture ; but the leaves are renewed every year, and so
also are the essential organs — wood, roots, bark,
buds. Most of the Sierra trees die of disease, insects,
fungi, etc., but nothing hurts the big tree. I never
saw one that was sick or showed the slightest sign of
decay. Barring accidents, it seems to be immortal
It is a curious fact that all the very old sequoias had
lost their heads by lightning strokes. ^^ All things
come to him who waits.'' But of all living things,
sequoia is perhaps the only one able to wait long
enough to make sure of being struck by lightning.

So far as I am able to see at present only fire
and the ax threaten the existence of these noblest of
God's trees. In Nature's keeping they are safe, but
through the agency of man destruction is making
rapid progress, while in the work of protection only

fO

146 THE YOSEMITE

a good beguming has been made. The Fresno grove,
the Tuolumne, Merced and Mariposa groves are
under the protection of the Federal Government in
the Yosemite National Park. So are the General
Grant and Sequoia National Parks ; the latter, estab-
lished twen^-one years ago, has an area of 240
square miles and is efficiently guarded by a troop of
cavaliy under the direction of the Secretary of the
Interior; so also are the small General Grant National
Park, established at the same time with an area of
four square miles, and the Mariposa grove, about the
same size and the small Merced and Tuolumne group.
Perhaps more than half of all the big trees have
been thoughtlessly sold and are now in the hands of
speculators and mill men. It appears, therefore, that
far the largest and important section of protected
big trees is in the great Sequoia National Park,
now easily accessible by rail to Lemon Cove and
thence by a good stage road into the giant forest of
the Eaweah and thence by trail to other parts of the
park; but large as it is it should be made much
larger. Its natural eastern boundary is the High
Sierra and the northern and southern boundaries are
the Kings and Kern Hivers. Thus could be included
the sublime scenery on the headwaters of these rivers
and perhaps nine-tenths of aU the big trees in exist-
ence. All private claims within these bounds should
be gradually extinguished by purchase by the Govern-

THE BIG TREES 147

ment The big tree, leaving all its higher uses out
of the connt^ is a tree of life to the dwellers of
the plain dependent on irrigation, a never-failing
spring, sending living waters to the lowland. For
every grove cut down a stream is dried up. There-
fore all California is crying, ^' Save the trees of the
fountains.'' "NoTy judging by the signs of the times,
is it likely that the cry will cease until the salvation
of all that is left of Sequoia giga/niea is made sure.

vm

THE FLOWERS

YOSEMITE was all one glorious flower garden
before plows and scythes and trampling, biting
Horses came to make its wide open spaces look like
farmers' pasture fields. ISTeverthelesSy countless
flowers still bloom every year in glorious profusion
on the grand talus slopes, wall benches and tablets,
and in all the fine, cool side-canons up to the rim of
the Valley, and beyond, higher and higher, to the
summits of the peaks. Even on the open floor and
in easily-reached side-nooks many common flowering
plants have survived and still make a brave show in
the spring and early sunmier. Among these we may
mention tall OBnotheras, Pentstemon lutea, and P.
Douglasii with fine blue and red flowers ; Spraguea,
scarlet zauschneria, with its curious radiant rosettes
characteristic of the sandy flats; mimulus, eunanus,
blue and white violets, geranium, columbine, eiyth-
raea, larkspur, coUomia, draperia, gilias, heleniums,
bahia, goldenrods, daisies, honeysuckle ; heucfaera, bo-
landra, saxifrages, gentians ; in cool cafion nooks and
on Clouds' Best and the base of Starr King Dome you

148

THE FLOWERS 149

may find Primula suffrulescens, the only wild prim-
rose discovered in California, and the only known
shrubby species in the genus. And there are several
fine orchids, habenaria, and cypripedium, the latter
very rare, once common in the Valley near the foot of
Glacier Point, and in a bog on the rim of the Val-
ley near a place called (Gentry's Station, now aban-
doned It is a very beautiful species, the large oval
lip white, delicately veined with purple; the other
petals and the sepals purple, strap-shaped, and ele-
gantly curled and twisted.

Of the lily family, fritillaria, smilacina, chloroga-
lum and several fine species of brodisea, Ithuriel's
spear, and others less prized are common, and the
favorite calochortus, or Mariposa lily, a unique
genus of many species, something like the tulips of
Europe but far finer. Most of them grow on the
warm foothills below the Valley, but two charming
species, C. camdeus and C. nuduSy dwell in springy
places on the Wawona road a few miles beyond the
brink of the walls.

The snow plant (Barcodes sanguinea) is more ad-
mired by tourists than any other in California. It
is red, fleshy and watery and looks like a gigantic
asparagus shoot. Soon after the snow is off the
ground it rises through the dead needles and humus
in the pine and fir woods like a bright glowing pil-
lar of fire. In a week or so it grows to a height of

160 THE TOSEMITE

eight or twelve inches with a diameter of an inch
and a half or two inches; then its long fringed bracts
curl aside, allowing the twenty- or thirty-five-lobed^
bell-shaped flowers to open and look straight out from
the axis. It is said to grow np through the snow;
on the contrary, it always waits until the ground is
warm, though with other early flowers it is occasion-
ally buried or half-buried for a day or two by spring
storms. The entire plant — flowers, bracts, stem,
scales, and roots — is fiery red. Its color should ap-
peal to one's blood. Nevertheless, it is a singularly
cold and unsympathetic plant Everybody admires
it as a wonderful curiosity, but nobody loves it as
lilies, violets, roses, daisies are loved. Without fra-
grance, it stands beneath the pines and firs lonely
and silent, as if unacquainted with any other plant
in the world; never moving in the wildest storms;
rigid as if lifeless, though covered with beautiful rosy
fiowers.

Far the most delightful and fragrant of the Valley
fiowers is the Washington lily, white, moderate in
size, with from three- to ten-fiowered racemes. I
found one specimen in the lower end of the Valley at
the foot of the Wawona grade that was eight feet
high, the raceme two feet long, with fifty-two fiowers,
fifteen of them open; the others had faded or were
still in the bud. This famous lily is distributed over
the sunny portions of the sugar-pine woods, never in

THE FLOWEES 161

large meadow-garden oompanies like the large and
the small tiger lilies (pardalinum and parvufn)^ but
widely scattered, standing np to the waist in dense
ceanothus and manzanita chaparral, waving its lovely
flowers above the blooming wilderness of brush, and
giving their fragrance to the breeze. It is now
becoming scarce in the most accessible parts of its
range on account of the high price paid for its bulbs
l^ gardeners through whom it has been distributed
far and wide over the flower-loving world. For, on
account of its pure color and delicate, delightful fra-
grance, all lily lovers at once adopted it as a favor-
ite.

The principal shrubs are manzanita and ceanothus,
several species of each, azalea, Bubus nutkanvs, brier
rose, choke-cherry, philadelphus, ealycanthus, garrya,
rhamnus, eta

The manzanita never fails to attract particular at-
tention. The species common in the Valley is usuaUy
about six or seven feet high, round-headed with in-
numerable branches, red or chocolate-color bark, pale
green leaves set on edge, and a rich profusion of
small, pink, narrow-throated, urn-shaped flowers, like
those of arbutusi. The knotty, crooked, angular
branches are about as rigid as bones, and the red
bark is so thin and smooth on both trunk and
branches, they look as if they had been peeled and
polished and painted. In the spring large areas on

162 THE YOSEMITE

the monntain up to a height of eight or nine thousand
feet are brightened with the rosy flowers, and in
autumn with their red fruit The pleasantly acid
berries, about the size of peas, look like little apples,
and a hungry mountaineer is glad to eat them,
though half their bulk is made up of hard seeds.
Indians, bears, coyotes, foxes, birds and other moun-
tain people live on them for weeks and months. The
different species of ceanothus usually associated with
manzanita are flowery fragrant and altogether de-
lightful shrubs, growing in glorious abundance, not
only in the Valley, but high up in the forest on sunny
or half -shaded ground. In the sugar-pine woods the
most beautiful species is C. integerrimua, often called
Califomian lilac, or deer brush. It is five or six
feet high with slender branches, glosfify foliage, and
abundance of blue flowers in close, showy panicles.
Two species, C. prostratus and C. procumbens, spread
smooth, blue-flowered mats and rugs beneath the
pines, and offer fine beds to tired mountaineers. The
commonest species, C. corduUUtis, is most common in
the silver-fir woods. It is white-flowered and thorny,
and makes dense thickets of tangled chaparral, dif-
ficult to wade through or to walk over. But it is
pressed flat every winter by ten or flfteen feet of
snow. The western azalea makes glorious beds of
bloom along the river bank and meadows. In the
Valley it is from two to five feet high, has fine

THE FLOWEKS 168

green leaves, mostlj hidden beneath its rich profa-
sion of large, fragrant white and yellow flowers,
which are in their prime in Jnne, July and Angust,
according to the elevation, ranging from 3000 to
6000 feet Near the azalea-bordered streams the
small wild rose, resembling R, blanda, makes large
thickets deliciously fragrant, especially on a dewy
morning and after showers. Not far from these
azalea and rose gardens, Bvbus nutJcanus covers the
ground with broad, soft, velvety leaves, and pure-
white flowers as large as those of its neighbor and
relative, the rose, and much finer in texture, followed
at the end of summer by soft red berries good for
eveiybody. This is the commonest and the most
beautiful of the whole blessed, flowery, fruity Bubus
genus.

There are a great many interesting ferns in the
Valley and about it. Naturally enough the greater
number are rotk ferns — pellsea, cheilanthes, poly-
podium, adiantum, woodsia, cryptogramma, etc, with
small tufted fronds, lining cool glens and fringing
the seams of the cliffs. The most important of the
larger species are woodwardia, aspidium, asplenium,
and, above all, the common pteris. Woodwardia
radieans is a superb, broad-shouldered fern five to
eight feet high, growing in vase^haped clumps where
the ground is nearly level and on some of the
benches of the north wall of the Valley where it is

164: THE YOSEMITE

watered by a broad trioUiiig stream. It thatches the
sloping rocks, frond overlapping frond like roof
shingles. The broad-f ronded, hardy Pteris aquilina,
the commonest of ferns, covers large areas on the floor
of the Valley, ^o other fern does so much for the
color gloiy of autnnm, with its browns and reds and
yellows, even after lying dead beneath the snow all
winter. It spreads a rich brown mantle over the
desolate ground in the spring before the grass has
sprouted, and at the first touch of sun-heat its young
fronds come rearing up full of faith and hope
through the midst of the last year's ruins.

Of the five species of pelkea, P. Breweri is the
hardiest as to enduring high altitudes and stormy
weather and at the same time it is the most fragile
of the genus. It grows in dense tufts in the clefts
of storm-beaten rocks, high up on the mountain-side
on the very edge of the fern line. It is a handsome
little fern about four or five inches high, has pale-
green pinnate fronds, and shining bronze-colored
stalks about as brittle as glass. Its companions on
the lower part of its range are Cryptogramma acrosti-
choides and Phegopteris alpestri^, the latter with soft,
delicate fronds, not in the least like those of Bock
fern, though it grows on the rocks where the snow lies
longest Pellaea Bridgesii, with blue-green, narrow,
simply-pinnate fronds, is about the same size as
Breweri and ranks next to it as a mountaineer, grow-

THE FLOWEKS 166

ing in fissures, wet or dry, and around the edges of
boulders that are resting on glacier pavements with
no fissures whatever. About a thousand feet lower
we find the smaller, more abundant P. denaa on ledges
and boulder-strewn, fissured pavements, watered until
late in summer from oozing currents, derived from
lingering snowbanks. It is, or rather was, extremely
abundant between the foot of the Nevada and the
head of the Vernal Fall, but visitors with great indus-
try have dug out almost every root, so that now one
has to scramble in out-of-the-way places to find it.
The three species of Cheilanthes in the Valley — C.
calif orriica, C. gracillima, and myriophylla, with
beautiful two-to-four-pinnate fronds, an inch to five
inches long, adorn the stupendous walls however dry
and sheer. The exceedingly delicate califomica is
so rare that I have found it only once. The others
are abundant and are sometimes accompanied by the
little gold fern, Oymnogramme irianffularis, and
rarely by the curious little Botrychium simplex,
some of them less than an inch high. The finest of
all the rock f^ms is Adiantum pedatum^ lover of
waterfalls and the finest spray-dust. The homes it
loves best are over-leaning, cave-Uke hollows, beside
the lai^r falls, where it can wet its fingers with
their dewy spray. Many of these moss-lined
chambers contain thousands of these delightful ferns,
clinging to mossy walls by the slightest hold, reaching

166 THE YOSEMITE

out their delicate finger-fronds on dark, ahining
stalks, sensitive and tremulous, throbbing in unison
with every movement and tone of the falling water,
moving each division of the frond separately at times,
as if fingering the music.

May and June are the main bloom-months of the
year. Both the flowers and falls are then at their
best. By the first of August the midsummer glories
of the Valley are past their prime. The young birds
are then out of their nests. Most of the plants have
gone to seed; berries are ripe; autumn tints begin to
kindle and bum over meadow and grove, and a soft
mellow haze in the morning sunbeams heralds the
approach of Indian summer. The shallow river is
now at rest, its flood-work done. It is now but little
more than a series of pools united by trickling,
whispering currents that steal softly over brown peb-
bles and sand with scarce an audible murmur. Each
pool has a character of its own and, though they are
nearly currentless, the night air and tree shadows keep
them cooL Their shores curve in and out in bay and
promontory, giving the appearance of miniature
lakes, their banks in most places embossed with brier
and azalea, sedge and grass and fern ; and above these
in their glory of autumn colors a mingled growth of
alder, willow, dogwood and balm-of-Gilead ; mellow
sunshine overhead, cool shadows beneath; light
filtered and strained in passing through the ripe

THE FLOWERS 167

leaves like that which passes through colored windows.
The surface of the water is stirred, perhaps, by
whirling water-beetles, or some startled trout, seeking
shelter beneath fallen logs or roots. The falls, too,
are quiet; no wind stirs, and the whole Valley floor
is a mosaic of greens and purples, yellows and reds.
Even the rocks seem strangely soft and mellow, as
if they, too, had ripened.

IX

THE HERDS

THE songs of the Yosemite winds and waterfalls
are deli^tfolly enriched with bird song^ espe-
cially in the nesting time of spring and early sum-
mer. The most familiar and best known of all is
the common robin^ who may be seen every day, hop-
ping about briskly on the meadows and uttering his
dieeiy, enlivening calL The black-headed grosbeak,
too, is here, with the Bullock oriole, and western
tanager, brown song-sparrow, hermit thrush, the
purple finch, — a fine singer, with head and throat of
a roqr-red hue, — several species of warblers and
vireoB, kinglets, flycatdiers, eta

But the most wonderful singer of all the birds
is the waterouzel that dives into foaming rapids and
feeds at the bottom, holding on in a wonderful way,
living a charmed life.

Several species of humming-birds are always to be
seen, darting and buzzing among the showy flowers.
The little red-bellied nuthatches, the chickadees, and
little brown creepers, threading the furrows of the
bark of the pines, searching for food in the crevices.

168

THE BIRDS 169

The large Steller's jay makes merry in the pine-tops;
flooks of heautifnl green swallows skim over the
streams, and the noisy Clarke's crow may oftentimes
be seen on the highest points around the Valley;
and in the deep woods beyond the walls you may fre-
quently hear and see the dusky grouse and the pileated
woodpecker, or woodcock almost as large as a pigeon.
The junco or snow-bird builds its nest on the floor of
the Valley among the ferns ; several species of spar-
row are common and the beautiful lazuli bunting,
a common bird in the underbrush, flitting about
among the azalea and ceanothus bushes and enliven-
ing the groves with his brilliant color ; and on gravelly
bars the spotted sandpiper is sometimes seen. Many
woodpeckers dwell in the Valley; the familiar flicker,
the Harris woodpecker and the species which so
busily stores up acorns in the thick bark of the yel-
low pines.

The short, cold days of winter are also sweetened
with the music and hopeful chatter of a considerable
number of birds. I^o cheerier choir ever sang in
snow. First and best of all is the water-ouzel, a
dainty, dusky little bird about the size of a robin,
that sings a sweet fluty song all winter and all sum-
mer, in storms and calms, sunshine and shadow,
haunting the rapids and waterfalls with marvelous
constancy, building his nest in the cleft of a ro(^
bathed in spray. He is not web-footed, yet he dives

leo THE YOSEMITE

fearlessly into foaming rapids, seeming to take the
greater delight the more boisterous the stream, al-
ways as cheerfnl and calm as any linnet in a grove.
All his gestures as he flits about amid the loud up-
roar of the falls bespeak the utmost simplicity and
confidence — bird and stream one and inseparable.
What a pair! yet they are well related. A finer
bloom than the foam bell in an eddying pool is this
little bird. We may miss the meaning of the loud-
resounding torrent, but the flute-like voice of the
bird — only love is in it

A few robins, belated on their way down from the
upper meadows, linger in the Valley and make out to
spend the winter in comparative comfort, feeding on
the mistletoe berries that grow on the oi^ In the
depths of the great forests, on the hi^ meadows, in
the severest altitudes, they seem as much at home as
in the fields and orchards about the busy habitations
of man, ascending the Sierra as the snow melts, fol-
lowing {he green footsteps of Spring, until in July or
August the highest glacier meadows are reached on
the summit of the Range. Then, after the short sum-
mer is over, and their work in cheering and sweeten-
ing these lofty wilds is done, they gradually make
their way down again in accord with the weather,
keeping below the snow-storms, lingering here and
there to feed on huckleberries and frost-nipped wild
cherries growing on the upper slopes. Thence down

THE BIRDS 161

to the yineyards and orchards of the lowlands to
spend the winter; entering the gardens of the great
towns as well as pai^ and fields, where the blessed
wanderers are too often slaughtered for food — surelj
a bad use to put so fine a musician to; better make
stove wood of pianos to feed the kitchen fire.

The kingfisher winters in the Valley, and the
fiicker and, of course, the carpenter woodpecker, that
lays up large stores of acorns in the bark of trees;
wrens also, with a few brown and gray linnets, and
fiooks of the arctic Uuebird, making lively pictures
among the snow-laden mistletoe bushes. Flocks of
pigeons are often seen, and about six species of
ducks, as the river is never wholly frozen over.
Among these are the mallard and the beautiful wood-
duck, now less common on account of being so often
shot at Flocks of wandering geese used to visit the
Valley in March and April, and perhaps do so still,
driven down by hunger or stress of weather while on
their way across the Bange. When pursued by the
hunters I have frequently seen them try to fly over
the walls of the Valley until tired out and compelled
to re-alight Yosemite magnitudes seem to be as de-
ceptive to geese as to men, for after circling to a
considerable height and forming regular harrow-
shaped ranks they would suddenly find themselves in
danger of being dashed against the face of the cliff,

much nearer the bott<Mn than the top. Then tum-
II

162 THE YOSEMITE

ing in confusion with loud screams they would try
again and again until exhausted and compelled to
descend. I have occasionally observed large flocks on
their travels crossing the summits of the Bange at
a height of 12,000 to 13,000 feet above the level of
the sea, and even in so rare an atmosphere as this
they seemed to be sustaining themselves without ex-
tra effort Strong, however, as they are of wind and
wing, they cannot fly over Yosemite walls, starting
from the bottom*

A pair of golden eagles have lived in the Valley
ever since I first visited it, hunting all winter along
the northern cliffs and down the river cafion. Their
nest is on a ledge of the cliff over which pours the
Nevada FalL Perched on the top of a dead spar,
they were always interested observers of the geese
when they were being shot at I once noticed one of
the geese compelled to leave the flock on account of
being sorely wounded, although it still seemed to fly
pretty welL Immediately the eagles pursued it and
no doubt struck it down, although I did not see the
result of the hunt Anyhow, it flew past me up the
Valley, closely pursued.

One wild, stormy winter morning after five feet
of snow had fallen on the floor of the Valley and the
flying flakes driven by a strong wind still thickened
the air, making darkness like the approach of night,
I sallied forth to see what I might learn and enjoy.

THE BIBDS 168

It was impoBsible to go very far without the aid of
snowHshoes^ but I found no great difScultj in making
my way to a part of the river where one of my ouzels
lived. I found him at home busy about his break-
f asty apparently unaware of anything uncomfortable
in the weather. Presently he flew out to a stone
against which the icy current was beatings and turn-
ing his back to the wind, sang as delightfully as a
lark in springtime.

After spending an hour or two with my f avorite,
I made my way across the Valley, boring and
wallowing through the loose snow, to learn as much
as possible about the way the other birds were spend-
ing their time. In winter one can always find them
because they are then restricted to the north side
of the Valley, especially the Indian Canon groves,
which from their peculiar exposure are the warmest.

I found most of the robins cowering on the lee
side of the larger branches of the trees, where the
snow could not fall on them, while two or three of the
more venturesome were making desperate efforts to get
at the mistletoe berries by clinging to the underside
of the snow-crowned masses, back downward, some-
thing like woodpeckers. Every now and then some
of the loose snow was dislodged and sifted down on
the hungry birds, sending them screaming back to
their companions in the grove, shivering and mutter-
ing like cold, hungry children.

164 THE YOSEMITE

Some of the sparrows were busy scratching and
pecking at the feet of the larger trees where the snow
had been shed off, gleaning seeds and benumbed in-
sects, joined now and then by a robin weary of his
unsuccessful efforts to get at the snow*covered mistle-
toe berries. The brave woodpeckers were clinging to
the snowless sides of the larger boles and overarch-
ing branches of the camp trees, making short flights
from side to side of the grove, pecking now and then
at the acorns they had stored in the bark, and chatr
tering aimlessly as if unable to keep still, evidently
putting in the time in a very dull way. The hardy
nuthatches were threading the open furrows of the
barks in their usual industrious manner and uttering
their quaint notes, giving no evidence of distress.
The Steller's jays were, of course, making more noise
and stir then all the other birds combined ; ever com-
ing and going with loud bluster, screaming as if
each had a lump of melting sludge in his throat, and
taking good care to improve every opportunity af-
forded by the darkness and confusion of the storm
to steal from the acorn stores of the woodpeckers.
One of the golden eagles made an impressive picture
as he stood bolt upright on the top of a tall pine-
stump, braving the storm, with his back to the wind
and a tuft of snow piled on his broad shoulders, a
monument of passive endurance. Thus every storm-
bound bird seemed more or less uncomfortable, if

• THE BIRDS 166

not in distress. The storm was reflected in every ges-
ture, and not one cheerful note, not to say song, came
from a single bilL Their cowering, joyless endur-
ance offered striking contrasts to the spontaneous, ir-
repressible gladness of the ouzel, who could no more
help giving out sweet song than a rose sweet fra-
grance. He must sing, thou^ the heavens f alL

THE SOUTH DOME

WnCTH the exception of a few spires and pin-
. nadesy the South Dome is the only rock
about the Valley that is strictly inaccessible without
artificial means, and its inaccessibility is expressed
in severe terms. Nevertheless many a mountaineer,
gazing admiringly, tried hard to invent a way to the
top of its noble crown — all in vain, until in the year
1875, George Anderson, an indomitable Scotchman,
undertook the adventure. The side facing Tenaya
Cafion is an absolutely vertical precipice from the
summit to a depth of about 1600 feet, and on the
opposite side it is nearly vertical for about as great
a depth. The southwest side presents a very steep
and finely drawn curve from the top down a thou-
sand feet or more, while on the northeast, where it
is united with the Clouds' Best Bidge, one may
easily reach a point called the Saddle, about seven
hundred feet below the summit From the Saddle
the Dome rises in a graceful curve a few degrees

too steep for unaided climbing, besides being de-

166

THE SOUTH DOME 167

fended by overleaning ends of the concentric dome
layers of the granite.

A year or two before Anderson gained the sommity
John Conway, the master trail-builder of the Valley,
and his little sons^ who climbed smooth rocks like
lizards, made a bold effort to reach the top by climb-
ing barefooted up the grand curve with a rope which
they fastened at irregular intervals by means of
eye-bolts driven into joints of the rock. But find-
ing that the upper part would require laborious
drilling, they abandoned the attempt, glad to escape
from the dangerous position they had reached, some
300 feet above the Saddle. Anderson began with
Conway's old rope, which had been left in place,
and resolutely drilled his way to the top, inserting
eye-bolts five to six feet apart^ and making his rope
fast to each in succession, resting his feet on the
last bolt while he drilled a hole for the next above.
Occasionally some irregularity in the curve, or slight
foothold, would enable him to climb a few feet with-
out a rope, which he would pass and begin drilling
again, and thus the whole work was accomplished in
a few days. From this slender beginning he pro-
posed to construct a substantial stairway which he
hoped to complete in time for the next year's travel,
but while busy getting out timber for his stairway
and dreaming of the wealth he hoped to gain from

168 THE YOSEMITE

toUsy he was taken sick and died all alone in his
little cabin.

On the 10th of November^ after returning from a
visit to Mount Shasta, a month or two after Ander-
son had gained the summit, I made haste to the
Dome, not only for. the pleasure of climbing, but
to see what I might learn. The first winter storm-
clouds had blossomed and the mountains and all the
high points about the Valley were mantled in fresh
snow. I was, therefore, a little apprehensive of dan-
ger from the slipperiness of the rope and the rock.
Anderson himself tried to prevent me from making
the attempt, refusing to believe that any one could
climb his rope in the snow-muffled condition in which
it then was. Moreover, the sky was overcast and
solemn snow-clouds began to curl around the summit,
and my late experiences on icy Shasta came to mind.
But reflecting that I had matches in my pocket, and
that a little fire-wood mi^t be found, I concluded
that in case of a storm the ni^t could be spent on
the Dome without suffering anything worth mind-
ing, no matter what the clouds might bring forth.
I therefore pushed on and gained the top.

It was one of those brooding, changeful days that
come between the Indian summer and winter, when
the leaf colors have grown dim and the clouds come
and go among the cliffs like living creatures looking
for work: now hovering aloft, now caressing ru^ed

THE SOUTH DOME 169

rock-brows with great gentleness, or, wandering afar
over the tops of the forests, touching the spires of fir
and pine with their soft silken fringes as if trying to
tell the glad news of the coming of snow.

The first view was perfectly glorious. A massive
doud of pure pearl luster, apparently as fixed and
calm as the meadows and groves in the shadow be-
neath it, was arched across the Valley from wall to
wall, one end resting on the grand abutment of El
Capitan, the other on Cathedral Eock. A little
later, as I stood on the tremendous verge overlooking
Mirror Lake, a flodc of smaller clouds, white as
snow, came from the north, trailing their downy
skirts over the dark forests, and entered the Valley
with solemn god-like gestures throu^ Indian Canon
and over the !N'orth Dome and Eoyal Arches, moving
swiftly, yet with majestic deliberation. On they
came, nearer and nearer, gathering and massing be-
neath my feet and filling the Tenaya Canon. Then
the sun shone free, lighting the pearly gray surface
of the doud-like sea and making it glow. Qazing,
admiring, I was startled to see for the first time the
rare optical phenomenon of the '^ Specter of the
Brocken.'' My shadow, clearly outlined, about half
a mile long, lay upon this glorious white surface with
startling effect. I walked back and forth, waved my
arms and struck all sorts of attitudes, to see every
slightest movement enormously exaggerated. Con-

170 THE YOSEMITE

sidering that I have looked down so many times from
mountain tops on seas of all sorts of clouds^ it seems
strange that I should have seen the ^^Brocken
Specter " only this once. A grander surface and a
grander standpoint, however, could hardly have
been found in all the Sierra.

After this grand show the doud-sea rose higher,
wreathing the Dome, and for a short time submerge
ing it, making darkness like night, and I began to
think of looking for a camp ground in a cluster of
dwarf pines. But soon the sim shone free again,
the clouds, sinking lower and lower, gradually
vanished, leaving the Valley with its Indian-sum-
mer colors apparently refreshed, while to the east-
ward the summit-peaks, clad in new snow, towered
along the horizon in glorious array.

Though apparently it is perfectly bald, there are
four clumps of pines growing on the summit, repre-
senting three species, Finns albicaulis, P. contorta
and P. ponderosa, var. Jeffreyi — all three, of
course, repressed and storm-beaten. The alpine
spirsea grows here also and blossoms profusely with
potentilla, erigeron, eriogonum, pentstemon, soli-
dago, and an interesting species of onion, and four
or five species of grasses and sedges. !N'one of these
differs in any respect from those of other summits of
the same height, excepting the curious little narrow-

THE SOUTH DOME 171

leaved, waxen-bulbed onion, -which I had not seen
elsewhere.

!N'otwithstanding the enthusiastic eagerness of
tourists to reach the crown of the Dome the views
of the Valley from this lofty standpoint are less
striking than from many other points comparatively
low, chiefly on account of the foreshortening effect
produced by looking down from so great a hei^t.
The !N'orth Dome is dwarfed almost beyond recogni-
tion, the grand sculpture of the Eoyal Arches is
scarcely noticeable, and the whole range of walls on
both sides seem comparatively low, especially when
the Valley is flooded with noon sunshine; while the
Dome itself, the most sublime feature of all the Yo-
Semite views, is out of sight beneath one's feet. The
view of Little Tosemite Valley is very fine, though
inferior to one obtained from the base of the Starr
Eling Cone, but the summit landscapes towards
Mounts Eitter, LyeU, Dana, Conness, and the Merced
Group, are very effective and complete.

!N'o one has attempted to carry out Anderson's plan
of making the Dome accessible. Eor my part I
should prefer leaving it in pure wildness, though,
after all, no great damage could be done by tramping
over it The surface would be strewn with tin cans
and bottles, but the winter gales would blow the rub-
bish away. Avalanches might strip off any sort of

172 THE YOSEMITE

stairway or ladder that might be built Blue jays
and Clark crows have trodden the Dome for many a
day, and so have beetles and chipmunks, and Tissiack
would hardly be more " conquered " or spoiled should
man be added to her list of visitors. His louder
scream and heavier scrambling would not stir a
line of her countenance.

When the sublime ice-floods of the glacial period
poured down the flank of the Eange over what is
now Yosemite Valley, they were compelled to break
through a dam of domes extending across from Mount
Starr King to !N'orth Dome; and as the period be-
gan to draw near a close the shallowing ice-currents
were divided and the South Dome was, perhaps, the
first to emerge, burnished and shining like a mirror
above the surface of the icy sea; and though it has
sustained the wear and tear of the elements tens of
thousands of years, it yet remains a telling monu-
ment of the action of the great glaciers that brought
it to light. Its entire surface is still covered with
glacial hieroglyphics whose interpretation is the re-
ward of all who devoutfy study them.

THE ANCIENT YOSEMTTE GLAOIEBS:
HOW THE VALLEY WAS FORMED

ALL California has been glaciated^ the low plains
and valleys as well as the mountains. Traces
of an ioe-sheety thousands of feet in thickness, be-
neath whose heavy folds the present landscapes have
been molded, may be found everywhere, thou^ gla-
ciers now exist only among the peaks of the High
Sierra. No other mountain chain on this or any
other of the continents that I have seen is so rich
as the Sierra in bold, striking, well-preserved glacial
monuments. Lideed, every feature is more or less
tellingly glacial. Not a peak, ridge, dome, cafion,
yosemite, lake-basin, stream or forest will you see
that does not in some way explain the past existence
and modes of action of flowing, grinding, sculptur-
ing, soil-making, scenery-making ice. For, notwith-
standing the post-glacial agents — the air, rain,
snow, frost, river, avalanche, etc — have been at
work upon the greater portion of the Range for tens
of thousands of stormy years, each engraving its

own characters more and more deeply over those of

178

174 THE YOSEMITE

the ice^ the latter are so enduring and so heavily em-
phasized, they still rise in sublime relief^ clear and
legible, through every after-inscription. The land-
scapes of !N'orth Greenland, Antarctica, and some
of those of our own Alaska, are still being fashioned
beneath a slow-crawling mantle of ice, from a quarter
of a mile to probably more than a mile in thickness,
presenting noble illustrations of the ancient con-
dition of California, when its sublime scenery lay
hidden in process of formation. On the Himalaya,
the mountains of Norway and Switzerland, the Cau-
casus, and on most of those of Alaska, their ice-
mantle has been melted down into separate glaciers
that flow riyer-like through the valleys, illustrating
a similar past condition in the Sierra, when every
canon and valley was the channel of an ice-stream,
all of which may be easily traced back to their foun-
tains, where some sixty-five or seventy of their top-
most residual branches still linger beneath protecting
mountain shadows.

The change from one to another of those glacial
conditions was slow as we count time. When the
great cyde of snow years, called the Glacial Period,
was nearly complete in California, the ice-mantle,
wasting from season to season faster than it was re-
newed, began to withdraw from the lowlands and
gradually became shallower everywhere. Then the
highest of the Sierra domes and dividing ridges.

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIERS 176

containing distinct glaciers between them^ began to
appear above the icy sea. These first river-like gla-
ciers remained united in one continuous sheet to-
ward the summit of the Eange for many centuries.
But as the snow-fall diminished, and the climate be-
came milder, this upper part of the ice-sheet was
also in turn separated into smaller distinct glaciers,
and these again into still smaller ones, while at the
same time all were growing shorter and shallower,
though fluctuations of the climate now and then oc-
curred that brought their receding ends to a stand-
still, or even enabled' them to advance for a few
tens or hundreds of years.

Meanwhile, hardy, home-seeking plants and ani-
mals, after long waiting, flocked to their appointed
places, pushing bravely on higher and higher, along
every sun-warmed slope, closely following the re-
treating ice, which, like shreds of summer clouds, at
length vanished from the new-bom mountains, leav-
ing them in all their main, telling features nearly as
we find them now.

Tracing the ways of glaciers, learning how Nature
sculptures mountain-waves in making scenery-beauly
that so mysteriously influences every human being,
is glorious work.

The most striking and attractive of the glacial phe-
nomena in the upper Yosemite region are the
polished glacier pavements, because they are so

176 THE YOSEMITE

beautifoly and their beauty is of so rare a kind, so
unlike any portion of the loose, deeply weathered
lowlands where people make homes and earn their
bread. They are simply flat or gently undulating
areas of hard resisting granite, which present the un-
changed surface upon which with enormous pressure
the ancient glaciers flowed. They are found in most
perfect condition in the subalpine region, at an ele-
vation of from eight thousand to nine thousand feet.
Some are miles in extent, only slightly interrupted
by spots that have given way to the weather, while
the best preserved portions reflect the sunbeams like
calm water or glass, and shine as if polished afresh
every day, notwithstanding they have been exposed to
corroding rains, dew, frost, and snow measureless
thousands of years.

The attention of wandering hunters and prospec-
tors, who see so many mountain wonders, is seldom
commanded by other glacial phenomena, moraines
however regular and artificial-looking, canons how-
ever deep or strangely modeled, rocks however high ;
but when they come to these shining pavements they
stop and stare in wondering admiration, kneel again
and again to examine the brightest spots, and try
hard to account for their mysterious shining smooth-
ness. They may have seen the winter avalanches of
snow descending in awful majesty through the woods,
scouring the rocks and sweeping away like weeds the

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIEKS 177

trees that stood in their way^ but conclude that this
cannot be the work of avalanches, because the
scratches and fine polished striae show that the
agent, whatever it was, moved along the sides of
high rocks and ridges and up over the tops of them
as well as down their slopes. Neither can they see
how water may possibly have been the agent, for
they find the same strange polish upon ridges and
domes thousands of feet above the reach of any con-
ceivable flood. Of all the agents of whose work they
know anything, only the wind seems capable of mov-
ing across the face of the country in the directions
indicated by the scratches and grooves. The Indian
name of Lake Tenaya is "Pyweak'* — the lake
of shining rocks. One of the Yosemite tribe, Indian
Tom, came to me and asked if I could tell him what
had made the Tenaya rocks so smooth. Even dogs
and horses, when first led up the moxmtains, study
geology to this extent that they gaze wonderingly at
the strange brightness of the ground and smell it,
and place their feet cautiously upon it as if afraid
of falling or sinking.

In the production of this admirable hard finish,
the glaciers in many places flowed with a pressure
of more than a thousand tons to the square yard,
planing down granite, slate, and quartz alike, and
bringing out the veins and crystals of the rocks

with beautiful distinctness. Over large areas below
la

178 THE YOSEMITE

the sources of the Tuolumne and Merced the granite
is porphyritic; feldspar crystals an inch or two in
length in many places form the greater part of the
rocky and these, when planed off level with the gen-
eral surf ace, give rise to a beautiful mosaic on which
the happy sunbeams plash and glow in passionate
enthusiasm. Here lie the brightest of all the Sierra
landscapes. The Eange both to the north and south
of this region was, perhaps, glaciated about as
heavily, but because the rocks are less resisting, their
polished surfaces have mostly given way to the
weather, leaving only small imperfect patches. The
lowest renmants of the old glacial surface occur at
an elevation of from 3000 to 5000 feet above the sea-
level, and twenty to thirty miles below the axis of
the Range. The short, steeply inclined canons of
the eastern flank also contain enduring, brilliantly
striated and polished rocks, but these are less mag-
nificent than those of the broad western flank.

One of the best general views of the brightest and
best of the Yosemite park landscapes that every Yo*
Semite tourist should see, is to be had from the top
of Fairview Dome, a lofty conoidal rock near Ca-
thedral Peak that long ago I named the Tuolumne
Olacier Monument, one of the most striking and best
preserved of the domes. Its burnished crown is
about 1500 feet above the Tuolumne Meadows and
10,000 above the sea. At first sight it seems inao-

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIERS 179

oeasible, though a good climber will find it may be
scaled on the south side. About half-way up you
will find it so steep that there is danger of slipping,
but feldspar crystals, two or three inches long, of
which the rock is full, having offered greater resist-
ance to atmospheric erosion than the mass of the rock
in which they are imbedded, have been brought into
slight relief in some places, roughening the surface
here and there, and affording helping footholds.

The sunmiit is burnished and scored like the sides
and base, the scratches and strise indicating that the
migihty Tuolumne Glacier swept over it as if it were
only a mere boulder in the bottom of its dianneL
The pressure it withstood must have been enormous.
Had it been less solidly built it would have been
carried away, ground into moraine fragments, like
the adjacent rock in which it lay imbedded; for,
great as it is, it is only a hard residual knot like the
Yosemite domes, brought into relief by the removal
of less resisting rock about it ; an illustration of the
survival of the strongest and most favorably situated.

Hardly less wonderful is the resistance it has of-
fered to the trying mountain weather since first its
crown rose above the icy sea. The whole quantity
of post-glacial wear and tear it has suffered has not
degraded it a hundredth of an inch, as may readily
be shown by the polished portions of the surface. A
few erratic boulders^ nicely poised on its crown, tell

180 THE YOSEMITE

an intereeting story. They came from the stmmoit-
peaks twelve miles away, drifting like chips on the
frozen sea, and were stranded here when the top of
the monnment merged from the ice, while their com-
panions, whose positions chanced to be above the
slopes of the sides where they oonld not find rest,
were carried farther on by falling back on the shal-
lowing ice current

The general view from the summit consists of a
sublime assemblage of ice-bom rocks and mountains,
long wavering ridges, meadows, lakes, and forest-
covered moraines, hundreds of square miles of them.
The lofty summit-peaks rise grandly along the sky
to the east, the gray pillared slopes of the Hoff-
man Bange toward the west, and a billowy sea of
Hhiuiug rocks like the Monument, some of th^n
almost as high and which from their peculiar
sculpture seem to be rolling westward in the mid-
dle ground, something like breaking waves. Im-
mediately beneath you are the Big Tuolumne
Meadows, smooth lawns with large breadths of
woods on either side, and watered by the young
Tuolumne Biver, rushing cool and clear from its
many snow- and ice-fountains. Nearly all the upper
part of the basin of the Tuolumne Glacier is in sight,
one of the greatest and most influential of all the
Sierra ice-rivers. Lavishly flooded by many a noble
affluent from the ice-laden flanks of Mounts Dana,

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIERS 181

Ljell, McClure, GKbbs^ Conness, it poured its ma-
jestic outflowing current full against the end of the
Hoffman Range, which divided and deflected it to
right and left, just as a river of water is divided
against an island in the middle of its channel.
Two distinct glaciers were thus formed, one of which
flowed through the great Tuolumne Canon and
Hetch Hetchy Valley, while the other swept upward
in a deep current two miles wide across the divide,
five hundred feet high between the basins of the
Tuolumne and Merced, into the Tenaya Basin, and
thence down through the Tenaya Canon and Yo-
Semite.

The map-like distinctness and freshness of this
glacial landscape cannot fail to excite the attention
of every beholder, no matter how little of its scientific
significance may be recognized. These bald, west-
ward-leaning rocks^ with their rounded backs and
shoulders toward the glacier fountains of the summit-
mountains, and their split, angular fronts looking in
the opposite direction, explain the tremendous grind-
ing force with which the ice-flood passed over them,
and also the direction of its flow. And the mountain
peaks around the sides of the upper general Tuol-
umne Basin, with their sharp unglaciated sunmiits
and polished rounded sides, indicate the height to
which the glaciers rose; while the numerous
moraines, curving and swaying in beautiful lines,

182 THE YOSEMITE

mark the boundaries of the main trunk and its tribu-
taries as they existed toward the close of the glacial
winter. None of the commercial highways of the
land or sea, marked with buoys and lamps, fences,
and guide-boards, is so unmistakably indicated as
are these broad, shining trails of the vanished Tuol-
umne Glacier and its far-reaching tributaries.

I should like now to offer some nearer views of
a few characteristic specimens of these wonderful old
ice-streams, though it is not easy to make a selection
from so vast a system intimately interblended.
The main branches of the Merced Glacier are, per-
haps, best suited to our purpose, because their basins,
full of telling inscriptions, are the ones most attract-
ive and accessible to the Yosemite visitors who like
to look beyond the valley walls. They number five,
and may well be called Yosemite glaciers, since they
were the agents Nature used in developing and fash-
ioning the grand Valley. The names I have given
them are, banning with the northernmost, Yosemite
Creek, Hoffman, Tenaya, South Lyell, and Hli-
louette Glaciers. These all converged in admira-
ble poise around from northeast to southeast,
welded themselves together into the main Yosemite
Glacier, which, grinding gradually deeper, swept
down through the Valley, receiving small tributaries
on its way from the Indian, Sentinel, and Pohono
Canons; and at laigth flowed out of the Valley,

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIEES 188

and on down the Range in a general westerly direc-
tion. At the time that the tributaries mentioned
above were well defined as to their boundaries, the
upper portion of the valley walls, and the hi^est
rocks about them, such as the Domes, the uppermost
of the Three Brothers and the Sentinel, rose above
the surface of the ice. But during the Valley's
earlier history, all its rocks, however lofty, were
buried beneath a continuous sheet, which swept on
above and about them like the wind, the upper por-
tion of the current flowing steadily, while the lower
portion went mazing and swedging down in the
crooked and dome-blocked cafions toward the head of
the Valley,

Every glacier of the Sierra fluctuated in width
and depth and length, and consequently in degree of
individuality, down to the latest glacial days. It
must, therefore, be borne in mind that the following
description of the Yosemite glaciers applies only to
their separate condition, and to that phase of their
separate condition that they presented toward the
dose of the glacial period after most of their work
was flnished, and all the more telling features of
the Valley and the adjacent r^on were brought into
relief.

The comparatively level, many-fountained Yo-
semite Creek Glacier was about fourteen miles in
length by four or flve in vridth, and from flve hun-

184 THE YOSEMITE

died to a thousand feet deep. Its principal trilra-
tarieSy drawing their sources from the northern spurs
of the Hoffman Bange, at first pursued a westerly
course; then, uniting with each other, and a series
of short afBuents from the western rim of the basin,
the trunk thus formed swept around to the soutli-
ward in a magnificent curve, and poured its ice
over the north wall of Yosemite in cascades about two
miles wida This broad and comparatively shallow
glacier formed a sort of crawling, wrinkled ice-
doud, that gradually became more regular in shape
and river-like as it grew older. Encircling peaks
began to overshadow its highest fountains, rock
islets rose here and there amid its ebbing currents, and
its picturesque banks, adorned with domes and
round-backed ridges, extended in massive grandeur
down to the brink of the Yosemite walls.

In the meantime the chief Hoffman tributaries,
slowly receding to the shelter of the shadows covering
their fountains, continued to live and work inde-
pendently, spreading soil, deepening lake-basins and
giving finishing touches to the sculpture in general.
At length these also vanished, and the whole basin
is now full of light. Forests flourish luxuriantly
upon its ample moraines, lakes and meadows shine
and bloom amid its polished domes, and a thousand
gardens adorn the banks of its streams.

It is to the great width and even slope of the

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIEBS 185

YoBemite Creek Glacier that we owe the unrivaled
hei^t and sheemess of the Yosemite Falls. For had
the positions of the ice-fountains and the structure
of the rocks been such as to cause down-thrusting
concentration of the Glacier as it approached the
Valley, then, instead of a high vertical fall we should
have had a long slanting cascade, which after all
would perhaps have been as beautiful and interest-
ing, if we only had a mind to see it so.

The shorty ocmiparatively swift-flowing Hoffman
Glacier, whose fountains extend along the south
slopes of the Hoffman Bange, offered a striking
contrast to the one just described. The erosive
energy of the latter was diffused over a wide field
of sunkai, boulder-Bke domes and ridges. The
Hoffman Glacier, on the contrary, moved ri^t
ahead on a comparatively even surface, making a
descent of nearly five thousand feet in five miles,
steadily contracting and deepening its current, and
finally united with the Tenaya Glacier as one of its
most influential tributaries in the development and
sculpture of the great Half Dome, North Dome and
the rocks adjacent to them about the head of the
Valley.

The story of its death is not unlike that of its com-
panion already described, though the declivity of its
channel, and its uniform exposure to sun-heat pre-
vented any considerable portion of its current from

186 THE YOSEMITE

becoming torpid, lingering only well up on the moun-
tain slopes to finish their sculpture and encircle them
with a zone of moraine soil for forests and gardens.
N^owhere in all this wonderful region will you find
more beautiful trees and shrubs and flowers covering
the traces of ice.

The rugged Tenaya Glacier wildly crevassed here
and there above the ridges it had to cross, instead of
drawing its sources direct from the summit of the
Bange, formed, as we have seen, one of the outlets
of the great Tuolumne Glacier, issuing from this
noble fountain like a river from a lake, two miles
wide, about fourteen miles long, and from 1600 to
2000 feet deep.

In leaving the Tuolumne r^on it crossed over the
divide, as mentioned above, between the Tuolumne
and Tenaya basins, making an ascent of five hundred
feet Hence, after contracting its wide current and
receiving a strong affluent from the fountains about
Cathedral Peak, it poured its massive flood over the
northeastern rim of its basin in splendid cascades.
Then, crushing heavily against the Clouds' Best
Kidge, it bore down upon the Yosemite domes with
concentrated energy.

Toward the end of the ice period, while its Hoff-
man companion continued to grind rock-meal for
coming plants, the main trunk became torpid, and
vanished, exposing wide areas of rolling rock-waves

ANCIENT TOSEMITE GLACIERS 187

and glistening pavements^ on whose ohannelless sur-
face water ran wild and free. And because the
trunk vanished almost simultaneously throughout its
whole extent, no terminal moraines are found in its
canon channel ; nor, since its walls are, in most places,
too steeply inclined to admit of the deposition of
moraine matter, do we find much of the two main
laterals. The lowest of its residual glaciers lingered
beneath tfie shadow of the Yosemite Half Dome;
others along the base of Coliseum Peak above Lake
Tenaya and along the precipitous wall extending
from the lake to the Big Tuolumne Meadows. The
latter, on account of the uniformity and continuity of
their protecting shadows, formed moraines of con-
siderable length and regularity that are liable to be
mistaken for portions of the left lateral of the
Tuolumne tributary glacier.

Spend all the time you can spare or steal on the
tracks of this grand old glacier, charmed and en-
chanted by its magnificent canon, lakes and cascades
and resplendent glacier pavements.

The Nevada Olacier was longer and more sym-
metrical than the last^ and the only one of the Merced
system whose sources extended directly back to the
main summits on the axis of the Bange. Its numer-
ous fountains were ranged side by side in three
series, at an elevation of from 10,000 to 12,000 feet
above the sea. The first, on the right side of the basin^

188 THE YOSEMITE

extended from the Matterhom to Cathedral Peak;
that on the left through the Merced group, and these
two parallel series were united bj a third that ex-
tended around the head of the basin in a direction
at right angles to the others.

The three ranges of high peaks and ridges that
supplied the snow for these fountains, together with
the Clouds' Best Bidge, nearly inclose a rectangular
basin, that was filled vdih a massive sea of ice, leav-
ing an outlet toward the west through which flowed
the main trunk glacier, three-fourths of a mile to a
mile and a half wide, fifteen miles long, and from
1000 to 1600 feet deep, and entered Yosemite be-
tween the Half Dome and Mount Starr King.

Could we have visited Yosemite Valley at this
period of its history, we should have found its ice
cascades vastly more glorious than their tiny water
representatives of the present day. One of the
grandest of these was formed by that portion of the
Nevada Glacier that poured over the shoulder of the
Half Dome.

This glacier, as a whole, resembled an oak, with
a gnarled swelling base and wide-spreading branches.
Picturesque rocks of every conceivable form adorned
its banks, among which glided the numerous tribu-
taries, mottled with black and red and gray boulders,
from the fountain peaks, while ever and anon, as
the deliberate centuries passed away, dome after

ANCIENT TOSEMITE GLACIEES 189

dome raised its burnished crown above the ice-flood
to enrich the slowly opening landscapes.

The principal moraines occur in short irregular
sections along the sides of the cafions, their frag-
mentaiy condition being due to interruptions caused
by portions of the sides of the cafion walls being too
steep for moraine matter to lie on, and to down-sweep-
ing torrents and avalanches. The left lateral of the
trunk may be traced about five nules from the mouth
of the first main tributary to the Illilouette Canon.
The corresponding section of the right lateral, extend-
ing from Cathedral tributary to the Half Dome, is
more complete because of the more favorable character
of the north side of the canon. A short side-glacier
came in against it from the slopes of Clouds' Best;
but being fully exposed to the sun, it was melted long
before the main trunk, allowing the latter to deposit
this portion of its moraine undisturbed. Some con-
ception of the size and appearance of this fine
moraine may be gained by following the Clouds'
Eest trail from Yosemite, which crosses it obliquely
and conducts past several sections made by streams.
Slate boulders may be seen that must have come from
the Lyell group, twelve miles distant But the bulk
of the moraine is composed of porphyritic granite de-
rived from Feldspar and Cathedral Valleys.

On the sides of the moraines we find a series of
terraces, indicating fiuctuations in the level of the

19a THE TOSEMITE

glacier, caused by variations of snow-fall, tempera-
ture, etc, showing that the climate of the glacial
period was diversified bj cycles of milder or stormier
seasons similar to those of post-glacial time.

After the depth of the main trunk diminished to
about five hundred feet, the greater portion became
torpid, as is shown by the moraines, and lay dying
in its crooked channel like a wounded snake, main-
taining for a time a feeble squirming motion in
places of exceptional depth, or where the bottom of
the cafion was more steeply inclined. The numerous
fountain-wombs, however, continued fruitful long
after the trunk had vanished, giving rise to an im-
posing array of short residual glaciers, extending
around the rim of the general basin a distance of
nearly twenty-four miles. Most of these have but
recently succimibed to the new climate, dying in
turn as determined by elevation, size, and exposure,
leaving only a few feeble survivors beneath the cool-
est shadows, which are now slowly completing the
sculpture of one of the noblest of the Yosemite
basins.

The comparatively shallow glacier that at this time
filled the Illilouette Basin, though once far from
shallow, more resembled a lake than a river of ice,
being nearly half as wide as it was long. Its great-
est length was about ten miles, and its depth perhaps
nowhere much exceeded 1000 feet Its chief foun-

ANCIENT TOSEMITE GLACIEES 191

tainsy ranged along the west side of the Merced
group, at an elevation of about 10,000 feet, gave
birth to fine tributaries that flowed in a westerly
direction, and united in the center of the basin. The
broad trunk at first flowed northwestward, then
curved to the northward, deflected by the lofty wall
forming its western bank, and finally united with the
grand Yosemite trunk, opposite Glacier Point

All the phenomena relating to glacial action in
this basin are remarkably simple and orderly, on ao-
count of the sheltered positions occupied by its ice-
fountains, with reference to the disturbing effects of
larger glaciers from the axis of the main Eange
earlier in the period From the eastern base of the
Starr King cone you may obtain a fine view of the
principal moraines sweeping grandly out into the
middle of the basin from the shoulders of the peaks,
between which the ice-fountains lay. The right
lateral of the tributaiy, which took its rise between
Bed and Merced Mountains, measures two hundred
and fifty feet in height at its upper extremity, and
displays three well-defined terraces, similar to those
of the South Lyell Glacier. The comparative
smoothness of the uppermost terrace shows that it
is considerably more ancient than the others, many
of the boulders of which it is composed having
crumbled. A few miles to the westward, this mo-
raine has an average slope of twenty-seven degrees.

192 THE TOSEMITE

and an elevation above the bottom of the channel of
six hundred and sixty feet Near the middle of the
main basin, just where the regularly formed medial
and lateral moraines flatten out and disappear, there
is a remarkably smooth field of gravel, planted with
arctostaphylos, that looks at the distance of a mile
like a delightful meadow. Stream sections show the
gravel deposit to be composed of the same material
as the moraines, but finer, and more water-worn from
the action of converging torrents issuing from the
tributary glaciers after the trunk was melted. The
southern boundary of the basin is a strikingly per-
fect wall, gray on the top, and white down the sides
and at the base with snow, in which many a crystal
brook takes rise. The northern boundary is made
up of smooth undulating masses of gray granite, that
lift here and there into beautiful domes of which
the Starr King cluster is the finest, while on the
east tower the majestic fountain-peaks with wide
canons and neve amphitheaters between them, whose
variegated rocks show out gloriously against the sky.
The ice-plows of this charming basin, ranged side
by side in orderly gangs, furrowed the rocks with ad-
mirable uniformity, producing irrigating channels
for a brood of wild streams, and abundance of rich
soil adapted to every requirement of garden and
grove. No other section of the Yosemite uplands

ANCIENT TOSEMITE GLACIERS 198

is in 80 perfect a state of glacial cultivation. Its
domes, and peaks, and swelling rock-waves, how-
ever majestic in themselves, are yet submissively sub-
ordinate to the garden center. The other basins we
have been describing are combinations of sculptured
rocks, embellished with gardens and groves; the
niilouette is one grand garden and forest, embel-
lished with rocks, each of the five beautiful in its
own way, and all as harmoniously related as are the
five petals of a flower. After uniting in the Yo-
Semite Yall^, and expending the down-thrusting
energy derived from their combined weight and the
dedivily of their channels, the grand trunk flowed
on through and out of the Valley. In effecting its
exit a considerable ascent was made, traces of which
may still be seen on the abraded rocks at the lower
end of the Valley, while the direction pursued after
leaving the Valley is surely indicated by the im-
mense lateral moraines extending from the aids of
the walls at an elevation of from 1600 to 1800 feet
The right lateral moraine was disturbed by a large
tributary glacier that occupied the basin of Cascade
Creek, causing considerable complication in its struc-
ture. The left is simple in form for several miles of
its length, or to the point where a tributary came in
from the southeast. But both are greatly obscured
by the forests and underbrush growing upon them,

18

194 THE YOSEMITE

and bj the denuding action of rains and melting
snowa^ etc It is, therefore, the less to be wondered
at that these moraines, made np of material derived
from the distant fountain-mountains, and from the
Valley itself, were not sooner recognized.

The ancient glacier systems of the Tuolumne, San
Joaquin, Eem, and Kings Biver Basins were de-
veloped on a still grander scale and are so replete
with interest that the most sketchy outline descrip-
tions of each, with the works they have accomplished,
would fill many a volume. Therefore I can do
but little more than invite everybody who is free to
go and see for himself.

The action of flowing ice, whether in the form of
river-like glaciers or broad mantles, especially the
part it played in sculpturing the earth, is as yet
but little understood. Water rivers work openly
where people dwell, and so does the rain, and the
sea, thundering on all the shores of the world; and
the universal ocean of air, though invisible, speaks
aloud in a thousand voices^ and explains its modes
of working and its power. But glaciers, back in
their white solitudes, work apart from men, exerting
their tremendous energies in silence and darkness.
Outspread, spirit-like, they brood above the pre-
destined landscapes, work on unwearied through im-
measurable ages, until, in the fulhiess of time, the
mountains and valleys are brought forth, diannels

ANCIENT YOSEMITE GLACIERS 196

farrowed for rivers, basins made for lakes and
meadows, and arms of the sea, soils spread for forests
and fields; then they shrink and vanish like summer
clouds.

xn

HOW BEST TO SPEND ONE'S YOSEMITE TIME

ONE-DAY EXOUBSIONS
No. 1.

r' I were so time-poor as to have only one day to
spend in Yosemite I should start at daybreak,
say at three o'clock in midsummer, with a pocketful of
any sort of dry breakfast stuff, for Glacier Point, Sen-
tinel Dome, the head of lUilouette Fall, Nevada Fall,
the top of Liberty Cap, Vernal Fall and the wild boul-
der-choked Biver Canon. The trail leaves the Valley
at the base of the Sentinel Bock, and as you slowly
saunter from point to point along its many accommo-
dating zigzags nearly all the Valley rocks and falls
are seen in striking, ever-changing combinations. At
an elevation of about five hundred feet a particularly
fine, wide-sweeping view down the Valley is ob-
tained, past the sheer face of the Sentinel and be-
tween the Cathedral Bocks and El Capitan. At a
height of about 1500 feet the great Half Dome
comes full in sight, overshadowing every other
feature of the Valley to the eastward. From

Glacier Point you look down 3000 feet over the

190

ONE-DAT EXCUESIONS 197

edge of its sheer face to the meadows and groves
and inntunerable yellow pine spires, with the me-
andering river sparkling and spangling through
the midst of them. Across the Valley a great telling
view is presented of the Boyal Arches, North Dome,
Indian Canon, Three Brothers and El Capitan,
with the dome-paved basin of Yosemite Creek
and Mount Hoffman in the background. To the
eastward, the Half Dome close beside you looking
higher and more wonderful than ever; southeastward
the Starr King, girdled with silver firs, and the
spacious garden-like basin of the Hlilouette and
its deeply sculptured fountain-peaks, called '^The
Merced Group " ; and beyond all, marshaled along
the eastern horizon, the icy summits on the axis of
the Bange and broad swaths of forests growing on
ancient moraines, while the Nevada, Vernal and
Yosemite Falls are not only full in sight but are dis-
tinctly heard as if one were standing beside them in
their spray.

The views from the summit of Sentinel Dome are
still more extensive and telling. Eastward the
crowds of peaks at the head of the Merced, Tuolumne
and San Joaquin Bivers are presented in bewilder-
ing array; westward, the vast forests, yellow foot-
hills and the broad San Joaquin plains and the Coast
Banges, hazy and dim in the distance.

From Glacier Point go down the trail into the

198 THE TOSEMITE

lower end of the lUilotiette basin, cross TUilouette
Creek and follow it to the Fall where from an out-
jutting rock at its head you will get a fine view of its
rejoicing waters and wild cafion and the Half Dome.
Thence returning to the trail, follow it to the head
of the Nevada FalL Linger here an hour or two,
for not only have you glorious views of the wonder-
ful fall, but of its wild, leaping, exulting rapids and^
greater than all, the stupendous scenery into the heart
of which the white passionate river goes wildly
thundering, surpassing everything of its kind in the
world. After an unmeasured hour or so of this
glory, all your body aglow, nerve currents flashing
through you never before felt, go to the top of the
Liberty Cap, only a glad saunter now that your
legs as well as head and heart are awake and rejoic-
ing with everything. The Liberty Cap, a ccmipanion
of the Half Dome, is sheer and inaccessible on three
of its sides but on the east a gentle, ice-burnished,
juniper<lotted slope extends to the summit where
other wonderful views are displayed where all are
wonderful: the south side and shoulders of Half
Dome and Clouds' Best, the beautiful Little Yo-
semite Valley and its many domes, the Starr Eing
cluster of domes. Sentinel Dome, Glacier Point, and,
perhaps the most tremendously impresdve of all,
the views of the hopper-shaped cafion of the river

ONE-DAY EXCUKSIONS 199

from the head of the Nevada Fall to the head of the
VaUey.

Betuming to the trail you descend between the
Nevada Fall and the Liberty Cap with fine side views
of both the fall and the rock^ pass on through clouds
of spray and along the rapids to the head of the
Vernal Fall, about a mile below the Nevada.
Linger here if night is still distant, for views of this
favorite fall and the stupendous rock scenery about
it Then descend a stairway by its side, follow
a dim trail through its spray, and a plain one along
the border of the boulder<lashed rapids and so back
to the wide, tranquil Valley.

ONE-DAY EXOUBSIONS
No. 2.

Another grand one-day excursion is to the Upper
Yosemite Fall, the top of the highest of the Three
Brothers, called Eagle Peak on the Geological Sur-
vey maps; the brow of El Capitan; the head of the
Bibbon Fall; across the beautiful Bibbon Creek
Basin; and back to the Valley by the Big Oak Flat
wagon-road.

The trail leaves the Valley on the east side of the
largest of the earthquake talusee immediately oppo-
site the Sentinel Bock and as it passes within a few

200 THE YOSEMITE

rods of the foot of the great fall, magnifioent views
are obtained as you approach it and pass through its
spray, though when the snow is melting fast joa
will be well drenched. From the foot of the Fall
the trail zigzags np a narrow canon between the fall
and a plain mural cliff that is burnished here and
there by glacial action.

You should stop a while on a flat iron-fenced rock
a little below the head of the fall beside the enthusi-
astic throng of starry comet-like waters to learn some-
thing of their strength, their marvelous variety of
forms, and above all, their glorious music, gathered
and composed from the snow-storms, hail-, rain- and
wind-storms that have fallen on their glacier^sculp-
tuied, domey, ridgy basin. Befreshed and exhil-
arated, you follow your trail-way through silver fir
and pine woods to Eagle Peak, where the most com-
prehensive of all the views to be had <m the north-
wall heights are displayed. After an hour or two
of gazing, dreaming, studying the tremendous topog^
raphy, etc, trace the rim of the Valley to the grand
El Capitan ridge and go down to its brow, where
you will gain everlasting impressions of Nature's
steadfastness and power combined with ineffable fine-
ness of beauty.

Dragging yourself away, go to the head of the
Ribbon Fall^ thence across the beautiful Ribbon
Creek Basin to the Big Oak Flat stage-road, and

TWO-DAT EXCURSIONS 201

down its fine grades to the Vallejy enjoying glorious
Yosemite scenery all the way to the foot of El Capi-
tan and yonr camp.

TWO-DAY EXOUBSIONS
No. 1.

For a two-day trip I would go straight to Mount
Hoffman^ spend the night on the summit^ next mom^
ing go down by May Lake to Tenaya Lake and re-
turn to the Valley by Cloud's Best and the Nevada
and Vernal Falls. As on the forgoing excursion,
you leave the Valley by the Yosemite Falls trail and
follow it to the Tioga wagon-road, a short distance
east of Porcupine Flat From that point push
straight up to the summit. Mount Hoffman is a
mass of gray granite that rises almost in the center
of the Yosemite Park, about eight or ten miles in a
straight line from the Valley. Its southern slopes
are low and easily climbed, and adorned here and
there with castle-like crumbling piles and long
jagged crests that look like artificial masonry; but
on the north side it is abruptly precipitous and
banked with lasting snow. Most of the broad sum-
mit is comparatively level and thick sown with crys-
tals, quartz, mica, hornblende, feldspar, granite^
zircon, tourmaline, etc, weathered out and strewn
closely and loosely as if they had been sown broad-

202 THE TOSEMITE

cast Their radiance is fairly dazzling in sunlight^
almost hiding the multitude of small flowers that
grow among them. At first sight only these radiant
crystals are likely to be noticed, but looking closely
you discover a multitude of very small gilias,
phloxes, mimulus, etc., many of them with more
petals than leaves. On the borders of little
streams larger plants flourish — lupines, daisies,
asters, goldenrods, hairbell, mountain columbine,
potentilla, astragalus and a few gentians; with
charming heathworts — * bryanthus, cassiope, kalmia,
vaccinium in boulder-fringing rings or bank covers.
You saunter among the crystals and flowers as if
you were walking among stars. From the summit
nearly all the Yosemite Park is displayed like a
map: forests, lakes, meadows, and snowy peaks.
Northward lies Yosemite's wide basin with its
domes and small lakes, shining like larger crystals;
eastward the rocky, meadowy Tuolumne region,
bounded by its snowy peaks in glorious array ; south-
ward Yosemite and westward the vast forest On no
other Yosemite Park mountain are you more likely to
linger. You will find it a magnificent sky camp.
Clumps of dwarf pine and mountain hemlock will
furnish resin roots and branches for fuel and light,
and the rills, sparkling water. Thousands of the
little plant people will gaze at your camp-fire with
the crystals and stars, companions and guardians

TWO-DAT EXCUESIONS 208

as you lie at rest in the heart of the vast serene
night.

The most telling of all the wide Hoffman views
is the basin of the Tuolumne with its meadows, for-
ests and hundreds of smooth rock-waves that appear
to be ooming rolling on towards you like hig^ heaving
waves ready to break, and beyond these the great
mountains. But best of all are the dawn and the sun-
rise. No mountain top could be better placed for this
most glorious of mountain views — to watch and see
the deepening colors of the dawn and the sunbeams
8ti«a]mi>g through the snowy High Sierra passes,
awakening the lakes and crystals, the chilled plant
people and winged people, and making everything
ahine and sing in pure glory.

With your heart aglow, spangling Lake Tenaya
and Lake May will beckon you away for walks on
their ice-burnished shores. Leave Tenaya at the
west end, cross to the south side of the outlet, and
gradually work your way up in an almost straight
south direction to the summit of the divide between
Tenaya Creek and the main upper Merced Biver or
Nevada Creek and follow the divide to Clouds'
Best After a glorious view from the crest of this
lofty granite wave you will find a trail on its west-
em end that will lead you down past Nevada and
Yemal Falls to the Valley in good time, provided
you left your Hoffman sky camp early.

204 THE TOSEMITE

TWO-DAY EX0T7BSI0NS
No. 2.

Another grand two-day excursion is the same as
the first of the one-day trips^ as far as the head of
niilouette Fall From there trace the beautiful
stream up though the heart of its magnificent forests
and gardens to the canons between the Bed and
Merced Peaks, and pass the night where I camped
forty-one years ago. Early next morning visit the
small glacier on the north side of Merced Peak, the
first of the sixty-five that I discovered in the Sierra.

Glacial phenomena in the Illilouette Basin are
on the grandest scale, and in the course of my ex-
plorations I found that the canon and moraines be-
tween the Merced and Bed Mountains were the
most interesting of them alL The path of the van-
ished glacier shone in many places as if washed with
silver, and pushing up the cafion on this bright road
I passed lake after lake in solid basins of granite
and many a meadow along the canon stream that
links them together. The main lateral moraines
that bound the view below the canon are from a
hundred to nearly two hundred feet high and won-
derfully r^ular, like artificial embankments, covered
with a magnificent growth of silver fir and pine.
But this garden and forest luxuriance is speedily

TWO-DAY EXCUESIONS 206

left behind, and patches of bryanthus, cassiope and
arctic willows begin to appear. The small lakes which
a few miles down the Valley are so richly bordered
with floweiy meadows have at an elevation of 10,000
feet only small brown mats of carex, leaving bare
rocks aronnd more than half their shores. Yet, strange
to say, amid all this arctic repression the mountain
pine on ledges and buttresses of Bed Mountain seems
to find the climate best suited to it Some speci-
mens that I measured were over a hundred feet high
and twenty-four feet in circumference, showing
hardly a trace of severe storms, looking as fresh and
vigorous as the giants of the lower zones. Evening
came on just as I got fairly into the main oafion. It
is about a mile wide and a little less than two miles
long. The crumbling spurs of Bed Mountain bound
it on the north, the somber cliffs of Merced Mountain
on the south and a deeply-serrated, splintered ridge
curving around from mountain to mountain shuts
it in on the east My camp was on the brink of
one of the lakes in a thicket of mountain hemlock,
partly sheltered from the wind. Early next mom*
ing I set out to trace the ancient glacier to its head.
Passing around the north shore of my camp lake
I followed the main stream from one lakelet to an-
other. The dwarf pines and hemlocks disappeared
and the stream was bordered with icicles. The main
lateral moraines that extend from the mouth of the

206 THE YOSEMITE

cafion are continued in straggling masses along the
walls. Tracing the streams back to the highest of
its little lakes, I noticed a deposit of fine gray mud,
something like the mud worn from a grindstone.
This suggested its glacial origin, for the stream that
was carrying it issued from a raw-looking moraine
that seemed to be in process of formation. It is
from sixty to over a hundred feet high in front, with
a slope of about thirty-eight degrees. CSlimbing to
the top of it, I discovered a very small but well-
characterized glacier swooping down from the
shadowy cliffs of the mountain to its terminal mo-
raine. The ice appeared on all the lower porti<m
of the glacier ; farther up it was covered with snow.
The uppermost crevasse or '^ bergeschrund '' was
from twelve to fourteen feet wide. The melting
snow and ice formed a network of rills that ran grace-
fully down the surface of the glacier, merrily sing-
ing in their shining channels. After this discovery
I made excursions over all the High Sierra and dis-
covered that what at first sight looked like snow-
fields were in great part glaciers which were com-
pleting the sculpture of the summit peaks.

Bising early, — which will be easy, as your bed
will be rather cold and you will not be able to sleep
much anyhow, — after visiting the glacier, climb the
Bed Mountain and enjoy the magnificent views frcmi

A THREE-DAY EXCURSION 207

the summit I counted f ortj lakes from one stand-
point on this mountain, and the views to the west-
ward over the Ulilouette Basin, the most superbly
forested of all the basins whose waters drain into Yo-
semite, and those of the Yosemite rocks, especially
the Half Dome and the upper part of the north wall,
are very fine. But, of course, far the most imposing
view is the vast array of snowy |>eaks along the axis
of the Range. Then from the top of this peak, light
and free and exhilarated with mountain air and
mountain beauty, you should run lightly down the
northern slope of the mountain, descend the cafion be-
tween Red and Gray Mountains, thence northward
along the bases of Gray Mountain and Mount Clark
and go down into the head of Little Yosemite, and
thence down past the Nevada and Vernal Falls to
the Valley, a truly glorious two-day trip !

A THBEE-DAT EXOTJBSION'

The best three-day excursion, as far as I can see,
is the same as the first of the two-day trips until you
reach Lake Tenaya. There instead of returning to
the Valley, follow the Tioga road around the north-
west side of the lake, over to the Tuolumne Meadows
and up to the west base of Mount Dana. Leave the

SOS THE

road there and make straight for the hi^ieBt point
on the timber line between Moonts Dana and Gibbe
and camp there.

On the morning of the third day go to the top of
Moimt Dana in time for the gloiy of the dawn and
the snnriae o^er the gray Mono Deeert and the sub-
lime forest of High Sierra peaks. Wh^i yon lea^e
the mountain go far enough down the north side for
a view of the Dana Glacier^ then make your way
baok to the Tioga road, follow it along the Tuolumne
Meadows to the crossing of Budd Creek where you
will find the Sunrise trail branching off up the
mountain-side through the forest in a southwesterly
direction past the west side of Cathedral Peak, which
will lead you down to the Valley by the Vernal and
Nevada FaUs. If you are a good walker you can
leave the trail where it begins to desc^id a steep
slope in the silver fir woods, and bear off to the right
and make straight for the top of Clouds' Best The
walking is good and almost level and from the west
end of Clouds' Best take the Clouds' Best trail
whidi win lead direct to the Valley by the Nevada
and Vernal Falls. To any one not desperately time-
poor this trip should have four days instead of three ;
camping the second night at the Soda Springs;
thence to Mount Dana and return to the Soda
Springs, camping the third night there; thence by
the Sunrise trail to Cathedral Peak, visiting the

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCUBSION 20J>

beautifal Cathedral lake which liee about a mile to
the west of Cathedral Peak^ eating your luncheoxii
and thence to Clouds' Rest and the Valley as above.
This is one of the most interesting of all the comr
paratively short trips that can be made in the whole
Yosemite region. Not only do you see all the
grandest of the Yosemite rocks and waterfalls and
the High Sierra with their glacierS| glacier lakes
and glacier meadows^ etc, but sections of the mag-
nificent silver fir^ two-leaved pine^ and dwarf pine
zones; with the principal alpine flowers and shrubs,
especially sods of dwarf vaocinium covered with
flowers and fruit though less than an inch high,
broad mats of dwarf willow scarce an inch high
with catkins that rise straight from the ground, and
glorious beds of blue gentians, — grandeur enough
and beauty enough for a lifetime.

THE UPPER TUOLUMNE EXGUBSION

We come now to the grandest of all the Yosemite
excursions, one that requires at least two or three
weeks. The best time to make it is iram about the
middle of July. The visitor entering the Yosemite
in July has the advantage of seeing the falls not, per-
haps, in their very flood prime but next thing to it ;
while the glacier-meadows will be in their glory and

14

210 THE YOSEMITE

the snow on the mountains will be firm enongh to
make climbing safe. Long ago I made these Sierra
tripSy carrying only a sackful of bread with a little
tea and sugar and was thus independent and free, but
now that trails or carriage roads lead out of the Val-
ley in almost every direction it is easy to take a pack
animal, so that the luxury of a blanket and a supply
of food can easily be had.

The best way to leave the Valley will be by the
Yosemite Fall trail, camping the first night on the
Tioga road opposite the east end of the Hoffman
Range, l^ext morning dimb Mount Hoffman;
thence push on past Tenaya Lake into the Tuolumne
Meadows and establish a central camp near the Soda
Springs, from which glorious excursions can be made
at your leisure. For here in this upper Tuolumne
Valley is the widest, smoothest, most serenely spa-
cious, and in every way the most delightful summer
pleasure-park in all the High Sierra. And since it
is connected with Yosemite by two good trails, and a
fairly good carriage road that passes between Yo-
semite and Mount Hoffman, it is also the most ac-
cessible. It is in the heart of the High Sierra east
of Yosemite, 8500 to 9000 feet above the level of the
sea. The gray, picturesque Cathedral Range bounds
it on the south ; a similar range or spur, the highest
peak of which is Mount Conness, on the north ; the
noble Mounts Dana, Gibbs, Mammoth, Lyell, Mo-

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCURSION 211

dure and others on the axis of the Bange on the east ;
a heaving, billowy crowd of glacier-polished rocks and
Mount Hofi&nan on the west. Down through the
open sunny meadow-levels of the Valley flows the
Tuolumne Biver^ fresh and cool from its many gla-
cial fountains, the highest of which are the glaciers
that lie on the north sides of Mount Lyell and Mount
McClure.

Along the river a series of beautiful glaciei^
meadows extend with but little interruption, from
the lower end of the Valley to its head, a distance of
about twelve miles, forming charming sauntering-
grounds from which the glorious mountains may be
enjoyed as they look down in divine serenity over
the dark forests that clothe their bases. Narrow
strips of pine woods cross the meadow-carpet from
side to side, and it is somewhat roughened here and
there by moraine boulders and dead trees brought
down from the heights by snow avalanches; but for
miles and miles it is so smooth and level that a hun-
dred horsemen may ride abreast over it

The main lower portion of the meadows is about
four miles long and from a quarter to half a mile
wide ; but the width of the Valley is, on an average,
about eight miles. Tracing the river, we find that it
forks a mile above the Soda Springs, the main fork
turning southward to Mount Lyell, the other east-
ward to Mount Dana and Mount Gibbs. Along both

212 THE YOSEMITE

forks strips of meadow extend almost to their heads.
The most beautiful portions of the meadows are
spread over lake basins^ which have been filled up bj
deposits from the river. A few of these river-lakes
still exist; but they are now shallow and are rapidly
approaching extinction. The sod in most places is I

exceedingly fine and silky and free from weeds and
bushes; while charming flowers abound, especially
gentians, dwarf daisies, potentillas, and the pink bells
of dwarf vaccinium. On the banks of the river and
its tributaries cassiope and bryanthus may be found,
where the sod curls over stream banks and around
boulders. The principal grass of these meadows is
a delicate calamagrostis with very slender filiform
leaves, and when it is in flower the groimd seems to be
covered with a faint purple mist, the stems of the
panicles being so fine that they are almost invisible,
and offer no appreciable resistance in walking
through them. Along the edges of the meadows be-
neath the pines and throughout the greater part of
the Valley tall ribbon-leaved grasses grow in abun-
dance, chiefly bromus, triticum and agrostis.

In October the nights are frosty, and then the
meadows at sunrise, when every leaf is laden with
crystals, are a fine sight. The days are still warm
and calm, and bees and butterflies continue to waver
and hum about the late-blooming flowers until the
coming of the snow, usually in l^ovember. Storm

UPPEB TUOLUMNE EXCURSION 218

then follows storm in qoick suooession, burying the
meadows to a depth of from ten to twenty f eet^ while
magnificent avalanches descend through the forests
from the laden heights, depositing huge piles of snow
mixed with uprooted trees and boulders. In the open
sunshine the snow usually lasts xmtil the end of June
but the new season's vegetation is not generally in
bloom until late in July. Perhaps the best all
round excursion-time after winters of average snow-
fall is from the middle of July to the middle or end
of August The snow is then melted from the woods
and southern slopes of the mountains and the
meadows and gardens are in their glory, while the
weather is mostly all-reviving, exhilarating sunshine.
The few clouds that rise now and then and the
showers they yield are only enough to keep every-
thing fresh and fragrant

The groves about the Soda Springs are favorite
camping-grounds on account of the cold, pleasant-
tasting water charged with carbonic acid, and because
of the views of the mountains across the meadow —
the Glacier Monument, Cathedral Peak, Cathedral
Spires, Unicom Peak and a series of ornamental
nameless companions, rising in striking forms and
nearness above a dense forest growing on the left
lateral moraine of the ancient Tuolumne Glacier,
which, broad, deep, and far-reaching, exerted vast in-
fluence on the scenery of this portion of the Sierra.

214 THE YOSEMITE

But there are fine camping-grounds all along the
meadows, and one may move from grove to grove
every day all summer, enjoying new homes and new
beauty to satisfy every roving desire for change.

There are five main capital excursions to be made
from here — to the summits of M9unts Dana, Lyell
and Conness, and through the Bloody Canon Pass
Co Mono Lake and the volcanoes, and down the
Tuolumne Canon, at least as far as the foot of the
wonderful series of river cataracts. All of these ex-
cursions are sure to be made memorable with joyful
health-giving experiences ; but perhaps none of them
will be remembered with keener delight than the days
spent in sauntering on the broad velvet lawns by the
river, sharing the sky with the mountains and trees,
gaining something of their strength and peace.

The exciirsion to the top of Mount Dana is a very
easy one; for though the mountain is 13,000 feet
high, the ascent from the west side is so gentle and
smooth that one may ride a mule to the very summit.
Across many a busy stream, from meadow to meadow,
lies your flowery way ; mountains all about you, few
of them hidden by irr^ular foregrounds. Gradually
ascending, other mountains come in sight, peak rising
above peak with their snow and ice in endless variety
of grouping and sculpture. If ow your attention is
turned to the moraines, sweeping in beautiful curves
from the hollows and canons^ now to the granite waves

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCURSION 216

and pavements rising here and there above the heathy
sod, polished a thousand years ago and still shining.
Towards the base of the mountain you note the dwarf-
ing of the trees, until at a height of about 11,000
feet you find patches of the tough, white-barked pine,
pressed so flat by the ten or twenty feet of snow
piled upon them every winter for centuries that you
may walk over them as if walking on a shaggy rug.
And, if curious about such things, you may discover
specimens of this hardy tree-mountaineer not more
than four feet high and about as many inches in diam-
eter at the ground, that are from two hundred to
four hundred years old, still holding bravely to life,
-making the most of their slender summers, shaking
their tasseled needles in the breeze right cheerily,
drinking the thin sunshine and maturing their fine
purple cones as if they meant to live forever. The
general view from the summit is one of the most ex-
tensive and sublime to be found in all the Range.
To the eastward you gaze far out over the desert
plains and mountains of the '^ Great Basin," range
beyond range extending with soft outlines, blue and
purple in the distance. More than six thousand feet
below you lies Lake Mono, ten miles in diameter from
north to south, and fourteen from west to east, lying
bare in the treeless desert like a disk of burnished
metal, though at times it is swept by mountain storm-
winds and streaked with foam. To the southward

216 THE JOSEMITE

there is a well-defined range of pale-gray extinct vol-
canoes, and though the highest of them rises nearly
two thousand feet above the lake, you can look down
from here into their circular, cup^like craters, £rom
which a comparatively short time ago ashes and
cinders were showered over the surrounding sa^
plains and glacier-laden mountains.

To the westward the landscape is made up of ex-
ceedingly strong, gray, glaciated domes and rid^
waves, most of them comparatively low, but the
largest high enough to be called mountains ; separated
by canons and darkened with lines and fields of
forest, Cathedral Peak and Mount HofiFman in the
distance; small lakes and innumerable meadows in
the foreground. Northward and southward the
great snowy mountains, marshaled along the axis of
the Bange, are seen in all their glory, crowded to-
gether in some places like trees in groves, making
landscapes of wild, extravagant, bewildering magnifi-
cence, yet calm and silent as the sky.

Some eight glaciers are in sight One of these is
the Dana Glacier on the north side of the mountain,
lying at the foot of a precipice about a thousand feet
high, with a lovely pale-green lake a little below it
This is one of the many, small, shrunken remnants
of the vast glacial system of the Sierra that once
filled the hollows and valleys of the mountains and
covered all the lower ridges below the immediate sum-

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCUESION 217

mit-f ouBtains, flowing to right and left away from the
axis of the Range, lavishly fed hy the snows of the
glacial period.

In the excursion to Mount Lyell the immediate
base of the mountain is easily reached on meadow
walks along the river. Turning to the southward
above the forks of the river, you enter the narrow
Lyell branch of the Valley, narrow enough and deep
enough to be called a canon. It is about eight miles
long and from 2000 to 8000 feet deep. The flat
meadow bottom is from about three hundred to two
hundred yards wide, with gently curved maigins
about fifty yards wide from which rise the simple
massive walls of gray granite at an angle of about
thirty-three degrees, mostly timbered with a light
growth of pine and streaked in many places with
avalanche channels. Towards the upper end of the
cafion the Sierra crown comes in sight, forming a
finely balanced picture framed by the massive canon
walls. In the for^round, when the grass is in
flower, you have the purple meadow willow-thickets
on the river banks ; in the middle distance huge swell-
ing bosses of granite that form the base of the gen-
eral mass of the mountain, with fringing lines of
dark woods marking the lower curves, smoothly snow-
clad except in the autumn.

If you wish to spend two days on the Lyell trip
you will find a good camp-ground on the east side of

218 THE YOSEMITE

the river^ about a mile above a fine cascade that comes
down over the canon wall in telling style and makes
good camp music From here to the top of the
mountains is usually an easy day's work* At one
place near the summit careful climbing is neces-
sary^ but it is not so dangerous or di£Scult as to deter
any one of ordinary skill, while the views are glori-
ous. To the northward are Mammoth Mountain,
Mounts Gibbs, Dana, Warren, Conness and others,
imnumbered and unnamed; to the southeast the in-
describably wild and jagged range of Mount Bitter
and the Minarets; southwestward stretches the divid-
ing ridge between the north fork of the San Joaquin
and the Merced, uniting with the Obelisk or Merced
group of peaks that form the main fountains of the
Blilouette branch of the Merced; and to the north-
westward extends the Cathedral spur. These spurs
like distinct ranges meet at your feet ; therefore you
look them mostly in the direction of their extension,
and their peaks seem to be massed and crowded
against one another, while inmiense amphitheaters,
cafions and subordinate ridges with their wealth of
lakes, glaciers, and snow-fields, maze and cluster be-
tween them. In making the ascent in June or Oc-
tober the glacier is easily crossed, for then its snow
mantle is smooth or mostly melted off. But in mid-
summer the climbing is exceedingly tedious because
the snow is then weathered into curious and beautiful

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCURSION 21tf

blades, sharp and sl^ider^ and set on edge in a lean-
ing position. They lean towards the head of the
glacier and extend across from side to side in regular
order in a direction at ri^t angles to the direction
of greatest declivity, the distance between the crests
being abont two or three feet, and the depth of the
troughs between them about three feet. A more in-
teresting problem than a walk over a glacier thus
sculptured and adorned is seldom presented to the
mountaineer.

The Lyell Glacier is about a mile wide and less
than a mile long, but presents, nevertheless, all the
essential characters of large, river-like glaciers —
moraines, earth-bands, blue veins, crevasses, etc.,
while the streams that issue from it are, of course,
turbid with rock-mud, showing its grinding action
on its bed. And it is all the more interesting since
it is the highest and most enduring remnant of the
great Tuolumne Glacier, whose traces are still dis-
tinct fifty miles away, and whose influence on the
landscape was so profound. The McClure Glacier,
once a tributary of the Lyell, is smaller. Thirty-
eight years ago I set a series of stakes in it to deter-
mine its rate of motion. Towards the end of sum-
mer in the middle of the glacier it was only a little
over an inch in twenty-four hours.

The trip to Mono from the Soda Springs can be
made in a day, but many days may profitably be

220 THE YOSEMITE

spent near the shores of the lake^ otit on its islands
and about the volcanoes.

In making the trip down the Big Tuolumne Canon,
animals may be led as far as a small^ grassj, forested
lake-basin that lies below the crossing of the Virginia
Creek traiL And &om this point any one accustomed
to walking on earthquake boulders, carpeted widi
canon chaparral, can easily go down as far as the
big cascades and return to camp in one day. Many,
however, are not able to do this, and it is bett^ to
go leisurely, prepared to camp anywhere, and enjoy
the marvelous grandeur of the places

The cafion b^ins near the lower end of the
meadows and extends to the Hetch Hetchy Valley,
a distance of about eighteen miles, though it will
seem much longer to any one who scrambles through
it It is from twelve hundred to about five thousand
feet deep, and is comparatively narrow, but there are
several roomy, park-like openings in it, and throu^
out its whole extent Yosemite features are displayed
on a grand scale — domes, El Capitan rocks, gables.
Sentinels, Boyal Arches, Glacier Points, Cathedral
Spires, etc There is even a Half Dome among its
wealth of rock forms, though far less sublime than
the Yosemite Half Dome. Its falls and cascades are
innumerable. The sheer falls, except when the snow
is melting in early spring, are quite small in volume
as compared with those of Yosemite and Hetdi

3

i_

UPPER TUOLUMNE EXCURSION 221

Hetchy; though in any other country many of them
would be regarded as wonders. But it is the cascades
or sloping falls on the main river that are the crown-
ing glory of the canon, and these in volume, extent
and variety surpass those of any other canon in the
Sierra. The most showy and interesting of them are
mostly in the upper part of the canon, above the point
of entrance of Cathedral Creek and Hoffman Creek.
For miles the river is one wild, exulting, on-rushing
mass of snowy purple bloom, spreading over glacial
waves of granite without any definite channel, gliding
in magnificent silver plumes, dashing and foaming
through huge boulder-dams, leaping high into the air
in wheel-like whirls, displaying glorious enthusiasm,
tossing from side to side, doubling, glinting, singing
in exuberance of mountain energy.

Every one who is anything of a mountaineer
should go on through the entire length of the cafion,
coming out by Hetch Hetchy. There is not a dull
step all the way. With wide variations, it is a Yo-
semite Valley from end to end.

Besides these main, far-reaching, much-seeing ex-
cursions from the main central camp, there are num-
berless, lovely little saunters and scrambles and a
dozen or so not so very little. Among the best of
these are to Lambert and Fair View Domes ; to the
topmost spires of Cathedral Peak, and to those of the
North Churchy around the base of which you pass

222 THE YOSEMITE \]

on your way to Mount Conness ; to one of the veiy
lovelieet of the glacier meadows imbedded in the
pine woods about three miles north of the Soda
Springs, where forty-two years ago I spent six weeks.
It trends east and west, and you can find it easily by
going past the base of Lambert's Dome to Dog Lake
and thence up northward through the woods about a
mile or so; to the shining rock-waves full of ice-
burnished, feldspar crystals at the foot of the
meadows ; to Lake Tenaya ; and, last but not least, a
rather long and very hearty scramble down by the end
of the meadow along the Tioga road toward Lake
Tenaya to the crossing of Cathedral Creek, where you
turn off and trace the creek down to its confluence with
the Tuolumne* This is a genuine scramble much of
the way but one of the most wonderfully telling in its
glacial rock-forms and inscriptions.

If you stop and fish at every tempting lake and
stream you come to, a whole month, or even two
months, will not be too long for this grand High
Sierra excursion* My own Sierra trip was ten years
long.

OTHEB TRIPS FROM THE VALLEY

Short carriage trips are usually made in the
early morning to Mirror Lake to see its wonderful
reflections of the Half Dome and Mount Watkins;

I

OTHER TRIPS 228

and in the afternoon many ride down the Valley
to see the Bridal Veil rainbows or np the river
canon to see those of the Vernal Fall ; where, stand-
ing in the spray, not minding getting drenched, you
may see what are called round rainbows, when the
two ends of the ordinary bow are lengthened and
meet at your feet, forming a complete circle which
is broken and united again and again as determined
by the varying wafts of spray. A few ambitious
scramblers climb to the top of the Sentinel Rock,
others walk or ride down the Valley and up to the
once-famous Inspiration Point for a last grand view ;
while a good many appreciative tourists, who have
only a day or two, do no climbing or riding but spend
their time sauntering on the meadows by the river,
watching the falls, and the play of light and shade
among the rocks from morning to night, perhaps
gaining more than those who make haste up the trails
in large noisy parties. Those who have unlimited
time find something worth while all the year round
on every accessible part of the vast, deeply sculp-
tured walls. At least so I have found it after making
the Valley my home for years.

Here are a few specimens selected from my own
short trips which walkers may find useful

One, up the river canon, across the bridge between
the Vernal and Nevada Falls, through chaparral beds
and boulders to the shoulder of Half Dome, along the

224 THE YOSEMITE

top of the shoulder to the dome itself, do^Tn by a
crumbling slot gully and dose along the base of the
tremendous split front (the most awfully impressive,
sheer, precipice view I ever found in all mj canon
wanderings), thence up the east shoulder and along
the ridge to Clouds' Best — a glorious sunset —
then a grand starry run back home to my cabin ; down
through the junipers, down through the firs, now in
black shadows, now in white light, past roaring
Nevada and Vernal, glowering ghost-like beneath
their huge frowning cliffs; down the dark, gloomy
canon, through the pines of the Valley, dreamily
murmuring in their calm, breezy sleep — a fine
wild little excursion for good legs and good eyes —
so much Sim-, moon- and star-shine in it, and sub-
lime, up-and-down rhythmical, glacial topography.

Another, to the head of Yosemite EaU by Indian
Canon ; thence up the Yosemite Creek, tracing it all
the way to its highest sources back of Mount Hoff-
man, then a wide sweep around the head of its dome-
paved basin, passing its many little lakes and bogs,
gardens and groves, trilling, warbling rills, and back
by the Fall Canon. This was one of my Sabbath
walk, run-and-slide excursions long ago before any
trail had been made on the north side of the Valley.

Another fine trip was up, bright and early, hy
Avalanche Canon to Glacier Point, along the rugged
south wall, tracing all its far outs and ins to the

Al

OTHER TRIPS 226

head of the Bridal Veil Fall, thenoe back home,
bright and late, by a brushy, bouldery slope between
Cathedral rocks and Cathedral spires and along the
level Valley floor. This was one of my long, bright-
day and bright-night walks thirty or forty years ago
wh^i, like river and ocean currents, time flowed un-
divided, uncounted — a fine free, sauntery, scrambly,
botanical, beauty-filled ramble. The walk up the
Valley was made glorious by the marvelous bright-
ness of the morning star. So great was her light,
she made every tree cast a well-defined shadow on
the smooth sandy ground.

Everybody who visits Yosemite wants to see the
famous Big Trees. Before the railroad was con-
structed, all three of the stage-roads that entered the
Valley passed through a grove of these trees by the
way; namely, the Tuolumne, Merced and Mariposa
groves. The Tuolimme grove was passed on the
Big Oak Flat road, the Merced grove by the Coulter-
ville road and the Mariposa grove by the Raymond
and Wawona road. Now, to see any one of these
groves, a special trip has to be made. Most visitors
go to the Mariposa grove, the largest of the three.
On this Sequoia trip you see not only the giant Big
Trees but magnificent forests of silver fir, sugar pine,
yellow pine, libocedrus and Douglas spruce. The
trip need not require more than two days, spending a
night in a good hotel at Wawona, a beautiful place

IS

226 THE YOSEMITE

on the south fork of the Merced Siver, and returning
to the Valley or to El Portal, the terminus of the rail-
road. This extra trip by stage costs fifteen dollars.
All the High Sierra excursions that I have sketched
cost from a dollar a week to anything you like. None
of mine when I was exploring the Sierra cost over a
dollar a week, most of them less.

EARLY BlffTOBY OF THE VALLEY

In the wild gold years of 1849 and 'SO, the Indian
tribes along the western Sierra foothills became
alarmed at the sudden invasion of their acorn orchard
and game fields by miners, and soon began to make
war upon them, in their usual murdering, plundering
style. This continued until the United States In-
dian Commissioners succeeded in gathering them
into reservations, some peacefully, others by burning
their villages and stores of food. The Yosemite or
Grizzly Bear tribe, fancying themselves secure in
their deep mountain stronghold, were the most
troublesome and defiant of all, and it was while the
Mariposa battalion, under command of Major Sav-
age, was trying to capture this warlike tribe and
conduct them to the Fresno reservation that their deep
mountain home, the Yosemite Valley, was discovered.
From a camp on the south fork of the Merced, Major

EAELY HISTORY 227

Savage sent Indian runners to the bands who were
supposed to be hiding in the mountains, instructing
them to tell the Indians that if they would come in
and make treaty with the Commissioners they would
be furnished with food and clothing and be pro-
tected, but if they did not come in he would make war
upon them and kill them alL None of the Yosemite
Indians responded to this general message, but when
a special messenger was sent to the chief he appeared
the next day. He came entirely alone and stood in
dignified silence before one of the guards until in-
vited to enter the camp. He was recognized by one
of the friendly Indians as Tenaya, the old chief of
the Grizzlies, and, after he had been supplied with
food. Major Savage, with the aid of Indian interpre-
ters, informed him of the wishes of the Commission-
ers. But the old chief was very suspicious of Savage
and feared that he was taking this method of getting
the tribe into his power for the purpose of revenging
his personal wrong. Savage told him if he would go
to the Commissioners and make peace with them as
the other tribes had done there would be no more war.
Tenaya inquired what was the object of taking all
the Indians to the San Joaquin plain. ^^My peo-
ple," said he, ^^ do not want anything from the Great
Father you tell me about The Great Spirit is our
father and he has always supplied us with all we
needt We do not want anything from white men.

228 THE YOSEMITE

Our women are able to do our work. Go, then.
Let us remain in the mountains where we were bom,
where the ashes of our fathers have been given to the
wind« I have said enough."

To this the Major answered abruptly in Indian
style : ** If you and your people have all you desire,
why do you steal our horses and mules? Why do
you rob the miners' camps? Why do you murder
the white men and plunder and bum their houses t "

Tenaya was silent for some time. He evidently
understood what the Major had said, for he relied,
^^My young men have sometimes taken horses and
mules from the whites. This was wrong. It is
not wrong to take the property of enemies who have
wronged my people. My young men believed that
the gold diggers were our enemies. We now know
they are not and we shall be glad to live in peace
with them. We will stay here and be friends. My
people do not want to go to the plains. Some of the
tribes who have gone there are very bad. We cannot
live with them. Here we can defend ourselves."

To this Major Savage firmly said, ** Tour people
must go to the Commissioners. If they do not your
young men will again steal horses and kill and
plunder the whites. It was your people who robbed
my stores, burned my houses and murdered my men.
If they do not make a treaty, your whole tribe will be
destroyed. Not one of them will be left alive.'*

EARLY HISTORY 229

To this the old chief replied, ^^It is nsdess to
talk to you about who destroyed your property and
killed your people. I am old and you can kill me if
you will, but it is useless to lie to you who know
more than all the Indians. Therefore I will not lie
to you but if you will let me return to my people I
will bring them in.'' He was allowed to go. The
next day he came back and said his people were
on the way to our camp to go with the men sent by
the Qreat Father, who was so good and rich.

Another day passed but no Indians from the deep
Valley appeared. The old chief said that the snow
was so deep and his village was so far down that it
took a long time to climb out of it. After waiting
still another day the expedition started for the Val-
ley. When Tenaya was questioned as to the route
and distance he said that the snow was so deep that
the horses could not go through it Old Tenaya was
taken along as guide. When the party had gone
about half-way to the Valley they met the Yosemites
on their way to the camp on the south fork. There
were only seventy-two of them and when the old chief
was asked what had become of the rest of his band,
he replied, ^^ This is all of my people that are vdll-
ing to go with me to the plains. All the rest have
gone with their wives and children over the moun-
tains to the Mono and Tuolumne tribes.'' Savage
told Tenaya that he was not telling the truth, for In-

280 THE YOSEMITE

dians could not cross the mountains in the deep snow,
and that he knew they must still be at his village
or hiding somewhere near it. The tribe had been
estimated to number over two hundred. Major
Savage then said to him, ^^ You maj return to camp
with your people and I will take one of your young
men with me to your village to see your people who
will not come. They will come if I find them."
" You will not find any of my people there/* said
Tenaya ; " I do not know where they are. My tribe
is smalL Many of the people of my tribe have come
from other tribes and if they go to the plains and
are seen they will be killed by the friends of those
with whom they have quarreled. I was told that I
was growing old and it was well that I should go,
but that young and strong men can find plenty in the
moxmtains : theref ore, why should they go to the hot
plains to be penned up like horses and cattle? My
heart has been sore since that talk but I am now will-
ing to go, for it is best for my people.'*

Pushing ahead, taking turns in breaking a way
through the snow, they arrived in sight of the great
Valley early in the afternoon and, guided by one of
Tenaya's Indians, descended by the same route as
that followed by the Mariposa trail, and the weary
party went into camp on the river bank opposite El
Capitan. After supper, seated around a big fire, the
wonderful Valley became the topic of conversation

EAELY HISTORY 281

and Dr. Bunell suggested giving it a name. Many
were proposed, but after a vote had been taken the
name Yosemite, proposed by Dr. Bunell, was adopted
almost unanimously to perpetuate the name of the
tribe who so long had made their home there. The
Indian name of the Valley, however, is Ahwahnee.
The Indians had names for all the different rooks
and streams of the Valley, but very few of them are
now in use by the whites, Pohono, the Bridal Veil,
being the principal one. The expedition remained
only one day and two nights in the Valley, hurrying
out on the approach of a storm and reached the south-
fork headquarters on the evening of the third day
after starting out Thus, in three days the round
trip had been made to the Valley, most of it had been
explored in a general way and some of its principal
features had been named. But the Indians had fled
up the Tenaya Canon trail and none of them were
seen, except an old woman unable to follow the
fugitives.

A second expedition was made in the same year
under command of Major Boling. When the Val-
ley was entered no Indians were seen, but the many
wigwams with smoldering fires showed that they
had been hurriedly abandoned that very day. Later,
five young Indians who had been left to watch the
movements of the expedition were captured at the
foot of the Three Brothers after a livdy chase.

282 THE TOSEMITE

Three of the five were sons of the old chief and the
rock was named for them. AH of these captives
made good their escape within a few days, except
the youngest son of Tenaya, who was shot by his
guard while trying to escape. That same day the old
chief was captured on the cliff on the east side of
Indian Cafion by some of Boling^s scouts. As
Tenaya walked toward the camp his eye fell upon
the dead body of his favorite son. Captain Boling
through an interpreter, expressed his regret at the
occurrence, but not a word did Tenaya utter in reply.
Later, he made an attempt to escape but was caught
as he was about to swim across the river. Tenaya
expected to be shot for this attempt and when brought
into the presence of Captain Boling he said in great
emotion, ^^ Kill me. Sir Captain, yes, kill me as you
killed my son, as you would kill my people if they
were to come to you. You would kill all my tribe
if you had the power. Yes, Sir America, you can
now tell your warriors to kill the old chief. You
have made my life dark with sorrow. You killed
the child of my heart Why not kill the father?
But wait a little and when I am dead I will call
my people to come and they shall hear me in their
sleep and come to avenge the death of their chief
and his son. Yes, Sir America, my spirit will make
trouble for you and your people, as you have made
trouble to me and my people. With the wizards I

EAKLY HISTORY 288

will follow the white people and make them fear me.
You may kill me. Sir Captain, but you shall not live
in peace. I will follow in your footsteps. I will
not leave my home, but be with the spirits among
the rooks, the waterfalls, in the rivers and in the
winds; wherever you go I will be with you. You
will not see me but you will fear the spirit of the old
chief and grow cold. The Great Spirit has spoken.
I am done.''

This expedition finally captured the remnants of
the tribes at the head of Lake Tenaya and took them
to the Fresno reservation, together with their chief,
Tenaya. But after a short stay they were allowed
to return to the Valley under restrictions. Tenaya
promised faithfully to conform to everything re-
quired, joyfully left the hot and dry reservation, and
vTith his family returned to his Yosemite home.

The following year a party of miners was at-
tacked by the Indians in the Valley and two of them
were killed. This led to another Yosemite expedi-
tion. A detachment of regular soldiers from Fort
Miller under Lieutenant Moore, IT. S. A., was at once
dispatched to capture or punish the murderers. lieu-
tenant Moore entered the Valley in the night and
surprised and captured a party of five Indians, but
an alarm was given and Tenaya and his people fled
from their huts and escaped to the Monos on the east
side of the Bange. On examination of the five pris-

284 THE TOSEMITE

oners in the morning it was discovered that each of
them had some article of clothing that belonged to the
murdered men. The bodies of the two miners were
found and buried on the edge of the Bridal Veil
meadow. When the captives were accused of the
murder of the two white men thej admitted that they
had killed them to prevent white men from coming
to their Yalley, declaring that it was their home and
that white men had no right to come there without
their consent lieutenant Moore told them through
his interpreter that they had sold their lands to the
(jk)vemment| that it belonged to the white men now^
and that they had agreed to live on the reservation
provided for them. To this they replied that Tenaya
had never consented to the sale of their Valley and
had never received pay for it The other chief, they
said, had no right to sell their territory. The lieu-
tenant being fully satisfied that he had captured the
real murderers, promptly pronounced judgment and
had them placed in line and shot Lieutenant Moore
pursued the fugitives to Mono but was not successful
in finding any of them. After being hospitably en-
tertained and protected by the Mono and Paute tribes,
they stole a number of stolen horses from their enter-
tainers and made their way by a long, obscure route
by the head of the north fork of the San Joaquin,
reached their Yosemite home once more, but early
one morning, after a feast of horse-flesh, a band of

EARLY HISTORY 285

Monos surprised them in their huts, TrilliTig Tenaya
and nearly all his tribe. Only a small remnant es-
caped down the river canon. The Tenaya Canon
and Lake were named for the famous old chief.

Very few visits were made to the Valley before
the summer of 1855, when Mr. J. M. Hutchings^
having heard of its wonderful scenery, collected a
party and made the first regular tourist's visit to the
Yosemite and in his California magazine described
it in articles illustrated by a good artist, who was
taken into the Valley by him for that purpose. This
first party was followed by another from Mariposa
the same year, consisting of sixteen or eighteen per-
sons. The next year the regular pleasure travel
began and a trail on the Mariposa side of the Valley
was opened by Mann Brothers. This trail was
afterwards purchased by the citizens of the county
and made free to the public. The first house built in
the Yosemite Valley was erected in the autumn of
1856 and was kept as a hotel the next year by G.
A. Hite and later by J. H. Neal and S. M. Cun-
ningham. It was situated directly opposite the Yo-
semite FalL A little over half a mile farther up the
Valley a canvas house was put up in 1858 by G. A.
Hite. Next year a frame house was built and kept
as a hotel by Mr. Peck, afterward by Mr. Longhurst
and since 1864 by Mr. Hutchings. All these hotels
have vanished except the frame house built in

S86 THE YOSEMITE

1859^ which has been changed beyond reoognitioiL
A large hotel built on the brink of the river in front
of the old one is now the only hotel in the Valley.
A large hotel built by the State and located farther
up the Valley was burned. To provide for the ovei^
flow of visitors there are three camps with board
floors^ wood frame, and covered with canvas, well
furnished, some of them with electric light A large
first-class hotel is very much needed.

Travel of late years has been rapidly inereasingy
especially after the establishment, by Act of Con-
gress in 1890, of the Yosemite National Park and
the recession in 1905 of the original reservation to
the Federal Qovemment by the State. The greatest
increase, of course, was caused by the construction of
the Yosemite Valley railroad from Merced to the bor-
der of the Park, eight miles below the Valley*

It is eighty miles long, and the entire distance
except the first twenty-four miles from the town of
Merced, is built through the precipitous Meroed
River Oafion. The roadbed was virtually blasted out
of the solid rock for the entire distance in the cafion.
Work was begun in September, 1905, and the first
train entered El Portal, the terminus, April 15,
1907. Many miles of the road cost as much as $100,-
000 per mile. Its business has increased from 4000
tourists in the first year it was operated to 15,000
in 1910.

I

xm

LAMON

THE good old pioneer, Lamon, was the first of all
the early Yosanite settlers who cordially and
nnresenredly adopted the Valley as his homa

He was bom in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia,
May 10, 1817, emigrated to Illinois with his father,
John Lamon, at the age of nineteen ; afterwards went
to Texas and settled on the Brazos, where he raised
melons and hunted alligators for a living. ** Bight
interesting bnsiness^'' he said; ^^ especially the al-
ligator part of it'' From the Brazos he went to
the Comanche Indian conntry between Gonzales and
Austin, twenty miles from his nearest neighbor.
During the first summer, the only bread he had was
the breast meat of wild turkeys. When the formi-
dable Comanche Indians were on the war-path he left
his cabin after dark and slept in the woods. From
Texas he crossed the plains to California and worked
in the Calaveras and Mariposa gold-fields.

He first heard Yosemite spoken of as a very beau-
tiful mountain valley and after making two excur-
sions in the summers of 1857 and 1858 to see the

287

288 THE YOSEMITE

wonderful place, he made up his mind to quit roving
and make a permanent home in it. In April, 1859,
he moved into it, located a garden opposite the
Half Dome, set out a lot of apple, pear and peach
trees, planted potatoes, etc, that he had packed in on
a "contrary old mule,** and worked for his board
in building a hotel which was afterwards pnrcbased
by Mr. Hutchings. His neighbors thought he was
very foolish in attempting to raise crops in so high
and cold a valley, and warned him that he could
raise nothing and sell nothing, and would surely
starve.

For the first year or two lack of provisions com-
pelled him to move out on the approach of winter,
but in 1862 after he had succeeded in raising scmie
fruit and vegetables he began to winter in the Valley.

The first winter he had no companions, not even a
dog or cat) and one evening was greatly surprised to
see two men coming up the Valley. They were very
glad to see him, for they had come from Mariposa in
search of him, a report having been spread that he
had been killed by Indians. He assured his visitors
that he felt safer in his Yosemite home, lying snug
and squirrel-like in his 10 x 12 cabin than in Mari-
posa. When the avalanches b^an to slip, he won-
dered where all the wild roaring and booming came
from, the flying snow preventing them from being
seen. But^ upon the whole, he wondered most at

I

I

LAMON 239

the brightnessy gentleness, and sunniness of the
weather, and hopefully employed the calm days in
clearing ground for an orchard and vegetable garden.

In the second winter he built a winter cabin under
the Boyal Arches, where he enjoyed more sunshine.
But no matter how he praised the weather he could
not induce any one to winter with him until 1864.

He liked to describe the great flood of 1867, the
year before I reached California, when all the walls
were striped with thundering waterfalls.

Ho was a fine, erect, whole-souled man, between
six and seven feet high, with a broad, open face,
bland and guileless as his pet oxen. No stranger to
hunger and weariness, he knew well how to appre-
ciate suffering of a like kind in others, and many
there be, myself among the number, who can testify
to his simple, unostentatious kindness that found ex-
pression in a thousand small deeds.

After gaining sufficient means to enjoy a long
afternoon of life in comparative affluence and ease,
he died in the autumn of 1876. He sleeps in a
beautiful spot near Galen Clark and a monument
hewn from a block of Yosemite granite marks his
grava

QALEN GLABK

GALEN CIAB£ was the best momitaixieer I ever
met, and one of the kindest and most amiaUe
of all mj mountain friends. I first met him at his
Wawona ranch forty-three years ago on my first
visit to Yosemite. I had entered the Valley with
one companion by way of Conlterville, and returned
by what was then known as the Mariposa traiL Both
trails were buried in deep snow where the eleration
was from 5000 to 7000 feet above sea-level in the
sugar pine and silver fir regions. We had no great
difficulty, however, in finding our way by the trends
of the main features of the topography. Botanizing
by the way, we made slow, plodding progress, and
were again about out of provisions when we reached
Clark's hospitable cabin at Wawona. He kindly
fumished us with fiour and a little sugar and tea,
and my companion, who complained of the benumb-
ing poverty of a strictly vegetarian diet, gladly
accepted Mr. Clark's offer of a piece of a bear that
had just been killed. After a short talk about bears
and the forests and the way to the Big Trees, we

240

GALEN CLAEK 241

pushed on up through the Wawona firs and sugar
pinesy and camped in the now-famous Mariposa
grove.

Later, after mating my home in the Yosemite Val-
ley, I became well acquainted with Mr. Clark, while
he was guardian. He was elected again and again
to this important office by different Boards of C!om-
missioners on account of his efficiency and his real
love of the Valley.

Although nearly all my mountaineering has been
done without companions, I had the pleasure of
having Galen Clark with me on three excursions.
About thirty-five years ago I invited him to ac-
company me on a trip through the Big Tuolumne
Gafion from Hetch Hetchy Valley. The cafion up to
that time had not been explored, and knowing that
the difference in the elevation of the river at the
head of the canon and in Hetch Hetchy was about
6000 feet, we expected to find some magnificent
cataracts or falls ; nor were we disappointed. When
we were leaving Yosemite an ambitious young man
begged leave to join us. I strongly advised him not
to attempt such a long, hard trip, for it would un-
doubtedly prove very trying to an inexperienced
climber. He assured us, however, that he was equal
to anything, would gladly meet every difficulty as it
came, and cause us no hindrance or trouble of any
sort So at last, after repeating our advice that he

16

242 THE YOSEMITE

give up the trip, we consented to his joining ns.
We entered the canon by way of Hetch Hetchy Val-
ley, each carrying his own provisions, and making his
own tea, porridge, bed, etc.

In the morning of the second day out from Hetch
Hetchy we came to what is now known as ^^ Mnir
Gorge,'' and Mr. Clark without hesitation prepared
to force a way throng it, wading and jumping tram
one submerged boulder to another throu^ the tor-
rent, bracing and steadying himself with a long pole.
Though the river was then rather low, the savage,
roaring, surging song it was singing was rather nerve-
trying, especially to our inexperienced companion.
With careful assistance, however, I managed to get
him through, but this hard trial, naturally enou^
proved too much and he informed us, pale and
trembling, that he could go no farther. I gathered
some wood at the upper throat of the gorge, made
a fire for him and advised him to feel at home and
make himself comfortable, hoped he would enjoy the
grand scenery and the songs of the water-ouzels
which haunted the gorge, and assured him that we
would return some time in the nighty though it might
be late, as we wished to go on through the entire
cafion if possible. We pushed our way through the
dense chaparral and over the earthquake taluses with
such speed that we reached the foot of the upper
cataract while we had still an hour or so of daylight

GALEN CLABK 248

for the return trip. It was long after dark when we
reached our adventurous, but nerve-shaken compan-
ion who, of course, was anxious and lonely, not be-
ing accustomed to soUtude, however kindly and
flowery and full of sweet bird-song and stream-song.
Being tired we simply lay down in restful comfort
on the river bank beside a good fire, instead of try-
ing to go down the gorge in the dark or dimb over its
high shoulder to our blankets and provisions, which
we had left in the morning in a tree at the foot of
the gorge. I remember Mr. Clark remarking that if
he had his choice that night between provisions and
blankets he would choose his blankets.

The next morning in about an hour we had crossed
over the ridge through which the gorge is cut, reached
our provisions, made tea, and had a good breakfast.
As soon as we had returned to Yosemite I obtained
fresh provisions, pushed off alone up to the head of
Yosemite Creek basin, entered the canon by a side
canon, and completed the exploration up to the
Tuolumne Meadows.

It was on this first trip from Hetch Hetchy to
the upper cataracts that I had convincing proofs
of Mr. Clark's daring and skill as a mountaineer,
particularly in fording torrents, and in forcing his
way through thick chaparraL I found it somewhat
difScult to keep up with him in dense, tangled brush,
though in jumping on boulder taluses and slippery

344 THE TOSEMITE

cobbl^bedfl I had no difficully in leaving him behind.

After I had discovered the glaciers on Mount Lj-
eU and Mount McClure^ Mr. Clark kindly made a
second excursion with me to assist in establishing a
line of stakes across the McClure glacier to measure
its rate of flow. On this trip we also climbed Moimt
Ljell together^ when the snow which covered the
glacier was melted into upleaning^ icy blades which
were extremely difiScult to cross, not being strong
enough to support our weight, nor wide enough apart
to enable us to stride across each blade as it was met
Here again I, being lighter, had no difficulty in keep-
ing ahead of him. While resting after wearisome
staggering and falling he stared at the marvelous
ranks of leaning blades, and said, ^^ I think I have
traveled all sorts of trails and canons, through all
kinds of brush and snow, but this gets me.''

Mr. Clark at my urgent request joined my small
party on a trip to the Eongs Biver yosemite by way
of the high mountains, most of the way without a
traiL He joined us at the Mariposa Big Tree grove
and intended to go all the way, but finding that, on
account of the difficulties encountered, the time re-
quired was much greater than he expected, he turned
back near the head of the north fork of the Eongs
River.

In cooking his mess of oatmeal porridge and mak-
ing tea, his pot was always the first to boil, and I

^^m

n

GALEN CLAEK 245

used to wonder why, with aU his sldU in scrambling
through brush in the easiest way, and preparing his
meals, he was so utterly careless about his beds. He
would lie down anywhere on any ground, rough or
smooth, without taking pains even to remove cob-
bles or sharp-angled rocks protruding through the
grass or gravel, saying that his own bones were as
hard as any stones and could do him no harm.

His kindness to all Yosemite visitors and moun-
taineers was marvelously constant and uniform. He
was not a good business man, and in building an ex-
tensive hotd and bams at Wawona, before the travel
to Yosemite had been greatly developed, he bor-
rowed money, mortgaged his property and lost it
alL

Though not the first to see the Mariposa Big Tree
grove, he was the first to explore it, after he had
heard from a prospector, who had passed through the
grove and who gave him the indefinite information,
that there were some wonderful big trees up there
on the top of the Wawona hill and that he believed
they must be of the same kind that had become so
famous and well-known in the Calaveras grove far-
ther north. On this information, Qalen Clark told
me, he went up and thoroughly explored the grove,
counting the trees and measuring the largest, and
becoming familiar with it. He stated also that he
had explored the forest to the southward and had dis-

246 THE YOSEMITE

covered the much larger Fresno grove of about two
square miles, six or seven miles distant from the
Mariposa grove. IJnf ortmiatelj most of the Fresno
grove has been cut and flumed down to the railroad
near Madenu

Mr. Clark was truly and literally a gentle-man.
I never heard him utter a hasty, angry, fault-finding
word. His voice was uniformly pitched at a rather
low UmBy perfectly even, although glances of his eyes
and slight intonations of his voice often indicated
that something funny or mildly sarcastic was coming,
but upon the whole he was serious and industrious,
and, however deep and fan-provoking a story mi^t
be, he never indulged in boisterous laughter.

He was very fond of scenery and once told me after
I became acquainted with him that he liked ^^ noth-
ing in the world better than climbing to the top of a
high ridge or mountain and looking off." He pre-
ferred the mountain ridges and domes in the Yo-
semite regions on account of the wealth and beauty
of the forests. Oftentimes he would take his rifle,
a few pounds of bacon, a few pounds of flour, and
a single blanket and go off hunting, for no other rea-
son than to explore and get acquainted with the
most beautiful points of view ]vithin a journey of a
week or two from his Wawona home. On these trips
he was always alone and could indulge in tranquil
enjoyment of Nature to his heart's content. He said

GALEN CLARK 247

that on those trips, when he was a sufficient distance
from home in a neighborhood where he wished to
linger, he always shot a deer, sometimes a grouse, and
occasionally a bear. After diminishing the weight of
a deer or bear by eating part of it, he carried as much
as possible of the best of the meat to Wawona, and
from his hospitable well-supplied cabin no weary
wanderer ever went away hungry or xmrested.

The value of the mountain air in prolonging life
is well exemplified in Mr. Clark's case. While work-
ing in the mines he contracted a severe cold that set-
tled on his lungs and finally caused severe inflamma-
tion and bleeding, and none of his friends thought
he would ever recover. The physicians told him he
had but a short time to live. It was then that he re-
paired to the beautiful sugar pine woods at Wawona
and took up a daim, including the fine meadows
there, and building his cabin, b^an his life of wan-
dering and exploring in the glorious mountains about
him, usually going bareheaded. In a remarkably
short time his lungs were healed.

He was one of the most sincere tree-lovers I ever
knew. About twenty years before his death he made
choice of a plot in the Yosemite cemetery on the north
side of the Valley, not far from the Yosemite Fall,
and selecting a dozen or so of seedling sequoias
in the Mariposa grove he brought them to the Valley
and planted them around the spot he had chosen for

348 THE YOSEMITE

his last reet. The ground there is gravelly and dry;
by careful watering he finally nursed most of the seed-
lings into goody thrifty trees, and doubtless thej will
long shade the grave of their blessed lover and
friend.

HETCH HETOHY VALLEY

YOSEMITE is so wonderful that we are apt to
regard it as an exceptional creation, the only
valley of its kind in the world; but Nature is not so
poor as to have only one of anything. Several other
yosemites have been discovered in the Sierra that
occupy the same relative positions on the Bange and
were formed by the same forces in the same kind
of granite. One of these, the Hetch Hetchy Valley,
is in the Yosemite National Park about twenty miles
from Yosemite and is easily accessible to all sorts of
travelers by a road and trail that leaves the Big Oak
Flat road at Bronson Meadows a few miles below
Crane Flat, and to moimtaineers by way of Yosemite
Creek basin and the head of the middle fork of the
Tuolumne.

It is said to have been discovered by Joseph
Screech, a hunter, in 1850, a year before the dis-
covery of the great Yosemite. After my first visit
to it in the autumn of 1871, I have always called it
the " Tuolumne Yosemite,^' for it is a wonderfully
exact counterpart of the Merced Yosemite, not only

249

360 THE YOSEMTTE

in its sublime rocks and waterfalls but in the gardens,
groves and meadows of its flowery park-like floor.
The floor of Yosemite is about 4000 feet above the
sea; the Hetch Hetchj floor about 3700 feet And
as the Merced Biver flows through Yosemite, so does
the Tuolumne through Hetch Hetchj. The walls of
both are of graj granite, rise abruptly from the
floor, are sculptured in the same style and in both
every rock is a glacier monument

Standing boldly out from the south wall is a
strikingly picturesque rock called by the Indians^
Kolana, the outermost of a group 2800 feet high, cor-
responding with the Cathedral Bocks of Yosemite
both in relative position and form. On the opposite
side of the Valley, facing Eolana, there is a counter-
part of the El Capitan that rises sheer and plain to a
height of 1800 feet, and over its massive brow flows
a stream which makes the most graceful fall I have
ever seen. From the edge of the cliff to the top of
an earthquake talus it is perfectly free in the air
for a thousand feet before it is broken into cascades
among talus boulders. It is in all its gloiy in June,
when the snow is melting fast, but fades and vanishes
toward the end of summer. The only fall I know
with which it may fairly be compared is the Yosemite
Bridal Veil ; but it excels even that favorite fall both
in height and airy-fairy beauty and behavior. Low-
landers are apt to suppose that mountain streams in

HETCH HETCHY VALLEY 261

their wild career over cliffs lose control of themselves
and tumble in a noisy chaos of mist and spray. On
the contrary, on no part of their travels are they
more harmonious and self -controlled* Imagine your-
self in Hetch Hetchy on a sunny day in June^ stand-
ing waist-deep in grass and flowers (as I have often
stood), while the great pines sway dreamily with
scarcely perceptible motion. Looking northward
across the Valley you see a plain, gray granite cliff
rising abruptly out of the gardens and groves to a
height of 1800 feet, and in front of it Tueeulala's
silvery scarf burning with irised sun-fire. In the
first white outburst at the head there is abundance of
visible energy, but it is speedily hushed and concealed
in divine repose, and its tranquil progress to the base
of the diff is like that of a downy feather in a still
room. Kow observe the fineness and marvelous dis-
tinctness of the various sun-illumined fabrics into
which the water is woven; they sift and fioat from
form to form down the face of that grand gray rock
in so leisurely and unoonfused a manner that you can
examine their texture, and patterns and tones of color
as you would a piece of embroidery held in the hand.
Toward the top of the fall you see groups of boom-
ing, comet-like masses, their solid, white heads sepa-
rate, their tails like combed silk interlacing among
delicate gray and purple shadows, ever forming and
dissolving, worn out by friction in their rush through

262 THE YOSEMITE

the air. Most of these vanish a few hundred feet
below the summit, changing to varied forms of cloud-
like drapery. Near the bottom the width of the fall
has increased from about twenty-five feet to a hun-
dred feet Here it is composed of yet finer tissues,
and is still without a trace of disorder — air, water
and simlight woven into stuff that spirits might wear.

So fine a fall might well seem sufficient to glorify
any valley; but here, as in Yosemite, Nature seems in
nowise moderate, for a short distance to the eastward
of Tueeulala booms and thunders the great Hetdi
Hetchy Fall, Wapama, so near that you have both of
them in full view from the same standpoint. It is
the coimterpart of the Yosemite Fall, but has a much
greater volume of water, is about 1700 feet in height,
and appears to be nearly vertical, though considerably
inclined, and is dashed into huge outbounding bosses
of foam on projecting shelves and knobs. No two
falls could be more imlike — Tueeulala out in the open
sunshine descending like thistledown; Wapama in a
jagged, shadowy gorge roaring and thundering,
pounding its way like an earthquake avalanche.

Besides this glorious pair there is a broad, massive
fall on the main river a short distance above the head
of the Valley. Its position is something like that of
the Vernal in Yosemite, and its roar as it plunges
into a surging trout-pool may be heard a long way,
though it is only about twenty feet high. On Ban-

HETCH HETCHT .VALLEY 268

cheria Creek, a large stream, corresponding in posi-
tion with the Yosemite Tena ja Creek, there is a chain
of cascades joined here and there with swift flashing
plumes like the one between the Vernal and Nevada
Falls, making magnificent shows as they go their
glacier-sculptured waj, sliding, leaping, hurrahing,
covered with crisp clashing spraj made glorious with
sifting sunshine. And besides all these a few small
streams come over the walls at wide intervals, leap-
ing from ledge to ledge with birdlike song and waters
ing manj a hidden diff-garden and fernery, but they
are too unshowy to be noticed in so grand a place.

The correspondence between the Hetch Hetchy
walls in their trends, sculpture, physical structure,
and general arrangement of the main rock-masses and
those of the Yosemite Valley has excited the wonder-
ing admiration of every observer. We have seen
that the El Capitan and Ca&edral rocks occupy the
same relative positions in both valleys; so also do
their Yosemite points and North Domes. Again,
that part of the Yos^nite north wall immediately to
the east of the Yosemite Fall has two horizontal
benches, about 500 and 1500 feet above the floor,
timbered with golden-cup oak. Two benches simi-
larly situated and timbered occur on the same rela-
tive portion of the Hetch Hetchy north wall, to the
east of Wapama Fall, and on no other. The Yo-
semite is bounded at the head by the great Half

364 THE TOSEMITE

Dome. Hetch Hetchj is bounded in the same way,
though its head rock is incomparably less wonderful
and sublime in form.

The floor of the Valley is about three and a half
miles long^ and from a fourth to half a mile wide.
The lower portion is mostly a level meadow about
a mile long, with the trees restricted to the sides and
the river banks, and partially separated from the
main, upper, forested portion by a low bar of gla-
cier-polished granite across which the river breaks in
rapids.

The principal trees are the yellow and sugar pines,
digger pine, incense cedar, Douglas spruce, silver fir,
the California and golden-cup oaks, balsam cotton-
wood, Nuttall's flowering dogwood, alder, maple,
laurel, tumion, etc. The most abundant and influ-
ential are the great yellow or silver pines like those
of Yosemite, the tallest over two hundred feet in
height, and the oaks assembled in magnificent groves
with massive rugged trunks four to six feet in diam-
eter, and broad, shady, wide-spreading heads. The
shrubs forming conspicuous flowery clumps and
tangles are manzanita, azalea, spirsea, brier-rose, sev-
eral species of ceanothus, calycanthus, philadelphus,
wild cherry, etc. ; with abundance of showy and fra-
grant herbaceous plants grovidng about them or out
in the open in beds by themselves — lilies, Mariposa
tulips, brodiaeas, orchids, iris, spraguea, drapeiia.

HETCH HETCHY VALLEY 266

ooUomia, oollinsia, castilleja, nemophila, larkspur,
columbine, goldenrods, sunflowers, mints of many spe-
cies, honeysuckle, eta Many fine ferns dwell here
also, especially the beautiful and interesting rock-
ferns — pellaea, and cheilanthes of several species
— fringing and rosetting dry rock-piles and ledges ;
woodwardia and asplenium on damp spots with
fronds six or seven feet high; the delicate maiden-
hair in mossy nooks by the falls, and the sturdy,
broad-shouldered pteris covering nearly all the dry
groimd beneaUi the oaks and pines.

It appears, therefore, that Hetch Hetchy Valley,
far from being a plain, common, rock-bound meadow,
as many who have not seen it seem to suppose, is a
grand landscape garden, one of Nature's rarest and
most precious mountain temples. As in Yosemite,
the sublime rocks of its walls seem to glow with life,
whether leaning back in repose or standing erect in
thoughtful attitudes, giving welcome to storms and
calms alike, their brows in the sky, their feet set in
the groves and gay flowery meadows, while birds,
bees, and butterflies help the river and waterfalls to
stir all the air into music — things frail and fleeting
and lypes of permanence meeting here and blending,
just as they do in Yosemite, to draw her lovers into
close and confiding communion with her.

Sad to say, this most precious and sublime feature
of the Yosemite National Park, one of the greatest

366 THE YOSEMITE

of all our natural resourcoB for the uplifting joy and
peace and health of the people, is in danger of being
dammed and made into a reservoir to help supply
San Francisco with water and light, thus flooding it
from wall to wall and burying its gardens and groves
one or two hundred feet deep. This grossly destruc-
tive commercial scheme has long been planned and
urged (though water as pure and abundant can be
got from sources outside of the people's park, in a
dozen different places), because of the comparative
cheapness of the dam and of the territory which it
is sought to divert from the great uses to which it
was dedicated in the Act of 1890 establishing the
Yosemite National Park.

The making of gardens and parks goes on with
civilization all over the world, and they increase both
in size and number as their value is recognized.
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to
play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and
cheer and give strength to body and soul alike. This
natural beauty-hunger is made manifest in the little
window-sill gardens of the poor, though perhaps only
a geranium slip in a broken cup, as well as in the
carefully tended rose and lily gardens of the rich, the
thousands of spacious city parks and botanical gar-
dens, and in our magnificent National parks — the
Yellowstone, Yosemite, Sequoia, etc — Nature's sub-
lime wonderlands, the admiration and joy of the

HETCH HETCHT VALLEY 267

world. ilTevertheless^ like anything else worth while,
irom the very beginning, however well guarded, they
have always been subject to attack by despoiling gain-
seekers and mischief-makers of every degree from
Satan to Senators, eagerly trying to make everything
immediately and selfishly commercial, with schemes
disguised in smug-smiling philanthropy, industri-
ously, shampiously crying, *' Conservation, conserva-
tion, panutilization," that man and beast may be fed
and the dear Nation made great Thus long ago a
few enterprising merchants utilized the Jerusalem
temple as a place of business instead of a place of
prayer, changing money, buying and selling cattle and
sheep and doves; and earlier still, the first forest
reservation, including only one tree, was likewise de-
spoiled. Ever since the establishment of the Yosem-
ite National Park, strife has been going on around its
borders and I suppose this will go on as part of the
universal battle between right and wrong, however
much its boundaries may be shom^ or its wild beauty
destroyed.

The first application to the Qovemment by the
San Francisco Supervisors for the commercial use of
Lake Eleanor and the Hetch Hetchy Valley was made
in 1903, and on December 22nd of that year it was
denied by the Secretary of the Interior, Mr. Hitch-
cock, who truthfully said:

17

268 THE arOSEMTTE

Presumably the Yoeemiie National Park was created
Buch by law becanae of the natural objects of yarying de-
grees of scenic importance located within its boundaries)
indnsiTe alike of its beautiful small lakes, like Eleanor,
and its majestic wonders, like Hetch Hetchy and Yo-
semite YaUey. It is the aggr^tion of such, natural
scenic features that makes the Yosemite Park a wonder-
land which the Congress of the United States sought by
law to reserve for all coming time as nearly as practi-
cable in the condition fashioned by the hand of the Crear
tor — a worthy object of National pride and a source of
healthful pleasure and rest for the thousands of people
who may annually sojourn there during the heated
months.

In 1907 when Mr. Qarfield became Secretary of
the Interior the application was reaewed and granted ;
but under his successor, If r. Fisher, the matter has
been referred to a Commission^ which as this volume
goes to press still has it under consideration.

The most delightful and wonderful camp grounds
in the Park are its three great valleys — YosCTute,
Hetch Hetchy, and Upper Tuolumne; and they are
also the most important places with reference to their
positions relative to the other great f eatures — « the
Merced and Tuolumne Cafions^ and the Hi^ Sierra
peaks and glaciers, etc, at the head of the rivers.
The main part of the Tuolumne Valley is a spacious
flowery lawn four or five miles long, surrounded by

*
L 7

HETOH HETCHT VALLEY 269

magnificent snowy mountains, slightly separated
from other beautiful meadows, which together make
a series about twelve miles in length, the highest
reaching to the feet of Mount Dana, Mount Gibbs,
Moimt Lyell and Mount McClure. It is about 8500
feet above the sea, and forms the grand central Hi^
Sierra camp groimd from which excursions are made
to the noble mountains, domes, glaciers, etc ; across
the Bange to the Mono Lake and volcanoes and down
the Tuolumne Cafion to Hetch Hetchy. Should
Hetch Hetchy be submerged for a reservoir, as pro-
posed, not only would it be utterly destroyed, but the
sublime cafion way to the heart of the High Sierra
would be hopelessly blocked and the great camping
ground, as the watershed of a city drinking system,
virtually would be closed to the public So far as I
have learned, few of all the thousands who have seen
the park and seek rest and peace in it are in favor of
this outrageous scheme.

One of my later visits to the Valley was made in
the autumn of 1907 with the late William Keith, the
artist The leaf-colors were then ripe, and the great
godlike rocks in repose seemed to glow with life The
artist, under their spell, wandered day after day along
the river and through the groves and gardens, study-
ing the wonderful scenery; and, after making about
forty sketches, declared with enthusiasm that althou^

260 THE YOSEMITE

its walls were less sublime in height^ in pictuiesqne
beauty and charm Hetch Hetchy surpassed even Yo-
semita

That any one would try to destroy such a place
seems incredible ; but sad experience shows that there
are people good enough and bad enough for anydiing.
The proponents of the dam scheme bring forward a
lot of bad arguments to prove that the only righteous
thing to do with the people's parks is to destroy tiiem
bit by bit as they are able. Their arguments are curi-
oxuAj like those of the devil^ devised for the destruc-
tion of the first garden — so mudi of the very best
Eden fruit going to waste; so much of the best
Tuolumne water and Tuolumne scenery going to
waste. Few of their statements are even partly truey
and all are misleading.

Thus, Hetch Hetchy, they say, is a "low-lying
meadow." On the contrary, it is a high-lying natural
landscape garden, as the photographic illustrations
show.

" It is a common minor feature, like thousands of
others.'^ On the contrary it is a very uncommon fea-
ture; after Yosemite, the rarest and in many ways
the most important in the National Park.

" Damming and submerging it 175 feet deep would
enhance its beauty by forming a crystal-clear lake."
Landscape gardens, places of recreaticm and worship,
are never made beautiful by destroying and burying

HETCH HETCHY VALLEY 261

them. The beautiful sham lake^ forsooth, would be
only an eyesore, a dismal blot on the landscape, like
many others to be seen in the Sierra. For, instead
of keeping it at the same level all the year, allowing
Nature centuries of time to make new shores, it
would, of course^ be full only a month or two in the
spring, when the snow is melting fast; then it would
be gradually drained, exposing the slimy sides of the
basin and shallower parts of the bottom, with the
gathered drift and waste, death and decay of the
upper basins, caught here instead of being swept on
to decent natural burial along the banks of the river
or in the sea. Thus the Hetch Hetchy dam-lake
would be only a rough imitation of a natural lake for
a few of the spring months, an open sepulcher for
the others.

** Hetch Hetchy water is the purest of all to be
found in the Sierra, impolluted, and forever impol-
lutable.'' On the contrary, excepting that of the
Merced below Yosemite, it is less pure than that of
most of the other Sierra streams, because of the sewer-
age of camp grounds draining into it, especially of
the Big Tuolumne Meadows camp groimd, occupied
by himdreds of tourists and mountaineers, with their
animals, for months every summer, soon to be fol-
lowed by thousands from all the world.

These temple destroyers, devotees of ravaging com-
mercialism, seem to have a perfect contempt for Na-

262 THE YOSEMITE

ture, and, instead of lifting their ejes to the God of j

the mountains, lift them to the Almighty Dollar.

Dam Hetch Hetchj ! As well dam for water-tanks
the people's cathedrals and churches, for no holier
temple has ever been consecrated by the heart of man.

APPENDIX A

n

Lbgislation About thb Yoseiotb
In the year 1864^ Congress passed the following act : —

ACT OF JUNE 30, 1864 (13 8TAT., 325).

AN ACT Authoriniiff a ffrant to the State of Califoniia of the
" Yo-Semite Valiey/^and of the land embraciiig the " Mar-
iposa Big Tree Grove.''

**Be it enacted ly the Senate and House of Bepre-
eentatives of the United States of America, in Congress
assembled. That there shall be, and is hereby, granted
to the State of California, the 'Cleft' or 'Gorge' in
the Granite Peak of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, sit-
uated in the county of Mariposa, in the State aforesaid,
and the headwaters of the Merced Biyer, and known as
the Yosemite Valley, with its branches and spurs, in
estimated length fifteen miles, and in average width
one mile back from the main edge of the precipice, on
each side of the Valley, with the stipulation, neyerthe-
kss, that the said State shall accept this grant upon
the express conditions that the premises shall be held
for public use, resort, and recreation ; shall be inalienable
for all time; but leases not exceeding ten years may be
granted for portions of said premises. All incomes de-
riyed from leases of privileges to be expended in the
presenration and improyement of the property, or the

208

364 THE YOSEMITE

roads leading thereto; the boundaries to be estaUidied
at the cost of said State by the United States Surr^or-
General of California^ whose ofiBcial plat, when affirmed
by the Commissioner of the (General Land OSce, shall
constitute the evidence of the locus, extent, and limiti
of the said Cleft or Gtorge ; the premises to be managed
by the Goyemor of the State, with eight other Commis-
sioners, to be appointed by the Executiye of California,
and who shall recdve no oomp^isation for iheix servioes.

'^Seo. 2. And be it further enacted. That there
shall likewise be, and there is hereby, granted to the
said State of California, the tracts embracing what is
known as the ' Mariposa Big Tree Orove,' not to exceed
the area of four sections, and to be taken in legal snb-
divisions of one-quarter secti<^ each, with the like stip-
ulations as expressed in the first aecti(Hi of Uiis Act as
to the State's acceptance, with like conditions as in the
first section of this Act as to inalienability, yet witii the
same lease priyileges; the income to be expended in the
preservation, improvement, and protection of the -prop-
erty, the pranises to be managed by Commissioners, as
stipulated in the first section of this Act, and to be taken
in legal subdivisions as aforesaid; and the official plat
of the United States Surveyor-General, when affirmed
by the Commissioner of the General Land Office, to be
the evidence of Ihe locns of the said Mariposa Big Tree
Grove.**

This important act was approved by the President,
June 30, 1864, and shortly after the Governor of Cali-
fornia, F. F. Low, issued a proclamaticm taking posses-
sion of the Yosemite Valley and Mariposa grove of Big

APPENDIX A 266

Trees, in the name and on behalf of the State, appoint-
ing oommiflsionerB to manage them, and warning all
persons against trespassing or settling there without au-
thority, and espedallj forbidding the cutting of timber
and other injurious acts.

The first Board of Commissioners were F. Law Olm-
sted, J. D. Whitney, William Ashbumer, I. W. Bay-
mond, E. 8. Holden, Alexander Deering, George W.
Conlter, and Qalen Clark.

ACT OP OCTOBER 1, 1890 (26 STAT., 660).!

AN ACT To set apart certain tracts of land in the State of

Oaliiomia as forest reserrations.

^ Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Bepreeef^
tativee of the United States of America in Congress as-
sembled. That the tracts of land in the State of Cali-
fornia known as described as follows: Commencing at
the northwest comer of township two north, range nine-
teen east Mount Diablo meridian, thence eastwardly on
the line between townships two and three north, ranges
tweniy-four and twenty-fiTO east; thence southwardly
on the line between ranges twenty-four and twenty-five
east to the Mount Diablo base line; thence eastwardly
on said base line to the comer to township one south,
ranges twenty-fiye and twenty-six east; thence south-
wardly on the line between ranges twenty-fiye and
twenty-six east to the southeast comer of township two
south, range tweniy-fiye east; thence eastwardly on the

*8«etlont 1 and 2 of this act pertain to the Tofomiio national
Park, while seetion 8 aeta apart General Grant National Park, and
alao a portion of Seonoia National Park.

266 THE TOSEIOTE

line between townBhips two and three sontii, range
twenty-six east to the comer to townships two and three
south, ranges twenty-six and twenty-se?en east; thence
southwardly on the line between ranges twenty-six and
tweniy-seyen east to the first standard parallel south;
thence westwardly on the first standard parallel south
to the southwest comer of township four south, range
nineteen east; thence northwardly on the line between
ranges eighteen and ninete^i east to the northwest cor-
ner of township two south, range ninete^i east; thence
westwardly on the line between townships one and two
south to the southwest comer of township one south,
range nineteen east; thence northwardly on the line
between ranges eighteen and nineteen east to the north-
west comer of township two north, range nineteen east,
the place of beginning, are hereby reserved and with-
drawn from settlement, occupancy, or sale under the
laws of the United States, and set apart as reserved
forest lands; and all persons who shall locate or settle
upon, or occupy the same or any part thereof, except as
hereinafter provided, shall be considered trespassers and
removed therefrom: Provided, however. That nothing
in this act shall be construed as in anywise affecting the
grant of lands made to the State of California by virtue
of the act entitled, ' An act authorizing a grant to the
State of California of the Yosemite Valley, and of the
land embracing the Mariposa Big-Tree Orove, i^peared
June thirtieth, eighteen hundred and sixty-four; or as
affecting any bona-fide entry of land made within the
limits above described under any law of the United
States prior to the approval of this act.

APPENDIX B 367

^ Sbc. 2. That said reservation shall be tinder the ex-
clnsiye control of the Secretary of the Interior^ whose
duty it shall be, as soon as practicable, to make and pub-
lish such rales and regulations as he may deem necessary
or proper for the care and management of the same.
Sudi regulations shall provide for the preservation from
injury of all timber, mineral deposits, natural curiosi-
ties, or wonders within said reservation, and their re-
tention in their natural condition. The Secretary may,
in his discretion, grant leases for building purposes for
terms not exceeding ten years of small parcels of ground
not exceeding five acres; at such places in said reserva-
tion as shall require the erection of buildings for the
accommodation of visitors; all of the proceeds of said
leases and other revenues that may be derived from
any source connected with said reservation to be ex-
pended under his direction in the management of the
same and the constraction of roads and paths therein.
He shall provide against the wanton destraction of the
fish, and game found within said reservation, and against
their capture or destraction, for the purposes of mer-
chandise or profit He shall also cause all persons tres-
passing upon the same after the passage of this act to
be removed therefrom, and, generally, shall be author-
ized to take all such measures as shall be necessary or
proper to fully carry out the objects and purposes of
this act

^ Sxa 8. There shall also be and is hereby reserved
and withdrawn from settiement, occupancy, or sale un-
der the laws of the United States, and shall be set apart
as reserved forest lands, as hereinbefore provided, and

268 THE TOSEMITE

subject to all the limitatioiiB and proTinons herein con-
tained, the following additional lands, to wit: Township
seyenteen south, range thirty east of the Mount Diablo
meridian, excepting sections thirty-one, thirty-two^
thirty-three, and thirty-four of said township, included
in a previous bilL And thare is also reserved and with-
drawn from settlement, occupancy, or sale under the
laws of the United States, and set apart as forest lands,
subject to like limitations, conditions^ and provisi<Mis,
all of townships fifteai and sixteen south, of ranges
twenty-nine and thirty east of the Mount Diablo merid-
ian. And there is also hereby reserved and withdrawn
from settlement, occupancy, or sale under the laws of
the United States, and set apart as reserved forest lands
under like limitations, restrictions, and provisions, see-
tions five and six in township fourteen south, range
twenty-eight east of Mount Diablo meridian, and also
sections tiiirty-one and thirty-two of township thirteen
south, range twenty-eight east of the same meridian.
Nothing in this act shall authorize rules or contracts
touching the protection and improvement of said reser-
vations, beyond the sums that may be received by ibe
Secretary of the Interior under the foregoing provisions,
or authorize any charge against the Treasury of the
United States.

ACT OF THE LEGISLATURE OP THE STATE OF CALI-
FORNIA, APPROVED MARCH 3, 1905

" Sbo. 1. The state of California does herdby recede
and regrant unto the United States of America tilie

APPENDIX B 26»

'deft' or 'goige' in the granite peak of the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, dtnated in the county of Mariposa,
State of Califomia, and the headwaters of the Merced
BiTer, and known as the Yosemite Yalley^ with its
branches and spurs, granted unto the State of California
in trust for public use, resort, and recreation by the act
of Congress entitled, * An act authorizing a grant to the
State of California of the Yosemite Valley and of the
land embracing the Mariposa Big Tree Orove,' approved
June thirtieth, eighteen hundred and sixty-four; and
the State of California does hereby relinquish unto the
United States of America and resign the trusts created
and granted by the said act of Congress.

^ Sec. 2. The State of California does hereby recede
and regrant unto the United States of America the tracts
embracing what is known as the 'Mariposa Big Tree
Groye,' granted unto the State of California in trust
for public use, resort, and recreation by the act of Con-
gress referred to in section one of this act, and the State
of California does hereby relinquish unto the United
States of America and resign the trusts created and
granted by the said act of Congress.

''Seo. 3. This act shall take effect from and after
acceptance by the United States of America of the reces-
sions and r^rants herein made, thereby f oreyer releas-
ing the State of California from further cost of main-
taining the said premises, the same to be held for all
time by the United States of America for public use,
resort, and recreation, and imposing on the United
States of America the cost of maintaining the same as

270 THE TOSEMITE

a national park: Provided, however. That the reces-
don and r^^rant hereby made shall not affect Tested
ri^tB and interests of third persons."

APPENDIX B

TABLE OF DISTANCES

From the Guardian's o£Soe, in the village^ the
tances to yarious points are in miles as follows :

Milea.

Bridal VeU FaU 4.04

Casoade Falls 7.07

Cloud's Rest, Summit 11.81

Columbia Rock, on Eagle Peak Trail 1.98

Dana, Mt., Summit 40.34

Eagle Peak 0.59

El Capitan Bridse 3.63

Qlader Point, direct trail 4.46

Qlader Point, by Nevada Falls 16.98

SfeU, Mt., Summit 38.20

eroed Bridge 2.03

Mirror Lake, by Hunt's avenue 2.91

Nevada Fall (Hotel) 4.63

Nevada Fall, Bridge above 5.46

Pohono Bridge 5.29

Register Rode 3.24

Ribbon F*U 3.99

Rocky Point (base of Three Brothers) 1.46

Tenayah Crede Bridge 2.26

Tenayah Lake 16.00

Tosemite Falls, foot 0.90

Yosemite Falls, foot Upper Fall 2.67

Tosemite Falls, top 4.33

Soda Springs (Eagle Peak Trail) 24.50

Sentinel Dome 5.57

Union Point, on Qlader Point Trail 3.13

Vernal FaU 3.50

271

APPENDIX C

Maximum Batbs fob Transpobtation

The following rates for transportatioii in and about
the Valley have been established by the Board of C<mi-
missioners :

8ADDLB-H0B8ES

Frwn Route to Amount,

Valley Qlader Point and Sentinel Dmne, and

return, direct, same day $3 00

Valley Glacier Point, Smtinel Dome, and Fis-

Bores, and return, direct, same day. . 3 75

Valley Glacier Point, Sontinel Dome, and Fis-
sures, passing night at Glacier F(nnt 8 00

Valley Glacier Point, Sentinel Dome, Nevada

FM, and Casa Nevada, passing ni^t

at Casa Nevada 3 00

Valley Glacier Point, Sentinel Dome, Nevada

Fall, Vernal Fall, and thence to Val-
ley same day 4 00

Glacier Point. .Vall^ direct 2 00

Glacier Point.. Sentinel Dome, Nevada Fall, and Casa

Nevada, passing night at Casa Nevada 2 00

Glader Point.. Sentinel Dome, Nevada Fall, Vernal

Fall, and thence to Valley same day. 3 00

Valley Summits, Vernal and Nevada Falls, di-
rect, and return to Valley same day. . 3 00

Valley Glacier Point by Casa Nevada, passing

night at Glacier Point 3 00

Valley Summits, Vernal and Nevada Falls,

Sentinel Dome, Glacier Point, and
thence to Valley same day 4 00

Valley Cloud's Rest and return to Casa Nevada 3 00

Valley Cloud's Rest and return to Vall^ same

day 5 00

272

APPENDIX C 278

Cms Nermda . .Ckrad's Rest and return to Cms Nevada

or Valley same day 3 00

Casa Nevada . .Vall^ direet 2 00

Casa Nevada . .Nevada Fall, Sentinel Dome, and Qlaeier

Point, passinff ni^ht at Qlaeier Point 2 00
Vall^ Nevada Fall, Sentinel Dome, Glacier

Point, and Valley same day 3 00

.Upper Yoaemite Fall, Eagle Peak, and

return 3 00

Charge for guide (including horse),

when furnished 8 00

JSaddle-horses, on level of Valley, per day 2 50

1. The aboye charges do not indude feed for horses
when passing night at Casa Nevada or Glacier Point

2. Where Valley is specified as starting-point, the
above rates prevail from any hotel in Valleyi or from
the foot of any trail.

3. Any shortening of above trips, without proportion-
ate reduction of rates, shall be at the option of those
hiring horses.

4. Trips other than those above specified shall be
subject to special arrangement between letter and hirer.

0ABBIA0B8

From Route to AmoiwiU.

Hotels Mirror Lake and return, direet $1 00

Hotels Mirror Lalce and return by Tissiack

Avenue 1 25

Hotels Mirror Lake and return to foot of Trail,

to Vernal and Nevada Falls 1 00

Hotels Bridal Veil Fall and return, direct. ... 1 00

Hotels Fohono Bridge, down either side of Val-
ley, and return on opposite side, stop-

&

at Yosemite and Bridal Veil

1.60

274: THE TOSEMITE

Mazocum Bates fob Transportation — Continued.

Hotela Cascade Falls, down either side of Val-

IffijTf and return on opposite side, stop-
phw at Yoeemite and Bridal Veil
Fal& 2M

Hotels Artist Point and retnm^ direct, stopping

at Bridal VeU P*U 2 00

Hotels New Inspiration Point and return, di-

reet» stopping at Bridal Veil Fall.. 2 00

Grand Bound Drire, including Yosemite

and Bridal Tefl Falls, ezriwUng Lake

and Cascades 2 50

.Grand Round Drive, including Yosemite

and Bridal Veil FallSp Lake, and Cas-
cades 3 60

1. When the Talue of the seats hired in any vehide
shall exceed $15. for a two-horse team, or $25 for a four-
horse team, for any trip in the above schedule, the per-
sons hiring the seats shall have the privilege of paying
no more than the aggregate smns of $15 and $25 per
trip for a two-horse and four-horse team, respectively.

2. If saddle-horses should be substituted for any of
the above carriage trips, carriage rates will apply to each
horse. In no case shall the per diem charge of $2.50
for each saddle-horse, on level of Valley, be exceeded.

Any excess of the above rates, as well as any extortion,
incivility, misrepresentation, or the riding of unsafe
animals, should be promptly reported at the Guardian's
oflBce.

INDEX

AlMln» i^Miml actton, 174

AnMTkMi BivWy 127
Anderson, Qeorge, his tsoent

of Sooth Dome, 160, 107
AnUreda, claciml Mtkm, 174
Ascent of tiie Vall^, 23
Autumn in the Valley, 150
Avalanche Cafion, 224
Avalanche taluses, origin oi,

70, 79
Avalanches,

After snow storm, 03

Annual, 04

Century, 04

Ride on an avalanche^ 05
I, 152

B

Big Oak Hat load, 199, 200^

225, 249
Big Trees {S^pMia gigot^tm),

127,225
Age of, 129, 130, 130
Bark, 133

CaUvaras gF0v% 129, 130
Onus, 133
Crown, 134
DestroBtkm bj man, 145,

140
Distribution, 13i, 130, 142,

144

275

Biff Trees — CofiKiMiei
Extent <^ grove belts, 127,

143
Extinction possibilities, 138,

146
Fallen sperfimns, ISO
Flowers, 133
Foliage, 132
Form, 131, 132
Fresno grov^ 128, 140, 240
Historio ditdies and root-
bowls, 137
Kings River forest, 130, 131
Largsst tree in Kings River

forest, 129
Ughtning effects, 145
Majesty, 131, 133
Mariposa grove, 128* 140,

225, 241, 245
Merced grove, 140, 225
Northern groves, 128
Poet-gladal day €i the spe-
^ dee, 144

Proportions, 130, 132
Protection of IMeral Qov*

emment, 140
Relations to dimata, soil

and other trees, 138
Seeds 134

Sequoia National Park, 128
Service to mankind, 147
Sise of full-grown trees, 129
Streams created l^ the se*

quoias, 140
Tuolumne grove, 140, 220
Big Tuolumne Cafion, 10

276

INDEX

Big Taolumne Cafion — Con-
Hnued
Early trip through, from
Hetch Hetehy Vall^» 241
THp down the cafion, 220
Big Taolumne Cascades, 221
Big Tuolumne Meadows, 180
Birds, 168

Bloom-months of the year, 156
Boling, Major, his efforts to
capture Yosemite Indians,
281
Bridal VeU Creek< 18
Bridal Veil FaU, 10
Rainbows, 38, 223
Winds, fall greatly infin-
enoed by, 61
Brooken &>eeter, 109
Bronson Meadows, 249
Budd Creek erossinff, 208
Bunell, Dr., named the Yo-
semite Valley, 231

Calaveras grove of Big Trees,

129, 130
Cafions
Characteristics of» 6
Depth of,
Upper, 14

See alJBO their names
Cascade Cntk Falls, 36
Cathedral Lake, 209
Cathedral Rocks, 13

Excursion to, 208, 221
Caucasus mountains, glacial

action, 174
Ceanothus, 161
Cedar of Lebanon on moraine

of ancient glacier, 94
Cedar trees. See Trees
Cemetery, Yosemite, 247
Central Valley of California,

ffeneral view of, 6
Clark, Galen, 240
Daring and skill as a moun-
taineer, 248

Clark, Oalen — OofiKnuaii
Fresno But Tree grove dis-
covered by, 246
Guardian of the Valley, 241
Life prolonged by mountain

air, 247
Mariposa Big Tree grove^

the first to explore, 246
Personality, 246
Tree-tover, 247
Wawona cabin, 240
Clark, Mount, 207
Climate and weather, 42
Difference between nortii

and south sides, 43
Snow, the first of the seaaoo,

44
Spring thaw, 44
Temperatures, 43
Winter beauty, 45
Winter storms, 61
Caouds' Rest, 16
Avalanche, annual, 64
Excursion to, 201, 203, 208
Clouds' Rest trail, 189, 208
Comet forms of Yosemite Fall,

28, 29, 67
Conness, Mount, 16, 181, 210
Conway, John, his effort to
reach summit of South
Dome, 167
CoulterviUe, 240
Coulterville road, 225
Crane Flat, 249
Crows, Clarke's, 159
Cunningham, S. M., 235
ClypripMium, 149

Dana Glacier, 208, 216

Dana, Mount, 16, 180, 207
Excursion to top, 208, 214
Views from summit^ 215

Deer CrecOc, 127

Dog Lake, 222

Df^wood trees, 91

INDEX

277

Dome Gasttidet, 15

Douglas Spruce {P9midot9uga
Douglasii), largest speci-
mens, 88, 106

Ducks, 161

Dwarf Pine, or White Bark
Pine (PffMM albiotmU9),
122

E

Eagle Rode, 70

Excursion to, 199, 200
Eagles, golden, 162, 164
Earthquake storms, 76
El Capitan Rode, 12

Excursion to, 199, 200

Snow avalanches, 63
El Portal, 226, 236
Eleanor Lake and San Fran-
cisco's destructive water
supply scheme, 257
Emerald Pool, 31, 32
Excursions

One-dav, 196, 199

Three-day, 207

Tuolumne Valley, Upper,
209

Two-day, 201, 204

Various short trips, 222

lUrview Dome

Character of, 179

Excursion to, 221

Views from summit, 178,
180
lUls

Bridal Veil, 10, 38, 51, 223

Cascade Creek, 35

niilouette, 196, 198, 204

Nevada, 30, 31, 57, 196, 198,
201, 203

Botyui Arch, 35, 37

Tamarack Creek, 35

Tenaya, 15, 35, 37, 89

Tueeulala, 250

Falls — Continued
Vernal, 17, 32, 38, 196, 199,

201, 203, 223
Wapama, 252

Winter storms, effects of, 57
Yosemite, 13, 14, 21-23, 28,
29, 38, 40, 51, 57, 188,
195
Yosemite Gorge, 85
Fern Led^ 28, 47
Best point to observe lunar
rainbows, 39, 40
Ferns, 153
Floods
An extraordinary, 53
Great flood of 1867, 289
Flowers, 148
Autumn in the Valley, 156
Azalea, 151, 152
Bloom-months, 156
Ceanothus, 151, 152
Common plants, 148
Qrpripedium, 149
Habenaria, 149
Lilies, 149
Manzanita, 151
Orchids, 149
Primrose, wild, only one in

California, 149
Shrubs, 151
Snow planet, 149
Washington lily, most fra-
grant of Valley flowers,
150
Forests. See Trees
Fresno grove of Big Trees,
128, 146, 246

Geese^ 161

General Grant National Park,

146
Gibbs, Mount, 181
Glacial monuments of Sierra

finer than in any other

country, 173
Gladal Period, 26, 174

278

INDEX

Glader Pbint, 14, 81
Xzeunion to, 196
ViewB from, 196
Qlader Point tntil, 23
Glaciers
Aneieot, 173
Dana, 208, 216
DiBOovery of the Siwra gla-
ciers, 204, 206
Eaxlj cooditiotts in the

Sierra, 174, 177, 179, 183
First river-like glaciers, 176
Hetch Hetchv YMtj, 181
Hoffman, 182, 184, 185, 186
niilouette^ 182, 190, 193,

204
Indian CafEon, 188
LreU, 219, 244
McGlure, 210, 244
Merced, 182
Nevada, 187, 189
Pohono^ 182
Polished paTsments most

striking phenomena, 176
Present evaders among
peaks of High Sierra, 173
Sentinel, 182
Sooth Ljell, 182
Tenaya, 181, 185, 186
Tuolumne, 179, 181, 182,

186, 219
Yosemite C^eek, 182, 183,
185
Gorge between Upper and
Lower Falls, 3^ 36
Bainbows, 39
Gray Mountain, 207
Greenland, glacial action, 174

Habenaria, 149

Half Dome, 15, 34, 185

Hetch BeiO^ VaU^, 220,

221, 249
Correspondence to Yosemite

yal%, 253

Hetch Hetcfay Valley — Odii-
vvfMieci
Destructive commercial

scheme for San Rrancisco
water supply, 257
Discovery , 249
11owers,254
Kolana Mountain, 250
Location, 249
Trees, 254
TueeulaU Fall, 250
<« Tuolumne Yosemite," 249
Wapama Fall, 252
Hetch Hetchy Valley Glacier,

181
Himala^ moimtaips, gfladal

action, 174
History of the Vall«y, ear^,

226
Hite^G.A^235
Hoff^nan Glader, 182, 184,

185,186
Hoffman, Mount, 18, 20^ 21,
180
Excursion to^ 201, 210
Views from suinmii» 202,
203
Hotels, eariy, 235
Houses first built la Yos«nita

Valley, 235
Humming-birds, 158
Hutchings, J. M., visited Val-

1^ in 1855, 235
Hutchings Bridge, 56
Hutchings Hote^ 81

Ice cone
Dimensions, 50
E^loring a cone, 47
Formation of, 47, 46

Illilouette Cafion, 14

nUlouette FttXL
Excursion to, 196, 198, 204
Fineness and riduMss of
texture^ 38

INDEX

279

nUlooette Van — OwUimisd
Inaooessibility, 14
EeBembles the Nevada Fall,

33
Sunlight on falling water,
fine effect of, 34
niilouette Glacier, 182, 190,

193, 204
IneeiiBe Cedar (Ltbooednit de-

currens), 87, 107
Indian Glacier, 182
Indians, 96, 177
Fear of earthquakes, 81
Mono tribe, 229, 233
Paute tribe, 234
Tuolumne tribe, 229
Yosemite tribe, efforts to
capture, 226, 231
Inspiration Point, 223
Inyo earthquake, 79

Jays, SteUer's, 109, 164
Jeffrey variety of the Yellow

Pine, 103
Junoo or snow-bird, 169
Juniper, or Red Oedar {JuiU'

pem$ oooideniaU$) , 117

Kaweah River, 127

Keith, William, 259

Kern glader, 194

Kingfishers, 161

Kings River, 127

Kings River forest oi Big

T'rees, 130, 131
Kings River Glacier, 194
KolMm Mountain, 260

of Bridal Veil and Ne-
vada Falls, 57

Lakes, elader, number of, in

the Upper Gallons, 18
Lambert Dome, excursicm to,

221
Lamon

Burial place, 239

Personality, 239

Pioneer settler in the Val-
ley 237

Winter cabin, 84, 239
Liberty Cap

Excursion to, 196, 198

Views from, 198
life prolonged by mountain

air, 247
LUies, 149, 150
Uttle Yosemite VaUey, 17
Longhurst, Mr., 235
Lydl Glacier, 219, 244
Lyell, Mount, 16, 17, 181

Excursion to, 217

Views from summit, 218

M

Mcaure Glacier, 219, 244
McClure, Mount, 181
Mann Brothers, 235
Manranita, 151
Maple Trees, 91
Marble Creek, 128
Mariposa grove of Big Trees,

128, 146, 225, 241, 245
Mariposa trail, 240
May Lake, excursion to, 201,

203
Merced, 9, 236
Merced Glacier, 182
Merced grove of Big Trees,

146, 225
Merced Group, 197
Merced Mountain, 197, 204
Merced River, 7, 8, 16, 17,

20, 67
Merced River Cafion, 236
Biirror Lake, 15
Excursion to, 222

280

INDEX

Mono Desert, 208

Mono Lake, 16, 216, 210

Mono trail, 20

Moore, lieutenant, his effort
to capture Yosemite In-
dians, 233

Moraines
Ancient, indicated by for-
ests 04 05
lUilou^ Qlader, 101, 103,

204
Nevada Glacier, 180

Mountain Hemlock (Tauga
Mertenaiana) , 120

Mountain landscapes, forma-
tion of, 18

Mountain Pine {Pinus manti'
cola), 116

Muir Gorge, 242

N

Neal, J. H., 235
Nevada Gafion, 14
Nevada Fall
Excursion to^ 106, 108, 201,

203
Heifi^t, 30
Laces of, 67
Near view, 31
Ranks next to Tosemite

Fall in interest, 30
Whitest of aU falls, 31
Nevada Glacier, 187, 180
Nevada Valley, 17
North Dome, 14, 16, 186
Norway, glacial action, 174
Nut Pine (Pinua attenuata),

06
Nut Pine (Pinua mono-

phylla), 126
Nut Pine (Pinua Sahiniana),
06

Oaks. See Trees
Onion, species of, on summit
o| South Dome, 171

Orchids, 140
Ouzel, 168

Appearance, 160

Diving, 160

Pacheoo Pass, 6

Pavements, polished gimcier,

176
Peck, Mr., 236
Pigeons, 161
Pine tree musie, 104
Pine Trees. See Trees
Pohono basin, 18
Pohono Glacier, 182
Polished glacier pavements,

176
Poplar (Popuiua iriehoear-

pa), 01
Porcupine Flat, 201
Primrose, wild, only one in

CaUfomia, 140
Pyweak, Indian name of Lake

Tenaya, 177

Railroad from Merced to bor-
der of Paik, 236
Rainbows
Beauty of, 11, 38, 223
Best point to observe lunar,

30
Lunar, 30
Ranffe of Liffht, the Sierra

Nevada Mountains, 6
Raymond and Wawona road,

226
Red Cedar (Junipama oeoi*

dentaUa), 00, 117
Red Fir (Abiea magnifloa),

108
Red Mountain, 206

Views from summit, 207
Ribbcm Creek Basin, excur*
sicHi t9t 100, 200

INDEX

281

Ril>boii FaU, 12

Excunion to, 199, 200
Ritter, Mount, 16
Rivers, 67, 127
Robins, 158, 160, 163
Royal Arch Fall, 35, 37
Royal Arches, 14, 197

S

San Francisco's destmctiye
water supply scheme in
the Hetch Hetchy Valley,
257
San Joaquin Glacier, 194
Santa Clara Valley, 4
Savage, Major, his efforts to
capture the Yosemite In-
dians, 226
Screech, Joseph, said to have
discovered Hetch Hetchy
Vallev, 249
Sentinel &iscades, 35, 37
Sentinel Glacier, 182
Sentinel Rock, 13
Excursion to, 196
Views from summit, 197
Sequoia National Park, 128,

146
Shadows, mountain forms and

snow banners, 75
Shrubs, 151
Sierra Cathedral, 16
Sierra Nevada Mountains
Distant view of, 5
Range of Light, 5
Silver Fir {AHes ooneolor),

90, 108
Silver Fir {Ahiea magmfiea),

108
Snow
First of the season, 44
Indian-summer, 45
Snow banners, 70
Formation, 75
General view, 73, 74

Snow banners — Continued.
Perfect ones seldom pro-
duced, 71
Snow-bird, 159
Snow plant, much admired by

tourists, 149
Snow storms, 61
Soda Springs, 17, 208, 210,

213
South Dome, 166
Anderson gained summit in

1875, 166, 167
Ascent of, in November, 168
Conwav, John, his effort to

reach the summit, 167
Glacial hieroglyphics, 172
Inaccessibility, 166
Most sublime feature of all

Tosemite views, 171
Onion, species of, on sum-
mit, 171
Saddle, 166

Specter of the Brocken, 169
vegetation on summit, 170
Views from summit of, 169,
171
South Lyell Glacier, 182
Specter of the Brocken, 169
Spring floods, 51
Spring thaw, 44
StarrKing, 171, 192, 197
Steller's jays, 159, 164
Storms, 51, 61, 76
Streams created by sequoias,

140
Sugar Pine {Pinu9 Lamber'
Hana), king of pine
trees, 97
Sunliffht on falling water, fine
dect of, at niilouette
Fall, 34
Sunrise from top of Mounts
Hoffman ana Dana, 203,
208
Sunrise trail, 208
Switzerland, glacial action,
174

282

INDEX

Talusef , avalanche, origin of^

76, 79
Tamaradc Creek Falls, 35
Temperatures, 43
Tenaya, Tosemite Indian

chief, 13, 227, 232, 236
Tenaya Gallon, 14, 15, 37
Tenaya Cascade, 15, 85
Tenaya Credc, 37
Tenaya Fall, 15, 86, 87, 89
Tenaya Glacier, 181, 185, 186
Tenaya Lake, 16, 177, 207
Excursion to, 201, 203, 207,

210
Three Brothers Mountain, 13
Tioga wagon-road, 201, 207,

208
Tiasiadc or Half Dome^ most

beautiful of Yoaemite

rodu, 14
Tourists to the Valley, num-
ber, 237

Antuigement indicates an-
cient moraines, 94, 95
Big Tree {Sequoia gigomr

tea), 127, 225
California live-oak {Quer-

cue agrifoUa), 89
California Nutm^ (Tor-

reya oaUfomtco), 92
Climbing the YeUow Pine

in wind storms, 87
Distribution, general order

of, 93, 94
Dogwood, 91
Douglas Spruce (Psendot-

euga Douglaeii), 88, 105
Dwarf Pme, or White Bark

Pine {Pinue albioauUe),

122
Forest trees in general, 93
Incense Cedar (Li5ooedriM

lieoyrrmf), 87, 107

Trees — Continued
Jeffrey varietr of the Tel-
low Pine, 103
Juniper, or Red Cedar

{J u m pe rue oeoidentalie) ,

117
Maples, 91
Mountain Hemlodc {Teuga

Merteneiama) , 120
Mountain live-oak {Quercue

chryeolepie) , 89
MooDtain Pine {Pimue moM-

tioolm), 115
Nut Pine {Pinme aitenu-

ata), 96
Nut Pine (PIfMif momfh

pAyUa), 126
Nut Pine (Pmhcs Bahmi-

•ma), 96
Pines on summit of South

Dome, 170
Poplar {PopuUte Inofco-

earpa), 91
Bed Cedar {Jwniperme oo-

cideniaUe), 90, 117
Red Fir (Ahiee magmifiea),

108
Silver Fir (Akiee com-

oohr), 90, 106
Silver Fir { Abies magni-

fica),l0B
Suffar Pine {Finue Lam-

bertiana), king of pine

trees, 97
Sugar pines few, 87
Two-Leaved Pine {Pimue

oontoria, var. Murray

ama), 112
Valley trees, 87
Wind musio oi the Ydlow

Pine, 104
Yellow, or Silver, Pise
{Phiue ponderoea), 87,

101
Yosemite Pine, 108
Tueeulala Fall, 250

INDEX

288

Tule Rirer, 127
raolmniie Callcm, 18
Tuolumne GUder, 170, 181,

182, 18«» 210
Tuolumne Qlacier Monument,

178
Tuolumne grove of Big Trees,

146, 226
Tuolumne Meadows, 178, 207,

212
Tuolumne River, 16, 180, 211
Tuolumne Valley, 16, 258

Excursion to Upper, 200
Tuolumne Tosemite, name

fldven to Hetch Hetohy

Vall^, 240
Two-Leaved Pine {Pimu eon-

torta, var. Murrayana),

112

Venial FaU

Approach to, 17

Bicursion to, 106, 100, 201,
203

Height, 32

Near view of, 32

Bainbows, 38, 223

Staid, orderly fall, 32
l^ginia Creek trail, 220

W

Wapama Fall, 252

Washington Column, 14

Washington lilr, most fra-
grant of Valley flowers,
150

Waterfall flood, an extraordi-
nary, 53

Water-ouzel. See Ouzel

Watkins, Mounts 15

Watkins traU, 15

Wawona, 225, 240

Weather. See Climate and
weather

Wind musio of the Yellow

Fine, 104
Winds, influenoe of, on falls,

51
Winter beauty of the Valley,

45
Winter bird life, 150, 168
Winter storms, 51
Woo^^>eekers, 150, 161

Yellow, or Silver, Pine (Pmua

ponderoaa), 87, 101
Yosemite Creek
General views of basin, 10
Width, d^th and average
fall, 20
Yosemite Creek Glacier, 182,

183, 185
Yosemite earthquake, 70
Yosemite Fall
Comet forms, 28, 20, 57
Excursion to Upper fall, 100
Formation, effect of Yo-
semite Creek Glader, 185
Grandeur of, 28
Moon seen through, 40
Most wonderful of its Idnd

in the world, 14
Near view, the best^ 28
Rainbows, 38
Source, 21
Thunder of, 13, 20
Unexpected night adven-

ture, 40
Upper and Lower falls, 23
Views from above, 22
Voice, the richest and most

powerful, 13, 20
Winds, influenoe of, 51
Yosemite Falls traU, 200, 201
Yosemite Glacier, 13, 16, 24
Yosemite Gorge Fall and Cas-
cades, 35
Yosemite National Paric, es-
tablishment of, 236, 240

QAdi

INDEX

Yosemite Valley
Approach to, 9
Ascent of the Valley, 23
Discoveiy of, 226, 230
First view: the Bridal

VeU, 10
Formatioii of, l^ Qladers,

173
General features, 12
History, early, 226
Houses first built, 286
Name, Indian, 281

Tosemite Valley — OonltfiiMd
Named \q Dr. Bunell, 281
Natural features near, 17
Situation and size, 7
Temple, its likeness to, 8
Tourists, first, 1865, 235
Tourists, present number,

237
Yoseifaite Valley railroad

from Meroed to border of

Ptok,28d

i

1

DATE

DUE

IVIAVIA?^

V)'t ^

'* %

i in 1 / •

.^

NOVi^iSgg

7

\

1

DEMCO 38-297

3 2044 027 297 993

• • •

2443