| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The Lake of the Sky - Lake Tahoe in the High Sierras of California and Nevada, its History, Indians, Discovery by Frémont, Legendary Lore, Various Namings, Physical Characteristics, Glacial Phenomena, Geology, Single Outlet, Automobile Routes, Historic Towns, Early Mining Excitements, Steamer Ride, Mineral Springs, Mountain and Lake Resorts, Trail and Camping Out Trips, Summer Residences, Fishing, Hunting, Flowers, Birds, Animals, Trees, and Chaparral, with a Full Account of the Tahoe National Forest, the Public Use of the Water of Lake Tahoe and Much Other Interesting Matter
Author: James, George Wharton, 1858-1923
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Lake of the Sky - Lake Tahoe in the High Sierras of California and Nevada, its History, Indians, Discovery by Frémont, Legendary Lore, Various Namings, Physical Characteristics, Glacial Phenomena, Geology, Single Outlet, Automobile Routes, Historic Towns, Early Mining Excitements, Steamer Ride, Mineral Springs, Mountain and Lake Resorts, Trail and Camping Out Trips, Summer Residences, Fishing, Hunting, Flowers, Birds, Animals, Trees, and Chaparral, with a Full Account of the Tahoe National Forest, the Public Use of the Water of Lake Tahoe and Much Other Interesting Matter" ***
[Illustration: Cascade Lake and Lake Tahoe]
THE LAKE OF THE SKY
LAKE TAHOE
IN THE HIGH
SIERRAS OF CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA
Its History, Indians, Discovery by Frémont, Legendary Lore, Various
Namings, Physical Characteristics, Glacial Phenomena, Geology, Single
Outlet, Automobile Routes, Historic Towns, Early Mining Excitements,
Steamer Ride, Mineral Springs, Mountain and Lake Resorts, Trail and
Camping Out Trips, Summer Residences, Fishing, Hunting, Flowers,
Birds, Animals, Trees, and Chaparral, with a Full Account of the Tahoe
National Forest, the Public Use of the Water of Lake Tahoe and Much
Other Interesting Matter
BY
GEORGE WHARTON JAMES
_Author of_
"Arizona, the Wonderland," "California, Romantic and Beautiful," "New
Mexico, the Land of the Delight Makers," "Utah, the Land of Blossoming
Valleys," "Quit Your Worrying," "Living the Radiant Life," etc.
_With a map, and sixty-five plates, including a folding panorama View_
L.C. PAGE & COMPANY BOSTON PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915, BY EDITH E. FARNSWORTH
_All Rights Reserved_
TO ROBERT M. WATSON
(_To his friends "Bob"_)
Fearless Explorer, Expert Mountaineer,
Peerless Guide, Truthful Fisherman,
Humane Hunter, Delightful Raconteur,
True-hearted Gentleman,
Generous Communicator
of a large and varied Knowledge,
Brother to Man
and Beast and Devoted
Friend,
AND TO ANOTHER,
though younger brother of
the same craft
RICHARD MICHAELIS
These Pages are Cordially Dedicated
with the Author's High Esteem
and Affectionate Regards.
[Illustration: "Bob" Watson, Tahoe guide, at home, with his dog
Skookum John]
INTRODUCTION
California is proving itself more and more the wonderland of the
United States. Its hosts of annual visitors are increasing with
marvelous rapidity; its population is growing by accretions from the
other states faster than any other section in the civilized world.
The reasons are not far to seek. They may be summarized in five
words, viz., climate, topography, healthfulness, productiveness and
all-around liveableness. Its climate is already a catch word to the
nations; its healthfulness is attested by the thousands who have
come here sick and almost hopeless and who are now rugged, robust and
happy; its productiveness is demonstrated by the millions of dollars
its citizens annually receive for the thousands of car-loads (one
might almost say train-loads) of oranges, lemons, grape-fruit,
walnuts, almonds, peaches, figs, apricots, onions, potatoes, asparagus
and other fruits of its soil; and its all-around home qualities are
best evidenced by the growth, in two or three decades, of scores of
towns from a merely nominal population to five, ten, twenty, forty or
fifty thousand, and of the cities of San Francisco, Los Angeles and
Oakland to metropolises, the two former already claiming populations
of half a million or thereabouts.
As far as its topography, its scenic qualities, are concerned, the
world of tourists already has rendered any argument upon that line
unnecessary. It is already beginning to rival Switzerland, though that
Alpine land has crowded populations within a day's journey to draw
from. One has but to name Monterey, the Mt. Shasta region, Los
Angeles, San Diego and Coronado, the Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, the Big
Trees, the King and Kern River Divide, Mono Lake and a score of
other scenic regions in California to start tongues to wagging over
interesting reminiscences, whether it be in London, Paris, Berlin,
Madrid or Petrograd.
Books galore are being published to make California's charms better
known, and it has long seemed strange to me that no book has been
published on Lake Tahoe and its surrounding country of mountains,
forests, glacial valleys, lakes and canyons, for I am confident that
in one or two decades from now its circle of admirers and regular
visitors will include people from all over the civilized world, all of
whom will declare that it is incomparable as a lake resort, and that
its infinite variety of charm, delight and healthful allurement can
never adequately be told.
Discovered by the "Pathfinder" Frémont; described in the early days of
California history and literature by John Le Conte, Mark Twain, Thomas
Starr King, Ben C. Truman, and later by John Vance Cheney and others;
for countless centuries the fishing haunt of the peaceable Nevada
_Washoes_, who first called it Tahoe--High or Clear Water--and
of the California _Monos_; the home of many of their interesting
legends and folk-lore tales; occasionally the scene of fierce
conflicts between the defending Indians and those who would drive
them away, it early became the object of the jealous and inconsequent
squabbling of politicians. Its discoverer had named it Mountain Lake,
or Lake Bonpland, the latter name after the traveling and exploring
companion of Baron von Humboldt, whose name is retained in the
Humboldt River of Nevada, but when the first reasonably accurate
survey of its shores was made, John Bigler was the occupant of the
gubernatorial chair of the State of California and it was named after
him. Then, later, for purely political reasons, it was changed to
Tahoe, and finally back to Bigler, which name it still officially
retains, though of the thousands who visit it annually but a very
small proportion have ever heard that such a name was applied to it.
In turn, soon after its discovery, Tahoe became the scene of a mining
excitement that failed to "pan out," the home of vast logging and
lumber operations and the objective point to which several famous
"Knights of the Lash" drove world-noted men and women in swinging
Concord coaches. In summer it is the haunt of Nature's most dainty,
glorious, and alluring picturesqueness; in winter the abode, during
some days, of the Storm King with his cohorts of hosts of clouds,
filled with rain, hail, sleet and snow, of fierce winds, of dread
lightnings, of majestic displays of rudest power. Suddenly, after
having covered peak and slope, meadow and shore, with snow to a depth
of six, eight, ten or more feet, the Storm King retires and Solus
again reigns supreme. And then! ah, then is the time to see Lake Tahoe
and its surrounding country. The placid summer views are exquisite
and soul-stirring, but what of Tahoe now? The days and nights are free
from wind and frost, the sun tempers the cold and every hour is an
exhilaration. The American people have not yet learned, as have the
Europeans in the Alps, the marvelous delights and stimulations of the
winter in such a place as Lake Tahoe. But they will learn in time, and
though a prophet is generally without honor in his own country, I will
assume a role not altogether foreign, and venture the assertion that
I shall live to see the day when winter visitors to Lake Tahoe will
number more than those who will visit it throughout the whole of the
year (1914) in which I write. One of the surprises often expressed
by those I have met here who have wintered in the Alps is that no
provision is made for hotel accommodation during the winter at Lake
Tahoe.
To return, however, to the charms of Tahoe that are already known to
many thousands. Within the last two or three decades it has become the
increasingly popular Mecca of the hunter, sportsman, and fisherman;
the natural haunt of the thoughtful and studious lover of God's great
and varied out-of-doors, and, since fashionable hotels were built, the
chosen resort of many thousands of the wealthy, pleasure-loving and
luxurious. What wonder that there should be a growing desire on
the part of the citizens of the United States--and especially of
California and Nevada--together with well-informed travelers from all
parts of the world, for larger knowledge and fuller information about
Lake Tahoe than has hitherto been available.
To meet this laudable desire has been my chief incitement in the
preparation of the following pages, but I should be untrue to my own
devotion to Lake Tahoe, which has extended over a period of more than
thirty years, were I to ignore the influence the Lake's beauty has had
over me, and the urge it has placed within me. Realizing and feeling
these emotions I have constantly asked with Edward Rowland Sill:
What can I for such a world give back again?
And my only answer has been, and is, this:
Could I only hint the beauty--
Some least shadow of the beauty,
Unto men!
In looking over the files of more of less ephemeral literature, as
well as the records of the explorations of early days, I have been
astonished at the rich treasures of scientific and descriptive
literature that have Lake Tahoe as their object. Not the least service
this unpretentious volume will accomplish is the gathering together of
these little-known jewels.
It will be noticed that I have used the word _Sierran_ rather
than _Alpine_ throughout these pages. Why not? Why should the
writer, describing the majestic, the glorious, the sublime of the
later-formed mountain ranges of earth, designate them by a term coined
for another and far-away range?
I would have the reader, however, be careful to pronounce it
accurately. It is not _Sy-eer-an_, but _See-ehr-ran_, almost
as if one were advising another to "See Aaron," the brother of Moses.
Tahoe is not _Teh-o_, nor is it _Tah-ho_, nor _Tah-o_.
The Washoe Indians, from whom we get the name, pronounce it as if it
were one syllable _Tao_, like a Chinese name, the "a" having the
broad sound _ah_ of the Continent.
Likewise _Tallac_ is not pronounced with the accent on the last
syllable (as is generally heard), but _Tal['x]-ac_.
While these niceties of pronunciation are not of vast importance, they
preserve to us the intonations of the original inhabitants, who, as
far as we know, were the first human beings to gaze upon the face of
this ever-glorious and beautiful Lake.
When Mark Twain and Thomas Starr King visited Tahoe it was largely in
its primitive wildness, though logging operations for the securing of
timber for the mines of Virginia City had been going on for some time
and had led to the settlement at Glenbrook (where four great saw mills
were in constant operation so long as weather permitted), and
the stage-road from Placerville to Virginia City demanded
stopping-stations, as Myers, Yanks, Rowlands and Lakeside.
But to-day, while the commercial operations have largely ceased, the
scenic attractions of Lake Tahoe and its region have justified the
erection of over twenty resorts and camps, at least two of them
rivaling in extent and elaborateness of plant any of the gigantic
resort hotels of either the Atlantic or Pacific coasts, the others
varying in size and degree, according to the class of patronage they
seek. That these provisions for the entertainment of travelers, yearly
visitors, and health seekers will speedily increase with the years
there can be no doubt, for there is but one Lake Tahoe, and its lovers
will ultimately be legion. Already, also, it has begun to assert
itself as a place of summer residence. Fifteen years ago private
residences on Lake Tahoe might have been enumerated on the fingers of
the two hands; now they number as many hundreds, and the sound of
the hammer and saw is constantly heard, and dainty villas, bungalows,
cottages, and rustic homes are springing up as if by magic.
_Then_ Lake Tahoe was comparatively hard to reach. _Now_,
the trains of the _Southern Pacific_ and the _Lake Tahoe
Railway and Transportation Company_ deposit one on the very edge of
the Lake easier and with less personal exertion than is required to
go to and from any large metropolitan hotel in one city to a similar
hotel in another city.
It is almost inevitable that in such a book as this there should be
some repetition. Just as one sees the same peaks and lakes, shore-line
and trees from different portions of the Lake--though, of course, at
slightly or widely differing angles--so in writing, the attention of
the reader naturally is called again and again to the same scenes. But
this book is written not so much with an eye to its literary quality,
as to afford the visitor to Lake Tahoe--whether contemplative, actual,
or retrospective--a truthful and comprehensive account and description
of the Lake and its surroundings.
It will be observed that in many places I have capitalized the common
noun Lake. Whenever this appears it signifies Lake Tahoe--the chief of
all the lakes of the Sierras.
While it is very delightful to sit on the veranda or in the swinging
seats of the Tavern lawn, or at the choice nooks of all the resorts
from Tahoe City completely around the Lake, it is not possible to
write a book on Lake Tahoe there. One must get out and feel the
bigness of it all; climb its mountains, follow its trout streams;
ride or walk or push one's way through its leafy coverts; dwell in the
shade of its forests; row over its myriad of lakes; study its geology,
before he can know or write about Tahoe.
This is what I have done.
And this is what I desire to urge most earnestly upon my reader. Don't
lounge around the hotels all the time. Get all you want of that kind
of recreation; then "go in" for the more strenuous fun of wandering
and climbing. Go alone or in company, afoot or horseback, only go!
Thus will Tahoe increase the number of its devoted visitants and my
object in writing these pages be accomplished.
[Illustration: Signature]
George Wharton James
TAHOE TAVERN, June 1914.
[Illustration: PANORAMA FROM SOUTH END FALLEN LEAF LAKE.
Captions along top edge of illustration: Angora Peak--Glen
Alpine--Mt. Tallac--Rubicon Peaks--Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: PANORAMA FROM SOUTH END FALLEN LEAF LAKE.
Captions along top edge of illustration: Mt. Tallac--Rubicon
Peaks--Fallen Leaf Lake--Lake Tahoe]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
Introduction
I Why "the Lake of the Sky"?
II Frémont and the Discovery of Lake Tahoe
III The Indians of Lake Tahoe
IV Indian Legends of the Tahoe Region
V The Various Names of Lake Tahoe
VI John Le Conte's Physical Studies of Lake Tahoe
VII How Lake Tahoe Was Formed
VIII The Glacial History of Lake Tahoe
IX The Lesser Lakes of the Tahoe Region and How They Were Formed
X Donner Lake and Its Tragic History
XI Lake Tahoe and the Truckee River
XII By Rail to Lake Tahoe
XIII The Wishbone Automobile Route to and Around Lake Tahoe
XIV Tahoe Tavern
XV Trail Trips in the Tahoe Region
To Watson's Peak and Lake
To Squaw Valley, Granite Chief Peak, Five Lakes
and Deer Park Springs
To Ellis Peak
XVI Camping Out Trips in the Tahoe Region
To Hell Hole and the Rubicon River
XVII Historic Tahoe Towns
XVIII By Steamer Around Lake Tahoe
XIX Deer Park Springs
XX Rubicon Springs
XXI Emerald Bay and Camp
XXII Al-Tahoe
XXIII Glen Alpine Springs
XXIV Fallen Leaf Lake and Its Resorts
XXV Lakeside Park
XXVI Glenbrook and Marlette Lake
XXVII Carnelian Bay and Tahoe Country Club
XXVIII Fishing in the Lakes of the Tahoe Region
XXIX Hunting at Lake Tahoe
XXX The Flowers of the Tahoe Region
XXXI The Chaparral of the Tahoe Region
XXXII How to Distinguish the Trees of the Tahoe Region
XXXIII The Birds and Animals of the Tahoe Region
XXXIV The Squaw Valley Mining Excitement
XXXV The Frémont Howitzer and Lake Tahoe
XXXVI The Mount Rose Observatory
XXXVII Lake Tahoe in Winter _Written by Dr. J.E. Church, Jr.,
University of Nevada_.
XXXVIII Lake Tahoe as a Summer Residence
XXXIX The Tahoe National Forest
XL Public Use of the Waters of Lake Tahoe
APPENDIX
A Mark Twain at Lake Tahoe
B Mark Twain and the Forest Rangers
C Thomas Starr King at Lake Tahoe
D Joseph LeConte at Lake Tahoe
E John Vance Cheney at Lake Tahoe
F The Resorts of Lake Tahoe
[Illustration: TAHOE TAVERN, LAKE TAHOE, CALIF.]
[Illustration: STEAMER TAHOE OFF CAVE ROCK, NEVADA SIDE, LAKE TAHOE]
THE LAKE OF THE SKY
LAKE TAHOE
CHAPTER I
WHY "THE LAKE OF THE SKY"?
Lake Tahoe is the largest lake at its altitude--twenty-three miles
long by thirteen broad, 6225 feet above the level of the sea--with but
one exception in the world. Then, too, it closely resembles the sky
in its pure and perfect color. One often experiences, on looking
down upon it from one of its many surrounding mountains, a feeling of
surprise, as if the sky and earth had somehow been reversed and he was
looking down upon the sky instead of the earth.
And, further, Lake Tahoe so exquisitely mirrors the purity of the sky;
its general atmosphere is so perfect, that one feels it is peculiarly
akin to the sky.
Mark Twain walked to Lake Tahoe in the early sixties, from Carson
City, carrying a couple of blankets and an ax. He suggests that his
readers will find it advantageous to go on horseback. It was a hot
summer day, not calculated to make one of his temperament susceptible
to fine scenic impressions, yet this is what he says:
We plodded on, two or three hours longer, and at last the Lake
burst upon us--a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand
three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by
a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full three
thousand feet higher still. It was a vast oval, and one would
have to use up eighty or a hundred good miles in traveling around
it. As it lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly
photographed upon its still surface I thought it must surely be
the fairest picture the whole earth affords!
And there you have it! Articulate or inarticulate, something like this
is what every one thinks when he first sees Tahoe, and the oftener
he sees it, and the more he knows it the more grand and glorious it
becomes. It is immaterial that there are lakes perched upon higher
mountain shelves, and that one or two of them, at equal or superior
altitudes, are larger in size. Tahoe ranks in the forefront both for
altitude and size, and in beauty and picturesqueness, majesty and
sublimity, there is no mountain body of water on this earth that is
its equal.
Why such superlatives in which world-travelers generally--in fact,
invariably--agree? There must be some reason for it. Nay, there are
many. To thousands the chief charm of Lake Tahoe is in the exquisite,
rare, and astonishing colors of its waters. They are an endless source
of delight to all who see them, no matter how insensible they may be,
ordinarily, to the effect of color. There is no shade of blue or
green that cannot here be found and the absolutely clear and pellucid
quality of the water enhances the beauty and perfection of the tone.
One minister of San Francisco thus speaks of the coloring:
When the day is calm there is a ring around the Lake extending
from a hundred yards to a mile from the shore which is the most
brilliant green; within this ring there is another zone of the
deepest blue, and this gives place to royal purple in the
distance; and the color of the Lake changes from day to day and
from hour to hour. It is never twice the same--sometimes the blue
is lapis lazuli, then it is jade, then it is purple, and when the
breeze gently ruffles the surface it is silvery-gray. The Lake
has as many moods as an April day or a lovely woman. But its
normal appearance is that of a floor of lapis lazuli set with a
ring of emerald.
The depth of the water, varying as it does from a few feet to nearly
or over 2000 feet, together with the peculiarly variable bottom of the
Lake, have much to do with these color effects. The lake bottom on a
clear wind-quiet day can be clearly seen except in the lowest depths.
Here and there are patches of fairly level area, covered either with
rocky bowlders, moss-covered rocks, or vari-colored sands. Then,
suddenly, the eye falls upon a ledge, on the yonder side of which the
water suddenly becomes deep blue. That ledge may denote a submarine
precipice, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand or more feet deep, and
the changes caused by such sudden and awful depths are beyond verbal
description.
Many of the softer color-effects are produced by the light colored
sands that are washed down into the shallower waters by the mountain
streams. These vary considerably, from almost white and cream, to
deep yellow, brown and red. Then the mosses that grow on the massive
bowlders, rounded, square and irregular, of every conceivable size,
that are strewn over the lake bottom, together with the equally varied
rocks of the shore-line, some of them towering hundreds of feet above
the water--these have their share in the general enchantment and
revelry of color.
Emerald Bay and Meek's Bay are justly world-famed for their
triumphs of color glories, for here there seem to be those peculiar
combinations of varied objects, and depths, from the shallowest to the
deepest, with the variations of colored sands and rocks on the bottom,
as well as queer-shaped and colored bowlders lying on the vari-colored
sands, that are not found elsewhere. The waving of the water gives a
mottled effect surpassing the most delicate and richly-shaded marbles
and onyxes. Watered-silks of the most perfect manufacture are but
childish and puerile attempts at reproduction, and finest Turkish
shawls, Bokhara rugs or Arab sheiks' dearest-prized Prayer Carpets are
but glimmering suggestions of what the Master Artist himself has here
produced.
There are not the glowing colors of sunrises and sunsets; but they are
equally sublime, awe-inspiring and enchanting. There are Alpine-glows,
and peach-blooms and opalescent fires, gleams and subtle suggestions
that thrill moment by moment, and disappear as soon as seen, only to
be followed by equally beautiful, enchanting and surprising effects,
and with it all, is a mobility, a fluidity, a rippling, flowing,
waving, tossing series of effects that belong only to enchanted
water--water kissed into glory by the sun and moon, lured into softest
beauty by the glamour of the stars, and etheralized by the quiet and
subtle charms of the Milky Way, and of the Suns, Comets and Meteors
that the eye of man has never gazed upon.
There is one especially color-blessed spot. It is in Grecian Bay,
between Rubicon Point and Emerald Bay. Here the shore formation is
wild and irregular, with deep holes, majestic, grand and rugged rocks
and some trees and shrubbery. Near the center of this is a deep hole,
into which one of the mountain streams runs over a light-colored sandy
bottom where the water is quite shallow. Around are vari-colored trees
and shrubs, and these objects and conditions all combine to produce
a mystic revelation of color gradations and harmonies, from emerald
green and jade to the deepest amethystine or ultra-marine. When the
wind slightly stirs the surface and these dancing ripples catch the
sunbeams, one by one, in changeful and irregular measure, the eyes are
dazzled with iridescences and living color-changes covering hundreds
of acres, thousands of them, as exquisite, glorious and dazzling
as revealed in the most perfect peacock's tail-feathers, or
humming-bird's throat. Over such spots one sits in his boat
spell-bound, color-entranced, and the ears of his soul listen to color
music as thrilling, as enchanting as melodies by Foster and Balfe,
minuets by Mozart and Haydn, arias by Handel, nocturnes and serenades
by Chopin and Schumann, overtures by Rossini, massive choruses
and chorals by Handel, Haydn and Mendelssohn, fugues by Bach, and
concertos by Beethoven.
The blue alone is enough to impress it forever upon the observant
mind. Its rich, deep, perfect splendor is a constant surprise. One
steps from his hotel, not thinking of the Lake--the blue of it rises
through the trees, over the rocks, _everywhere_, with startling
vividness. Surely never before was so large and wonderful a lake of
inky blue, sapphire blue, ultra-marine, amethystine richness spread
out for man's enjoyment. And while the summer months show this in all
its smooth placidity and quietude, there seems to be a deeper blue,
a richer shade take possession of the waves in the fall, or when its
smoothness is rudely dispelled by the storms of winter and spring.
So much for the color!
Yet there are those who are devoted to Lake Tahoe who seldom speak
of the coloring of its waters. Perhaps they are fascinated by its
fishing. This has become as world-famed as its colors. Thousands,
hundreds of thousands, of the most gamey and delicately-flavored trout
are caught here annually, both by experts and amateurs. The Federal
and State governments, and private individuals yearly stock the main
Lake and the hundred and one smaller lakes of the region with the
finest species of trout obtainable, and the results fully justify the
labor and expense.
To the mountain-lover the Tahoe region is an earthly paradise. One
summer I climbed over twenty peaks, each over nine thousand feet
high, and all gave me glimpses of Tahoe. Some of them went up close to
11,000 feet.
Are you an admirer of Alpine, nay, _High Sierran_, trees? You
will find all the well-known, and several rare and entirely new
species in this region. This field alone could well occupy a student,
or a mere amateur tree-lover a whole summer in rambling, climbing,
collecting and studying.
And as for geology--the Grand Canyon of Arizona has afforded me
nature reading material for nearly three decades and I am delighted
by reading it yet. Still I am free to confess the uplift of these
high-sweeping Sierras, upon whose lofty summits
The high-born, beautiful snow comes down,
Silent and soft as the terrible feet
Of Time on the mosses of ruins;
the great glacial _cirques_, with their stupendous precipices
from which the vast ice-sheets started, which gouged, smoothed,
planed and grooved millions of acres of solid granite into lake-beds,
polished domes and canyon walls and carried along millions of tons of
rock debris to make scores of lateral and terminal moraines; together
with the evidences of uplift, subsidence and volcanic outpouring of
diorite and other molten rocks, afford one as vast and enjoyable a
field for contemplation as any ordinary man can find in the Grand
Canyon.
But why compare them? There is no need to do so. Each is supreme in
its own right; different yet compelling, unlike yet equally engaging.
Then there are the ineffable climate of summer, the sunrises, the
sunsets, the Indians, the flowers, the sweet-singing birds, the
rowing, in winter the snow-shoeing, the camping-out, and, alas! I must
say it--the hunting.
Why man will hunt save for food is beyond me. I deem it that every
living thing has as much right to its life as I have to mine, but I
find I am in a large minority among a certain class that finds at Lake
Tahoe its hunting Mecca. Deer abound, and grouse and quail are quite
common, and in the summer of 1913 I knew of four bears being shot.
Is it necessary to present further claims for Lake Tahoe? Every new
hour finds a new charm, every new day calls for the louder praise,
every added visit only fastens the chains of allurement deeper. For
instance, this is the day of athletic maids, as well as men. We find
them everywhere. Very well! Lake Tahoe is the physical culturist's
heaven.
In any one of its score of camps he may sleep out of doors, on the
porch, out under the pines, by the side of the Lake or in his tent
or cottage with open doors and windows. At sunrise, or later, in his
bathing suit, or when away from too close neighbors, clothed, as
dear old Walt Whitman puts it, "in the natural and religious idea of
nakedness," the cold waters of the Lake invite him to a healthful and
invigorating plunge, with a stimulating and vivifying swim. A swift
rub down with a crash towel, a rapid donning of rude walking togs and
off, instanter, for a mile climb up one of the trails, a scramble over
a rocky way to some hidden Sierran lake, some sheltered tree nook,
some elevated outlook point, and, after feasting the eyes on the
glories of incomparable and soul-elevating scenes, he returns to camp,
eats a hearty breakfast, with a clear conscience, a vigorous appetite
aided by hunger sauce, guided by the normal instincts of taste, all of
which have been toned up by the morning's exercise--what wonder that
such an one radiates Life and Vim, Energy and Health, Joy and Content.
Do you know what the lure must be when a busy man, an active man,
an alert man, a man saturated with the nervous spirit of American
commercial life, sits down in one of the seats overlooking the Lake,
or spreads out his full length upon the grass, or on the beds of
Sierran moss, which make a deliciously restful cushion, and stays
there! He does nothing; doesn't even look consciously at the blue
waters of the Lake, on the ineffable blue of the sky, or the rich
green of the trees or the glory of the flowers--he simply sits or
sprawls or lies and, though the influence is different, the effect is
the same as that expressed in the old hymn:
My soul would ever stay,
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing itself away,
To everlasting bliss.
There's the idea! Calm, rest, peace, bliss. Those are what you get
at Lake Tahoe. And with them come renewed health, increased vigor,
strengthened courage, new power to go forth and seize the problems
of life, with a surer grasp, a more certain touch, a more clearly and
definitely assured end.
There are some peculiarities of Lake Tahoe that should be noted,
although they are of a very different character from the foolish and
sensational statements that used to be made in the early days of its
history among white men. A serious advertising folder years ago sagely
informed the traveling public as follows: "A strange phenomenon in
connection with the Truckee River is the fact that the Lake from which
it flows (Tahoe) has no inlet, so far as any one knows, and the lake
into which it flows (Pyramid Lake, Nevada), has no outlet."
[Illustration: MT. TALLAC IN STORM. LAKE TAHOE, CAL.]
[Illustration: THE PICTURESQUE TRUCKER RIVER, NEAR LAKE TAHOE]
How utterly absurd this is. Lake Tahoe has upward of a hundred feeders,
among which may be named Glenbrook, the Upper Truckee, Fallen Leaf
Creek, Eagle Creek, Meek's Creek, General Creek, McKinney Creek, Madden
Creek, Blackwood Creek, and Ward Creek, all of these being constant
streams, pouring many thousands of inches of water daily into the Lake
even at the lowest flow, and in the snow-melting and rainy seasons
sending down their floods in great abundance.
To many it is a singular fact that Lake Tahoe never freezes over
in winter. This is owing to its great depth, possibly aided by the
ruffling and consequent disturbance of its surface by the strong
northeasterly winter winds. The vast body of water, with such
tremendous depth, maintains too high a temperature to be affected
by surface reductions in temperature. Experiments show that the
temperature in summer on the surface is 68 degrees Fahr. At 100 feet
55 degrees; at 300 feet 46 degrees; at 1506 feet 39 degrees.
Twenty years ago the thermometer at Lake Tahoe registered 18 degrees
F. _below zero_, and in 1910 it was 10 degrees F. below. Both
these years Emerald Bay froze over. Perhaps the reason for this is
found in the fact that the entrance to the bay is very shallow, and
that this meager depth is subject to change in surface temperature,
becoming warmer in summer and colder in winter. This narrow ridge once
solidly frozen, the warmth of the larger body of water would have no
effect upon the now-confined smaller body of Emerald Bay. Once a firm
hold taken by the ice, it would slowly spread its fingers and aid in
the reduction of the temperature beyond, first producing slush-ice,
and then the more solid crystal ice, until the whole surface would be
frozen solid.
An explanation of the non-freezing of the main Lake has been offered
by several local "authorities" as owing to the presence of a number of
hot springs either in the bed of the Lake or near enough to its shores
materially to affect its temperature. But I know of few or no "facts"
to justify such an explanation.
When I first visited Lake Tahoe over thirty years ago I was seriously
and solemnly informed by several (who evidently believed their own
assertions) that, owing to the great elevation of the Lake, the
density of the water, etc., etc., it was impossible for any one to
swim in Lake Tahoe. I was assured that several who had tried had
had narrow escapes from drowning. While the utter absurdity of the
statements was self-evident I decided I would give myself a practical
demonstration. To be perfectly safe I purchased a clothes-line, then,
hiring a row-boat, went as far away from shore as was desirable,
undressed, tied one end of the rope around the seat, the other around
my body, and--jumped in. I did not sink. Far from it. I was never more
stimulated to swim in my life. My ten or fifteen feet dive took me
into colder water than I had ever experienced before and I felt as
if suddenly, and at one fell swoop, I were flayed alive. Gasping for
breath I made for the boat, climbed in, and in the delicious glow that
came with the reaction decided that it was quite as important to
feel of the temperature of lake water before you leaped, as it was
to render yourself safe from sinking by anchoring yourself to a
clothesline.
But I would not have my reader assume from the recital of this
experience that Lake Tahoe is always too cold for swimming. Such is
not the case. Indeed in June, July, August and September the swimming
is delightful to those who enjoy "the cool, silver shock of the plunge
in a pool's living water," that Browning's _Saul_ so vividly
pictures for us. Hundreds of people--men, women and children--in
these months indulge in the daily luxury, especially in the coves and
beaches where the water is not too deep, and the sun's ardent rays woo
them into comfortable warmth.
After a warm day's tramp or ride over the trails, too, there is
nothing more delicious than a plunge into one of the lakes. A short,
crisp swim, a vigorous rub down, and a resumption of the walk or ride
and one feels _fit_ enough to conquer a world.
It can be imagined, too, what a lively scene the Lake presents in the
height of the season, when, from the scores of hotels, resorts, camps,
private residences, fishermen's camps, etc.; fishing-boats, row-boats,
launches, motor-boats, and yachts ply to and fro in every direction,
unconsciously vying with each other to attract the eye of the
onlooker. The pure blue of the Lake, with its emerald ring and varying
shades of color, added to by the iridescent gleam that possesses the
surface when it is slightly rippled by a gentle breeze, contrasting
with the active, vivid, moving boats of differing sizes, splashed with
every conceivable color by the hats and costumes of the occupants--all
these conspire to demand the eye, to enchain the attention, to
harmlessly hypnotize, as it were, those who sit on the shore and look.
And when is added to this the spontaneous shouts and shrieks of
delight that the feminine "fishermen" give when they are successful
and make a catch, the half-frenzied and altogether delighted
announcements thereof, the whole-hearted or the half-jealous,
half-envious return-congratulations, while now and then the large
steamer, _Tahoe_, or an elegant private yacht, as the Tevis's
_Consuelo_, crosses the scene, one may partially but never fully
conceive the joy and radiant happiness, the satisfaction and content
that Lake Tahoe inspires and produces.
Lake Tahoe covers about 190 square miles, and its watershed is about
500 square miles. The boundary line between Nevada and California
strikes the Lake on the northern border at the 120th meridian, and
a point at that spot is called the State Line Point. The latitude
parallel of this northern entrance is 39° 15". The boundary line goes
due south until about 38° 58" and then strikes off at an oblique angle
to the southeast, making the southern line close to Lakeside Park, a
few miles east of the 120th meridian.
CHAPTER II
FRÉMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF LAKE TAHOE
Like so many other great discoveries that were to have an important
effect upon the lives of countless numbers of people, the discovery
of Lake Tahoe was accidental. Nor did its finder comprehend the vast
influence it was to possess, not only upon the residents of California
and Nevada, but upon the travel-loving and sight-seeing portion of the
population of the whole world.
John C. Frémont, popularly acclaimed "the pathfinder," was its
discoverer, on the 14th day of February, 1844. In the journal of his
1843-44 expedition he thus records the first sight of it:
Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest peak
to the right from which we had a beautiful view of a mountain
lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so nearly
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet.
It cannot be deemed out of place in these pages, owing to the
significance of the discovery by Frémont, to give a brief account of
the exploration and its purposes, in the carrying out of which Tahoe
was revealed to the intrepid and distinguished explorer.
Fortunately for us, Frémont left a full story of his experiences in
the Nevada country, complete in detail, and as fresh and vivid as if
but written yesterday. This account, with illuminating Introduction,
and explanatory notes by James U. Smith, from whose pioneer father
Smith Valley is named, was republished in the _Second Biennial
Report of the Nevada Historical Society_, from which, with the
kind permission of the secretary, Professor Jeanne Elizabeth Wier, the
following extracts are made.
Frémont had already made his first exploration of the Rocky Mountains
and South Pass in the summer of 1842. It was in this expedition that,
standing on the highest peak of the Rockies, he looked down into
the vast area beyond, known as the Great Basin, comprising with its
mountain ranges the whole western portion of the continent of North
America. This he determined to explore, and it was on this second
expedition that Lakes Pyramid and Tahoe, the Truckee River, etc., were
discovered.
Later, Frémont made his third western journey, that in which he
came into conflict with the Mexican officials of California, became
governor of California, and was finally placed under arrest by General
Kearny, and taken back to Washington to be tried for mutiny. The
results of that unfortunate Kearny conflict are well known.
At the official close of the dispute he made his fourth expedition
and finally his fifth, all of which are fully treated in Smucker's and
Bigelow's _Life of Frémont_.
To return now to the second expedition. In the words of Mr. Smith:
The object of the expedition was purely for the purpose of
exploring and otherwise getting scientific information about
the great territory between the Missouri frontier and the
Pacific Ocean. Emigrants were making their way westward to
the new Oregon Territory, and hunters and trappers had been
visiting portions of that region. Farther north the fur
companies had their posts and did a regular business with the
trappers and Indians. But little was known about the regions
further south, and especially the great territory between the
Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountain chains, and that little was
freely adulterated with fiction.
Great Salt Lake was supposed to be a very strange and
wonderful lake, the islands of which were covered with woods
and flowers, through which roamed all kinds of game, and whose
waters were sucked down in a great awe-inspiring whirlpool
into an underground passage under the mountains and valleys
to the distant sea. Another myth, or rather pair of myths, in
which geographers placed sufficient faith to give a place on
the maps of the time, was the great Buenaventura River, and
that semi-tropical Mary's Lake, the waters from which found
their way through the Sierra Nevadas to San Francisco Bay.
Mary's Lake was supposed to be a body of water such as a
traveler dreams about, whose clear waters were bordered by
meadows ever green, a place on whose shores he could pitch his
tent and cast aside all thought or care of the morrow. Frémont
counted on this lake as a place where he could recuperate
and make ready for a final dash eastward across the unknown
country to the Rocky Mountains and thence home to the
Mississippi River. Contrast these anticipations with the
hardships and fears he encountered while groping his way
through the Black Rock Desert, north of Pyramid Lake.
But Frémont was a good leader followed by courageous men, and
disappointments did not make weaklings of either him or his
men. His party, on leaving Missouri, consisted of thirty-nine
men--Creoles, Canadian-Frenchmen, Americans, a German or two,
a free negro and two Indians. Charles Preuss was Frémont's
assistant in topography, and it is likely that he made his
sketches, several of which were published in the original
report. Another member of the party, and one who joined it
in the Rocky Mountains and is of special interest to us, was
Christopher Carson, commonly known as "Kit" Carson. Frémont
speaks of him in very friendly and flattering terms. At the
time of the meeting with Carson, he says: "I had here
the satisfaction to meet our good buffalo hunter of 1842,
Christopher Carson, whose services I considered myself
fortunate to secure again." On another occasion, when Carson
had successfully performed a responsible errand, he says:
"Reaching St. Vrain's Fort ... we found ... my true and
reliable friend, Kit Carson." Frémont left Kansas City, Mo.,
May 29, 1843.
His general route was along the _old_ "Oregon Trail,"
then the _new_ "Oregon Trail," but at many places his
route was different. He followed up the Kansas River instead
of the Platte. But he crossed the Rocky Mountains over the
South Pass, which is that of the Union Pacific Railroad,
and was common to the Oregon Trail and the emigrant road to
California. During nearly the whole journey to Oregon
Frémont divided his party. One part he placed in charge of
Fitzpatrick. This consisted of the carts with the bulk of the
supplies and about half of the men. The other part consisted
of a mounted party with packhorses and the howitzer. Frémont,
of course, took charge of the latter party, for, traveling
light as it did, he was able to make detours covering country
he wished to explore, always, however, using the other train
as a base of supplies. The course of the other party was
generally along the emigrant road to Oregon.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, Frémont went south with
his party to explore Great Salt Lake. Thence he returned north
again to the emigrant road, which then followed in a general
way the Snake or Lewis River to the Columbia, with the
exception of the great bend in northeastern Oregon which was
traversed by a shorter route. Along the bank of the Columbia
the road followed to the Mission Station at the Dalles,
or great narrows of the river. At this point many of the
emigrants transferred their baggage to barges and floated
with the current to their destination on the Willamette River.
Others continued by land down the river. Frémont's division
reached the Dalles November 4th. Fitzpatrick's train did not
come in until the 21st. The latter left his carts at the mouth
of the Walla Walla River according to Frémont's orders; and,
after making pack-saddles, transferred what was left of his
baggage to the backs of his mules for the trip down to the
Dalles. In the meantime Frémont, with Preuss and two of the
other men, had gone down to Fort Vancouver in canoes. This was
the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company for the West. Here
supplies for the return journey were obtained.
Having transported these supplies up to the Dalles in barges
propelled by Indians, he was ready to take up the final
preparation for the homeward journey. It is best to let him
describe these preparations in his own words. He says:
"The camp was now occupied in making the necessary
preparations for our homeward journey, which, though homeward,
contemplated a new route, and a great circuit to the south and
southeast, and the exploration of the Great Basin between the
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada.
"Three principal objects were indicated, by report, or by
maps, as being on this route, the character or existence of
which I wished to ascertain, and which I assumed as landmarks,
or leading points, on the projected line of return. The first
of these points was the Tlamath Lake, on the tableland between
the head of Fall River (this is now called by its French name,
the Des Chutes River), which comes to the Columbia, and the
Sacramento, which goes to the Bay of San Francisco, and from
which lake a river of the same name makes its way westwardly
direct to the ocean.
"This lake and river are often called Klamet, but I
have chosen to write the name according to the Indian
pronunciation. The position of this lake, on the line of
inland communication between Oregon and California; its
proximity to the demarcation boundary of latitude 42 deg.; its
imputed double character of lake, or meadow, according to
the season of the year; and the hostile and warlike character
attributed to the Indians about it;--all make it a desirable
object to visit and examine. From this lake our course was
intended to be about southeast, to a reported lake called
Mary's, at some days' journey in the Great Basin; and thence,
still on southeast, to the reputed Buenaventura River, which
has a place in so many maps, and countenanced the belief
of the existence of a great river flowing from the Rocky
Mountains to the Bay of San Francisco. From the Buenaventura
the next point was intended to be in that section of the Rocky
Mountains which includes the heads of Arkansas River, and of
the opposite waters of the California Gulf; and thence down
the Arkansas to Bent's Fort, and home.
"This was our projected line of return--a great part of it
absolutely new to geographical, botanical, and geological
science--and the subject of reports in relation to lakes,
rivers, deserts, and savages, hardly above the condition of
mere wild animals, which inflamed desire to know what this
_terra incognita_ really contained. It was a serious
enterprise, at the commencement of winter, to undertake the
traverse of such a region, and with a party consisting only
of twenty-five persons, and they of many nations--American,
French, German, Canadian, Indian, and colored--and most of
them young, several being under twenty-one years of age.
"All knew that a strange country was to be explored, and
dangers and hardships to be encountered; but no one blenched
at the prospect. On the contrary, courage and confidence
animated the whole party. Cheerfulness, readiness,
subordination, prompt obedience, characterized all; nor
did any extremity or peril and privation, to which we were
afterward exposed, ever belie, or derogate from, the fine
spirit of this brave and generous commencement.
"The course of the narrative will show at what point, and for
what reasons, we were prevented from the complete execution
of this plan, after having made considerable progress upon it,
and how we were forced by desert plains and mountain ranges,
and deep snows, far to the south and near to the Pacific
Ocean, and along the western base of the Sierra Nevada; where,
indeed, a new and ample field of exploration opened itself
before us."
From these quotations it is evident that Frémont had no idea of
entering California at this time. He was simply driven to it by
circumstances over which he had no control.
Leaving the Dalles, Frémont followed up the Des Chutes River to its
headwaters in southeastern Oregon, thence he crossed over the divide
to the waters of the Klamath, which he followed southward to what is
known as Klamath Marsh. This he called "Klamath Lake."
Now started the hunt for Mary's Lake and the San Buenaventura River.
The party came down through southeastern Oregon into Nevada, where
they camped on the night of December 26, in Coleman Valley, on what
is called Twelve-Mile Creek, and about eleven miles from the present
California line. It may be noted here that at that time the parallel
between Nevada and California on the south and Oregon on the north,
was the southern boundary of the territory of the United States.
Frémont was, therefore, about to cross into Mexican territory.
He then progressed southward through what are now Washoe, Humboldt,
Churchill and Lyon counties, and over the California line into Mono
County, back again into Douglas, and thence over the mountains south
of Lake Tahoe, but did not find Mary's Lake, nor the places upon which
he relied to recruit his animals and give rest to his party. He did,
however, find Pyramid Lake. This being the body of water into which
the Truckee River flows, and the Truckee being the only outlet to Lake
Tahoe, it is well that this portion of the account be given in full.
Frémont and Carson were on ahead. The day was January 10, 1843.
Frémont writes:
Leaving a signal for the party to encamp, we continued our way
up the hollow, intending to see what lay beyond the mountain.
The hollow was several miles long, forming a good pass (some
maps designate this pass as Frémont Pass, others as San Emidio
Canyon), the snow deepened to about a foot as we neared the
summit. Beyond, a defile between the mountains descended
rapidly about two thousand feet; and, filling up all the lower
space, was a sheet of green water, some twenty miles broad
(Pyramid Lake). It broke upon our eyes like the ocean. The
neighboring peaks rose high above us. One peak, on the eastern
side of the lake, rises nearly forty-four hundred feet above
the lake, and on the side (toward which Frémont was looking)
one peak rises 4925 feet above the lake; and we ascended one
of them to obtain a better view.
The waves were curling in the breeze, and their dark-green color
showed it to be a body of deep water. For a long time we sat
enjoying the view, for we had become fatigued with mountains,
and the free expanse of moving waves was very grateful. It was
set like a gem in the mountains, which, from our position,
seemed to inclose it almost entirely. At the western end it
communicated with the line of basins we had left a few days
since; and on the opposite side it swept a ridge of snowy
mountains, the foot of the great Sierra. Its position at first
inclined us to believe it Mary's Lake, but the rugged mountains
were so entirely discordant with descriptions of its low rushy
shores and open country, that we concluded it some unknown body
of water, which it afterwards proved to be.
On January 13th we followed again a broad Indian trail along
the shore of the lake to the southward. For a short space we
had room enough in the bottom; but, after traveling a
short distance, the water swept the foot of the precipitous
mountains, the peaks of which are about 3000 feet above the
lake. The trail wound around the base of these precipices,
against which the water dashed below, by a way nearly
impracticable for the howitzer. During a greater part of the
morning the lake was nearly hid by a snowstorm, and the waves
broke on the narrow beach in a long line of foaming surf,
five or six feet high. The day was unpleasantly cold, the wind
driving the snow sharp against our faces; and, having advanced
only about twelve miles, we encamped in a bottom formed by a
ravine, covered with good grass, which was fresh and green.
We did not get the howitzer into camp, but were obliged to
leave it on the rocks until morning. The next morning the snow
was rapidly melting under a warm sun. Part of the morning was
occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making only nine miles,
we encamped on the shore, opposite a very remarkable rock in
the lake, which had attracted our attention for many miles.
It rose, according to our estimate, 600 feet above the water,
and, from the point we viewed it, presented a pretty exact
outline of the great pyramid of Cheops. Like other rocks,
along the shore, it seemed to be incrusted with calcareous
cement. This striking feature suggested a name for the lake,
and I called it Pyramid Lake; and though it may be deemed by
some a fanciful resemblance, I can undertake to say that
the future traveler will find much more striking resemblance
between this rock and the pyramids of Egypt
than there is between them and the object from which they take
their name....
The elevation of this lake above the sea is 4890 feet, being
nearly 700 feet higher than the Great Salt Lake, from which
it lies nearly west, and distant about eight degrees of
longitude. The position and elevation of this lake make it an
object of geographical interest. It is the nearest lake to the
western rim, as the Great Salt Lake is to the eastern rim
of the Great Basin which lies between the base of the Rocky
Mountains and the Sierra Nevada--and the extent and character
of which, its whole circumference and contents, it is so
desirable to know.
The Indians then directed him to a river of which he says:
Groves of large cottonwood, which we could see at the mouth,
indicated that it was a stream of considerable size, and, at
all events, we had the pleasure to know that now we were in a
country where human beings could live. Reaching the groves,
we found the inlet of a large fresh-water stream (the Truckee
River), and all at once were satisfied that it was neither
Mary's River nor the waters of the Sacramento, but that we had
discovered a large interior lake, which the Indians informed
us had no outlet. It is about 35 miles long, and, by the mark
of the water-line along the shore, the spring level is about
12 feet above its present waters.
In the meantime, such a salmon-trout feast as is seldom seen
was going on in our camp, and every variety of manner in
which fish could be prepared--boiled, fried and roasted in
the ashes--was put into requisition; and every few minutes an
Indian would be seen running off to spear a fresh one. Whether
these Indians had seen whites before, we could not be certain;
but they were evidently in communication with others who had,
as one of them had some brass buttons, and we noticed several
other articles of civilized manufacture. We could obtain from
them but little information about the country. They made on
the ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as
issuing from another lake in the mountains three or four days
distant, in a direction a little west of south; beyond which,
they drew a mountain; and further still, two rivers; on one of
which they told us that people like ourselves traveled.
They still wandered to the south, passing near where Dayton, Nevada,
now is, and reaching Bridgeport and Mono and Twin Lakes. Here they
struck north and west again and soon had to leave the howitzer.
Passing through Antelope Valley they reached Markleeville in deep
snow, passed Graver's Springs, entered Faith and Hope Valleys, and
here it was Frémont gained his view of Lake Tahoe. It was February 14,
1844. He says:
The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in sight from this
encampment. Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the
highest peak to the right [probably Stevens Peak, 10,100 feet
above sea-level], from which we had a beautiful view of a
mountain lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and
so entirely surrounded by mountains that we could not discover
an outlet [Lake Tahoe]. We had taken with us a glass, but
though we enjoyed an extended view, the valley was half
hidden in mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow could
be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains,
eastward, as far as the eye could extend. It ranged over a
terrible mass of broken snowy mountains, fading off blue in
the distance. The rock composing the summit consists of very
coarse, dark, volcanic conglomerate; the lower parts appeared
to be of a slaty structure. The highest trees were a few
scattered cedars and aspens. From the immediate foot of the
peak, we were two hours reaching the summit, and one hour and
a quarter in descending. The day had been very bright, still,
and clear, and spring seemed to be advancing rapidly. While
the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly, and gushing
springs cover the face of the mountain in all exposed places,
but their surface freezes instantly with the disappearance of
the sun.
I obtained to-night some observations, and the result from
these, and others made during our stay, gives for the latitude
38 deg. 41' 57", longitude 120 deg. 25' 57" [the correct
longitude for this place is 119 deg. 58'], and rate of the
chronometer 25.82.
The next night they encamped on the headwaters of a little creek,
where at last the water found its way to the Pacific. The following
morning they started early.
The creek acquired a regular breadth of about 20 feet, and we
soon began to hear the rushing of water below the icy surface,
over which we traveled to avoid the snow; a few miles below
we broke through, where the water was several feet deep, and
halted to make a fire and dry our clothes. We continued a few
miles further, walking being very laborious without snowshoes.
I was now perfectly satisfied that we had struck the stream on
which Mr. Sutter lived; and, turning about, made a hard push,
and reached the camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure to find
all the remaining animals, 57 in number, safely arrived at
the grassy hill near camp; and here, also, we were agreeably
surprised with the sight of an abundance of salt. Some of the
horse-guard had gone to a neighboring hut for pine nuts,
and discovered unexpectedly a large cake of very white, fine
grained salt, which the Indians told them they had brought
from the other side of the mountain; they used it to eat with
their pine nuts, and readily sold it for goods.
On the 19th, the people were occupied in making a road and
bringing up the baggage; and, on the afternoon of the next
day, February 20, we encamped, with the animals and all the
_materiel_ of the camp, on the summit of the pass [Carson
Pass, at the head of Hope Valley] in the dividing ridge, 1000
miles by our traveled road from the Dalles to the Columbia.
The people, who had not yet been to this point, climbed the
neighboring peak to enjoy a look at the valley.
The temperature of boiling water gave for the elevation of the
encampment, 9338 feet above the sea.
This was 2000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky
Mountains, and several peaks in view rose several thousand
feet still higher. Thus, at the extremity of the continent,
and near the coast, the phenomenon was seen of a range
of mountains still higher than the great Rocky Mountains
themselves. This extraordinary fact accounts for the Great
Basin, and shows that there must be a system of small lakes
and rivers scattered over a flat country, and which the
extended and lofty range of the Sierra Nevada prevents from
escaping to the Pacific Ocean. Latitude 38 deg. 44', longitude
120 deg. 28'. [This latitude is that of Stevens Peak, the
highest in that ridge, 10,100 feet, and of course he did not
go over the top of that peak, when Carson Pass, 1600 feet
lower, was in plain view; this pass is the lowest one visible
from the route on which they had come; another pass much lower
leads out from the other or northern end of Hope Valley, but
was not visible from their trail. The summit of Carson Pass
is approximately latitude 38 deg. 41' 50"; longitude 119 deg.
59'. Frémont's longitude readings are unreliable, owing to
error in his chronometer.]
From this point on, following the south fork of the American River,
sixteen days from the summit landed Frémont and his party at Sutler's
Fort, March 8. Of their arrival Frémont says:
A more forlorn and pitiable sight than they presented cannot
well be imagined. They were all on foot, each man weak and
emaciated, leading a horse or mule as weak and emaciated
as themselves. They had experienced great difficulty in
descending the mountains, made slippery by rains and melting
snows, and many horses fell over precipices and were killed,
and with some were lost the packs they carried. Among these
was a mule with the plants which we had collected since
leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2000 miles of travel. Out
of 67 horses and mules, with which we commenced crossing the
Sierra, only 33 reached the valley of the Sacramento, and they
only in a condition to be led along.
In concluding this chapter it should not be overlooked that on his
maps of the expedition of 1843-44 Frémont called the mountain lake he
had discovered "Lake Bonpland." He says in a private letter: "I gave
to the basin river its name of Humboldt and to the mountain lake the
name of his companion traveler, Bonpland, and so put it in the map of
that expedition."
[Illustration: A Washoe Indian _Campoodie_, Near Lakeside Park,
Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Washoe indians at Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: The 'Signal Code' Design]
Amadé Bonpland was born at Rochelle, France, in 1773. He was educated
as a physician but became a noted botanist. He accompanied Humboldt
to America, and subsequently became a joint author with the great
traveler and scientist of several valuable works on the botany,
natural-history, etc., of the New World. He was detained as a prisoner
for nearly ten years by Dictator Francia of Paraguay to prevent him
from, or to punish him for, attempting to cultivate the maté, or
Paraguay tea, in that country. He died in 1858 at Montevideo, the
Capital of Uruguay, in South America.
His name as applied to Lake Tahoe is practically unknown, save to the
curious investigator or historian. Other names given by Frémont have
"stuck" to this day, amongst them being Humboldt, Walker, Owen, Kern
and Carson rivers, Pyramid and Walker lakes, etc.
The vicissitudes of the naming of Lake Tahoe is of sufficient interest
to occupy a whole chapter, to which the reader is referred.
CHAPTER III
THE INDIANS OF LAKE TAHOE
Since Lake Tahoe was the natural habitat of one of the most
deliciously edible fishes found in the world, the Indians of the
region were bound, very early in their history here, to settle upon
its shores. These were the Paiutis and the Washoes. The former,
however, ranging further east in Nevada, were always regarded as
interlopers by the latter if they came too near to the Lake, and there
are legends current of several great struggles in which many lives
were lost, where the Washoes battled with the Paiutis to keep them
from this favored locality.
Prior to the coming of the emigrant bands in the early 'forties of the
last century, the only white men the Indians ever saw were occasional
trappers who wandered into the new and strange land. Then, the
beautiful Indian name, soft and limpid as an Indian maiden's eyes, was
_Wasiu_--not the harsh, Anglicized, _Washoe_. Their range
seemed to be from Washoe and Carson valleys on the east in winter, up
to Tahoe and over the Sierras for fishing and hunting in the summer.
They never ventured far westward, as the Monos and other mountain
tribes claimed the mountain regions for their acorns and the game
(deer, etc.), which abounded there.
While in the early days of the settlements of whites upon their lands
the Washoes now and again rose in protest, and a few lives were lost,
in the main they have been a peaceable and inoffensive tribe. The
Paiutis were far more independent and warlike, placing their yoke upon
the weaker tribe. Indeed, when I first talked with the older Washoes
and Paiutis thirty years ago they were full of stories of big wars
between themselves. They showed me rocks near to the present town of
Verdi, on the line of the Southern Pacific, on which their ancestors
had made certain inscriptions which they interpreted as warnings to
the Paiutis not to dare trespass beyond that sign, and the Paiutis had
similar notices inscribed upon bowlders near to their boundary lines.
As a result of one of their fights the Washoes were forbidden the use
of horses, and it is only since the whites have exercised control that
the weaker tribe has dared to disregard this prohibition.
To-day they number in the region of six hundred men, women and
children. On account of their nomadic habits it is impossible to
secure a complete census.
In appearance they are heavy and fat, though now and again a man of
fine, muscular form and good height is found. The women have broad,
shapeless figures and clumsy, deliberate movements. The older they
get the more repulsive and filthy they become. While young some of the
women have pleasing, intelligent and alert faces, while children of
both sexes are attractive and interesting. But with them as with all
aboriginal people who have absorbed the vices and none of the virtues
of the whites, the Washoes are fast losing power, vigor and strength
by disease and dissipation. The smoke of the _campoodie_ fire is
also ruinous to their eyes and ophthalmia is prevalent among them. It
is no uncommon thing to see a man or woman entirely blind.
The old-time methods of clothing have entirely disappeared. When I
first knew them it was not unusual to find an old Indian wrapped in
a blanket made of twisted rabbit-skins, but I doubt if one could be
found to-day. The white man's overalls, blouse and ordinary coat and
vest for the men, with calico in variegated colors for the women, seem
to have completely taken the place of their own primitive dress. A
pair of moccasins, however, now and again, may be found in use at a
dance or on some special occasion.
They still paint and tattoo their faces, hands and wrists, in lines,
triangles and circles. On their bodies also stripes of irregular
design and varying colors are often used, all having a symbolic
meaning originally, now lost, however, at least to all the younger
members of the tribe. Painting the face has a definite and useful
purpose. It softens the skin and prevents the frosts of winter from
cracking it.
Their dwellings are of the rudest character, mere brush shacks in
summer, and in winter, nondescript structures of brush, old boards,
railroad ties, tin cans, barrel-staves, old carpet, canvas, anything
that will sustain a roof and keep out wind, rain and as much of the
cold as possible. Their name for this structure is _campoodie_.
Of course there is no pretense of sanitation, cleanliness or domestic
privacy. The whole family herds together around the smoking fire, thus
early beginning the destruction of their eyesight by the never-ceasing
and irritating smoke.
Their native food consists of fish, the products of the chase, which
include deer, antelope, an occasional bear, rabbits, squirrels and
even coyotes, mountain-lions and wildcats, with acorns, manzanita
berries, currants and the seeds of wild peaches and the various
grasses, together with a large assortment of roots. While they gather
and eat pine nuts, they generally save them for purposes of barter or
sale. Their carrying baskets contain a good wheelbarrow load and are
called _mo-ke-wit_.
They are great gamblers, their chief game being a guessing contest,
where sides are chosen, the fortune of each side depending on its
ability to guess who holds a certain decorated stick. Men and women
alike play the game, though generally the sexes separate and play by
themselves. Quiet chanting or singing often accompanies the game. All
alike smoke the cigarette.
[Illustration: Dat-so-la-le, the artistic Washoe basket maker]
[Illustration: One of Dat-so-la-le's masterpieces, 'Our Hunters'
design]
[Illustration: 'Our Ancestral Hunters' design]
[Illustration: Washoe baskets made by Dat-so-la-le, 'Happy Homes'
design]
Of their religious beliefs little can be said. The fact is their
simple nature-worship and the superstitions connected with it have
been abolished, practically, by their association with the whites, and
we have given them nothing as substitutes. As Mrs. W.W. Price says in
a letter to me:
In several talks with Susan and Jackson, after the death
of Susan's sister, I endeavored to find out some of their
religious beliefs. But these talks were not very satisfactory.
Neither one knew what he did believe. Their old Indian
religion--whatever it may have been--seemed to have passed,
and the religion of the white man had not taken very deep
hold.
While Susan felt that she must cut her hair short and burn all
her sister's things and do just so much wailing each day to
drive off the evil spirits (on the occasion of her sister's
death), she took most _comfort_ in doing as "white woman"
do--putting on a black dress.
The most interesting result of my talks with Jackson was the
following ghost story, which he told me to show that Indians
sometimes did live again after death. His grandmother had told
him the story and had heard it herself from the man to whom it
had happened. It is as follows: "An Indian woman died,
leaving a little child and her husband. The latter spent the
accustomed four days and nights watching at her grave without
food or drink. On the fourth night the grave suddenly opened
and the woman stepped out before him. 'Give me my child,' said
she. The man said not a word but went quickly and brought the
little child. The woman did not speak but took the child and
suckled it. Then holding it close in her arms, she began to
walk slowly away. The man followed her, but he did not speak.
On, on they went, through forest and meadow, up hill and down
dale.
"By and by the man made a movement as though he would take
hold of her to stop her. But the woman warded him off with a
wave of her hand. 'Touch me not,' she said. 'If you touch me,
you must die too!' She stood and suckled the child once more,
then laid him gently in her husband's arms. 'Go home,' she
said, and faded from his sight.
"Home he went with the child, full of awe and fear.
"A few days afterwards the child died, though there was
nothing the matter with it. The man, however, lived to be very
old."
Jackson was not sure whether he believed this story or not.
But his manner of telling it indicated that it was very real
to him.
Now and again near Tallac one may see one of the dances of the
Washoes. Though war is past with them they still occasionally indulge
in their War Dance and its consequent Scalp Dance. There are not more
than ten or a dozen of the old warriors still living who actually
engaged in warfare in the old days, and these are too old and feeble
to dance. But as the young men sing and throw their arms and limbs
about in the growing frenzy of the arousing dance, and the tom-tom
throbs its stimulating beat through the air, these old men's eyes
flash, and their quavering voices become steady and strong in the
excitement, and they live in the conflicts of the past.
Another of the dances that is still kept up is the Puberty Dance.
Many white people have seen this, but not having any clew to its
significance, it seemed absurd and frivolous. When a girl enters the
door of young womanhood the Washoe idea is to make this an occasion
for developing wiriness, strength, and vigor. Contrary to the method
of the white race, she is made, for four consecutive days, to exert
herself to the utmost. She must walk and climb mountains, ride and
run, and when night comes on the fourth day, she and her mother, and
as many of the tribe as are available, begin to dance at sunset and
keep it up all night. The girl herself is designated by a long and
slim pole which she carries in her hand, and which towers above her
head. By her side stands her mother. The leader of the dance begins a
song, a simple, rhythmic, weird chant, the words of which are archaic
and have no significance to the Indians of to-day, but merely give
syllables to hang the tune upon. As the leader sings he slowly moves
his legs in a kind of oblique walk. The young men take his hand
and follow. The women unite, and a rude circle is made, generally,
however, open, at the place where the dance-leader stands. After once
or twice around, the leader moves first one foot, then the other,
sideways, at the same time jogging his body up and down in fairly
rapid movement, in perfect time to his song. In a few moments all are
bobbing up and down, with the onward side-shuffling movement, and the
real dance is on. This continues according to the will of the leader.
When his voice gives a sudden drawling drop that dance ends. There are
a few minutes for relaxation and breath, and then he lines out a
new song, with new syllables, and a new dance begins. This continues
practically all night, the dance-leader showing his memory power or
his composing genius by the number of new songs he introduces. I have
counted as many as thirty to forty different tunes on one occasion.
Just at sunrise the mother of the girl fetches one or two buckets of
cold water, while the maiden undresses. The water is suddenly dashed
over her "to make her vigorous and strong," and the dance comes to an
end.
This rude and rough treatment, in the early days, was made to have all
the potency and sanctity of a religious rite. The reason for it was
clear. The Washoes were surrounded by people with whom they were
often at war. Indian warfare takes no cognizance of sex or its special
disabilities. In order that their women should not be regarded as
_hors de combat_, or enfeebled, at such times and thus hamper the
movement of the tribe in case a sudden flight was needed, the shamans
or medicine men taught that strength, activity and vigor were just as
possible at that time as any other. "Those Above" commanded that it
be so. Hence all the sanctity and seriousness of a religious rite was
thrown around these dances, and though the Indians of to-day have
lost many of their old customs, this is one that is still rigorously
observed.
Another singular custom that still obtains is where, after the birth
of a first child, the _husband_ and _father_ is required to
fast and work arduously from the day of the birth until the child's
navel shrivels off. This is to make him strong and vigorous, so
that he may be able to give as much strength to his second and later
children as he did to the first.
As soon as a girl matures she is marriageable. Several and simple are
the ways in which a Washoe youth shows his preference and desire
for marriage. Equally simple are the girl's signs of acceptance or
rejection. There is no ceremony as the White Race understands that
term, though to the Indian there is everything that is necessary to
make the rite as binding as it is to his white brother and sister.
Though polygamy has always been practiced, the custom to-day limits
the wives to two, and only a few men have more than one wife. Where
plural wives are taken they are generally sisters. There is little
intermarriage among other tribes. Though it occasionally occurs it is
fiercely frowned upon and all parties are made to feel uncomfortable.
Prostitution with the whites and Chinese is not uncommon, and children
born of such relationship have just as good a standing as those born
in wedlock. The Indian sees no sense in punishing an innocent child
for what it is in no way responsible for. He frankly argues that only
a silly fool of a white man or woman would do so cruel and idiotic a
thing.
Children are invariably welcomed and made much of at birth, though it
is seldom a Washoe woman has more than four or five babies. They are
always nursed by the mother, and not often weaned until they are four
or five years old.
In the early days the labor of the sexes was clearly defined. The man
was the hunter and the warrior, the guardian of the family. The
woman was the gatherer of the seeds, the preparer of the food, the
care-taker of the children. To-day there is not much difference in the
division of labor. The breaking down of all the old customs by contact
with the whites has made men and women alike indifferent to what work
they do so that the family larder and purse are replenished thereby.
In the early days the Washoes were expert hunters of bear and deer.
They used to cross over into the mountains of California for
this purpose, and the women would accompany them. A camp would be
established just below the snow line, and while the men and youths
went out hunting the women gathered acorns. My informant, an old
Indian, was a lad of eighteen at the time of which he spoke. In effect
he said: "One day while I was out I found the tracks of a bear which
I followed to a cave. Then I went to camp. But we Indians are not
like you white men. You would have rushed in and shouted to everybody,
'I've found a bear's track!' Instead I waited until night and when all
the squaws had gone to bed I leisurely told the men who were chatting
around the camp fire. They wished to know if I knew where the cave
was, and of course I assured them I could go directly to it. The next
morning early my uncle quietly aroused me, saying, 'Let's go and get
that bear.' I was scared but had to go. When we arrived he took some
pieces of pitch-pine from his pocket, and lighting them, gave me one,
and told me to stand at the mouth of the cave ready to shoot the
bear, while he went in and drove it out. I didn't like the idea, but I
daren't confess my cowardice, for he at once went in. In a few moments
I heard terrific growlings and roarings and then the bear rushed out.
I banged away and he fell, and I was proud to tell my uncle, when he
came out, that I had killed the bear. 'No, you didn't,' said he; 'your
shots all went wild. Here's the shot that killed him,' and sure enough
it was a shot of a different size from that of my gun."
"Another time when I found a bear in a cave he said, 'You must go in
this time and drive out the bear.' I was sure I couldn't do it, but he
insisted, and thrusting the lighted sticks into my hands bade me crawl
in, keeping my eyes fixed the while, as soon as I saw them, upon those
of the bear. I was to keep my back to the wall, and when I got well
in, was to dash the light behind the bear and give a yell. I crawled
in all right and soon got to where I could just about stand up, but
when I saw the bear and he began to growl I was scared and backed out
pretty quick and said I didn't have light enough. My uncle grabbed the
sticks from me, called me a coward, rushed in, and as the bear dashed
out shot and killed it."
It is generally thought that Indians are good shots, but the testimony
of the hunters of the Tahoe region is that the Washoes are very
poor shots. One hunter tells me he has seen an Indian take as fine
a standing shot as one need desire, again and again, and miss every
time. On one occasion he was hunting deer with an Indian. The latter
had gone up a steep slope, when, suddenly, he began to fire, and kept
it up until fourteen shots were fired. Said he: "I was sure he must
have a bunch of deer and was making a big killing, and hurried up to
his side. When I got there I found he had sent all those shot after
one buck, and had succeeded only in breaking its leg. With one shot
I killed the wounded animal, went up to it and was about to cut its
throat, when he begged me not to do so, asserting that if I cut the
deer's throat that way I should never get a standing shot again, the
deer would always be able to smell me."
This is a quaint superstition. The Indians believe that though the
particular deer be slain it has the power of communicating with living
deer and informing them of the peculiar "smell" of the hunter. Hence,
as in the olden days they had no guns, only bows and arrows, and were
compelled to creep up much nearer to their prey than is needful with
a gun, anything that seemed to add to the deer's power of scenting the
hunter must studiously be avoided.
And, although the gun had rendered the old methods of hunting
unnecessary, this particular precaution still persisted and had all
the force of established custom.
My friend then continued: "Another superstition I found out as I
cleaned this deer. I cut out the paunch, the heart and the liver and
offered them to the Indian. He refused them, saying it was food fit
only for women, children and old men. If he were to eat them he would
never have luck in hunting again."
This superstition is common with many Indian tribes. It is based upon
the idea that one becomes like that which he eats. If one eats the
heart of a mountain-lion or bear he becomes daring and courageous.
But to eat the heart of the timid deer is to make oneself timorous and
cowardly.
As soon after puberty as possible a boy is taken out by his father
or uncle on a hunt. Prior to that time he is not allowed to go. But
before he can eat of the product of the chase he must himself kill a
deer with large enough horns to allow him to crawl through them.
A friend of mine was out with a Washoe Indian whose boy was along
on his first hunting expedition. They hunted a deer for nearly three
days, but as soon as they found tracks the father, after studying them
awhile, said: "This a little fellow. No good. He not big enough"--thus
signifying to his son that his horns were not large enough to allow
him to crawl through, hence it was no use following the animal
further.
The Indian is quite sure that deer can smell him and know when he
is on the hunt. He becomes skillful in detecting and following their
tracks, and knows just how to circle around their hiding-place and
suddenly walk in upon them. My friend, referred to above, who is a
great hunter, was once out with a Washoe. They had had three "bad"
days, when suddenly they found a deer's track. It was fresh, but when
they came to the hole where he had lain down to rest, though the place
was quite warm, the deer had gone. The Indian at once exclaimed: "That
deer smell me. I must get rid of the Indian smell." Accordingly he
scooped out a hole in the ground, heated a number of rocks in it,
then, spreading fir boughs over them, lay down over the rocks and
took a "fir-sweat" for fully ten to fifteen minutes. As he arose he
exclaimed: "Deer no smell me to-morrow," and my friend said he did no
longer smell like an Indian, but like burnt fir wood.
Turning to the Indian, however, he said: "You're all right, but how
about me?" to which the reply instantly came: "You all right. Deer
only smell Indian. He not smell white man."
Chief among the women's work is the making of baskets. The best
Washoe basket makers are not surpassed by any weavers in the world.
At Tallac, Fallen Leaf, Glen Alpine and several other resorts
basket-makers may be found, preparing their splints, weaving or trying
to sell their baskets.
Not far from Tahoe Tavern, about a quarter a mile away in the
direction of Tahoe City, is the little curio store of A. Cohn, whose
headquarters are in Carson City, the capital of the State of Nevada.
Mr. and Mrs. Cohn hold a unique position in their particular field.
Some twenty-five years ago they purchased a beautiful basket from a
Washoe Indian woman, named _Dat-so-la-le_ in Washoe, or Luisa
Keyser in American, for she was the wife of Charley Keyser, a general
roustabout Indian, well known to the citizens of Carson. Luisa was a
large, heavy, more than buxom--literally a fat,--ungainly squaw. But
her fingers were under the perfect control of a remarkably artistic
brain. She was not merely an artist but a genius. She saw exquisite
baskets in her dreams, and had the patience, persistence and
determination to keep on weaving until she was able to reproduce them
in actuality. She also was possessed by an indomitable resolution to
be the maker of the finest baskets of the Washoe tribe. While she was
still a young woman she gained the goal of her ambition, and it was
just about this time that she offered one of her baskets to Mr. Cohn.
He saw it was an excellent basket, that the shape was perfect, the
color-harmony superior to any he had seen before, the stitch small,
fine, and even, the weave generally perfect, the design original and
worked out with artistic ability. He saw all this, yet, because it
was Indian work, and the woman was a rude, coarse mountain of flesh,
a feminine Falstaff, of a lower order of beings and without Falstaff's
geniality and wit, he passed the basket by as merely worth a dollar
or two extra, and placed it side by side with the work of other
Washoe and Paiuti squaws. A Salt Lake dealer came into the store soon
thereafter and saw this basket. "How much?" he asked. The price was
given--rather high thought Mr. Cohn--. "Twenty-five dollars!" "I'll
take it!" came the speedy response.
A month or two later Cohn received a photograph from the purchaser,
accompanied by a letter. "You know the basket, herewith photographed,
which I purchased from you. Have you any more by the same weaver, or
of as good a weave? If so, how many, and at what price? Wire reply at
my expense."
Then Mr. Cohn awoke, and he's been awake ever since. He wired his
list of Dat-so-la-le's baskets, but he has had no reply, and that was
twenty-five years ago. He then made arrangements with Dat-so-la-le
and her husband. He provides them house, food, clothing and a certain
amount of cash yearly, and he takes all the work Luisa makes. Every
basket as soon as begun is noted as carefully as every breeding of a
thoroughbred horse or dog. Also the date the basket is finished. It
is then numbered and photographed and either offered for sale at a
certain price, which is never changed, or is put in the safety-deposit
vault of the bank, to await the time when such aboriginal masterpieces
will be eagerly sought after by the growingly intelligent and
appreciative of our citizens, for their museums or collections, as
specimens of work of a people--the first American families--who will
then, possibly, have passed away. The photographs, here reproduced,
are of some of Dat-so-la-le's finest work.
[Illustration: Susie, the Washoe indian basket maker, and narrator
of indian legends]
[Illustration: Jackson, the Washoe indian, telling traditions of
his people about Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: Lake Tahoe near Tahoe Tavern, looking south]
CHAPTER IV
INDIAN LEGENDS OF THE TAHOE REGION
As all students of the Indian are well aware these aboriginal and
out-of-door dwellers in the forests, canyons, mountains, valleys, and
on lake and seashores are great observers of Nature, and her many
and varied phenomena. He who deems the Indian dull, stolid and
unimpressionable, simply because in the presence of the White Race he
is reserved and taciturn, little knows the observing and reflecting
power hidden behind so self-restrained a demeanor. Wherever natural
objects, therefore, are of a peculiar, striking, unusual, unique,
or superior character, it is reasonable to assume that the Indians,
living within sight of them, should possess myths, legends, folk-lore,
creation-stories or the like in connection with their creation,
preservation, or present-day existence. This is found exemplified
in the legends of Havasupais, Hopis, Navajos and Wallapais as to
the origin of the Grand Canyon of Arizona, of the Yohamities, Monos,
Chuc-Chances, and others, of the distinctive features of the Yosemite
Valley, the Hetch-Hetchy, etc.
While the present-day, half-educated, half-civilized Washoes are by no
means representatives of the highest elements of natural enlightenment
among the Indian race, they do possess legends about Tahoe, the
following being the most interesting.
All these stories, except the last, were gathered by Mrs. W.W.
Price of Fallen Leaf Lodge, from Indians with whom she has been very
familiar for several years, named Jackson and his wife Susan. There
has been no attempt to dress them up in literary fashion. They are
given as near to the Indians' mode of telling as possible. They are
wonderfully different from certain stories recently published in
current magazines, professing to be Legends of Lake Tahoe. These
latter are pure fiction, and to those familiar with Indian thought,
reveal their origin in the imaginative brain of white writers who have
but faint conceptions of Indian mentality. Mrs. Price is a graduate
of Stanford University, and took great pains to preserve the Indians'
exact mode of expression. As she herself writes:
Long before the white man saw and wondered over the beauty of
Tahoe, theorizing over its origin and concocting curious tales
about its "unfathomable" depths, the Indians knew and loved
it. And as among all other peoples, legends have grown up to
account for every phenomenon of Nature, so among the Washoe
Indians stories about Tahoe have been handed down from
generation to generation.
I do not vouch for these legends. The modern Indian too often
tells what he thinks you want to know,--if only you will cross
his hand with silver. But there are touches here and there
that make me feel that for the most part they are remnants of
very old legends.
THE ORIGIN OF TAHOE, FALLEN LEAF, AND OTHER LAKES
Long, long ago, before the white man came to Nevada, there
lived in the meadow over beyond Glenbrook a good Indian. But
though he was good, he was much annoyed by the Evil Spirit,
who constantly interfered with all that he tried to do.
Finally, he determined that he must move away and get over
into the valleys of California. But when he tried to escape,
the Evil One was always there ready to trip him in some way or
other.
In his trouble the Good Spirit came to his aid, giving him a
leafy branch which had certain magic qualities. He was
to start on his journey. If he saw the Evil One coming he was
to drop a bit of the branch and water would immediately
spring up. The Evil One could not cross water, and thus, being
delayed by going around, would give the Indian time to escape.
The Indian made his way well along to where Tallac Hotel
now is, when, looking back, he saw the Evil One off in the
distance approaching with such strides that his heart was
filled with great fear. In his terror he tried to pluck a leaf
but it snapped off and he dropped almost his whole branch.
To his delight and relief the waters began to rise and soon
"Tahoe"--_Big Water_--lay between him and his enemy.
Free-heartedly he hurried on his way up the canyon, but when
he reached the spot where the head of Fallen Leaf Lake lies,
he turned to reassure himself. Away off the Evil One was
advancing. A new terror filled his soul. In his hand there
remained of his magic branch only one little twig with a
single leaf on it.
Plucking the leaf, he threw it down and watched it fall
waveringly through the air. As it touched earth the
waters again began to rise and "Doolagoga"--_Fallen
Leaf_--sprang into being and on its surface floated the
little leaf, as many leaves now float in the fall of the year.
Turning, he sped up the ravine, dropping bits of his twig as
fear directed him, and in his path, Lily, Grass, and Heather
lakes came up to guard his way.
At last he was over the crest of the mountain and found
himself safe in the long-wished-for Valley of California.
THE LEGEND OF THE TWO BROTHERS
Once long ago in Paiuti-land, Nevada, there lived two
brothers. The older was a hunter and brought home much game.
His wife, whose name was Duck, used to cook this for him, but
she was very stingy to the younger brother, and often times he
was hungry. When he begged her for food, she scolded him and
drove him out of the _campoodie_, saying, "Got none for
you."
One day when the older brother was off hunting Duck was
cleaning some fish. She had been very cross to Little
Brother, refusing to give him any food, and he was terribly
hungry. Presently he came creeping up behind her and when he
saw all the fish he became very angry. He took up a big club
and before Duck could turn around he hit her on the head and
killed her. Paying no attention to her dead body he cooked and
ate all the fish he wanted and then lay down in the sunshine
on a big rock and went fast asleep.
By and by his Hunter Brother came home. Of course when he
found his wife dead, he was filled with great anger at his
young brother, though his anger was lessened when he thought
of his wife's cruelty. He shook him very roughly and said, "I
no like you any more! I go away. Leave you alone!" But Little
Brother begged, "Don't be angry! Don't be angry! Let's go far
away! I help you all the time! Don't be angry!"
Gradually he persuaded the Hunter Brother to forgive him and
they started off together toward the "Big Water"--_Lake
Tahoe_. On the way the Hunter Brother taught the Little
Brother how to shoot with a bow and arrow. By the time they
reached the spot now known as Lakeside both their belts were
filled with squirrels that they had shot.
At dusk they built a good fire and when there were plenty of
glowing coals, Hunter Brother dug a long hole, and filling it
with embers, laid the squirrels in a row on the coals covering
them all up with earth.
He was tired and lay down by the fire to rest till the
squirrels should be cooked. With his head resting on his arms,
the warmth of the fire soothing him, he soon fell fast, fast
asleep.
Little Brother sat by the fire and as the night grew darker,
he grew hungrier and hungrier. He tried to waken his brother,
but the latter seemed almost like one dead and he could
not rouse him. At last he made up his mind he would eat by
himself. Going to the improvised oven, he began to dig up
the squirrels, counting them as they came to light. One was
missing. Little Brother was troubled.
"How that? My brother had so many, I had so many!"--counting
on his fingers--"One gone!" And he forgot how hungry he was as
he dug for the missing squirrel.
All at once he came upon a bigger hole adjoining the cooking
hole. While he stood wondering what to do, out popped a great
big spider.
"I'll catch you!" cried the spider.
"No, you won't!" said the boy, and up he jumped and away he
ran, followed by the spider. They raced over stock and stone,
dodging about trees and stumbling over fallen logs for a long
time. At last Little Brother could run no more. The spider
grabbed him and carried him back to his hole, where he killed
him.
It was almost daybreak when Hunter Brother awoke. He called
his brother to bring more wood, for the fire was almost out.
Getting no answer he went to look at the cooking squirrels.
Greatly surprised to see them lying there all uncovered,
he, too, counted them. Discovering one gone, he thought his
brother must have eaten it and was about to eat one himself
when he saw the old spider stick his head out of the hole.
Each made a spring, but the Hunter Brother was the quicker and
killed the wicked spider with his knife.
Carefully he now went into the spider's hole. There, stretched
out on the ground, lay Little Brother _dead_! Taking
him up in his arms, he carried him outside. Now this Hunter
Brother was a _medicine-man_ of great power, so he lay
down with Little Brother and breathed into his mouth and in a
few minutes he came back to life and was all right.[1]
The Hunter Brother was very happy to have his Little Brother
alive again. He built up the fire and while they sat eating
their long-delayed meal Little Brother told all that had
happened to him.
[Footnote 1: Susan who was telling this story offered no reason why
he had not restored Duck, his own wife, to life.]
The sun was quite above the horizon before the meal was
finished, and soon Hunter Brother was anxious to be moving on,
so they took their way along the lake shore. On their way they
talked and laughed one with another and seemed to agree very
well, until they had gone around the lake and
reached where Tahoe City now is. Here they quarreled and the
Hunter Brother left Little Brother to return and go up the Big
Mountain--_Tallac_--where he had heard there were many
squirrels. After his departure, Little Brother decided to
follow him and get him to make friends again. So he trudged
along the lake shore until he came to Emerald Bay.
There lying on the log at the edge of the lake, lay a
water-baby. It was asleep with its head resting on its arms
and its beautiful, sunshine-golden-hair was spread over it.
"Oh," said Little Brother, "I'll get that beautiful
sun-shine-hair as a present for my brother!" So he crept very
softly down on the log, thinking to kill the water-baby before
it awoke. But he was not successful in this, for the creature
opened its eyes as he laid his hand on its hair, and a furious
fight ensued. Sometimes it seemed as though Little Brother
would be killed, but finally he was able to scalp the
poor water-baby and get possession of the beautiful
sunshine-golden-hair. Every one can see where this fight
occurred. The red hill near Emerald Bay stands as a memorial
of the struggle, for its color is caused by the blood of the
slain water-baby.
Tucking his prize in his hunting shirt and hugging it close,
Little Brother now went on, murmuring to himself, "Oh,
my brother like this, my brother like this beautiful
golden-sunshine-hair!"
But suddenly, as he was climbing upward, he noticed the water
lapping at his heels, and when he turned to see whence it
came, he found that the big lake behind him was rapidly
rising, and even as he stood wondering, it arose above his
ankles.
Then he remembered what he had heard of revengeful
water-babies, but frightened though he was, he could not
bear to throw away his prize. However, he knew he must do
something, so he plucked out a few hairs from the scalp and
threw them into the ascending waves. For a minute the water
ceased to rise and he sped onward, but before long he felt the
water at his heels again, and knew that once more he must
gain a short respite by throwing out a few of the
golden-sunshine-hairs.
And ever and again he had to do this until at last he spied
his brother ahead of him. "Ah, brother," he cried, drawing the
scalp from his blouse, "see what a beautiful present I have
for you!"
But when his brother turned toward him he saw only the angry,
rising waters, and rushing forward he snatched the beautiful
sunshine-golden-hair and cast it back into the waters, crying,
"How you dare meddle with water-babies? Don't you know water
surely come up and get you?"
And poor Little Brother felt very sad; but the danger he
had been in seemed to have endeared him once more to Hunter
Brother and they stood arm-in-arm and watched the waters
recede.
But there were hollows in the land and when the waters went
back they held the water and so were formed that chain of
lakes on the other side of Tallac and Emerald Bay, the Velmas,
Kalmia, Cascade, and others.
The rest of the story is confused and full of repetitions.
The gist of it is that Little Brother was ever getting into
trouble from which Hunter Brother had to rescue him, for which
Little Brother was most grateful and would go off seeking for
a present to give to the Big Brother who was so kind to him.
Once he got a young bear cub. He thought it was a dog. He
petted it and brought it to his brother as a hunting-dog.
Finally, after Hunter Brother had made a first-class hunter
of Little Brother so that he could use his bow and arrows with
great success, they went down toward the Sacramento Valley
hunting deer. They followed a fine buck over hill and dale but
could not get a good shot at him. At last worn out by running
and suffering greatly, the Little Brother lay down and died.
When his brother found him, he did not attempt to bring him to
life again but buried him under a pile of rocks and leaves.
THE "WILD-GRUB" HOLE AT GARDNERVILLE
Once upon a time there was an old Indian who lived over in
Hope Valley with his two grand-daughters. He was a mean old
man. He made the girls work very hard all day
long. They had to gather wild grass seeds and acorns and grind
them into flour all the time. The old man caught plenty of
fish and frogs which he took off for his own eating, but he
gave the girls none.
One day he came in with a woodchuck skin and told the girls
to fill it with wild wheat flour. He did not tell them what
he wanted it for. When the skin was full he left the
_campoodie_ without a word as to where he was going. But
the bag leaked and a little stream of flour trickled out and
marked his path. He went away off to a lake where he caught
plenty of fish and frogs on which he feasted until he could
eat no more. Then he lay down by his fire and was soon fast
asleep.
Meanwhile in the _campoodie_ the two girls were talking
about the old man's meanness. "He makes us work so hard and we
never have any fish to eat. He keeps it all himself," said the
older girl.
"I wonder where he's gone now?" said the younger one, going to
the door-way and looking out. Suddenly she noticed the little
line of flour trailing off through the woods. "Ah, now I'll
find him!" And just calling to her sister that she would be
back soon, she darted off.
It was dark when she came back weeping. She threw herself on
the ground outside the _campoodie_ and poured out her
story. She had found the old man lying there fast asleep,
gorged with fish. The remnants of his feast lay all about him.
She had not dared to waken him or speak to him, but coming
home, had made up her mind to run away and not work for the
mean old man any more.
To this the sister agreed, and at daybreak they were scurrying
off through the forest.
All day they traveled and when night came they were still in
the wilds far from any Indian camp.
Worn out, they lay down under a great pine and looked up at
the stars.
"Oh," said the older girl, "see that fine Star-man up there!
I'd like to marry him!"
"Oh, no!" said the younger, "he belongs to me. I'd like to
marry him!"
They lay there telling what each would do could she only marry
the Star-man, until they fell asleep.
When they awoke in the morning, lo, they found themselves
up in the sky, and the elder girl had a baby already--a
star-baby! At first the girls were very good to the star-baby
but it cried a great deal. One day the younger girl was very
cross and put it outside of the _campoodie_. The poor
baby cried all the more until the elder sister took pity on
it, but when she had fed it and it still cried, the younger
sister became very angry and told her sister to put that
"brat" outside. The sister was tired too, so she put the poor
baby outside.
When the baby could not make them come to him, he got up and
went to find his grandfather, the Moon. He told him how mean
his mother and aunt were to him. The old Moon was very angry.
He took the star-baby by the hand and went tramping back
through the sky to find the cruel mother and her sister.
Now, the girls had been getting rather tired of their
sky-_campoodie_ and they longed for their home on the
earth. They used to go to a hole in the sky and look down on
the earth, wishing they were there again. Indeed, at the time
the star-baby went off to find his grandfather, the Moon, they
were at the hole in the sky, amusing themselves by looking
through and indulging in vain regrets that they were no longer
there.
"Oh, sister," suddenly said the elder, "there goes our old
grandfather! Poor old man! I wish we were with him! See, he's
carrying big bags of wild wheat-flour and acorns!"
Just then the old Moon came tramping up, and the whole sky
trembled. The people on earth said it was thundering. He
grabbed the two girls by their hair and shaking them till they
were almost dead, he hurled them down through the hole.
Down, down, they went, straight down to where their old
grandfather was walking along, little suspecting what was
coming. They both hit him and, coming as they did with such
force, they made a deep hole in the earth in which they were
almost buried.
That hole is over by Gardnerville. In that hole Indians can
always find plenty of wild-grub--wild-wheat, wild potato, wild
acorn--plenty there. Snow very deep. No
difference. Always plenty wild grub there. I see that hole. I
believe that story!
THE ORIGIN OF THE DIFFERENT INDIAN TRIBES
Long, long ago, away over in Paiuti-land there were some young
boys and girls playing. They played all sorts of games, but
they liked hand-ball best. And as they played, they sang songs
of gladness.
There was one old woman, their grandmother, who would not play
with them. She had a little baby, her youngest grandchild,
whom she was trying to quiet, but the little one cried and
cried continuously.
By-and-by the old woman heard a noise outside. She was
frightened and called to the young folks. "Some one's coming!
You better stop! Better hide! Maybe Evil One, devil, coming!"
But the young folks paid no attention to her warning. They
kept on playing harder than ever. The old woman covered the
baby with a big basket and hid her own face in her shawl.
Then the Evil One came in. All the young folks turned to see
who was coming in and as soon as they looked upon his face
they fell dead. Only the old woman and the baby were left; for
the Evil One did not see them.
When he was gone, the old woman snatched up the baby and
hurried off down to the river. As she was hurrying along she
met an old man.
"Where are you going?" said he. Then the old woman saw that it
was the Evil One himself. She was afraid but she did not want
him to know it. She kept the baby covered in the basket and
answered, "I'm going to the river to get wild potatoes!"
"Where are all the girls?" asked the Evil One.
"Oh, they are all over behind the big mountain, playing ball!"
The Evil One went off to find them, because he thought there
were still some left, and the old woman quickly dug a big hole
and hid herself and the baby away in it.
When the Evil One found that the old woman had told him a lie,
he was very angry. He came back and
hunted all day long till sundown for her that he might kill
her. But he could not find any trace of her. He finally went
home and then the old woman took the baby and hid on the top
of a big rock, over near where Sheridan now is.
In the morning the Evil One came back to hunt further, but
without success.
"I guess that the old woman is dead," said he, "or maybe she's
gone across the river." But the Evil One loses his power if he
touches water, so he dare not cross the river to follow her.
The old woman watched him from the top of the rock. Many times
she feared lest he should find her, and she covered the baby
more closely.
At last when he had given up the hunt, she saw him take a
great basket and set it down in the road. Into this basket
he put great bunches of elderberry roots, and as he put each
bunch in, he gave it a name--Washoe, Digger, Paiuti, and so
on. Then he put the lid on tightly and went off through the
forest.
The old woman watched till the Evil One had gone. Creeping
quietly down, she came with the child--she was a little girl
now, not a wee baby any more--and sat down near the basket.
Presently there was a murmuring in the basket. "Oh,
grandmother, what's that noise?" said the little girl.
"Never mind," said the grandmother, "don't you touch the
basket!"
But the little girl kept teasing, "Oh, grandmother, what's in
there?"
And the old woman would say, "Don't you touch it!"
The old woman turned her back just one minute and the little
girl slipped up and raised the lid ever so little. There was
a great whirring noise; the lid flew off and out came all
the Indians. Off through the air they flew--Washoes to Washoe
land; Diggers to Digger land; Paiutis to Nevada--each Indian
to his own home.
The story given above is the one told by Jackson, but his wife,
Susan, tells the same story with these essential differences. In her
narrative there is no Evil One. The old woman scolded the young people
for playing, but they are not all killed. It is the old woman herself
who took a Paiuti water-bottle and after filling it with water, took
wild seeds and placed them in the bottle, naming them the different
Indian tribes. The seeds swelled in the water until they were as big
as eggs and out of these the Indians hatched like chickens, and began
to fight. It is the noise of the fighting that the baby hears.
As in Jackson's story the baby lets them out, but it is the wind that
carries them off to their various homes.
HOW THE INDIANS FIRST GOT FIRE
The Indians were having a "big time" in a great log cabin.
All the birds were there too, for in those days the Indians,
birds, and animals could talk to each other.
They were dancing all around the room and all were merry as
could be. They had a huge wooden drum and, as they passed
this, the dancers kicked it to make music.
Now, among the birds who were there was a big blue-jay. He was
a very saucy fellow, just full of mean tricks. When he came to
the drum, he kicked it so hard that he broke it all to pieces.
Of course this caused a great commotion. Every one was so
provoked by his rudeness that they threw him out of the door.
It was raining hard and the impudence was soon washed out of
Mr. Blue-Jay. He begged at the door in vain, and at last he
huddled up on the branch of a tree, thinking himself greatly
abused.
As he sat there, suddenly, far off, he saw a strange light.
Now the Blue-Jay has an infinite amount of curiosity, so away
he flew to investigate, quite forgetting his troubles.
It was fire which the Indian god had brought down to earth.
The Jay got a piece and soon came flying back to the great
cabin where the dance was still going on.
When he called now at the door, saying that he had something
wonderful to show them, they knew that he was telling the
truth. They let him come in, crowding about him to see this
wonderful thing. They did not know what
to make of this strange new thing. Lest anything should happen
to it, they dug a hole and buried the fire most carefully.
Tired out with the night's dancing the Indians all went off
to rest, leaving the birds to watch the precious fire. But
the birds were tired too, and it was not long before they were
fast asleep. All except the owl. He was wide awake and he,
being very wise, knew that the fire must be put in a safer
place. He went out and calling the yellow snake, the rat, and
the little "hummer" bird, he explained what he wanted them to
do. The snake was to worm his way in under the logs and wait
there till the hummer-bird brought him the fire. The rat was
to go in and chew all the birds' wings so that they should
not be able to catch the little hummer. They were all so fast
asleep that the rat was able to do this very easily.
All went just as they planned. The snake took the fire and
hid a little spark of it in every buckeye tree. And there the
Indians found it when they needed it. For rubbing a piece of
cedar and buckeye together, they very quickly make the spark,
and produce fire.
A LEGEND OF LAKE TAHOE
The following legend was published some years ago in _Sunset
Magazine_. It was written by Miss Nonette V. McGlashan, who heard
it from a Washoe squaw. The story was told with strange gestures and
weird pathos:
The ong was a big bird, bigger than the houses of the white
man. Its body was like the eagle's, and its wings were longer
than the tallest pines. Its face was that of an Indian, but
covered with hard scales, and its feet were webbed. Its nest
was deep down in the bottom of the Lake, out in the center,
and out of the nest rushed all the waters which fill the Lake.
There are no rivers to feed the Lake, only the waters from the
ong's nest. All the waters flow back near the bottom, in great
under-currents, and after passing through the meshes of the
nest are sent forth again. Every plant and bird and animal
that gets into these under-currents, and sometimes the great
trout that are swept into the net-like
nest are there held fast to furnish food for the ong.
He ate everything, he liked everything, but best of all he
liked the taste of human flesh. No one ever heard or saw
anything of such poor mortals as were drowned in these waters,
for their bodies were carried to the ong's nest and no morsel
ever escaped him. Sometimes he would fly about the shores in
quest of some child or woman or hunter, yet he was a great
coward and was never known to attack any one in camp, or when
two or more were together. No arrow could pierce his feathers,
nor could the strongest spear do more than glance from the
scales on his face and legs, yet his coward's heart made him
afraid for his toes had no claws, and his mouth no beak.
Late one fall, the Washoes were making their final hunt before
going to the valleys and leaving the Lake locked in its winter
snows. The chief's daughter was sixteen years old, and before
leaving the Lake he must select the greatest hero in the tribe
for her husband, for such had been the custom of the Washoe
chiefs ever since the tribe came out of the Northland.
Fairer than ever maiden had been was this daughter, and every
unmarried brave and warrior in the tribe wished that he had
performed deeds of greater prowess, that he might be certain
of winning the prize. That last night at the Lake, around the
big council fire, each was to recount to the chief the noblest
achievement of his life, and when all were heard the chief
would choose, and the women join the circle and the wedding
take place. For many years the warriors had looked forward to
this event, and the tribe had become famed because of acts
of reckless daring performed by those who hoped to wed the
chief's daughter.
It was the morning of the final day and much game and great
stores of dried trout were packed ready for the journey. All
were preparing for the wedding festivities, and the fact that
no one knew who would be the bridegroom, among all that band
of warriors, lent intensest excitement to the event. All were
joyous and happy except the maiden and the handsome young
brave to whom she had given her heart. In spite of custom or
tradition her love had long since gone out to one whose feet
had been too young to press the war-path when last the tribe
gave battle to their hereditary foes, the
Paiutis. He never had done deed of valor, nor could he even
claim the right to sit with the warriors around the council
fire. All day long he had been sitting alone on the jutting
cliffs which overhang the water, far away from the laughter
and shouts of the camp, eagerly, prayerfully watching the
great Lake. Surely the Great Spirit would hear his prayer, yet
he had been here for days and weeks in unavailing prayer and
waiting.
The afternoon was well-nigh spent and the heart of the young
brave had grown cold as stone. In his bitter despair he sprang
to his feet to defy the Great Spirit in whom he had trusted,
but ere he could utter the words his very soul stood still
for joy. Slowly rising from the center of the Lake, he saw the
ong. Circling high in the heavens, the monster swept now here,
now there, in search of prey. The young brave stood erect and
waited. When the ong was nearest he moved about slightly to
attract its notice. He had not long to wait. With a mighty
swoop, the bird dashed to earth, and as it arose, the young
brave was seen to be clasped fast in its talons. A great cry
of horror arose from the camp, but it was the sweetest note
the young brave had ever heard. The bird flew straight up into
the sky until Lake and forest and mountains seemed small and
dim. When it reached a great height it would drop its prey
into the Lake and let the current draw it to its nest.
Such was its custom, and for this the brave had prepared
by unwinding from his waist a long buckskin cord and tying
himself firmly to the ong's leg. The clumsy feet could not
grasp him so tightly as to prevent his movements. At last
the great feet opened wide, but the Indian did not fall. In a
mighty rage, the ong tried in vain to grasp him in his teeth,
but the strong web between the bird's toes sheltered him.
Again and again the bird tried to use his horrid teeth, and
each time his huge body would fall through the air in such
twistings and contortions that those who watched below stared
in bewilderment. But what the watchers could not see was that
every time the huge mouth opened to snap him, the young brave
hurled a handful of poisoned arrowheads into the mouth and
down the big throat, their sharp points cutting deep into the
unprotected flesh. The bird
tried to dislodge him by rubbing his feet together, but the
thong held firm. Now it plunged headlong into the Lake, but
its feet were so tied that it could not swim, and though it
lashed the waters into foam with its great wings, and though
the man was nearly drowned and wholly exhausted, the poison
caused the frightened bird such agony that it suddenly arose
and tried to escape by flying toward the center of the Lake.
The contest had lasted long and the darkness crept over the
Lake, and into the darkness the bird vanished.
The women had been long in their huts ere the council fire
was kindled and the warriors gravely seated themselves in its
circle. No such trifling event as the loss of a young brave
could be allowed to interfere with so important an event, and
from most of their minds he had vanished. It was not so very
unusual for the ong to claim a victim, and, besides, the youth
had been warned by his elders that he should not go hunting
alone as had been his habit of late.
But while the warriors were working themselves up into a fine
frenzy of eloquence in trying to remind the old chief of their
bygone deeds of daring, an Indian maiden was paddling a canoe
swiftly and silently toward the middle of the Lake. Nona,
the chief's daughter understood no more than the rest why her
lover had not been dropped into the Lake, nor why the ong had
acted so queerly, but she knew that she could die with her
lover. She took her own frail canoe because it was so light
and easy to row, though it was made for her when a girl, and
would scarcely support her weight now. It mattered nothing to
her if the water splashed over the sides; it mattered nothing
how she reached her lover. She kept saying his name over
softly to herself, "Tahoe! My darling Tahoe!"
When the council was finished, the women went to her hut to
bid her come and hear the decision her father was about to
render. The consternation caused by her disappearance lasted
until the rosy dawn tinged the Washoe peaks and disclosed to
the astounded tribe the body of the ong floating on the
waters above its nest, and beside it an empty canoe. In the
foreground, and gently approaching the shore was the strangest
craft that ever floated on water! It was
one of the great ong's wings, and the sail was the tip of the
other wing! Standing upon it, clasped in each other's arms,
were the young brave, Tahoe, and the daughter of the chief.
In the shouts of the tribe, shouts in which warriors and women
and children mingled their voices with that of the chief,
Tahoe was proclaimed the hero of heroes! The decision was
rendered, but the ong's nest remains, and the drowned never
rise in Lake Tahoe.
CHAPTER V
THE VARIOUS NAMES OF LAKE TAHOE
We have already seen that Frémont, the discoverer of Lake Tahoe, first
called it Lake Bonpland, after Humboldt's scientific co-traveler.
That name, however, never came in general use. When the great westward
emigration began it seemed naturally to be called by its Indian name,
Tahoe.
In _Innocents Abroad_ Mark Twain thus petulantly and humorously
expresses his dislike of the name, Tahoe, and sarcastically defines
its meaning.
"Sorrow and misfortune overtake the legislature that still
from year to year permits Tahoe to retain its unmusical
cognomen! Tahoe! It suggests no crystal waters, no picturesque
shores, no sublimity. Tahoe for a sea in the clouds; a sea
that has character, and asserts it in solemn calms, at times,
at times in savage storms; a sea, whose royal seclusion is
guarded by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty
fronts nine thousand feet above the level world; a sea
whose every aspect is impressive, whose belongings are all
beautiful, whose lonely majesty types the Deity!
"Tahoe means grasshoppers. It means grasshopper soup. It
is Indian, and suggestive of Indians. They say it is
Pi-ute--possibly it is Digger. I am satisfied it was named
by the Diggers--those degraded savages who roast their dead
relatives, then mix the human grease and ashes of bones with
tar, and 'gaum' it thick all over their heads and foreheads
and ears, and go caterwauling about the hills and call it
_mourning_. _These_ are the gentry that named the
Lake.
"People say that Tahoe means 'Silver Lake'--'Limpid
Water'--'Falling Leaf.' Bosh! It means grasshopper soup, the
favorite dish of the Digger tribe--and of the Pi-utes as well.
It isn't worth while, in these practical times, for people to
talk about Indian poetry--there never was any in them--except
in the Fenimore Cooper Indians. But _they_ are an extinct
tribe that never existed. I know the Noble Red Man. I have
camped with the Indians; I have been on the warpath with them,
taken part in the chase with them--for grasshoppers; helped
them steal cattle; I
have roamed with them, scalped them, had them for breakfast. I
would gladly eat the whole race if I had a chance.
"But I am growing unreliable."
With all due deference to the wisdom--as well as the humor--of Mark
Twain as applied to Lake Tahoe, I emphatically disagree with him as to
the Indians of the Tahoe region, and also as to the name of the Lake.
Tahoe is quite as good-sounding a name as Como, Lucerne, Katrine or
Lomond. A name, so long as it is euphonious, is pleasing or not, more
because of its associations than anything else. The genuine Indian,
as he was prior to the coming of the white man, was uncorrupted,
uncivilized, unvitiated, undemoralized, undiseased in body, mind and
soul, a nature-observer, nature-lover and nature-worshiper. He was
full of poetic conceptions and fired with a vivid imagination that
created stories to account for the existence of unusual, peculiar or
exceptional natural objects, that, in brilliancy of conception, daring
invention, striking ingenuity and vigor of detail _surpass_, or
at least equal, the best imaginative work of Kipling or _Mark Twain
himself_. It seems to me that his--the Indian's--name for this
Lake--Tahoe--is both euphonious and full of poetic and scientific
suggestion. It is poetic in that it expresses in a word the unequaled
height and purity of so large a body of water, and scientific in that
it is truthful and accurate.
But Frémont, the discoverer, evidently did not ask or seek to know its
Indian name. As stated elsewhere he erroneously conceived it to be the
headquarters of one of the forks of the American river, flowing into
the Sacramento, and he so depicts it on his map, giving to it the two
names "Mountain Lake" or "Lake Bonpland." But neither of these names
was acceptable and they practically dropped out of sight.
When the first actual determination of Tahoe's outlet through the
Truckee River was made is not definitely known, but its approximate
location was well enough established in 1853 to enable the official
map-maker of the new State of California to depict it with reasonable
accuracy, and, for some reason, to name it Lake Bigler, after John
Bigler, the third Governor of California.
Citizens are still living both in Nevada and California who well
remember when the Lake held this name, and the majority of people
undoubtedly used it until 1862. Officially, also, it was known as Lake
Bigler in 1862, for in the Nevada _Statutes_ there is recorded
an Act approved December 19, 1862, authorizing certain parties to
construct a railroad "to be known as the _Lake Bigler and Virginia
Railroad Co_., to commence at a point on the Kingsbury-McDonald
road known as the Kingsbury and McDonald Toll House, thence along the
southern and eastern shores of _Lake Bigler_, and in most direct
practical route, to the divide between Virginia City and Washoe Valley
on east side Washoe Lake, over and through the most practical pass
to Virginia City," and a further right to construct branch road from
Virginia to Carson City, Nevada.
In 1861, however, while Downey was Governor of California (he having
been elected Lieut. Governor, and taking the office on the resignation
of Governor Latham in January 1860), an attempt was made to change the
name from Bigler to the fanciful one of Tula Tulia, but fortunately it
failed and the old name remained in general use.
But in 1862 another effort was made in an entirely different direction
and this time with success. It was brought about through the work
of William Henry Knight, still living in Los Angeles, who has kindly
furnished the following account:
In the year 1859 I was the youngest member of an overland company
which crossed the plains and mountains from St. Joseph, Mo., to
California. Our train was in three divisions and consisted of
about twenty persons, and forty horses and mules.
One morning in the middle of August we left our camp at the
eastern base of the double summit of the Sierra Nevadas and
began our ascent. Mounted on my faithful steed, Old Pete, I
pushed on in advance of the caravan, in order to get the first
view of the already famous mountain lake, then known as Lake
Bigler. The road wound through the defile and around the
southern border of the Lake on the margin of which we camped
for two days.
As I approached the summit I turned from the main road and
followed a trail to the right which led to the top of a
bare rock overlooking the valley beyond and furnishing an
unobstructed view.
Thus my first view of that beautiful sheet of water was from a
projecting cliff 1000 feet above its surface, and it embraced
not only the entire outline of the Lake with its charming bays
and rocky headlands but also the magnificent forests of giant
pines and firs in which it was embosomed, and the dozen or
more lofty mountain peaks thrusting their white summits into
the sky at altitudes varying from 8000 to 11,000 feet above
sea level.
The view was, indeed, the most wonderful combination of
towering mountains, widespreading valley, gleaming lakes,
umbrageous forests, rugged buttresses of granite, flashing
streams, tumbling waterfalls, and overarching sky of deepest
cerulean hue--all blended into one perfect mosaic of the
beautiful, the picturesque, and the majestic, that mortal eye
ever rested upon.
No imagination can conceive the beauty, sublimity and
inspiration of that scene, especially to one who had for weary
months been traversing dusty, treeless and barren plains. The
contrast was overwhelming. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed
upon the fairy scene. I recall the entrancing picture to-day,
in all its splendid detail, so vividly was it photographed
upon my brain.
Since that hour I have crossed the continent ten times, over
various railway routes, visited most of the States of the
Union, and seven foreign countries, heard the testimony of
others whose travels have been world-wide, and I doubt if
another scene of equal enchantment exists on the face of the
globe.
In 1861, two years after my visit to Tahoe, I gathered the
data for compiling the first general map of the Pacific
States, which embraced the region from British Columbia to
Mexico, and from the Rocky Mountains to the coast. It was
ready for the engraver in February, 1862. I had instructed
the draughtsman, V. Wackenreuder, afterward connected with
the State Geological Survey, to omit the name of Lake Bigler,
which was on contemporary maps.
I invited John S. Hittell, editor of the _Alta
California_, a leading San Francisco daily, and Dr.
Henry DeGroot, writer on the _Evening Bulletin_ and
correspondent of the able _Sacramento Union_, to come
round to Bancroft's publishing house and inspect the map.
Dr. DeGroot had just returned from a visit to the Comstock
silver mines in the Washoe district of Western Nevada. He
suddenly turned to me and said: "Why, Knight, you have left
off the name of Lake Bigler." I remarked that many people had
expressed dissatisfaction with that name, bestowed in honor of
a Governor of California who had not distinguished himself by
any signal achievement, and I thought that now would be a good
time to select an appropriate name and fix it forever on that
beautiful sheet of water.
The suggestion met with favor, and several names were
proposed--Washington, Lincoln, then war President, Frémont, an
early explorer, and other historic names. I asked Dr. DeGroot
if he knew what the native Indians called the Lake.
He drew a memorandum from his pocket and read over a list of
Indian names local to that region, and exclaimed: "Here it is;
they call it 'Tahoe,' meaning 'big water,' or 'high water,' or
'water in a high place.' The word rhymes with Washoe."
I did not quite like the name at first mention, but its
significance was so striking that I asked if they--Hittell
and DeGroot--would favor its adoption and back it up with the
support of their newspapers, and they agreed to do so.
They advocated the adoption of the new name in their
respective journals, the country papers almost unanimously
fell into line, I inserted it on the map which bore my
name--William Henry Knight--as compiler, and which was
published by the Bancroft house in 1862.
I immediately wrote to the Land Office at Washington,
reported what I had done, and the sentiment that prevailed in
California, and requested the Federal official to substitute
the name of Tahoe for Bigler on the next annual map to be
issued by his office, and in all the printed matter of the
Department of the Interior thereafter. This was done.
But a curious thing happened. Nevada was under a territorial
government appointed by the Democratic administration of
President Buchanan. The Territorial Legislature was in session
when the subject was agitated by the California newspapers. A
young statesman of that body, thirsting for fame, rose to
his feet and in vociferous tones and with frenzied gestures,
denounced this high-handed action of California in changing
the name of that Lake without consulting the sister
commonwealth of Nevada, as, according to the map, half of
that noble sheet of water was in Nevada, and such action would
require joint jurisdiction. But his impassioned words were
wasted on the desert air of the Sagebrush State. He could not
muster enough votes to enact his indignation into a law,
and the calm surface of Lake Tahoe was unruffled by the
tempestuous commotion raging in legislative halls at Carson
City.
It was thus that the beautiful, euphonious, and significant
name of "Tahoe" was first placed on my own map, and
subsequently appeared on all other maps of the State, because
it was universally accepted as a fitting substitute for the
former name of "Bigler." A traveled writer refers to the Lake
and the name selected in these terms:
"Thus it was that we went to Lake Tahoe, the beautiful 'Big
Water' of the Washoe Indians--Tahoe with the indigo shade of
its waters emphasized by its snow-capped setting. The very
first glance lifts one's soul above the petty cares of the
lower valleys, and one feels the significance of the Indian
title--'Big Water'--not referring to size alone, but to the
greatness of influence, just as the all-pervading Power is the
'Big Spirit.'"
One would naturally think that there had been changes enough. But
no! In spite of the fact that the Federal government had accepted the
change to Tahoe, and that the popular usage had signified the general
approval of the name, the Hon. W.A. King, of Nevada County, during the
Governorship of Haight, in California, introduced into the assembly
a bill declaring that Lake Bigler should be "the official name of
the said lake and the only name to be regarded as legal in official
documents, deeds, conveyances, leases and other instruments of writing
to be placed on state or county records, or used in reports made by
state, county or municipal officers."
Historian Hittell thus comments on this: "The bill, which appears to
have been well modulated to the taste and feelings of the legislature,
went through with great success. It passed the Assembly on February
1, the Senate on February 7; and on February 10 it was approved by
the Governor. It remains a monument, if not to Bigler, at least to the
legislature that passed it; while the name of the Lake will doubtless
continue to be _Tahoe_ and its sometime former designation of
_Bigler_ be forgotten."
Now if Mark Twain really objected to the name Tahoe why did he not
join the Biglerites and insist upon the preservation of that name?
On the Centennial Map of 1876 it was named "Lake Bigler or Lake
Tahoe," showing that some one evidently was aware that, officially, it
was still _Lake Bigler_.
And so, in fact, it is to this date, as far as _official_ action
can make it so, and it is interesting to conjecture what the results
might be were some malicious person, or some "legal-minded stickler
for rigid adherence to the law," to bring suit against those whose
deeds, titles, leases, or other documents declare it to be Lake Tahoe.
CHAPTER VI
JOHN LE CONTE'S PHYSICAL STUDIES OF LAKE TAHOE
In certain numbers (November and December 1883 and January 1884) of
the _Overland Monthly_, Professor John Le Conte, of the State
University, Berkeley, California, presented the results of his
physical studies of Lake Tahoe in three elaborate chapters. From these
the following quotations of general interest are taken:
Hundreds of Alpine lakes of various sizes, with their clear,
deep, cold, emerald or azure waters, are embosomed among the
crags of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The most extensive, as
well as the most celebrated, of these bodies of fresh water is
Lake Tahoe.
This Lake, ... occupies an elevated valley at a point where
the Sierra Nevada divides into two ranges. It is, as it were,
ingulfed between two lofty and nearly parallel ridges, one
lying to the east and the other to the west. As the crest of
the principal range of the Sierra runs near the western margin
of this Lake, this valley is thrown on the eastern slope of
this great mountain system.
The boundary line between the States of California and Nevada
makes an angle of about 131 degrees in this Lake, near its
southern extremity, precisely at the intersection of the 39th
parallel of north latitude with the 120th meridian west from
Greenwich. Inasmuch as, north of this angle, this boundary
line follows the 120th meridian, which traverses the Lake
longitudinally from two to four miles from its eastern
shore-line, it follows that more than two-thirds of its area
falls within the jurisdiction of California, the remaining
third being within the boundary of Nevada. It is only within a
comparatively recent period that the geographical coordinates
of this Lake have been accurately determined.
Its greatest dimension deviates but slightly from a medium
line. Its maximum length is about 21.6 miles, and its greatest
width is about 12 miles. In consequence of the irregularity of
its outline, it is difficult to estimate its exact area; but
it cannot deviate much from 192 to 195 square miles.
The railroad surveys indicate that the elevation of the
surface of its waters above the level of the ocean is about
6247 feet.
Its drainage basin, including in this its own area, is
estimated to be about five hundred square miles. Probably more
than a hundred affluents of various capacities, deriving their
waters from the amphitheater of snow-clad mountains which
rise on all sides from 3000 to 4000 feet above its surface,
contribute their quota to supply this Lake. The largest of
these affluents is the Upper Truckee River, which falls into
its southern extremity.
The only outlet to the Lake is the Truckee River, which
carries the surplus waters from a point on its northwestern
shore out through a magnificent mountain gorge, thence
northeast, through the arid plains of Nevada, into Pyramid
Lake. This river in its tortuous course runs a distance of
over one hundred miles, and for about seventy miles (from
Truckee to Wadsworth) the Central Pacific Railroad follows its
windings. According to the railroad surveys, this river makes
the following descent:
_Fall_
_Distance Fall per Mile_
Lake Tahoe to Truckee 15 Miles 401 Ft. 28.64 Ft
Truckee to Boca 8 " 313 " 39.12 "
Boca to State Line 11 " 395 " 35.91 "
State Line to Verdi 5 " 211 " 42.21 "
Verdi to Reno 11 " 420 " 38.18 "
Reno to Vista 8 " 103 " 12.87 "
Vista to Clark's 12 " 141 " 11.75 "
Clark's to Wadsworth 15 " 186 " 12.40 "
Wadsworth to Pyramid Lake 18[1] " 187[1] " 10.39 "
______ _______ _______
Lake Tahoe to Pyramid Lake 103 " 2357 " 23.11 "
[Footnote 1: The elevation of Pyramid Lake above the sea-level
has never, as far as we know, been accurately determined.
Henry Gannet, in his _Lists of Elevation_ (4th ed.,
Washington, 1877, p. 143), gives its altitude above the sea as
4890 feet; and credits this number to the _Pacific Railroad
Reports_. But as this exact number appears in Frémont's
_Report of Exploring Expedition to Oregon and North
California in the Years 1843-44_. (Doc. No. 166, p. 217),
it is probable that the first rude and necessarily imperfect
estimate has been copied by subsequent authorities. This
number is evidently more than 800 feet too great; for the
railroad station at Wadsworth (about eighteen or twenty miles
from the lake), where the line of the railroad leaves the
banks of the Truckee River, is only 4077 feet above the
sea-level. So that these numbers would make Pyramid Lake 813
feet above the level of its affluent at Wadsworth; which,
of course, is impossible. Under this state of facts, I have
assumed the elevation of this lake to be 3890 feet.]
During the summer of 1873, the writer embraced the opportunity
afforded by a six weeks' sojourn on the shores of the Lake to
undertake some physical studies in relation to this largest of
the "gems of the Sierra." Furnished with a good sounding-line
and a self-registering thermometer, he was enabled to secure
some interesting and trustworthy physical results.
(1.) _Depth_. It is well known that considerable
diversity of opinion has prevailed in relation to the
actual depth of Lake Tahoe. Sensational newsmongers have
unhesitatingly asserted that, in some portions, it is
absolutely fathomless. It is needless to say that actual
soundings served to dispel or to rectify this popular
impression. The soundings indicated that there is a deep
subaqueous channel traversing the whole Lake in its greatest
dimension, or south and north. Beginning at the southern end,
near the Lake House, and advancing along the long axis of the
Lake directly north towards the Hot Springs at the northern
end--a distance of about eighteen miles--we have the following
depths:
_Station Depth in Feet Depth in Meters_
1 ............... 900 274.32
2 ............... 1385 422.14
3 ............... 1495 455.67
4 ............... 1500 457.19
5 ............... 1506 459.02
6 ............... 1540 469.38
7 ............... 1504 458.41
8 ............... 1600 487.67
9 ............... 1640 499.86
10 ............... 1645 501.39
These figures show that this lake exceeds in depth the deepest
of the Swiss lakes (the Lake of Geneva), which has a maximum
depth of 334 meters. On the Italian side of the Alps, however,
Lakes Maggiore and Como are said to have depths respectively
of 796.43 and 586.73 meters. These two lakes are so little
elevated above the sea that their bottoms are depressed 587
and 374 meters below the level of the Mediterranean.
(2.) _Relation of Temperature to Depth_. By means of
a self-registering thermometer (Six's) secured to the
sounding-line, a great number of observations were made on the
temperature of the water of the Lake at various depths and
in different portions of the same. These experiments were
executed between the 11th and 18th of August, 1873. The same
general results were obtained in all parts of the Lake. The
following table contains the abstract of the average results,
after correcting the thermometric indications by comparison
with a standard thermometer:
Obs. in Feet in Meters F. deg. in C._
1 ...... 0-Surface 0-Surface 67 19.44
2 ...... 50 15.24 63 17.22
3 ...... 100 30.48 55 12.78
4 ...... 150 45.72 50 10.00
5 ...... 200 60.96 48 8.89
6 ...... 250 76.20 47 8.33
7 ...... 300 91.44 46 7.78
8 ...... 330 (Bottom) 100.58 45.5 7.50
9 ...... 400 121.92 45 7.22
10 ...... 480 (Bottom) 146.30 44.5 6.94
11 ...... 500 152.40 44 6.67
12 ...... 600 182.88 43 6.11
13 ...... 772 (Bottom) 235.30 41 5.00
14 ...... 1506 (Bottom) 459.02 39.2 4.00
It will be seen from the foregoing numbers that the
temperature of the water decreases with increasing depth to
about 700 or 800 feet (213 or 244 meters), and below this
depth it remains sensibly the same down to 1506 feet (459
meters). This constant temperature which prevails at all
depths below say 250 meters is about 4 degrees Cent. (39.2
Fah.). This is precisely what might have been expected; for it
is a well established physical property of fresh water,
that it attains its maximum density at the above-indicated
temperature. In other words, a mass of fresh water at the
temperature of 4 deg. Cent. has a greater weight under a
given volume (that is, a cubic unit of it is heavier at this
temperature) than it is at any temperature either higher or
lower. Hence, when the ice-cold water of the snow-fed streams
of spring and summer reaches the Lake, it naturally tends to
sink as soon as its temperature rises to 4 deg. Cent.; and,
conversely, when winter sets in, as soon as the summer-heated
surface water is cooled to 4 deg., it tends to sink. Any
further rise of temperature of the surface water during the
warm season, or fall of temperature during the cold season,
alike produces expansion, and thus causes it to float on
the heavier water below; so that water at 4 deg. Cent.,
perpetually remains at the bottom, while the varying
temperature of the seasons and the penetration of the solar
heat only influence a surface stratum of about 250 meters in
thickness. It is evident that the continual outflow of water
from its shallow outlet cannot disturb the mass of liquid
occupying the deeper portions of the Lake. It thus results
that the temperature of the surface stratum of such bodies of
fresh water for a certain depth fluctuates with the climate
and with the seasons; but at the bottom of deep lakes it
undergoes little or no change throughout the year, and
approaches to that which corresponds to the maximum density of
fresh water.
(3.) _Why the Water does not freeze in Winter_. Residents
on the shore of Lake Tahoe testify that, with the exception
of shallow and detached portions, the water of the Lake never
freezes in the coldest winters. During the winter months, the
temperature of atmosphere about this Lake must fall as low,
probably, as 0 degrees Fah. (-17.78 deg. Cent.). According to
the observations of Dr. George M. Bourne, the
minimum temperature recorded during the winter of 1873-74 was
6 deg. Fah. (-14.44 deg. Cent.). As it is evident that during
the winter season the temperature of the air must frequently
remain for days, and perhaps weeks, far below the freezing
point of water, the fact that the water of the Lake does not
congeal has been regarded as an anomalous phenomenon. Some
persons imagine that this may be due to the existence of
subaqueous hot springs in the bed of the Lake--an opinion
which may seem to be fortified by the fact that hot springs do
occur at the northern extremity of the Lake. But there is
no evidence that the temperature of any considerable body of
water in the Lake is sensibly increased by such springs. Even
in the immediate vicinity of the hot springs (which have in
summer a maximum temperature of 55 deg. C. or 131 F.), the
supply of warm water is so limited that it exercises no
appreciable influence on the temperature of that portion of
the Lake. This is further corroborated by the fact that no
local fogs hang over this or any other portion of the Lake
during the winter which would most certainly be the case if
any considerable body of hot water found its way into the
Lake.
The true explanation of the phenomenon may, doubtless, be
found in the high specific heat of water, the great depth of
the Lake, and in the agitation of its waters by the strong
winds of winter. In relation to the influence of depth, it
is sufficient to remark that, before the conditions preceding
congelation can obtain, the whole mass of water--embracing a
stratum of 250 meters in thickness--must be cooled down to
4 deg. Cent.; for this must occur before the vertical
circulation is arrested and the colder water floats on the
surface. In consequence of the great specific heat of
water, to cool such a mass of the liquid through an average
temperature of 8 deg. Cent, requires a long time, and the cold
weather is over before it is accomplished. In the shallower
portions, the surface of the water may reach the temperature
of congelation, but the agitations due to the action of
strong winds soon breaks up the thin pellicle of ice, which is
quickly melted by the heat generated by the mechanical action
of the waves. Nevertheless, in shallow and detached portions
of the Lake, which are sheltered from the action of winds and
waves--as in Emerald Bay--ice several inches in thickness is
sometimes formed.
[Illustration: Lily Lake]
[Illustration: Cave Rock, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods]
[Illustration: Clouds Over the Mountain, Lake Tahoe]
(4.) _Why Bodies of the Drowned do not Rise_. A number of
persons have been drowned in Lake Tahoe--some fourteen
between 1860 and 1874--and it is the uniform testimony of the
residents, that in no case, where the accident occurred in
deep water, were the bodies ever recovered. This striking fact
has caused wonder-seekers to propound the most extraordinary
theories to account for it. Thus one of them says, "The water
of the Lake is purity itself, but on account of the highly
rarified state of the air it is not very buoyant, and swimmers
find some little fatigue; or, in other words, they are
compelled to keep swimming all the time they are in the water;
and objects which float easily in other water sink here like
lead." Again he says, "Not a thing ever floats on the surface
of this Lake, save and except the boats which ply upon it."
It is scarcely necessary to remark that it is impossible that
the diminution of atmospheric pressure, due to an elevation
of 6250 feet (1905 meters) above the sea-level, could sensibly
affect the density of the water. In fact, the coefficient of
compressibility of this liquid is so small that the withdrawal
of the above indicated amount of pressure (about one-fifth
of an atmosphere) would not lower its density more than one
hundred-thousandth part! The truth is, that the specific
gravity is not lower than that of any other fresh water of
equal purity and corresponding temperature. It is not less
buoyant nor more difficult to swim in than any other fresh
water; and consequently the fact that the bodies of the
drowned do not rise to the surface cannot be accounted for by
ascribing marvelous properties to its waters.
The distribution of temperature with depth affords a natural
and satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon, and renders
entirely superfluous any assumption of extraordinary lightness
in the water. The true reason why the bodies of the drowned
do not rise to the surface is evidently owing to the fact that
when they sink into water which is only 4 deg. Cent. (7.2
deg. Fah.) above the freezing temperature, the gases usually
generated by decomposition are not produced in the intestines;
in other words, at this low temperature the
bodies do not become inflated, and therefore do not rise to
the surface. The same phenomenon would doubtless occur in
any other body of fresh water under similar physical
conditions.[2]
[Footnote 2: It should be noted that since 1874 there have been
remarkably few deaths from drowning in Lake Tahoe, and that the major
cases of those referred to by Dr. LeConte were of workmen and others
who were generally under the influence of intoxicants.]
(5.) _Transparency of the Water_. All visitors to this
beautiful Lake are struck with the extraordinary transparency
of the water. At a depth of 15 to 20 meters (49.21 to 65.62
feet), every object on the bottom--on a calm sunny day--is
seen with the greatest distinctness. On the 6th of September,
1873, the writer executed a series of experiments with the
view of testing the transparency of the water. A number of
other experiments were made August 28 and 29, under
less favorable conditions. By securing a white object of
considerable size--a horizontally adjusted dinner-plate
about 9.5 inches in diameter--to the sounding-line, it
was ascertained that (at noon) it was plainly visible at a
vertical depth of 33 meters, or 108.27 English feet. It must
be recollected that the light reaching the eye from such
submerged objects must have traversed a thickness of water
equal to at least twice the measured depth; in the above
case, it must have been at least 66 meters, or 216.54 feet.
Furthermore, when it is considered that the amount of
light regularly reflected from such a surface as that of a
dinner-plate, under large angles of incidence in relation
to the surface, is known to be a very small fraction of
the incident beam (probably not exceeding three or four per
cent.), it is evident that solar light must penetrate to
vastly greater depths in these pellucid waters.
Moreover, it is quite certain that if the experiments
in relation to the depths corresponding to the limit of
visibility of the submerged white disk had been executed in
winter instead of summer, much larger numbers would have been
obtained. For it is now well ascertained, by means of the
researches of Dr. F.A. Forel of Lausanne, that the waters of
Alpine lakes are decidedly more transparent in winter than in
summer. Indeed, it is reasonable that when the affluents of
such lakes are locked in the icy fetters of winter, much less
suspended matter is carried into them than in summer, when all
the sub-glacial streams are in active operation.
Professor Le Conte goes into this subject (as he later does into the
subject of the color of Lake Tahoe) somewhat exhaustively in a purely
scientific manner and in too great length for the purposes of this
chapter, hence the scientific or curious reader is referred to the
original articles for further information and discussion.
_Color of the Waters of Lake Tahoe_. One of the most
striking features of this charming mountain Lake is the
beautiful hues presented by its pellucid waters. On a calm,
clear, sunny day, wherever the depth is not less than from
fifty to sixty meters, to an observer floating above its
surface, the water assumes various shades of blue; from a
brilliant Cyan blue (greenish-blue) to the most magnificent
ultramarine blue or deep indigo blue. The shades of blue
increasing in darkness in the order of the colors of the
solar spectrum, are as follows: Cyan-blue (greenish blue),
Prussian-blue, Cobalt-blue, genuine ultramarine-blue, and
artificial ultramarine-blue (violet blue). While traversing
one portion of the Lake in a steamer, a lady endowed with a
remarkable natural appreciation and discrimination of shades
of color declared that the exact tint of the water at this
point was "Marie-Louise blue."
The waters of this Lake exhibit the most brilliant blueness
in the deep portions, which are remote from the fouling
influences of the sediment-bearing affluents, and the washings
of the shores. On a bright and calm day, when viewed in the
distance, it had the ultramarine hue; but when looked fair
down upon, it was of almost inky blackness--a solid dark
blue qualified by a trace of purple or violet. Under these
favorable conditions, the appearance presented was not unlike
that of the liquid in a vast natural dyeing-vat.
A clouded state of the sky, as was to be expected, produced
the well-known effects due to the diminished intensity of
light; the shades of blue became darker, and, in extreme
cases, almost black-blue. According to our observations,
the obscurations of the sky by the interposition of clouds
produced no other modifications of tints than those due to
a diminution of luminosity.
In places where the depth is comparatively small and the
bottom is visibly white, the water assumes various shades
of green; from a delicate apple-green to the most exquisite
emerald-green. Near the southern and western shores of the
Lake, the white, sandy bottom brings out the green tints very
strikingly. In the charming _cul-de-sac_ called "Emerald
Bay," it is remarkably conspicuous and exquisitely beautiful.
In places where the stratum of water covering white portions
of the bottom is only a few meters in thickness, the green hue
is not perceptible, unless viewed from such a distance that
the rays of light emitted obliquely from the white surface
have traversed a considerable thickness of the liquid before
reaching the eye of the observer.
The experiments with the submerged white dinner-plate,
in testing the transparency of the water, incidentally
manifested, to some extent, the influence of depth on the
color of the water. The white disk presented a bluish-green
tint at the depth of from nine to twelve meters; at about
fifteen meters it assumed a greenish-blue hue, and the blue
element increased in distinctness with augmenting depth,
until the disk became invisible or undistinguishable in the
surrounding mass of blue waters. The water intervening between
the white disk and the observer did not present the brilliant
and vivid green tint which characterized that which is seen in
the shallow portions of the Lake, where the bottom is white.
But this is not surprising, when we consider the small amount
of diffused light which can reach the eye from so limited a
surface of diffusion.
In studying the chromatic tints of these waters, a hollow
pasteboard cylinder, five or six centimeters in diameter, and
sixty or seventy centimeters in length, was sometimes employed
for the purpose of excluding the surface reflection and the
disturbances due to the small ripples on the water. When
quietly floating in a small row-boat, one end of this
exploring tube was plunged under the water, and the eye of
the observer at the other extremity received the rays of light
emanating from the deeper portions of the liquid. The light
thus reaching the eye presented essentially the same
variety of tints in the various portions of the Lake as those
which have been previously indicated.
Hence it appears that under various condition--such as depth,
purity, state of sky and color of bottom--the waters of this
Lake manifest nearly all the chromatic tints presented in
the solar spectrum between greenish-yellow and the darkest
ultramarine-blue, bordering upon black-blue.
It is well known that the waters of oceans and seas exhibit
similar gradations of chromatic hues in certain regions.
Navigators have been struck with the variety and richness of
tints presented, in certain portions, by the waters of the
Mediterranean Sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and
especially those of the Caribbean Sea. In some regions of the
oceans and seas, the green hues, and particularly those tinged
with yellow, are observed in comparatively deep waters, or, at
least, where the depths are sufficiently great to prevent
the bottom from being visible. But this phenomenon seems to
require the presence of a considerable amount of suspended
matter in the water. In no portion of Lake Tahoe did I observe
any of the green tints, except where the light-colored bottom
was visible. This was, probably, owing to the circumstance
that no considerable quantity of suspended matter existed in
any of the waters observed.
_Rhythmical Variations of Level in Lakes: or
"Seiches."_--As might be expected, the waters of Lake
Tahoe are subject to fluctuations of level, depending upon
the variable supplies furnished by its numerous affluents. In
mid-winter, when these streams are bound in icy fetters, the
level falls; while in the months of May and June, when the
snows of the amphitheater of mountain-slopes are melting most
rapidly, the level of the Lake rises, and a maximum amount
of water escapes through its outlet. According to the
observations of Capt. John McKinney, made at his residence
on the western shore of this Lake, the average seasonal
fluctuation of level is about 0.61 of a meter; but in extreme
seasons it sometimes amounts to 1.37 meters. The Lake of
Geneva, in like manner, is liable to fluctuations of level
amounting to from 1.95 to 2.60 meters, from the melting of the
Alpine snows.
But besides these variations of level due to the variable
quantities of water discharged into them by their affluents,
many lakes of moderate dimensions are liable to rhythmical
oscillations of level of short duration, which are, obviously,
but produced by fluctuations in the supply of water. It is to
this kind of species of variation of level that our attention
will be directed in the sequel.
This interesting phenomenon was first recognized in the Lake
of Geneva; but was subsequently found to be common to all
the Swiss lakes, as well as to those of Scotland. It is,
therefore, a general phenomenon, which may be observed in all
lakes of moderate dimensions. The inhabitants of the shores
of the Lake of Geneva have long designated this rhythmical
oscillation of the level of the water by the term of
_Seiche_; and this designation has been adopted by
scientific writers.
These _Seiches_ were first signalized in the Lake of
Geneva in 1730, by Fatio de Duillier, who ascribed them to the
checking of the flow of the waters of the Rhone on the shoal
near Geneva by the force of the wind at mid-day. Addison
and Jallabert, in 1742, supposed them to be caused by sudden
increments in the discharge of the affluents, due to the
augmentation in the amount of snow melted after mid-day; or
to the sudden increase in the flow of the Arve, checking
the outflow of water by the Rhone. Bertrand supposed that
electrified clouds might locally attract and elevate the
waters of the lake, and thus produce oscillations of level.
H.B. de Saussure, in 1799, attributed the phenomenon to rapid
local variations of atmospheric pressure on different parts
of the lake. J.P.E. Vaucher, in 1802 and 1804, adopted de
Saussure's explanation, and confirmed it by many excellent
observations. He, moreover, established that _Seiches_,
more or less considerable, occur in all the Swiss lakes; and
that they take place at all seasons of the year, and at all
times of the day; but, in general, more frequently in spring
and autumn. As regards the cause of the phenomenon, Vaucher
shows how rapid local alterations of atmospheric pressure
would produce oscillations in the level of the lake, and
compares them to the vibrations of a liquid in a recurved tube
or siphon. Finally, Arago maintained that _Seiches_ may
arise from various causes, and traced the analogy between them
and certain remarkable oscillations
of the sea, including those arising from earthquakes.
But physical science is indebted to Professor F.A. Forel, of
Lausanne, for the most complete and exhaustive investigation
in relation to the phenomena of _Seiches_. This
accomplished physicist began his researches in 1869, and has
continued them up to the present time. He has been able to
demonstrate that these rhythmical oscillations occur in nearly
all the Swiss Lakes (he studied the phenomena in nine of
them), and that they follow in all cases the same general
laws. Those of the Lake of Geneva have received the most
elaborate and prolonged investigation. In March, 1876, Forel
established a self-registering tide-gauge (_limni-metre
enregistreur_) on the northern shore of this lake, at
Morges; and, with the coöperation of P. Plantamour, another
one was installed in June, 1877, at Secheron, near the city
of Geneva, at the southern extremity. Since these dates,
these two instruments have, respectively, been registering
oscillations of the level of the water of the Lake of Geneva;
and they are so sensitive as to indicate the waves generated
by a steamer navigating the lake at a distance of ten or
fifteen kilometers.
From a most searching investigation of all the phenomena
presented by the _Seiches_ in the Swiss Lakes, Forel
deduces the conclusion that they are really movements of
steady uninodal oscillations (balanced undulations), in which
the whole mass of water in the lake rhythmically swings
from shore to shore. And, moreover, he shows that the water
oscillates according to the two principal dimensions of the
lake; thus, giving rise to longitudinal _Seiches_
and transverse _Seiches_. They occur in series of
tautochronous oscillations of decreasing amplitude; the first
wave produced by the action of a given cause having a maximum
amplitude.
_Causes_. The disturbances of hydrostatic equilibrium
which generate _Seiches_ may be produced by a variety of
causes. Among these, the following may be cited: (a) Sudden
local variations of atmospheric pressure on different parts of
the lake. (b) A descending wind, striking the surface of the
lake over a limited area, (c) Thunder-storms, hail-storms, and
water-spouts; and especially when the accompanying winds act
vertically. (d) The fall of a large avalanche, or of a
land-slide into the lake. (e) And lastly, earthquakes.
Observations show that the most frequent and evident of
these causes are variations of atmospheric pressure and local
storms. With regard to earthquake shocks as a cause of such
fluctuations of level, it is a singular and significant fact
that since Forel has established the delicate self-registering
apparatus on the shores of the Lake of Geneva, no less than
twelve earthquake shocks have been experienced in this portion
of Switzerland, and they have had no sensible influence on
these sensitive instruments. In fact, a little consideration
in relation to the character of such shocks renders it highly
improbable that such brief tremors of the earth's crust
could have been any agency in the generation of rhythmical
oscillations of the whole mass of water in the lake. Indeed,
it is very questionable whether any earthquake waves are ever
produced in the ocean, except when the sea-bottom undergoes a
permanent vertical displacement.
_Lake Tahoe_. From inquiries made of the inhabitants of
the shores of Lake Tahoe, I was not able to discover that any
rhythmical oscillations of the level of its waters have ever
been noticed. Some residents declared that they had observed
sudden fluctuations of level, which, from their suddenness,
they were disposed to ascribe to disturbances of the bottom of
the Lake due to volcanic agencies, although they were
unable to coordinate such oscillations with any earthquake
manifestations on the adjacent shores.
It is evident, however, that until arrangements are
consummated for recording systematic observations on the
variations of the level of this Lake, we cannot expect
that its _Seiches_ will be detected. Of course,
self-registering gauges would give the most satisfactory
results; but any graduated gauge, systematically observed,
would soon furnish evidence of the phenomenon. For the
longitudinal _Seiches_, "Hot Springs," at the northern
extremity of the Lake, or "Lake House," at the southern end,
would be eligible stations for gauges; and for the transverse
_Seiches_, Glenbrook, on the eastern shore, or Capt.
McKinney's on the western margin, would afford good stations.
As far as I am aware, true _Seiches_ have never been
observed in any of the American lakes. This fact is the more
remarkable from the circumstance that long-continued and
careful observations have been made on the fluctuations of
level of several of the large Canadian lakes, with the view of
testing the possible existence of lunar tides. Perhaps these
lakes may be too large to manifest the uninodal rhythmical
oscillations which have been so successfully studied by Forel
in the smaller lakes of Switzerland.[3]
Be this as it may, there can be no doubt that Lake Tahoe is a
body of water in all respects adapted for the manifestation of
this species of oscillation; and that, like the Swiss lakes,
it is subject to _Seiches_. Indeed, the far greater
simplicity in the configuration of the basin of Lake Tahoe
than that of the Lake of Geneva must render the phenomena much
less complicated in the former than in the latter.
Professor LeConte then gives his computations as to the probable
duration of the oscillations on Lake Tahoe, should they occur there.
[Footnote 3: It is proper to add that _Fluctuations of level in the
North American lakes_ have been noticed by various observers, from
the time of the Jesuit Fathers of the period of Marquette, in 1673,
down to the present epoch. Among those who have discussed this problem
may be mentioned in chronological order: Fra Marquette in 1673, Baron
La Hontan 1689, Charlevoix 1721, Carver 1766, Weld 1796, Major S.A.
Storrow 1817, Capt. Henry Whiting 1819, H.R. Schoolcraft 1820, Gen.
Dearborn 1826-29.]
CHAPTER VII
HOW LAKE TAHOE WAS FORMED
Lindgren, the geologist, affirms that after the Sierra Nevada range
was thrust up, high into the heavens, vast and long continued
erosion "planed down this range to a surface of comparatively gentle
topography." He claims that it must originally have been of great
height. Traces of this eroded range (Cretaceous) "still remain in
a number of flat-topped hills and ridges that rise above the later
tertiary surface. There is reason to believe that this planed-down
mountain range had a symmetrical structure, for somewhat to the east
of the present divide is a well-marked old crest line extending from
the Grizzly Peak Mountains on the north, in Plumas County, at least
as far south as Pyramid Peak, in Eldorado County. At sometime in
the later part of the Cretaceous period the first breaks took place,
changing the structure of the range from symmetrical to monoclinal and
outlining the present form of the Sierra Nevada."
This great disturbance he thinks, "was of a two-fold character,
consisting of the lifting up of a large area including at least a
part of the present Great Basin [Nevada and Utah] and a simultaneous
breaking and settling of the higher portions of the arch. Along the
eastern margin a system of fractures was thus outlined which toward
the close of the Tertiary was to be still further emphasized. The main
break probably extended from a point south of Mono Lake to Antelope
Valley and from Markleeville northward toward Sierra Valley. A large
part of the crust block to the west of this dislocation also sank
down. This sunken area is now indicated by Lake Tahoe and by its
northward continuation, Sierra Valley, separated from each other only
by masses of Tertiary lavas.... It is worthy of note that within the
area of the range no volcanic eruptions accompanied this subsidence."
He continues: "As a consequence of this uplift the erosive power of
the streams was rejuvenated, the Cretaceous surface of gentle outline
was dissected, and the rivers began to cut back behind the old divide,
carrying their heads nearly to the present crest line that separates
the slope of the Sierra from the depression of Lake Tahoe."
These rivers are the great gold bearing streams that caused the mining
excitement of 1849. They all head near the Tahoe region, and include
the Yuba, Feather, American, Mokelumne, Calaveras, Cataract, and
Tuolumne.
Here, then, were two crest lines--the old Cretaceous line of which the
Crystal Range immediately overlooking Desolation Valley on the west,
with Pyramid and Agassiz Peaks as its salient points,--and the new
Tertiary crest line, reaching somewhat irregularly from Honey Lake
in the north to Mono Lake in the south. At the north of Lake Tahoe,
"southwest of Reno, a large andesitic volcano poured forth lavas which
extend between the Truckee River Canyon and the Washoe Valley. In the
region extending northward from Lake Tahoe to Sierra Valley enormous
andesitic eruptions took place, and the products of these volcanoes
are now piled up as high mountains, among which Mount Pluto nearly
attains 9000 feet."
These are the volcanic lavas which united the two crests forming the
eastern and western borders of the Tahoe basin or depression, and
through which the Truckee River had in some way to find passage ere it
could discharge its waters into Pyramid Lake, resting in the bosom of
the Great Basin.
Here, then, we have the crude Tahoe basin ready for the reception
of water. This came from the snow and rainfall on its large and
mountainous drainage area, a hundred greater and lesser streams
directly and indirectly discharging their flow into its tremendous
gulf.
Its later topography has been materially modified by glacial action,
and this is fully discussed by Professor Joseph Le Conte in the
following chapter.
It should not be forgotten, however, that while Mt. Pluto was being
formed, other vast volcanic outpourings were taking place. Well back
to the west of the Tahoe region great volcanoes poured out rhyolite,
a massive rock of light gray to pink color and of fine grain, which
shows small crystals of quartz and sanidine in a streaky and glossy
ground mass. On the summits nearer to Tahoe the volcanic outflows were
of andesite, a rough and porous rock of dark gray to dark brown color.
Lindgren says: "By far the greater part of the andesite occurs in the
form of a tuffaceous breccia in numerous superimposed flows. These
breccias must have issued from fissures near the summit of the range
and were, either before their eruption or at the time of issue, mixed
with enormous quantities of water, forming mud flows sufficiently
fluid to spread down the slope for distances of fifty or sixty
miles. The derivation of the water and the exact mode of eruption are
difficult to determine.... Towards the summits the breccias gradually
lose their stratified character and become more firmly cemented. Over
large areas in the Truckee quadrangle the andesite masses consist of
breccias containing numerous dykes and necks of massive andesite....
"The andesite volcanoes were mainly located along the crest of the
Sierra, in fact, almost continuously from Thompson Peak, west of Honey
Lake, down to latitude 38° degrees 10'. Farther south the eruptions
diminished greatly in intensity.... Along the first summit of the
range west of Tahoe the greatest number of vents are found. Beginning
at Webber Lake on the north, they include Mount Lola, Castle Peak,
Mount Lincoln, Tinker Knob, Mount Mildred and Twin Peak. The andesite
masses here in places attain a thickness of 2000 feet. An interval
followed in the northern part of the Pyramid Peak quadrangle where no
important volcanoes were located, but they appear again in full force
in Alpine County. Round Top, attaining an elevation of 10,430 feet,
and the adjacent peaks, were the sources of the enormous flows which
covered a large part of Eldorado County. Still another volcanic
complex with many eruptive vents is that situated in the western part
of Alpine County, near Markleeville, which culminates in Highland Peak
and Raymond Peak, the former almost reaching 11,000 feet. The total
thickness of the volcanic flows in this locality is as much as 4000
feet."
It is to these breccias we owe the volcanic appearances in the Truckee
River Canyon, a few miles before reaching the Lake. There are several
layers of the andesites breccias at the head of Bear Creek Canyon,
above Deer Park Springs.
"None of the craters," says Lindgren, "of these volcanoes are
preserved, and at the time of their greatest activity they may have
reached a height of several thousand feet above the present summits."
CHAPTER VIII
THE GLACIAL HISTORY OF LAKE TAHOE
We have already seen in the preceding chapter how the great basin,
in which Lake Tahoe rests, was turned out in the rough from Nature's
workshop. It must now be smoothed down, its angularities removed, its
sharpest features eliminated, and soft and fertile banks prepared upon
which trees, shrubs, plants and flowers might spring forth to give
beauty to an otherwise naked and barren scene.
It is almost impossible for one to picture the Tahoe basin at this
time. There may have been water in it, or there may not. All the
great mountain peaks, most of them, perhaps, much higher by several
thousands of feet than at present, were rude, rough, jagged masses,
fresh from the factory of God. There was not a tree, not a shrub, not
a flower, not a blade of grass. No bird sang its cheering song, or
delighted the eye with its gorgeous plumage; not even a frog croaked,
a cicada rattled, or a serpent hissed. All was barren desolation,
fearful silence and ghastly newness.
What were the forces that produced so marvelous a change?
Snowflakes,--"flowers of the air",--as John Muir so poetically calls
them. They accomplished the work. Falling alone they could have done
nothing, but coming down in vast numbers, day after day, they piled
up and became a power. Snow forms glaciers, and glaciers are mighty
forces that create things.
[Illustration: Gilmore Lake, Pyramid Peak and the Crystal Range,
in winter, from summit of Mount Tallac]
[Illustration: Desolation Valley, Looking Toward Mosquito Pass]
[Illustration: Heather Lake, near Glen Alpine]
[Illustration: Susie Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]
Let us, if possible, stand and watch the Master Workman
doing the work that is to make this region our source of present
day joy. We will make the ascent and stand on the summit
of Pyramid Peak. This is now 10,020 feet above sea level,
rising almost sheer above Desolation Valley immediately at our feet.
The first thing that arrests the visitor's attention is the peculiar
shape of the peak upon which he stands, and of the whole of the
Crystal Range. Both east and west it is a great precipice, with a
razor-like edge, which seems to have been especially designed for
the purpose of arresting the clouds and snow blown over the mountain,
ranges of the High Sierras, and preventing their contents falling upon
the waste and thirsty, almost desert-areas of western Nevada, which
lie a few miles further east.
Whence do the rains and snow-storms come?
One hundred and fifty miles, a trifle more or less, to the westward
is the vast bosom of the Pacific Ocean. Its warm current is constantly
kissed by the fervid sun and its water allured, in the shape of mist
and fog, to ascend into the heavens above. Here it is gently wafted by
the steady ocean breezes over the land to the east. In the summer the
wind currents now and again swing the clouds thus formed northward,
and Oregon and Washington receive rain from the operation of the sun
upon the Pacific Ocean of the south. In June and July, however, the
Tahoe region sees occasional rains which clear the atmosphere, freshen
the flowers and trees, and give an added charm to everything. But in
the fall and winter the winds send the clouds more directly eastward,
and in crossing the Sierran summits the mist and fog become colder and
colder, until, when the clouds are arrested by the stern barriers
of the Crystal Range, and necessity compels them to discharge their
burden, they scatter snow so profusely that one who sees this region
only in the summer has no conception of its winter appearance. The
snow does not fall as in ordinary storms, but, in these altitudes, the
very heavens seem to press down, ladened with snow, and it falls in
sheets to a depth of five, ten, twenty, thirty and even more feet,
_on the level_.
Look now, however, at the western edge of the Crystal Range. It has
no "slopes." It is composed of a series of absolute precipices, on the
edge of one of which we stand. These precipices, and the razor edge,
are fortified and buttressed by arms which reach out westward and form
rude crescents, called by the French geologists _cirques_, for
here the snow lodges, and is packed to great density and solidity with
all the force, fervor and fury of the mountain winds.
But the snow does not fall alone on the western _cirques_. It
discharges with such prodigality, and the wind demands its release
with such precipitancy, that it lodges in equally vast masses on the
eastern slopes of the Crystal Range. For, while the eastern side
of this range is steep enough to be termed in general parlance
"precipitous," it has a decided slope when compared with the sheer
drop of the western side. Here the configuration and arrangement of
the rock-masses also have created a number of _cirques_, where
remnants of the winter's snow masses are yet to be seen. These snow
masses are baby glaciers, or snow being slowly manufactured into
glaciers, or, as some authorities think, _the remnants of the vast
glaciers that once covered this whole region_ with their heavy and
slowly-moving icy cap.
On the Tallac Range the snow fell heavily toward Desolation Valley,
but also on the steep and precipitous slopes that faced the north.
So also with the Angora Range. Its western exposure, however, is of
a fairly gentle slope, so that the snow was blown over to the eastern
side, where there are several precipitous _cirques_ of stupendous
size for the preservation of the accumulated and accumulating snow.
Now let us, in imagination, ascend in a balloon over this region and
hover there, seeking to reconstruct, by mental images, the appearance
it must have assumed and the action that took place in the ages long
ago.
Snow, thirty, fifty, one hundred or more feet deep lay, on the level,
and on the mountain slopes or in precipitous _cirques_ twice,
thrice, or ten times those depths. Snow thus packed together soon
changes its character. From the light airy flake, it becomes, in
masses, what the geologists term _névé_. This is a granular
snow, intermediate between snow and ice. A little lower down this
_névé_ is converted into true glacial ice-beds, which grow
longer, broader, deeper and thicker as the _névé_ presses down
from above.
Lay minds conceive of these great ice-beds of transformed snow as
inert, immovable bodies. They think the snow lies upon the surface of
the rocks or earth. The scientific observer knows better. By the very
inertia of its own vast and almost inconceivable weight the glacier is
compelled to move. Imagine the millions of millions of tons of ice of
these sloping masses, pressing down upon the hundreds of thousands of
tons of ice that lie below. Slowly the mass begins to move. But
all parts of it do not move with equal velocity. The center travels
quicker than the margins, and the velocity of the surface is greater
than that of the bottom. Naturally the velocity increases with the
slope, and when the ice begins to soften in the summer time its rate
of motion is increased.
But not only does the ice move. There have been other forces set in
motion as well as that of the ice. The fierce attacks of the storms,
the insidious forces of frost, of expansion and contraction, of
lightning, etc., have shattered and loosened vast masses of the
mountain summits. Some of these have weathered into toppling masses,
which required only a heavy wind or slight contractions to send them
from their uncertain bases onto the snow or ice beneath. And the other
causes mentioned all had their influences in breaking up the peaks
and ridges and depositing great jagged bowlders of rock in the
slowly-moving glaciers.
Little by little these masses of rock worked their way down lower into
the ice-bed. Sometime they must reach the bottom, yet, though
they rest upon granite, and granite would cleave to granite, the
irresistible pressure from above forces the ice and rock masses
forward. Thus the sharp-edged blocks of granite become the
_blades_ in the tools that are to help cut out the contours of
a world's surface. In other words the mass of glacial ice is the
grooving or smoothing _plane_, and the granite blocks, aided
by the ice, become the many and diverse blades in this vast and
irresistible tool. Some cut deep and square, others with flutings and
bevelings, or curves, but each helps in the great work of planing off,
in some way, the rocky masses over which they move. Hence it will
be seen that the grooving and marking, the fluting and beveling, the
planing and smoothing processes of the ice are materially aided and
abetted by the very hardness and weight of the granite and other rocks
it carries with it.
Now let Joseph LeConte take up the theme and give us of the rich
treasure-store of his knowledge and observation. In the _American
Journal of Science and Arts_, Third Series, for 1875, he discussed
the very field we are now interested in, and his fascinating and
illuminating explanations render the subject perfectly clear. Said he:
Last summer I had again an opportunity of examining the
pathways of some of the ancient glaciers of the Sierra. One
of the grandest of these is what I call the _Lake Valley
Glacier_.[1] Taking its rise in snow fountains among the
high peaks in the neighborhood of Silver Mountain, this great
glacier flowed northward down Lake Valley, and, gathering
tributaries from the summit ridges on either side of the valley,
but especially from the higher western summits, it filled the
basin of Lake Tahoe, forming a great "mer de glace," 50 miles
long, 15 miles wide, and at least 2000 feet deep, and finally
escaped northeastward to the plains. The outlets of this great
"mer de glace" are yet imperfectly known. A part of the ice
certainly escaped by Truckee Canyon (the present outlet of the
Lake); a part probably went over the northeastern margin of
the basin. My studies during the summer were confined to some
of the larger tributaries of this great glacier.
[Footnote 1: This is the name given by Dr. LeConte to the Basin in
which Lake Tahoe rests and including the meadow lands above Tallac.]
[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods, near Lake Tahoe,
Calif.]
[Illustration: Snow Bank, Desolation Valley, near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Grass Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]
_Truckee Canyon and Donner Lake Glaciers_. I have said
that one of the outlets of the great "mer de glace" was by
the Truckee River Canyon. The stage road to Lake Tahoe runs in
this canyon for fifteen miles. In most parts of the canyon the
rocks are volcanic and crumbling, and therefore ill adapted
to retain glacial marks; yet in some places where the rock
is harder these marks are unmistakable. On my way to and from
Lake Tahoe, I observed that the Truckee Canyon glacier
was joined at the town of Truckee by a short but powerful
tributary, which, taking its rise in an immense rocky
amphitheater surrounding the head of Donner Lake, flowed
eastward. Donner Lake, which occupies the lower portion of
this amphitheater, was evidently formed by the down-flowing
of the ice from the steep slopes of the upper portion near the
_summit_. The stage road from Truckee to the summit runs
along the base of a _moraine_ close by the margin of
the lake on one side, while on the other side, along
the apparently almost perpendicular rocky face of the
amphitheater, 1000 feet above the surface of the lake, the
Central Pacific Railroad winds its fearful way to the same
place. In the upper portion of this amphitheater large patches
of snow still remain unmelted during the summer.
My examination of these two glaciers, however, was very
cursory. I hasten on, therefore, to others which I traced more
carefully.
Lake Tahoe lies countersunk on the very top of the Sierra.
This great range is here divided into two summit ridges,
between which lies a trough 50 miles long, 20 miles wide, and
3000 to 3500 feet deep. This trough is Lake Valley. Its lower
half is filled with the waters of Lake Tahoe.
The area of this Lake is about 250 square miles, its depth
1640 feet, and its altitude 6200 feet. It is certain that
during the fullness of glacial times this trough was a great
"mer de glace," receiving tributaries from all directions
except the north. But as the Glacial Period waned--as the
great "mer de glace" dwindled and melted away, and the lake
basin became occupied by water instead, the tributaries still
remained as separate glaciers flowing into the Lake. The
tracks of these lingering small glaciers are far more easily
traced and their records more easily read, than those of the
greater but more ancient glacier of which they were once but
the tributaries.
Of the two summit ridges mentioned above the western is the
higher. It bears the most snow _now_, and in glacial
times gave origin to the grandest glaciers. Again: the peaks
on both these summits rise higher and higher as we go toward
the upper or southern end of the Lake. Hence the largest
glaciers ran into the Lake at its _southwestern end_.
And, since the mountain slopes here are toward the northeast
and therefore the shadiest and coolest, here also the glaciers
have had the greatest vitality and lived the longest, and
have, therefore, left the plainest records. Doubtless, careful
examination would discover the pathways of glaciers running
into the Lake from the eastern summit also; but I failed to
detect any very clear traces of such, either on the eastern or
on the northern portion of the western side of the Lake; while
between the southwestern end and Sugar Pine Point, a distance
of only eight or ten miles, I saw distinctly the pathways of
five or six. North of Sugar Pine Point there are also several.
_They are all marked by moraine ridges running down from
the summits and projecting as points into the Lake_.
The pathways of three of these glaciers I studied somewhat
carefully, and after a few preliminary remarks, will describe
in some detail.
Mountains are the culminating points of the scenic grandeur
and beauty of the earth. They are so, because they are also
the culminating points of all geological agencies--igneous
agencies in mountain _formation_, aqueous agencies in
mountain _sculpture_. Now, I have already said that the
mountain peaks which stand above the Lake on
every side are highest at the southwestern end, where they
rise to the altitude of 3000 feet above the lake surface, or
between 9000 and 10,000 feet above the sea. Here, therefore,
ran in the greatest glaciers; here we find the profoundest
glacial sculpturings; and here also are clustered all the
finest beauties of this the most beautiful of mountain lakes.
I need only name Mount Tallac, Fallen Leaf Lake, Cascade Lake,
and Emerald Bay, all within three or four miles of each other
and of the Tallac House. These three exquisite little lakes
(for Emerald Bay is also almost a lake), nestled closely
against the loftiest peaks of the western summit ridge, are
all perfect examples of glacial lakes.
South of Lake Tahoe, Lake Valley extends for fifteen miles as
a plain, gently rising southward. At its lower end it is but
a few feet above the lake surface, covered with glacial drift
modified by water, and diversified, especially on its western
side, by débris ridges, the moraines of glaciers which
continued to flow into the valley or into the Lake long after
the main glacier, of which they were once tributaries, had
dried up. On approaching the south end of the Lake by steamer,
I had observed these long ridges, divined their meaning, and
determined on a closer acquaintance. While staying at the
Tallac House I repeatedly visited them and explored the
canyons down which their materials were brought. I proceed to
describe them.
_Fallen Leaf Lake Glacier_. Fallen Leaf Lake lies on the plain
of Lake Valley, about one and a half miles from Lake Tahoe, its
surface but a few feet above the level of the latter Lake[2];
but its bottom far, probably several hundred feet, below that
level. It is about three to three and one-half miles long and
one and one-fourth miles wide. From its upper end runs a canyon
bordered on either side by the highest peaks in this region. The
rocky walls of this canyon terminate on the east side at the
head of the lake, but on the west side, a little farther down.
The lake is bordered on each side by an admirably marked débris
ridge (moraine) three hundred feet high, four miles long, and
one and one-half to two miles apart. These moraines may be
traced back to the termination of the rocky ridges which bound
the canyon. On one side the moraine lies wholly on the plain; on
the other side its upper part lies against the slope of Mount
Tallac. Near the lower end of the lake a somewhat obscure branch
ridge comes off from each main ridge, and curving around it
forms an imperfect terminal moraine through which the outlet of
the lake breaks its way.
[Footnote 2: Professor Price informs me there is a difference of
eighty feet between the level of Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake.]
On ascending the canyon the glaciation is very conspicuous,
and becomes more and more beautiful at every step. From Glen
Alpine Springs upward it is the most perfect I have ever seen.
In some places the white rocky bottom of the canyon, for many
miles in extent, is smooth and polished and gently undulating,
like the surface of a glassy but billowy sea. The glaciation
is distinct also up the sides of the canyon 1000 feet above
its floor.
There can be no doubt, therefore, that a glacier once came
down this canyon filling it 1000 feet deep, scooped out Fallen
Leaf Lake just where it struck the plain and changed its angle
of slope, and pushed its snout four miles out on the level
plain, nearly to the present shores of Lake Tahoe, dropping
its débris on either side and thus forming a bed for itself.
In its subsequent retreat it seems to have rested its
snout some time at the lower end of Fallen Leaf Lake, and
accumulated there an imperfect terminal moraine.
_Cascade Lake Glacier_. Cascade Lake, like Fallen Leaf
Lake, is about one and one-half miles from Lake Tahoe, but,
unlike Fallen Leaf Lake, its discharge creek has considerable
fall, and the lake surface is, therefore, probably 100 feet
above the level of the greater lake. On either side of this
creek, from the very border of Lake Tahoe, runs a moraine
ridge up to the lake, and thence along each side of the lake
up to the rocky points which terminate the true mountain
canyon above the head of the lake. I have never anywhere seen
more perfectly defined moraines. I climbed over the larger
western moraine and found that it is partly merged into the
eastern moraine of Emerald Bay to form a medial at least
300 feet high, and of great breadth. From the surface of the
little lake the curving branches of the main moraine, meeting
below the lake to form a terminal moraine, are very distinct.
At the head of the lake there
is a perpendicular cliff over which the river precipitates
itself, forming a very pretty cascade of 100 feet or more. On
ascending the canyon above the head of the lake, for several
miles, I found, everywhere, over the lip of the precipice,
over the whole floor of the canyon, and up the sides 1000 feet
or more, the most perfect glaciation.
There cannot, therefore, be the slightest doubt that this also
is the pathway of a glacier which once ran into Lake
Tahoe. After coming down its steep rocky bed, this glacier
precipitated itself over the cliff, scooped out the lake at
its foot, and then ran on until it bathed its snout in the
waters of Lake Tahoe, and probably formed icebergs there. In
its subsequent retreat it seems to have dropped more débris in
its path and formed a more perfect terminal moraine than did
Fallen Leaf Glacier.
_Emerald Bay Glacier_. All that I have said of Fallen
Leaf Lake and Cascade Lake apply, almost word for word, to
Emerald Bay. This beautiful bay, almost a lake, has also been
formed by a glacier. It also is bounded on either side by
moraines, which run down to and even project into Lake Tahoe,
and may be traced up to the rocky points which form the mouth
of the canyon at the head of the bay. Its eastern moraine, as
already stated, is partly merged into the western moraine
of Cascade Lake, to form a huge medial moraine. Its western
moraine lies partly against a rocky ridge which runs down to
Lake Tahoe to form Rubicon Point. At the head of the bay, as
at the head of Cascade Lake, there is a cliff about 100 feet
high, over which the river precipitates itself and forms a
beautiful cascade. Over the lip of this cliff, and in the bed
of the canyon above, and up the sides of the cliff-like walls,
1000 feet or more, the most perfect glaciation is found. The
only difference between this glacier and the two preceding is,
that it ran more deeply into the main lake and the deposits
dropped in its retreat did not rise high enough to cut off
its little rock basin from that lake, but exists now only as a
_shallow bar_ at the mouth of the bay. This bar consists
of _true moraine matter_, i.e., intermingled bowlders
and sand, which may be examined through the exquisitely
transparent water almost as perfectly as if no water were
present.
All that I have described separately and in detail, and
much more, may be taken in at one view from the top of Mount
Tallac. From this peak nearly the whole course of these three
glaciers, their fountain amphitheaters, their canyon beds, and
their lakes enclosed between their moraine arms, may be seen
at once. The view from this peak is certainly one of the
finest that I have ever seen. Less grand and diversified in
mountain forms than many from peaks above the Yosemite, it
has added beauty of extensive water surface, and the added
interest of several glacial pathways in a limited space. The
observer sits on the very edge of the fountain amphitheaters
still holding large masses of snow; immediately below, almost
at his feet, lie glistening, gem-like, in dark rocky setting,
the three exquisite little lakes; on either side of these,
embracing and protecting them, stretch out the moraine arms,
reaching toward and directing the eye to the great Lake,
which lies, map-like, with all its sinuous outlines perfectly
distinct, even to its extreme northern end, twenty-five to
thirty miles away. As the eye sweeps again up the canyon-beds,
little lakes, glacier scooped rock basins, filled with
ice-cold water, flash in the sunlight on every side. Twelve or
fifteen of these may be seen.
From appropriate positions on the surface of Lake Tahoe, also,
all the moraine ridges are beautifully seen at once, but the
glacial lakes and the canyon-beds, of course, cannot be seen.
There are several questions of a general nature suggested by
my examination of these three glacial pathways, which I have
thought best to consider separately.
_a. Evidences of the existence of the Great Lake Valley
Glacier_. On the south shore of Lake Tahoe, and especially
at the northern or lower end of Fallen Leaf Lake, I found
many pebbles and some large bowlders of a beautiful striped
agate-like slate. The stripes consisted of alternate bands
of black and translucent white, the latter weathering into
milk-white, or yellowish, or reddish. It was perfectly evident
that these fragments were brought down from the canyon above
Fallen Leaf Lake. On ascending this canyon I easily found the
parent rock of these pebbles and bowlders.
the It is a powerful outcropping ledge of beautifully striped
siliceous slate, full of fissures and joints, and easily
broken into blocks of all sizes, crossing the canyon about
a half mile above the lake. This rock is so peculiar and so
easily identified that its fragments become an admirable index
of the extent of the glacial transportation. I have, myself,
traced these pebbles only a little way along the western
shores of the great Lake, as my observations were principally
confined to this part; but I learn from my brother, Professor
John LeConte, and from Mr. John Muir, both of whom have
examined the pebbles I have brought home, that precisely
similar fragments are found in great abundance all along the
western shore from Sugar Pine Point northward, and especially
on the extreme northwestern shore nearly thirty miles from
their source. I have visited the eastern shore of the Lake
somewhat more extensively than the western, and nowhere did I
see similar pebbles. Mr. Muir, who has walked around the Lake,
tells me that they do not occur on the eastern shore. We have,
then, in the distribution of these pebbles, demonstrative
evidence of the fact that Fallen Leaf Lake glacier was once a
tributary of a much greater glacier which filled Lake Tahoe.
The only other agency to which we could attribute this
transportation is that of shore ice and icebergs, which
probably did once exist on Lake Tahoe; but the limitation of
the pebbles to the western, and especially the northwestern
shores, is in exact accordance with the laws of glacial
transportation, but contrary to those of floating ice
transportation--for lake ice is carried only by winds, and
would, therefore, deposit equally on all shores.
Again: I think I find additional evidence of a Lake Tahoe
"mer de glace" in the contrasted character of the northern and
southern shores of this Lake.
All the little glacial lakes described above are deep at the
upper end and shallow at the lower end. Further, all of them
have a sand beach and a sand flat at the upper end, and great
bowlders thickly scattered in the shallow water, and along the
shore at the lower end. These facts are easily explained,
if we remember that while the glacial _scooping_ was
principally at the upper end, the glacial
_droppings_ were principally at the lower end. And
further: that while the _glacial_ deposit was principally
at the lower end, the _river_ deposit, since the glacial
epoch, has been wholly at the upper end.
Now the great Lake, also, has a similar structure. It also has
a beautiful sand and gravel beach all along its upper shore,
and a sand flat extending above it; while at its lower, or
northern end, thickly strewed in the shallow water, and along
the shore line, and some distance above the shore line, are
found in great abundance _bowlders of enormous size_.
May we not conclude that similar effects have been produced by
similar causes--that these huge bowlders were dropped by the
great glacier at its lower end? Similar bowlders are also
found along the northern portion of the eastern shore, because
the principal flow of the ice-current was from the southwest,
and in the fulness of glacial times the principal exit was
over the northeastern lip of the basin.
_b. Origin of Lake Tahoe_. That Lake Tahoe was once
wholly occupied by ice, I think, is certain; but that it
was scooped out by the Lake Valley glacier is perhaps more
doubtful. All other Sierra lakes which I have seen certainly
owe their origin to glacial agency. Neither do I think we
should be staggered by the size or enormous depth of this
Lake. Yet, from its position, it may be a plication-hollow,
or a trough produced by the formation of two parallel mountain
ridges, and afterward modified by glacial agency, instead of a
pure glacial-scooped rock-basin. In other words, Lake Valley,
with its two summit ridges, _may be regarded as a phenomenon
belonging to the order of mountain-formation and not to the
order of mountain sculpture_. I believe an examination of
the rocks of the two summit ridges would probably settle
this. In the absence of more light than I now have, I will not
hazard an opinion.[3]
[Footnote 3: This question practically has been settled by Mr.
Lindgren, and his conclusions are given in an earlier chapter.]
_c. Passage of slate into granite_. From the commencement
of the rocky canyon at the head of Fallen Leaf Lake, and up
for about two miles, the canyon walls and bed are composed
of _slate_. The slate, however, becomes more and more
metamorphic as we go up, until it passes into what
much resembles _trap_. In some places it looks like
_diorite_ and in others like _porphyry_. I saw no
evidence, however, of any outburst. This latter rock passes
somewhat more rapidly into _granite_ at Glen Alpine
Springs. From this point the canyon bed and lower walls are
granite, but the highest peaks are still a dark, splintery,
metamorphic slate. The glacial erosion has here cut through
the slate and bitten deep into the underlying granite. The
passage from slate through porphyritic diorite into granite
may, I think, be best explained by the increasing degree of
metamorphism, and at the same time a change of the original
sediments at this point; granite being the last term of
metamorphism of pure clays, or clayey sandstones, while bedded
diorites are similarly formed from ferruginous and calcareous
slates. Just at the junction of the harder and tougher granite
with the softer and more jointed slates, occur, as might
be expected, cascades in the river. It is probable that the
cascades at the head of Cascade Lake and Emerald Bay mark,
also, the junction of the granite with the slate--only
the junction here is covered with débris. Just at the same
junction, in Fallen Leaf Lake Canyon (Glen Alpine Basin),
burst out the waters of Glen Alpine Springs, highly charged
with bicarbonates of iron and soda.
_d. Glacial Deltas_. I have stated that the moraines of
Cascade Lake and Emerald Bay glaciers run down to the margin
of Lake Tahoe. An examination of this portion of the Lake
shore shows that _they run far into the Lake_--that
the Lake has been filled in, two or three miles, by glacial
débris. On the eastern margin of Lake Tahoe, the water, close
along the shore, is comparatively shallow, the shore rocky,
and along the shore-line, above and below the water, are
scattered great bowlders, probably dropped by the main
glacier. But on the west margin of the Lake the shoreline is
composed wholly of moraine matter, the water very deep close
to shore, and the bottom composed of precisely similar moraine
matter. In rowing along the shore, I found that the exquisite
ultramarine blue of the deep water extends to within 100 to
150 feet of the shore-line. At this distance, the bottom could
barely be seen. Judging from the experiments of my brother,
Professor John Le Conte, according to which a white object
could be seen at a depth of 115 feet, I suppose the depth along
the line of junction of the ultramarine blue and the emerald
green water is at least 100 feet. The slope of the bottom is,
therefore, nearly, or quite, 45 degrees. It seems, in fact, a
direct continuation beneath the water of the moraine slope. The
materials, also, which may be examined with ease through the
wonderfully transparent water, are exactly the same as that
composing the moraine, viz: earth, pebbles, and bowlders
of all sizes, some of them of enormous dimensions. It seems
almost certain that _the margin of the great Lake Valley
glacier, and of the Lake itself when this glacier had melted
and the tributaries first began to run into the Lake, was the
series of rocky points at the head of the three little lakes,
about three or four miles back from the present margin of the
main Lake; and that all lakeward from these points has been
filled in and made land by the action of the three glaciers
described_. At that time Rubicon Point was a rocky
promontory, projecting far into the Lake, beyond which was
another wide bay, which has been similarly filled in by
débris brought down by glaciers north of this point. The long
moraines of these glaciers are plainly visible from the Lake
surface; but I have not examined them. Thus, all the land, for
three or four miles back from the Lake-margin, both north and
south of Rubicon Point, is composed of _confluent glacial
deltas_, and on these deltas the moraine ridges are the
_natural levees_ of these ice-streams.
_e. Parallel Moraines_. The moraines described above are
peculiar and almost unique. Nowhere, except about Lake Tahoe
and near Lake Mono, have I seen moraines in the form of
_parallel ridges_ lying on a level plain and terminating
abruptly _without any signs of transverse connection
(terminal moraine) at the lower end_. Nor have I been
able to find any description of similar moraines in other
countries. They are not terminal moraines, for the glacial
pathway is open below. They are not lateral moraines, for
these are borne on the glacier itself, or else stranded on the
deep canyon sides. Neither do I think moraines of this kind
would be formed by a glacier emerging from a steep
narrow canyon and running out on a level plain; for in such
cases, as soon as the confinement of the bounding walls is
removed, the ice stream spreads out into an _ice lake_.
It does so as naturally and necessarily as does water under
similar circumstances. The deposit would be nearly transverse
to the direction of the motion, and, therefore, more or less
crescentic. There must be something peculiar in the conditions
under which these parallel ridges were formed. I believe the
conditions were as described below.
We have already given reason to think that the original margin
of the Lake, in glacial times, was three or four miles back
from the present margin, along the series of rocky points
against which the ridges abut; and that all the flat plain
thence to the present margin is made land. If so, then it is
evident that at that time the three glaciers described ran
far out into the Lake, until reaching deep water, where they
formed icebergs. Under these conditions, it is plain that the
pressure on this, the subaqueous portion of the glacial bed,
would be small, and become less and less until it becomes
nothing at the point where the icebergs float away. The
pressure on the bed being small, not enough to overcome the
cohesion of ice, there would be no spreading. _A glacier
running down a steep narrow canyon and out into the deep
water, and forming icebergs at its point, would maintain its
slender, tongue-like form, and drop its débris on each side,
forming parallel ridges, and would not form a terminal moraine
because the materials not dropped previously would be carried
off by icebergs_. In the subsequent retreat of such a
glacier, imperfect terminal moraines might be formed higher
up, where the water is not deep enough to form icebergs. It
is probable, too, that since the melting of the great "mer de
glace" and the formation of the Lake, the level of the water
has gone down considerably, by the deepening of the Truckee
Canyon outlet by means of erosion. Thus not only did the
glaciers retreat from the Lake, but also the Lake from the
glaciers.
As already stated, similar parallel moraine ridges are formed
by the glaciers which ran down the steep eastern slope of the
Sierras, and out on the level plains of Mono. By far the most
remarkable are those formed by Bloody
most Canyon Glacier, described by me in a former paper. These
moraines are six or seven miles long, 300 to 400 feet high,
and the parallel crests not more than a mile asunder. There,
also, as at Lake Tahoe, we find them terminating abruptly in
the plain without any sign of terminal moraine. But higher up
there are small, imperfect, transverse moraines, made during
the subsequent retreat, behind which water has collected,
forming lakes and marshes. But observe: these moraines are
also _in the vicinity of a great lake_; and we have
abundant evidence, in very distinct terraces described by
Whitney[4] and observed by myself, that in glacial times the
_water stood at least six hundred feet above the present
level_. In fact, there can be no doubt that at that time
the waters of Mono Lake (or a much greater body of water
of which Mono is the remnant) washed against the bold rocky
points from which the débris ridges start. _The glaciers in
this vicinity, therefore, must have_ run out into the water
six or seven miles, and doubtless formed icebergs at their
point, and, therefore, formed there no terminal moraine.
[Footnote 4: _Geological Survey of California_, Vol. I, 451.]
That the glaciers described about Lake Tahoe and Lake Mono ran
out far into the water and formed icebergs I think is
quite certain, and that parallel moraines open below are
characteristic signs of such conditions I also think nearly
certain.
_f. Glacial Erosion_. My observations on glacial pathways
in the High Sierra, and especially about Lake Tahoe, have
greatly modified my views as to the nature of glacial erosion.
Writers on this subject seem to regard glacial erosion as
mostly, if not wholly, a _grinding_ and _scoring_;
the débris of this erosion as rock-meal; the great bowlders,
which are found in such immense quantities in the terminal
deposit, as derived wholly from the crumbling cliffs above the
glacial surface; the _rounded_ bowlders, which are often
the most numerous, as derived in precisely the same way, only
they have been engulfed by crevasses, or between the sides of
the glacier and the bounding wall, and thus carried between
the moving ice and its rocky bed, as between
the upper and nether millstone. In a word, all bowlders,
whether angular or rounded, are supposed to owe their
_origin_ or _separation_ and _shaping_ to
glacial agency.
Now, if such be the true view of glacial erosion, evidently
its effect in mountain sculpture must be small indeed.
_Roches moutonnées_ are recognized by all as the most
universal and characteristic sign of a glacial bed. Sometimes
these beds are only imperfect _moutonnées_, i.e., they
are composed of _broken angular surface with only the points
and edges planed off_. Now, _moutonnées_ surfaces
always, and especially angular surfaces with only points and
edges beveled, show that the erosion by grinding has been only
very superficial. They show that if the usual view of glacial
erosion be correct, the great canyons, so far from being
_formed_, were only very _slightly modified_
by glacial agency. But I am quite satisfied from my
own observations, that this is not the only _nor the
principal_ mode of glacial erosion. I am convinced that
a glacier, by its enormous pressure and resistless onward
movement, is _constantly breaking off large blocks_ from
its bed and bounding walls. Its erosion is not only a grinding
and scoring, but also a _crushing and breaking_. It
makes by its erosion not only rock-meal, but also large
_rock-chips_. Thus, a glacier is constantly breaking off
blocks and making angular surfaces, and then grinding off the
angles both of the fragments and the bed, and thus forming
rounded bowlders and _moutonnées_ surfaces. Its erosion
is a constant process of alternate _rough hewing and
planing_. If the rock be full of fissures, and the glacier
deep and heavy, the rough hewing so predominates that the
plane has only time to touch the corners a little before the
rock is again broken and new angles formed. This is the case
high up on the _canyon walls_, at the head of Cascade
Lake and Emerald Bay, but also in the _canyon beds wherever
the slate is approached_. If, on the other hand, the rock
is very hard and solid, and the glacier be not very deep and
heavy, the planing will predominate over the rough hewing, and
a smooth, gentle billowy surface is the result. This is the
case in the hard granite forming the beds of all the canyons
high up, but especially high up the canyon of Fallen Leaf Lake
(Glen Alpine Basin), where the canyon spreads out and extensive
but comparatively thin snow sheets have been at work. In some
cases _on the cliffs_, subsequent disintegration of a
glacier-polished surface may have given the appearance of
angular surfaces with beveled corners; but, in other cases,
in the _bed of the canyon_, and on elevated level places,
where large loosened blocks could not be removed by water nor
by gravity, I observed the same appearances, under conditions
which forbid this explanation. Mr. Muir, also, in his
_Studies in the Sierra_, gives many examples of undoubted
rock-breaking by ancient glaciers.
_Angular_ blocks are mostly, therefore, the ruins of
crumbling cliffs, borne on the surface of the glacier and
deposited at its foot. Many _rounded_ bowlders also have
a similar origin, having found their way to the bed of the
glacier through crevasses, or along the sides of the glacier.
But _most of the rounded bowlders_ in the terminal
deposit of _great glaciers_ are fragments _torn off by
the glacier itself_. The proportion of rounded bowlders--of
upper or air-formed--to nether or glacier-formed fragments,
depends on the depth and extent of the ice-current. In the
case of the universal ice-sheet (ice-flood) there are, of
course, no upper formed or angular blocks at all--there is
nothing borne on the surface. The moraine, therefore, consists
wholly of nether-formed and nether-borne severely triturated
materials (_moraine profunde_). The bowlders are, of
course, all rounded. This is one extreme. In the case of the
thin moving ice-fields, the _glacierets_ which still
linger among the highest peaks and shadiest hollows of the
Sierra, on the other hand, the moraines are composed _wholly
of angular blocks_. This is the character of the terminal
moraine of Mount Lyell glacier. These glacierets are too thin
and feeble and torpid to break off fragments--they can
only _bear_ away what falls on them. This is the
other extreme. But in the case of ordinary
glaciers--ice-streams--the bowlders of the terminal deposit
are mixed; the angular or upper-formed predominating in the
small existing glaciers of temperate climates, but the rounded
or nether-formed greatly predominating in the grand old
glaciers of which we have been
speaking. In the terminal deposits of these, especially in the
materials pushed into the Lake, it is somewhat difficult
to find a bowlder which has not been subjected to severe
attrition.
CHAPTER IX
THE LESSER LAKES OF THE TAHOE REGION AND HOW THEY WERE FORMED
This is not to be a description of the scores of Glacial Lakes found
in the Tahoe region, but an answer to the questions so often
asked about practically all of these lakes, as to their origin and
continuance.
Rich as our Sierras are in treasures none are more precious than
these. They give one pleasing surprises, often when least expected.
For while the tree-clusters, the mountain-peaks, and the glowing
snow-banks throw themselves into our view by their elevated positions,
the retiring lakes, secluded, modest, hide their beauty from us until
we happen to climb up to, or above, them.
From the higher summits how wonderfully they appear. Let the eye
follow a fruitful branch of an apple, pear or peach. How the leaves,
the stem, the fruit occur, in sure but irregular order. It is just
so with the glacial lakes of the Sierras. They are the fruit of the
streams that flow from the glacial fountains. They lie on rude and
unexpected granite shelves,--as Le Conte Lake; under the shadow of
towering peaks,--as Gilmore Lake; on bald glacier-gouged and polished
tables,--as those of Desolation Valley; embosomed in deep woods,--as
Fallen Leaf, Heather and Cascade; in the rocky recesses of sloping
canyons,--as Susie, Lucile and the Angoras; hidden in secret recesses
of giant granite walls,--as Eagle; or sprawling in the open,--as Loon,
Spider, etc.
What a variety of sizes, shapes and characteristics they present.
There are no two alike, yet they are nearly all one in their
attractive beauty, in the purity of their waters, and in the glory,
majesty, sublimity and beauty mirrored on their placid faces.
In poetic fashion, yet with scientific accuracy, John Muir thus
describes their origin in his _Mountains of California_, a book
every Tahoe lover should possess:
When a mountain lake is born,--when, like a young eye, it
first opens to the light,--it is an irregular, expressionless
crescent, inclosed in banks of rock and ice,--bare, glaciated
rock on the lower side, the rugged snout of a glacier on the
upper. In this condition it remains for many a year, until at
length, toward the end of some auspicious cluster of seasons,
the glacier recedes beyond the upper margin of the basin,
leaving it open from shore to shore for the first time,
thousands of years after its conception beneath the glacier
that excavated its basin. The landscape, cold and bare, is
reflected in its pure depths; the winds ruffle its glassy
surface, and the sun thrills it with throbbing spangles,
while its waves begin to lap and murmur around its leafless
shores,--sun-spangles during the day and reflected stars
at night its only flowers, the winds and the snow its only
visitors. Meanwhile, the glacier continues to recede, and
numerous rills, still younger than the lake itself, bring
down glacier-mud, sand-grains, and pebbles, giving rise to
margin-rings and plats of soil. To these fresh soil-beds come
many a waiting plant. First, a hardy carex with arching
leaves and a spike of brown flowers; then, as the seasons grow
warmer, and the soil-beds deeper and wider, other sedges take
their appointed places, and these are joined by blue gentians,
daisies, dodecatheons, violets, honey-worts, and many a lowly
moss. Shrubs also hasten in time to the new gardens,--kalmia
with its glossy leaves and purple flowers, the arctic willow,
making soft woven carpets, together with the healthy bryanthus
and cassiope, the fairest and dearest of them all. Insects
now enrich the air, frogs pipe cheerily in the shallows, soon
followed by the ouzel, which is the first bird to visit a
glacier lake, as the sedge is the first of plants.
So the young lake grows in beauty, becoming more and more
humanly lovable from century to century. Groves of aspen
spring up, and hardy pines, and the hemlock spruce, until it
is richly overshadowed and embowered. But while its shores
are becoming enriched, the soil-beds creep out with incessant
growth, contracting its area, while the lighter mud-particles
deposited on the bottom cause it to grow shallower, until at
length the last remnant of the lake vanishes,--closed forever
in ripe and natural old age. And now its feeding-stream goes
winding on without halting through the new gardens and groves
that have taken its place.
The length of the life of any lake depends ordinarily upon the
capacity of its basin, as compared with the carrying power of
the streams that flow into it, the character of the rocks over
which these streams flow, and the relative position of the
lake toward other lakes. In a series whose basins lie in the
same canyon, and are fed by one and the same main stream,
the uppermost will, of course, vanish first unless some other
lake-filling agent comes in to modify the result; because at
first it receives nearly all of the sediments that the stream
brings down, only the finest of the mud-particles being
carried through the highest of the series to the next below.
Then the next higher, and the next would be successively
filled, and the lowest would be the last to vanish. But this
simplicity as to duration is broken in upon in various ways,
chiefly through the action of side-streams that enter the
lower lakes direct. For, notwithstanding many of these side
tributaries are quite short, and, during late summer, feeble,
they all become powerful torrents in spring-time when the
snow is melting, and carry not only sand and pine-needles, but
large trunks and bowlders tons in weight, sweeping them down
their steeply inclined channels and into the lake basins with
astounding energy. Many of these side affluents also have
the advantage of access to the main lateral moraines of the
vanished glacier that occupied the canyon, and upon these they
draw for lake-filling material, while the main trunk stream
flows mostly over clean glacier pavements, where but little
moraine matter is ever left for them to carry. Thus a small
rapid stream with abundance of loose transportable material
within its reach may fill up an extensive basin in a few centuries,
while a large perennial trunk stream, flowing over clean,
enduring pavements, though ordinarily a hundred times larger,
may not fill a smaller basin in thousands of years.
[Illustration: Tamarack and Echo Lakes]
[Illustration: Cascade Lake, Near the Automobile Bouldvard, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Memorial Cross at Donner Lake]
Many striking examples of these successive processes may be seen in
the Tahoe region, as, for instance, Squaw Valley, which lies between
the spurs of Squaw Peak and Granite Chief. This was undoubtedly
scooped out by a glacier that came down from Squaw Peak and Granite
Chief. The course of the ice-sheet was down to the Truckee River.
When the glacier began to shrink it left its terminal moraine as a
dam between the basin above and the river below. In due time, as the
glacier finally receded to a mere bank of half-glacierized snow on the
upper portions of the two peaks, the basin filled up with water and
thus formed a lake. Slowly the sand and rocky debris from the peaks
filled up the lake, and in the course of time a break was made in
the moraine, so that the creek flowed over or through it and the lake
ceased to exist, while the meadow came into existence.
CHAPTER X
DONNER LAKE AND ITS TRAGIC HISTORY
Closely allied to Lake Tahoe by its near proximity, its situation on
the Emigrant Gap automobile road from Sacramento to Tahoe, and that
it is seen from Mt. Rose, Mt. Watson, and many Tahoe peaks, is Dormer
Lake,--lake of tragic memories in the early day pioneer history of
this region.
It was in 1846 that James T. Reed, of Springfield, Ill., determined to
move to California. This land of promise was then a Mexican province,
but Reed carefully and thoroughly had considered the question and
had decided that, for his family's good, it was well to emigrate. He
induced two other Illinois families to accompany him, those of George
and Jacob Donner. Thursday, April 15th, 1846, the party started, full
of high hopes for the future. The story of how they met with others
bound for California or Oregon, at Independence, Mo., journeyed
together over the plains and prairies to Fort Hall, where Lansford W.
Hastings, either in person or by his "Open Letter," led part of the
band to take his new road, which ultimated in dire tragedy, is well
known.
The Oregon division of the divided party took the right-hand trail,
while the other took the left-hand to Fort Bridger. It is the
experiences of this latter party with which we are concerned.
Misfortune came to them thick and fast from this time on. The wagons
were stalled in Weber Canyon and had to be hauled bodily up the steep
cliffs to the plateau above; some of their stock ran away, after
heartbreaking struggles over the Salt Lake desert; mirages intensified
their burning thirst by their disappointing lure; Indians threatened
them, and finally, to add despair to their wretchedness, a quarrel
arose in which Mr. Reed, in self-defence, killed one of the drivers,
named Snyder. Reed was banished from the party under circumstances of
unjustifiable severity which amounted to inhuman cruelty, and his wife
and helpless children, the oldest of them, Virginia, only twelve years
of age, had to take the rest of the journey without the presence of
their natural protector. Food supplies began to give out, the snow
fell earlier than usual and added to their difficulties, and before
they reached the region of the Truckee River they were compelled to
go on short rations. Then, under suspicious circumstances one of the
party, Wolfinger, was lost, and though his wife was informed that he
had been murdered by Indians, there was always a doubt in the minds of
some as to whether that explanation were the true one. On the 19th
of October, an advance guard that had gone on to California for food,
returned, bringing seven mules ladened with flour and jerked beef. The
story of this trip I have recounted more fully in the book _Heroes
of California_. Without this additional food the party never could
have survived. On the 22nd they crossed the Truckee River for the
forty-ninth time.
Heavy snow now began to intercept their weary way. They were finally
compelled to take refuge in an abandoned cabin near the shore of what
is now known as Donner Lake, and there, under circumstances of horror
and terror that can never fully be comprehended and appreciated, the
devoted men, women and children were imprisoned in the snow until the
first relief party reached them, February 19th, with scant provisions,
brought in at life's peril on snowshoes. A "Forlorn Hope" had tried to
force its passage over the snowy heights. Fifteen brave men and women
determined to see if they could not win their way over and send
back help. Out of the fifteen seven only survived and reached the
Sacramento Valley, and they were compelled to sustain life by eating
the flesh of those who had perished.
The second relief party was organized by Mr. Reed,--the banished
leader--and thirty-one of the party were still in camp at Donner Lake
when he arrived, with nine stalwart men to help, on March 1st. On the
3rd nine of them left, with seventeen of the starving emigrants, but
they were caught in a fearful snow-storm as they crossed the summit,
and ten miles below were compelled to go into camp. Their provisions
gave out, Mrs. Graves died, leaving an emaciated babe in arms and
three other children, one a five-year-old, who died the next day.
Isaac Donner died the third night. Reed and Greenwood, carrying Reed's
two children, Mattie and James Jr., with one of the survivors who
could walk, now struggled down the mountain in the hope that they
could reach help to go back and finish the rescue work. These met
Mr. Woodworth who organized the third relief party, of seven men, who
returned to "Starved Camp," to find the survivors begging piteously
for something to eat. This relief party divided into two parts--one to
go over the summit to give help to the needy there, the other to get
the "Starved Camp" remnant to safety. The first section succeeded in
their mission of mercy and a few days later caught up with the other
section from Starved Camp.
Mr. C.F. McGlashan, formerly editor of the _Truckee Republican_,
has written a graphic account, with great care and desire for
accuracy, of the complete expedition, which gives the heart-rending
story with completeness, and I expect to publish ere long the personal
story of Virginia Reed Murphy, who is still alive, one of the few
survivors of the ill-fated party.
[Illustration: The Steamer at the Wharf, Tahoe Tavern, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Donner Lake, on the Automobile Highway from Sacramento
to Truckee and Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: The Canyon of the Truckee River in Winter]
[Illustration: Automobiling along the Picturesque Truckee River,
on the way to Lake Tahoe]
Through privations and hardships untold the survivors were ultimately
enabled to reach Sutter's Fort, only to find the most vile and fearful
stories set in circulation about them. Four separate relief parties
were sent from California, and their adventures were almost as tragic
as those of the sufferers they sought to help. Bret Harte, in his
_Gabriel Conroy_, has told much--though in the exaggerated and
unjust form the stories were first circulated--of the Donner tragedy,
and it has been made the subject of much newspaper and other writing
and discussion.
An unusual trip that can be taken from Tahoe Tavern is down to the
foot of Donner Lake and then, turning to the left, follow the old
emigrant and stage-road. It has not been used for fifty years, but it
is full of interest. There are many objects that remain to tell of its
fascinating history. Over it came many who afterwards became pioneers
in hewing out this new land from the raw material of which lasting
commonwealths are made. Turning south to Cold Stream, it passes by
Summit Valley on to Starved Camp. The stumps of the trees cut down by
the unfortunate pioneers are still standing.
It was always a difficult road to negotiate, the divide between Mt.
Lincoln and Anderson Peak being over 7500 feet high. But those heroes
of 1848-49 made it, triumphing over every barrier and winning for
themselves what Joaquin Miller so poetically has accorded them,
where he declares that "the snow-clad Sierras are their everlasting
monuments."
This road is now, in places, almost obliterated. One section for three
miles is grown up. Trees and chaparral cover it and hide it from the
face of any but the most studiously observant. When the road that
takes to the north of Donner Lake was built in 1861-62 and goes
directly and on an easier grade by Emigrant Gap to Dutch Flat, this
road by Cold Stream was totally abandoned. For years the county road
officials have ignored its existence, and now it is as if it never had
been, save for its memories and the fragments of wagons, broken and
abandoned in the fierce conflict with stern Nature, and suggesting
the heart-break and struggle the effort to reach California caused in
those early days.
CHAPTER XI
LAKE TAHOE AND THE TRUCKEE RIVER
As is well known, the Truckee River is the only outlet to Lake Tahoe.
This outlet is on the northwest side of the Lake, between Tahoe City
and Tahoe Tavern, and is now entirely controlled by the concrete dam
and head-gates referred to in the chapter on "Public uses of the Water
of Lake Tahoe."
When Frémont came down from Oregon in 1844, he named the river
_Salmon Trout River_, from the excellent fish found therein, but
the same year, according to Angel, in his _History of Nevada_, a
party of twenty-three men, enthused by the glowing accounts they had
heard of California, left Council Bluffs, May 20th, crossed the plains
in safety, and reached the Humboldt River. Here an Indian, named
Truckee, presented himself to them and offered to become their
guide. After questioning him closely, they engaged him, and as they
progressed, found that all his statements were verified. He soon
became a great favorite among them, and when they reached the lower
crossing of the river (now Wadsworth), they were so pleased by the
pure water and the abundance of the fish to which he directed them,
that they named the stream "Truckee" in his honor.
This Capt. Truckee was the chief of the Paiutis, and the father of
Winnemucca (sometimes known as Poito), and the grandfather of Sarah
Winnemucca Hopkins, long known in Boston and other eastern cities,
where she lectured under the patronage of Mrs. Horace Mann, Mrs. Ole
Bull, Miss Longfellow, and other prominent women, as the Princess
Sallie. When I first went to Nevada, over thirty-three years ago,
I soon got to know her and her father, Winnemucca, and met them
constantly.
Sarah always claimed that Truckee and Frémont were great friends and
that it was the Pathfinder who named the river after her grandfather,
but nowhere in his _Report_ of the 1843-44 Expedition does he
mention Truckee, and he called the river the "Salmon Trout River";
and this name he retained both in the report and map published in his
_Memoirs of My Life_, Vol. I only of which was issued by Belford,
Clarke and Company, of Chicago, in 1887.
Hence Sallie is undoubtedly mistaken in this regard. But on several
points she is correct, and too great emphasis cannot be laid upon
these facts. They are, I, that Truckee guided several emigrant
parties, even as far as Sutter's Fort, California (where Sacramento,
the Capital of the State, now stands); II, that he was always
friendly, true and honest in his dealings with the whites; III, that
had the emigrants and settlers in Nevada treated him as honestly as he
did them there would never have been any conflicts between the Paiutis
and the whites; IV, that when the latter first came to the country he
called councils of his people and bade them welcome the newcomers with
open arms.
He died just as the wrongs inflicted upon the Paiutis were making them
desperate and resolved on war. Though his son, Winnemucca, is well
known never openly to have waged war against the whites, it was
thoroughly understood that secretly he favored it. But had his father
lived and retained his health and power there is little doubt but that
the open conflict would have been averted, and many precious human
lives on both sides saved.
The Truckee River has its rise in Lake Tahoe, flows northward and
breaks through the Mount Pluto ridge in a narrow canyon, one thousand
to two thousand feet in depth. While the canyon is narrow and its
slopes, especially on the east, are rocky and steep, it is not exactly
gorge-like, except for the space of a mile or so, a short distance
below Tahoe. For twelve miles the river follows a northerly course,
and it is then joined by Donner Creek flowing from Donner Lake.
The united streams then turn eastward and take a course across the
northern end of the gravelly flat of Martis Valley, in a channel two
hundred to two-hundred-fifty feet below the level of the plain. At
Boca it cuts through the eastern range with a canyon one thousand to
three thousand five hundred feet in depth and emerges on the plains
of Nevada between Verdi and Reno. It returns again to the north below
Wadsworth, having run sixty-nine miles from Donner Creek, and then,
flowing sixteen more miles, it discharges into Pyramid Lake. At Tahoe
the river begins at an elevation of 6,225 feet above sea level; at
Pyramid the level is 4,890 feet, thus giving the river a fall of 1,335
feet in ninety-seven miles.
The Truckee River receives a number of large tributaries; the
principal ones being Little Truckee River and Prosser Creek, the
former heading in Webber Lake, the latter in the main range of the
Sierras, most of its sources lying in small lakes held in hollows and
basins excavated by glaciers.
Until it was contaminated by the refuse of civilization its waters
were pure and healthful, but legal enactments have been necessary to
protect the stream from sawdust and other pollutions.
As elsewhere explained the Truckee River being the only outlet of Lake
Tahoe, and therefore its natural outflow channel, together with the
facts that its origin is in California and it then flows into Nevada,
and that part of Lake Tahoe is in each state, has helped complicate
the solution of the question as to who is entitled to the surplus
waters of the Lake. This is discussed somewhat in a later chapter
devoted to the subject.
It may be interesting to recall that in 1900 Mr. A.W. Von Schmidt,
President of the _Lake Tahoe and San Francisco Water Works_,
offered to sell to the City of San Francisco certain rights to the
water of Lake Tahoe, the dam at the outlet, contract for a deed to two
and a half acres of land on which the outlet dam was constructed, a
diverting dam in the Truckee River, a patent to the land (forty acres)
on which this land stood, and the maps and surveys for a complete line
conveying the water of Lake Tahoe to the city of the Golden Gate. He
offered to construct this line, including a tunnel through the Sierra
Nevadas, and deliver thirty million gallons of water daily, for
$17,960,000. If a double line, or a hundred millions of gallons daily,
were required, the price was to be correspondingly increased.
This proposition aroused the people of Nevada, and R.L. Fulton, of
Reno, Manager of the State Board of Trade, wrote to the San Francisco
supervisors, calling attention to the facts that there was no surplus
water from Tahoe during the irrigation season, for the water had
been diverted by the farmers living along the Truckee River to their
fields; that flouring-mills, smelting and reduction works, electric
light plant and water-works at Reno, immense saw-mills, a furniture
factory, box factory, water and electric-light works, railroad
water-tanks, etc., at Truckee, half a dozen ice-ponds, producing over
200,000 tons of ice annually, sawmills and marble-working mills at
Essex; planing-mills at Verdi, paper-mill at Floristan, and other
similar plants, were totally dependent for their water supply upon the
Truckee River.
He also claimed (what was the well-known fact) that the Von Schmidt
dam was burned out many years ago, and that Nevada would put up a
tremendously stiff fight to prevent any such diversion of Tahoe water
as was contemplated. Needless to say the plan fell through.
CHAPTER XII
BY RAIL TO LAKE TAHOE
Lake Tahoe is fifteen miles from Truckee, which is one of the mountain
stations on the main line of the Southern Pacific Railway (Central
Route), two hundred and eight miles from San Francisco, thirty-five
miles from Reno, Nevada, and five hundred and seventy-four miles
from Ogden, Utah. By the San Joaquin Valley route via Sacramento, the
distance to Los Angeles is five hundred and eighty miles, or by San
Francisco and the Coast Line six hundred and ninety-two miles.
During the summer season trains run frequently through, making Tahoe
easily accessible.
From the east the traveler comes over what is practically the long
known and historic overland stage-road, over which so many thousands
of gold-seekers and emigrants came in the days of California's gold
excitement. Every mile has some story of pioneer bravery or heroism,
of hairbreadth escape from hostile Indians or fortuitous deliverance
from storm or disaster. It was over this route the pilgrims came who
sought in Utah a land of freedom where they might follow their
own peculiar conceptions of religion and duty, untrammeled and
uninterfered with by hostile onlookers and disbelievers. Here came the
home-seekers of the earlier day, when California was still a province
of Mexico; those who had been lured by the glowing stories of the Land
of the Sun Down Sea, where orange and lemon, vine and fig flourished
and indicated the semi-tropic luxuriance and fruitfulness of the land.
[Illustration: Truckee, Calif., Where Travelers Take Trains for
Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Crossing the Truckee River Near Deer Park Station]
[Illustration: Placerville, El Dorado Co., California]
[Illustration: Vineyard on the Automotive Highway between Placerville
and Lake Tahoe]
From the west the railroad traverses, in the main, the continuation
of this old overland road. After leaving the fertile valley of the
Sacramento and rising into the glorious foot-hills of the Sierras,
every roll of the billows of the mountains and canyons wedged in
between is redolent of memories of the argonauts and emigrants. Yonder
are Yuba, Dutch Flat, the North Fork, the South Fork (of the American
River), Colfax, Gold Run, Midas, Blue Canyon, Emigrant Gap, Grass
Valley, Michigan Bluff, Grizzly Gulch, Alpha, Omega, Eagle Bird, Red
Dog, Chips Flat, Quaker Hill and You Bet. Can you not see these camps,
alive with rough-handed, full-bearded, sun-browned, stalwart men,
and hear the clang of hammer upon drill, the shock of the blast, the
wheeling away and crash of waste rock as it is thrown over the dump
pile?
And then, as we look up and forward into the sea of mountain-waves
into the heart of which we ride, who but Joaquin Miller can describe
the scene?
Here lifts the land of clouds! Fierce mountain forms,
Made white with everlasting snows, look down
Through mists of many canyons, mighty storms
That stretch from Autumn's purple drench and drown
The yellow hem of Spring. Tall cedars frown
Dark-brow'd, through banner'd clouds that stretch and stream
Above the sea from snowy mountain crown.
The heavens roll, and all things drift or seem
To drift about and drive like some majestic dream.
And it is in the very bosom of this majestic scenery that Lake Tahoe
lies enshrined. Its entrancing beauty is such that we do not wonder
that these triumphant monarchs of the "upper seas" cluster around it
as if in reverent adoration, and that they wear their vestal virgin
robes of purest white in token of the purity of their worship.
Thoughts like these flood our hearts and minds as we reach Truckee,
the point where we leave the Southern Pacific cars and change to those
of the narrow-gauge Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company.
After a brief wait, long enough to allow transfer of baggage, we
leave, from the same station, for the fifteen miles' ride to Tahoe
Tavern on the very edge of the Lake.
This ride is itself romantic and beautiful. On the day trains
observation cars are provided, and the hour is one of delightful,
restful and enchanting scenes. The Truckee River is never out of sight
and again and again it reminds one in its foaming speed of Joaquin
Miller's expressive phrase:
See where the cool white river runs.
Before 1900 this ride used to be taken by stage, the railway having
been built in that year. It is interesting here to note that the
rails, the locomotives, the passenger and freight cars were all
transported bodily across the Lake from Glenbrook, on the Nevada side.
There they were in use for many years mainly for hauling logs and
lumber to and from the mills on the summit, whence it was "flumed" to
Carson City.
In those days logging was carried on in the Truckee River Canyon and
the visitor would often have the pleasure of seeing logs "shoot the
chutes" into the river, by which they were floated to the mills at
Truckee. Here is a picture:
Tree, bush, and flower grow and blossom upon either side; and
a little bird, with a throat like a thrush, warbles a canticle
of exquisite musical modulations, so to speak. But the most
stirring sight of all is the system of logging carried on by
the mill companies. "Look! Quick!" ejaculates the driver; and
your gaze is directed to a monster log that comes furiously
dashing from the summit down a chute a thousand feet in length
with twice the ordinary speed of a locomotive. So rapid is
its descent that it leaves a trail of smoke behind it, and
sometimes kindles a fire among the slivers along its way.
Ah! it strikes the water! In an instant there is an inverted
Niagara in the air, resplendent with prismatic and transparent
veils of spray[1].
[Footnote 1: John Vance Cheney in _Lippincott's_.]
The main portion of the canyon is walled in by abrupt acclivities,
upon which majestic trees used to grow, but where now only the growth
of the past twenty-five to fifty years is found, doing its best to
hide the scars and wounds of the logging days.
The river, issuing from the Lake above, dashes down its wild way in
resistless freedom. It is a rapid, all but savage stream, widening
occasionally into sheltered pools exceedingly dark and deep. The
bowlders in its channel, and those crowding down into it from its
farther bank, cause it to eddy and foam with fierce but becoming
pride.
A few miles from the Tavern we pass the scene of the Squaw Valley
mining excitement where the two towns of Knoxville and Claraville
arose as if by magic, tent cities of thousands of inhabitants, lured
hither by a dream of gold, too soon to fade away, leaving nothing but
distress behind.
Deer Park station suggests the leaving point for that charmingly
picturesque resort, snuggling in the heart of Bear Canyon. Now we
pass the masses of tuffaceous breccia that "Pap" Church, the old
stage-driver used to call the Devil's Pulpit, and the devil's this and
that or the other, until many a traveler would wish they were all with
the devil.
This is a remnant of the vast mass of volcanic rock that in long ago
prehistoric times was poured out in molten sheets over the region,
and that formed the range we shall shortly see at the north end of the
Lake--the Mount Pluto range. At some later period either earthquake
convulsion started the break which ultimately eroded and disintegrated
into the great gorge through which the railway has brought us, or
grinding glacier cut the pathway for us.
Here, on the right, is a tiny swinging foot-bridge over the river.
This is the beginning, the suggestion, for the vast suspension bridges
that have allowed the world to cross the great North River from New
York to Brooklyn, and that span great rivers and gorges elsewhere in
the world. Nay! scarcely the beginning. That you find further up and
deeper down in the High Sierras and their shaded and wooded canyons,
where wild vines throw their clinging tendrils across from one shore
to another of foaming creeks, and gradually grow in girth and strength
until they form bridges, over which chipmunks, squirrels, porcupines,
'coons, coyotes, and finally mountain lions, bears, and even men cross
with safety. There is the _real origin_ of the suspension bridge.
But this is a miniature, a model, a suggestion of the big bridges.
It affords ready access to the house on the other side. In winter,
however, the boards are taken up, as the heavy snows that fall and
accumulate might wreck it.
It is hard to realize that, a few months from now, when winter begins,
this railroad must perforce cease its operations. Snow falls, here,
where the sun is now smiling so beneficently upon laughing meadows,
dotted here and there with dainty flowers, to a depth of ten and even
twenty feet. The mail--necessarily much reduced in winter--is first of
all carried in sleighs, then, as the snows deepen, on snow-shoes,
so that those who stay to preserve the "summer hotels" from winter's
ravages may not feel entirely shut out from the living world beyond.
But there is nothing that suggests snow now. We are enjoying the
delights of a summer day or evening, and know that we are near our
journey's end. Suddenly there is a long call of the whistle, a short
curve, and if in the daytime, the Lake suddenly appears, or, if at
night, the lights of the Tavern, and our rail journey is done. We are
deposited in Fairyland, for whether it be day or evening, the Lake
or the Tavern, our senses are thrilled and charmed by everything that
appears.
CHAPTER XIII
THE WISHBONE AUTOMOBILE ROUTE TO AND AROUND LAKE TAHOE
This is the name given to the 260-mile automobile route to and from
Lake Tahoe, going in from Sacramento over the world-famed Emigrant
Gap and Donner Lake road, around the western shore of Lake Tahoe,
from Tahoe Tavern to Tallac, and thence back to Sacramento over the
historic and picturesque Placerville road. While both of the two main
arms of the "wishbone" carry the traveler over the Sierras, the roads
are wonderfully different. On the Emigrant Gap arm the road seems to
have been engineered somewhat after the Indian fashion, viz., to allow
the wildest and most expansive outlooks, while the Placerville route
is largely confined to the picturesque and beautiful canyon of the
South Fork of the American River. Both have honored histories and both
are fascinating from the scenic standpoint and the difference in the
two routes merely accentuates the charm of the trip, when compared
with the new portion of the road, the connecting link that binds
them together and now makes possible the ride around the lake shore.
Experience has demonstrated, however, that it is better to make the
circuit as herein outlined.
A brief sketch of the history of the building of the Emigrant Gap
portion of this road cannot fail to be of interest.
It was practically followed by a host of the emigrants who sought
California during the great gold excitement of 1848-9. It was also one
of the earliest routes used between Sacramento and the mines of the
High Sierras. In 1849 it was established from Sacramento to Auburn,
Grass Valley and Nevada City and to-day there is practically little
deviation from the original route. In 1850 the mines on the Forest
Hill Divide were discovered and a branch road from Auburn was built to
that section. At Illinoistown (now Colfax) the road branched, one arm
crossing the North Fork of the American River to Iowa Hill and other
camps on that divide, while the main road continued up the Sierras to
Gold Run, Dutch Flat and other points higher up.
Until the Central Pacific Railway was built in the 'sixties
Illinoistown was the junction for the different Camps in Nevada County
and the Bear River and Iowa Hill Divides. The population of these
regions in those early days was much greater than at the present time,
yet the demands of the modern automobile have so improved the roads
that they are much superior to what the large population of those days
enjoyed.
In 1862 the California legislature authorized the supervisors of
certain counties to call special elections to vote upon the question
as to whether those counties should subscribe towards the building of
the Central Pacific Railway, and to authorize them to issue bonds for
the amounts they decided to expend. San Francisco county subscribed
$1,000,000, Sacramento county $300,000 and Placer county $250,000.
In 1863 the Railroad Company began its work of grading the road bed at
Sacramento, and yet, in 1865 it was only completed to Alta, a distance
of 68 miles. At the same time it was making strenuous efforts to
divert passenger and freight traffic for Virginia City and other
Nevada points from the Placerville route. This had become possible
because of the fact that when the railway line was actually built as
far as Newcastle the engineers realized that before they could build
the rest of their railroad they would need to construct a highway of
easy grade, which would enable them to haul the necessary supplies for
constructing the tunnels, cuts and bridges. Accordingly a survey was
made up to Truckee, over the Nevada line into Reno and Virginia City,
securing the best possible grade for a wagon road, and this was rushed
to a hasty completion.
Naturally, they were anxious to gain all the paying traffic possible,
and especially under the adverse conditions under which they were
laboring. But, needless to say, this caused the fiercest hostility
on the part of their competitors, laid them open to serious charges,
which, later, were made, and that for a time threatened desperate
consequences, as I will now proceed to relate.
In the late fall of 1864 the Sacramento Valley Railroad (the rival of
the Central Pacific) arranged to make a record trip from Freeport
to Virginia City by the Placerville route. Though the officials
endeavored to keep the matter secret, it leaked out and immediately
the Central Pacific planned to circumvent their aim. They stationed
relays along their own line to compete, and Nature and Fate seemed to
come to their aid. A fierce storm arose the day before the start was
to be made, and it fell heavier on the Placerville than on the other
route. Though the drivers of each line did their utmost, feeling their
own personal honor, as well as that of their company at stake, the
heavy rains at Strawberry arrested the Placerville stage and made
further progress impossible, while the other route was enabled
to complete its trip on record time. Mr. L.L. Robinson, the
Superintendent of the Sacramento Valley Railroad, who himself
accompanied the stage, wired from Strawberry, "Heavy rains, heavy
roads, slow time"--reluctant to own a possible defeat. But the
Sacramento _Union_, the organ of the Central Pacific, came out
the next morning with glowing accounts of the successful run of
the stages over the Emigrant Gap route and ridiculed Mr. Robinson's
telegram, ironically comparing it with Cæsar's classic message to the
Roman Senate: "Veni, Vidi, Vici."
It was such struggles for local business as this that led the San
Francisco _Alta California_, a paper bitterly opposed to the
Central Pacific, to denounce the railway, in 1866, as the "Dutch Flat
Swindle." It claimed that the railway would never be built further
than Alta and that it was built so far only for the purpose of
controlling passenger and freight traffic over their wagon road to
Virginia City and other Nevada points. Other San Francisco papers
joined in the fight and so energetically was it conducted, and so
powerful became the opposition that they actually prevailed upon the
people of San Francisco to repudiate their contract to purchase a
million dollars' worth of Central Pacific stock and compromise by
practically making the railroad company a present of $600,000 (which
had already been expended) provided they would release the City and
County from their pledge to raise the remaining $400,000.
The folly of this action is now so apparent that it is hard to
conceive how even political and civic jealousy or hatred could have
been so blinded to self-interest. The Central Pacific engineers had
undertaken one of the most difficult pieces of railway engineering in
the world, and the financiers of the company were having an equally
desperate struggle. During the Civil War the finances of the nation
were at a low ebb and money was exceedingly difficult to secure. Yet
in spite of all obstacles the company had gone ahead in perfect good
faith, and at that very time were hauling rails and track material
from Alta, and soon from Cisco, to Truckee (then called Coburn Station
on the old Emigrant Gap road), and had actually built the
railroad from Truckee down into Nevada and as far east as Wadsworth,
or a little beyond, before the tunnel at Summit was completed.
[Illustration: Automobiling along the Truckee River]
[Illustration: On the Automobile Boulevard Around Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Atlantic to Pacific Automobile Party, Premier Tour,
1911, Stopping at Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: Copyright 1910, by Harold A. Parker. Cascade Lake
and Mt. Tallac]
Thus in storm and stress was this road born, and in the winter time
of our day it is still a road of storm and stress, as are all of the
roads over the High Sierras. It must be remembered that while the
elevation at Sacramento is but thirty feet above sea level, at Summit
it is 7018 feet, and even at Truckee, where the turn is made for
Tahoe, it is 5819 feet. Naturally such high altitudes receive
considerable snow, which render the roads impassable during the winter
season. In 1914 I went from Truckee to the Summit on the 10th of June,
and save for two or three patches of snow which were rapidly melting,
there were no serious obstacles that any good motor could not
overcome.
FROM SACRAMENTO TO TAHOE ON THE EMIGRANT GAP AND DONNER LAKE ROUTE,
135 MILES
From Sacramento the grade is easy and the country fairly open until
Auburn is reached (35-1/2 miles.) The roads are excellent, the
disintegrated granite affording local material close at hand for
perfect road building. The Sierras stretch away to the east in gently
ascending billows, covered over with richest verdure of native trees
of every variety, and of the thousands of orchard trees that are
making this region as famous for its fruits as it used to be for its
mines. For from 1849 until the hydraulic mines were closed down by
the anti-débris decision in the U.S. Supreme Court, this section and
beyond was one of the richest gold mining regions of California, and
historically, one of the greatest importance to the State. Such places
as Auburn, Illinoistown (Colfax), Gold Run and Dutch Flat, were rich
producing camps and branch roads reached to Yankee Jim, Todd's Valley,
Forest Hill, Michigan Bluffs, Bath, and other towns on what is known
as the Forest Hill Divide, a divide being a local term, to signify the
rocky, mountainous mass,--nearly always having a level grade on its
summit,--that separates two forks of the same stream, or two different
streams. From Colfax another road led to Grass Valley, Nevada City,
and North Bloomfield in Nevada County, and Iowa Hill, Wisconsin Hill,
Monona Flat, and Damascus on the Iowa Hill Divide. All these were
centers of rich mining districts which were scenes of the greatest
activity in the days of their productivity. Now, however, most of them
are abandoned, except Auburn, Colfax, and Nevada City which have other
resources, and Grass Valley, which maintains its high standing owing
to its rich quartz mines. Forest Hill, Iowa Hill, and Michigan Bluff
have drift mines which maintain small and meager populations compared
with those of the early and prosperous days. In the 'fifties Yankee
Jim and its tributary mines had a population of 3000, while to-day it
is entirely deserted. Todd's Valley, which was also a flourishing camp
has suffered the same fate.
_Auburn to Colfax 16 Miles, Colfax to Emigrant Gap, 30-1/2
Miles_. Leaving Auburn the road ascends more rapidly until Colfax
(16 miles) is reached (elevation 2422 feet). Then ten miles further
one is in the heart of the most extensive hydraulic mining operations
of California. Thousands of acres are passed which yet bear the scars
of the "washing down" for the precious mineral hid away during the
centuries until the Argonauts of '49 and later unearthed it by their
gigantic hydraulic nozzles. Millions of dollars were extracted from
these placers, but now the villages are deserted and all mining
operations have ceased. The time is not far distant when automobile
parties will arrange to stop over in one of these little places, and
with a competent guide, go over the deserted placers. It is hard to
realize that by the mere power of water mountains were washed away,
leaving the denuded country on the one hand, a land of mounds and
hummocks, like the Bad Lands in miniature, and on the other hand of
masses of débris, too heavy to be washed away into the streams.
The wildest portions of the Sierras are revealed in ascending from
Dutch Flat to the Summit. The snowsheds of the Southern Pacific
Railway come into sight, perched like peculiar long black boxes, with
peep-holes, along an impossible ledge of the massive granite cliffs,
and the Sierran trees tower upright from every possible vantage ground
in the granite beneath.
At Towle, three miles beyond Dutch Flat, the shipping point is reached
from which much of the material was hauled for the building of Lake
Spaulding dam. Hundreds of teams were employed in this work, and the
road showed an almost unbroken procession for months. This was in
1912-13. A side trip to this remarkable dam, impounding the waters of
the High Sierras for the generation of electric power to be used not
only in the Sacramento Valley but in far away San Francisco, cannot
fail to be of interest. The area of the Lake, with the dam at its
present elevation, is such as to justify the assertion that it is next
to if not the largest artificial lake in the world.
_Emigrant Gap to Cisco, 14 Miles_.--Fourteen miles from Towle,
after enjoying the rich blue haze of Blue Canyon, the road passes
through the natural Sierran pass at Emigrant Gap which gives its name
to the route. Here one who has not been over the road before must not
fail to note the following: As he passes through the Gap the massive
granite wall towers in dominant power to the right and leads one to
feel that miles of rugged peaks are there. _Yet not more than a
hundred yards farther on_, the wall fades away, and if he stops
here, and turns off the road slightly to the right, he will glimpse
a vision of glory and sublimity that will take away his breath. Here,
from a thousand or two thousand feet almost sheer above it, one gazes
down to where in peaceful repose lies Bear Valley, a rich emerald
green meadow, on the right side of which flows the South Fork of the
Yuba River, and on the left heads Bear Creek, which empties into the
Sacramento at Marysville. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes are alway
spent here by those who know of this delectable surprise, yet many
come over the road unheeding and are never aware of what they have
missed.
Eight miles beyond Emigrant Gap, at Cisco, one sees a branch road
which leads to the old Meadow Lake Mining District, which in the
'sixties had a population of several thousands. A large town was built
there, which is now totally abandoned.
_Cisco to Summit, 13 Miles_. At Summit a marvelous view is had in
both directions, east and west. Westward the fall of the Sierras into
the Sacramento Valley is apparently so gentle and easy as to lead one
to wonder that he has risen so high, but eastward the descent is
much more steep and abrupt. The rude granite in many places is almost
barren though Sierran trees abound. The grade is easy, and the new
grade and tunnel under the Southern Pacific tracks makes an added
improvement. Almost immediately on emerging from this tunnel the full
glory of the eastern view is forced upon the attention. At one's feet,
apparently, lies the placid surface of Donner Lake, its pure blue
giving one a premonitory foretaste of the richer blues that await him
at Tahoe, while beyond are the mountains that overlook the Great Basin
of Nevada.
_Summit to Truckee, 11 Miles_. Rapidly the road descends, well
engineered and easy to negotiate to any responsible driver, and before
one is aware he is bowling along on the level Donner Boulevard, which
is as perfect a piece of country road as can be found anywhere on
earth. The Monument (not yet completed) erected by the Native Sons
to the memory of the Donner Lake pioneers, and the Memorial Cross,
erected on the spot where the unhappy party camped, are passed and
in a few minutes Truckee is reached. This was once the scene of great
lumber activities but now much reduced, although it is the shipping
point for Hobarts Mills, which is one of the largest lumber camps of
the West.
Here the road to Tahoe turns sharply to the south, and the fifteen
miles run to the Tavern is made in the picturesque canyon of the
Truckee River fully described in another chapter.
The elevations are Sacramento, 32 feet; Auburn, 1360; Colfax, 2422;
Emigrant Gap, 5225; Cisco, 5940; Summit, 7018; Truckee, 5819; Tahoe
Tavern, 6240.
FROM TAHOE TAVERN TO TALLAC
On Tuesday, June 9, 1914, I had the pleasure of making the first trip
of the season over the new Tahoe Boulevard from Tahoe to Tallac. Let
me here quote the account written at the time:
It was a fine morning, clear and just cool enough to be pleasant,
no wind, sun shining through the trees, the Lake glistening in its
richest morning glory, the air like wine, birds singing everywhere,
chipmunks chattering as they ran up and down the trees, and we as full
of life as they, when we made the start. Our machine was a Chalmers
20, a first-class chauffeur at the wheel, with instructions to go
slow, let us see all there was, and to run no risks if the winter's
snows and storms had interfered with the safety of the road. We didn't
even wear overcoats, though all the peaks were covered with snow.
The first mile or two from the Tavern is through avenues of second
growth timber just tall enough to be delightful. In turn we passed
many of the choice residences that are making Tahoe growingly popular
as a summer home, and then crossed Ward Creek and Blackwood Creek.
This latter is one of the principal trout spawning streams of Tahoe,
and to prevent fishermen from catching the fish that seek the stream
at the spawning season the Fish Commissioners have placed a buoy out
in the Lake, some twenty-five hundred feet away, within which bound it
is illegal to catch fish.
While many trees have been logged from this region there are still
enough to make it forest-like, and as the road winds and turns it
affords glimpses and full views, sometimes for only a moment or two,
and again for a minute or more, of the placid-faced blue Lake on the
left, or the snowy mountain summits straight ahead or on the right.
What rich contrasts of color, what revelations of majesty and
sublimity each new turn affords!
The first eight miles is fairly level road and close to the Lake, but
eight miles out, just before reaching McKinney's, the new portion of
the State Highway begins, and it has been engineered to give scenic
and romantic effect all along the way. In road building no longer is
it necessary to consider the cheapest and nearest way. "Give us the
most scenic," cry the motorists, "we'll pay the bills and our machines
will speedily eat up any extra distance we may be required to travel
to obtain the best scenery of the country." From now on the whole trip
is one of carefully engineered surprises and revelations. Colwell's
Moana Villa, and Pomin's new and beautiful place are passed and then
we ascend, and suddenly Meek's Bay is revealed to us, a glorious
symphony in blues, deepening and richening into pure amethyst, with
lines, patches and borders of emerald and lapis lazuli. Beyond rise
hill-studded slopes leading the eye higher and higher until, anchored
in a sky as blue as is the Lake below, are the snowy-white crowns of
the Rubicon Peaks, with here and there a craggy mass protruding as
though it were a Franciscan's scalp surrounded by pure white hair.
Up and down we glide, the soft purring of the motor as we run on the
level changing to the chug-chugging of the up-pulls, or the grip
of the brake as we descend. Every few feet new vistas of beauty are
projected before us. The moving pictures are all exquisite. Indeed,
after many studies of this incomparable Lake Tahoe I verily believe
there is no more beautiful spot on it than Meek's Bay seen from this
road.
To get its full charm we stop the machine for a while. Looking back we
discover that the curve where we rest is a marvelous outlook point. We
have ascended to a good height and look down upon the Lake. There
are light blue, emerald green, deep blue in patches and in long
irregularly shaped points. Here are Como, Maggiore, Lugano and
Windermere all in one, though as yet free from the houses and
artificial gardens on the slopes. But Nature such as this needs none
of man's adornment to make it perfect.
Starting the engine again we circle around the point and come
immediately into another charming circlet of views. Between Meek's Bay
and Rubicon Point is another little recess in the lakeshore,
Grecian Bay, a good second to the one I have just described. Here we
particularly notice the effect of the many varieties of trees, their
dark trunks, branches and foliage set out almost in silhouette against
the pure color of the Lake below. These elevated stretches of road are
a constant joy and delight. They afford us glad surprises every few
moments in such views of the Lake as we could not otherwise obtain.
Crossing Lonely Gulch, watched over by the serene pure loveliness of
the snowy peaks above, a good climb up a steep stretch of road brings
us to the shoulder of Rubicon Point. Winding in and out, twining and
twisting around and around, we reach Rubicon Park, from which place we
get a perfect view of the whole Lake from one end to the other.
To-day there are a score or more of fishermen out in their little
boats, and strange to say, all of them near enough to be seen, are
fishing in a patch of deep blue. The water there must be deeper than
elsewhere, for there is where they invariably get their best catches.
In marked contrast to the blue is a great finger of emerald thrust out
from a nearby point, as if in warning not to dare pass its mysterious
border.
Now we come to the wild and rugged scenery. We are hemmed in on the
right by towering crags and walls of massive gray rock. Shattered and
seamed, scarred and disintegrated, they look as though earthquake and
lightning shock and the storms of a thousand years had battled with
them. They give a new touch of grandeur and almost awesome sublimity
to the scene.
For a mile or two we play at hide and seek with the Lake. It seems
as though we were in the hands of a wizard. "Now you see it, now you
don't." Query: "Where is the Lake?" Mountains, snowbanks, granite
walls, trees galore, creeks flashing their white crests dashing down
their stony courses toward the Lake, but only now and then do we catch
fleeting glimpses of it. All at once it bursts full and clear again
upon our enraptured vision, but only to give us a full taste of its
supernal beauty before we are whirled around a curve where the eye
rests upon nothing but the rugged majesty of the Sierras. Change and
contrast, the picturesque, beautiful, delicate and exquisite in close
touch and harmonious relationship with the majestic and the sublime.
Travel the whole world over and nothing surpassing this can be found.
Now we curve around high up above Emerald Bay, that small glacial
Lake, the eastern terminal moraine of which was unfortunately torn
through, so that the _lake_ disappeared and became a _bay_
of the great Lake itself. Every moment of this portion of the ride is
a delight. The senses are kept keenly alert, for not only have we the
Lake, the bay and the mountains, but part of the way we have flowers
and shrubs by the thousands, bees and butterflies flit to and fro, and
singing streams come foaming white from the snowbanks above, eager to
reach the Lake. As our car-wheels dash across these streamlets they
splash up the water on each side into sparkling diamonds and on every
hand come up the sweet scents of growing, living things. Now Mt.
Tallac, in all his serene majesty, looms ahead. Snow a hundred or
more feet deep in places covers his rocky sides. Here we can see where
glaciers were born in the early days when Tallac was several thousand
feet higher than it now is.
Below us is the emerald-ringed bay, with its romantic little island
at the west end, and nearby the joyously-shouting Eagle Creek as it
plunges over the precipice and makes the foam-flecked Eagle Falls. Our
road here was blasted through some fiercely solid and hostile rock.
One boulder alone that stood in the way weighed (it was estimated by
the engineers) from 800 to 1000 tons. Fifty cases of highly explosive
powder were suitably placed all around it. Excursion steamers took
hundreds of people from all parts of the Lake to see the explosion,
and at the proper moment, while everybody held his breath, the fuses
were fired, the blasts took effect, the rock flew down to the level
beneath, shattered into four great masses. A new El Capitan now rises
above us, though it lacks the smooth unbroken dignity of the great
Yosemite cliff, yet it is sublime in its sudden rise and vast height.
Nestling at its feet is Eagle Lake, and beyond are the Velmas and a
score of other glacial jewels calling for visitors to rhapsodize over
their beauty. Maggie's Peaks are to our right, Eagle Falls to our
left, with Emerald Bay, the Island, the Point and the Lake beyond all
calling upon us to enjoy them to the full.
We decide to stay here for lunch, and under the shelter of a giant
sugar pine a thousand years old, listening to the eternally buoyant
song of Eagle Falls, we refresh ourselves with the good lunch put up
for us at the Tavern.
Again we push ahead and soon have our first adventure: The road
gang was at work, and we did not expect to go much farther, but they
assured us that, save for a few rough places here and there, which
they would speedily correct, we need have no fear but that we could
get through with ease. In a score of places, since we left the Tavern,
we had crossed little streams of snow-water that had come tumbling
down from the banks above. Suddenly we came to one with a larger
volume than most of the others, and the road bed a little softer,
so it had cut quite a deep little passage for itself. Easily our
chauffeur dropped the front wheels into the cut, and to his surprise
he found they stuck there. It did not take us long to jack up the
wheels and put rocks underneath them, and we were about ready to get
out when the road gang came along with a wagon and a pair of sturdy
mules. As quickly as it takes me to tell it the mules were attached to
our back axle and we were pulled out. A few more rocks and a couple
of planks placed over the cut and we were honking on our way with
triumph.
Half a mile farther we came upon the ridge that separates Emerald Bay
from Cascade Lake. Both are in clear View at the same time, while to
the west we can hear the joyous song of Cascade Falls in its grand
leap down from the foot of the snow-banks of Mt. Tallac into the
tree-clad stream-course below.
Now the road brings us almost directly above the Lake, with a rapid
slope down, covered with dainty trees and shrubs of recent growth.
From here we gain a fine view of the south end of the lakeshore.
Tallac, the Grove, Bijou, Al Tahoe and clear across to Lakeside, with
the deep green of the meadows above, and the snowy crowns of Freel's,
Job's, and Job's sister, with Monument Peak combine to give the proper
setting to the Lake.
Soon we are racing across the level to the Fish Hatchery, between
avenues of quaking aspens and young tamaracks and pines. Suddenly
we come upon a mired car, the driver of which had just crossed the
Sierras from Placerville, with little or no difficulty, but coming to
a soft piece of road here when going a trifle faster than he should,
and the side of the road having caught a lot of snow-water, he had
bogged and was working like a beaver to extricate himself. We had a
stout rope along and it was the work of two or three minutes to get
him out and we again pushed forward, gratified and smiling at the
warmly expressed thanks of himself and his three happy women-folks
who were enjoying their first trip into the Tahoe country, and already
confessing their complete subjection to its thrall.
Passing the Hatchery we were only a few more minutes in reaching
Tallac House, the first to complete the auto-trip this season.
Except for a few short stretches of scarcely completed road it is in
excellent condition, and the road gang now at work will have all the
rough portions smoothed down in a few days.
It should here be noted that side trips may be made in automobiles to
Glen Alpine Springs and Fallen Leaf Lodge. Both resorts use their own
automobile stages daily during the season, hence keep the roads in
good condition.
We made the return trip from Tallac House to the Tavern in two hours
exactly. The distance is 26 miles. The road gang had already put a
bridge over the place that had delayed us on coming out, and the road
throughout was easy and safe. Naturally it is not as easy to negotiate
as a San Francisco boulevard, but with the wheel in the hands of a
careful chauffeur there is perfect safety and a trip that need give
not a moment's fear to the most timorous.
FROM TALLAC TO SACRAMENTO, BY THE PLACERVILLE ROUTE, 108 MILES
This is practically the first historic route into California, for, as
I have shown in the chapter on Frémont's Explorations, it was the one
the Pathfinder practically followed on his memorable trip that led to
the discovery of Lake Tahoe.
Hence, when the gold excitement attracted its thousands to California,
many of the argonauts took this road, following the Humboldt River and
turning south at the Humboldt "Sink," crossing to the Carson "Sink"
and then ascending to the headwaters of the Carson River, over into
Hope Valley and thence down to Strawberry Valley and on to the mines.
This was the origin of the road, and it was in steady and continuous
use until the startling news of the discovery of the Comstock Lode in
Virginia City aroused the mining world. From every camp in California
rude and stalwart men eagerly set forth to reach the new Camp. It was
a genuine stampede. The chief question was: "Will the new Camp make
good?" It answered this question by transcending the expectations
of the most sanguine. Silver and gold were taken out in fabulous
quantities. Chunks of almost pure native silver, weighing scores of
pounds, were hewed out of the chambers where they were found, and
men went wild with excitement. Houses sprang up over-night. A vast
population soon clung to the slopes of Mt. Davidson. Mining and
milling machinery was needed, and demanded with tremendous urgency, to
reap the richer harvest. There was no railroad, and the old Emigrant
Road was not in condition to meet the needs. Few people can realize
the wild excitement that reigned and the string of teams, men riding
on horseback, or afoot, stage-coaches, freight wagons, that poured in
endless procession over the road. Nothing like it has been seen since,
except during the Klondike rush. As soon, however, as it was possible
to secure the proper authority newer and easier grades were surveyed
and private individuals undertook to build certain sections of the
road under the condition that they were to be granted the right to
collect toll for so many years. These rights have long since lapsed,
and the road is now a part of the excellent system of El Dorado
County, which, though a mountain county, boasts some of the best roads
in California.
_Tallac to Echo, 11-1/2 Miles_. Leaving Tallac, an easy and
pleasant eight-mile run on almost level roads through Tallac Meadows
brings one to Celios, once Myers' Station (6500 feet). Now begins the
upgrade, winding its way up the mountain side to the crest from which
Starr King wrote his exquisite description, elsewhere quoted. This
is one of the superb outlook-points where the full sweep of Lake and
encircling mountains is in full and complete view.
After a few minutes for gazing the journey is resumed, soon crossing
a bridge, near which stand the remnants of the old toll-house. On the
right a foot-trail or bridle-path leads to Glen Alpine. A few miles
of fairly rapid descent and Echo is reached, 49-1/2 miles from
Placerville.
The stream here, during the snow-melting season must be a dashing,
roaring, sparkling mass of foam, for it is a bowlder-strewn rocky way,
suggesting the wild stream it becomes when the snows melt and spring's
freshets come.
_Echo to Strawberry, 7 Miles_. The next mile and a half is a
rapid descent, for elevation declines five hundred feet, ere we reach
Phillips, near which, in Audrian Lake, is the chief source of the
South Fork of the American River.
The Water Company that controls the flow has here tampered with
primitive physiography, in that it has cut a tunnel or channel from
the Echo Lakes, tapping their water supply and conveying it to Audrian
Lake. Hence strictly speaking the Echo Lakes are now the headwaters of
the South Fork.
Soon we pass Hay Press Meadows, so called from the fact that hay was
cut here in the old stage-coach days, baled with an old-fashioned
press, and sold for $90 to $100 per ton, after being hauled to
Virginia City.
Down we go into Strawberry Valley, where 42-1/2 miles from
Placerville, we reach Strawberry, at 5700 feet elevation. This used to
be a noted stopping-place in the olden days, sometimes the whole flat
area being covered with loaded wagons bound for the mines.
There is a rugged majesty about this Valley that has always made its
impression on men. To the right is the southern end of the Crystal
Range, and to the left the Yosemite-like cliff known as Lover's Leap,
6985 feet elevation. As the station at Strawberry is 5700 feet, this
cliff is 1285 feet in sheer ascent. Leading up it are strange columnar
towers and structures of Egyptian appearance that remind us of those
lines of Joaquin Miller's:
Great massive rocks that near us lay,
Deep nestled in the grass untrod
By aught save wild beasts of the wood--
Great, massive, squared, and chisel'd stone,
Like columns that had toppled down
From temple dome or tower crown,
Along some drifted, silent way
Of desolate and desert town
Built by the children of the Sun.
We pass under the great cliff, and past a glacially-polished dome on
the left. The cliff is all cross-hatched and seamed with infiltrations
of quartz. Ahead of us to the right is a canyon that is the southern
extension of Desolation Valley.
_Strawberry to Kyburgs, 10 Miles_. A few miles below Strawberry
we pass Georgetown Junction (where the road from Georgetown enters the
main road), and ten miles brings us to Kyburgs, 4000 feet elevation,
the canyon narrowing as we descend. On the right we pass Sugar Loaf
(6500 feet).
At Kyburgs the water is taken out for the domestic and irrigation
water-supply of Placerville--8000 inches of water. The station is
located at a break in the mountains where a cone-shaped rock, covered
with trees, is a striking feature.
_Kyburgs, Through Riverton, to Pacific House, 14 Miles_. Passing
the South Fork of the American on the left, nine and a half miles
brings us to Riverton, a charming river resort where many visitors
stop during the season for a day or a week, as this is a noted center
for fishing and hunting. Here we cross over an excellent bridge,
surrounded by a mountain amphitheater lined with trees, and our road
follows the course of the bowlder-strewn river-bed. Yonder is the
scene of a noted "hold-up" in the old mining days.
If we cared to go over the files of the newspapers of the days when
bullion was being shipped daily by stage to Placerville, how many
accounts might we not find of "hold-ups" by daring "road-agents." And
it does not take much imagination to picture in this secluded spot or
that, the sudden appearance of a masked bandit, gun in hand, and to
hear the sharp quick commands, "Halt! and Hands up!" and to hear the
"squeesch" of the brake on the wheel, to see the hands of driver,
express-messenger, and passengers go up in helpless anger and furious
impotence.
Then the "Stand down here!" or "Come off of that quick, and line up
alongside!" and the immediate obedience of all concerned, and the
sharp "keep _them_ hands up, gentlemen, or somebody'll be gettin'
hurt," or perhaps a fierce imprecation, if the bandit was less of the
"Gentleman George" type than has so often been described.
And what a scene it would make for an artist--the most indignant
passenger of them all made to hold the hat and collect the "swag," as
the alert-eyed bandit stands by, gun in hand, ready to shoot down the
first person who makes any show of resistance!
Then the permission given to get aboard, accompanied by the rude
order: "Throw out that express-box, and drive on, and don't look this
way or some one'll have a hole blown through the top of his head!"
and the mixture of dejection and relief shown in the faces of driver,
messenger and passengers as the coach rolled on again.
What a panorama of quickly acted scenes it must have been, and how
often it occurred on this road! Not even history has recorded a half
of the times it happened.
Soon, almost hidden in the dense foliage of the tree-lined slopes, we
pass Esmeralda Fall, whose waters dash in foam over 60 feet, to unite
with the river far beneath.
As we near Pacific House, 4-1/2 miles further on, we come to where the
new road diverges a little from the old one. It used to descend to the
river, but we preserve a fairly even grade, solidly built, wide and
well kept.
_Pacific House to Placerville, 18-1/2 Miles_. Then for a mile or
so the road hangs over the yawning chasm of the river. It is wide and
in fine condition so we dash along to where, on the up trip, the first
glimpse is gained of the Crystal Range, its two chief peaks, Pyramid
and Agassiz, dominating the landscape from this side as they do from
Desolation Valley on the eastern side of the range.
[Illustration: Casino at Tahoe Tavern, From Pier]
[Illustration: Pier, Steamer Tahoe, and Lake Tahoe from Casino]
In nine more miles Camino is reached, through clusters of pines,
with perfectly level stretches for speeding and--dreaming. One's mind
unconsciously goes back to the old days and he sees as in a
moving-picture film the "days of '49." For this road is a road of
memories. One shuts his eyes and muses, and immediately there troops
before him a rushing, bustling, hurrying throng. These were the modern
argonauts, the seekers for the Golden Fleece:
Great horny-handed men and tall;
Men blown from many a barren land
Beyond the sea; men red of hand,
And men in love, and men in debt,
Like David's men in battle set--
And every man somehow a man.
They push'd the mailèd wood aside,
They toss'd the forest like a toy,
That grand forgotten race of men--
The boldest band that yet has been
Together since the Siege of Troy.
Some carried packs on their backs, with pick and shovel, drill and
pan. Others rode, leading their burden-bearing burros or mules. Wagon
after wagon creaked along, laden to the full with supplies, food, or
machinery.
As we push along and come to the river, Joaquin Miller's words make
the memory pictures for us:
I look along each gaping gorge,
I hear a thousand sounding strokes
Like giants rending giant oaks,
Or brawny Vulcan at his forge;
I see pickaxes flash and shine;
Hear great wheels whirling in a mine.
Here winds a thick and yellow thread,
A moss'd and silver stream instead;
And trout that leap'd its riffled tide
Have turn'd upon their sides and died.
Below Camino we pass near to Pino Grande, where the great cable
railway carries loaded cars of logs across the deep canyon of the
American River.
Rapidly we reach Smith's Flat, 4 miles, a famous mining-camp in the
days gone by, but now consisting of a general store, a few houses, and
a gnarled old log fashioned into a glorious water-trough fit for the
Vikings.
Three more miles and Placerville is reached, the quaint old reminder
of "the days of '49, the days of old, the days of gold," when men
flocked to California from all parts of the earth eager with the lust
for gold. In those memorable days it was called "Hangtown," a name
some of its present-day citizens would fain forget, oblivious, in
their own small-mindedness that they are neither responsible for its
history nor its nomenclature.
Built primarily in the somewhat shut-in walls of a small canyon, it
winds and curves around in a happy-go-lucky fashion, and when the
canyon widens out, spills over into irregular streets and up and down
hills that were once clad with pines, firs, spruces and junipers. That
wealth and prosperity have smiled upon it in late years is evidenced
by its comfortable lawn-girdled homes, its thriving orchards, its
active business streets, and its truly beautiful, because simple,
chaste and dignified, county court-house.
_Placerville to Sacramento, 47 Miles_. This is a well-known road,
via Diamond Springs, 2-1/2 miles; El Dorado, 6 miles; Shingle Springs,
11 miles, and Folsom, 25 miles.
The elevation at Tallac is 6225 feet; at Echo, 7500 feet; Strawberry,
5700 feet; Kyburgs, 4000 feet; Riverton, 3300 feet; Pacific House,
3400 feet; Sportsman's Hall, 3600 feet; Camino, 3000 feet; Smith's
Flat, 2250 feet; Placerville, 1830 feet; El Dorado, 1610 feet; Folsom,
198 feet, and Sacramento, 32 feet.
A well equipped auto stage is run daily between Tallac House and
Placerville. Experienced and careful drivers and first class cars
only are used. They are owned by the Richardson Garage, of Pasadena,
Calif., long known to the exacting population of that city as a
thoroughly reliable, prompt and efficient house.
CHAPTER XIV
TAHOE TAVERN
Swinging around to the south from the course of the Truckee River
on to the Lake, the railway deposits the traveler at Tahoe Tavern,
preeminently the chief resort for those who demand luxurious comfort
in all its varied manifestations. Yet at the outset let it be clearly
understood that it is not a fashionable resort, in the sense that
every one, men and women alike, must dress in fashionable garb to be
welcomed and made at home. It is a place of common sense and rational
freedom. If one comes in from a hunting or fishing trip at dinner
time, he is expected to enter the dining room as he is. If one has
taken a walk in his white flannels he is as welcome to a dance in the
Casino, the dining-room, or the social-hall as if he wore the most
conventional evening dress. Indeed, visitors are urged to bring their
old clothes that they may indulge to the full their _penchants_
for mountain-climbing, riding, rowing, fishing, horse-back-riding,
botanizing in the woods, or any other out-of-door occupation where old
clothes are the only suitable ones.
The building itself is completely embowered in pine, cedar, spruce
and firs of differing ages, sizes and qualities of color. Though far
enough from the Lake to allow of a large untrimmed grass-plot where
innumerable swing seats, reclining chairs, "lazy rests," etc., invite
to lounging and loafing, the trees have been so trimmed out as to give
exquisite glimpses of the dazzling blue of the water from every hand.
The Tavern is especially appropriate to its surroundings. It is three
full stories high, with many gables relieving the regularity of the
roof, which is steep-pitched, to throw off the winter's snows. The
whole structure is covered with shingles, stained or oiled to a dark
brown, and as climbing and clinging vines have wreathed themselves
about every corner, and up many posts of the veranda, and there is a
wealth of cultivated wild flowers banked up in beds around it, nothing
could be more pleasing and harmonious. Roads, walks and trails radiate
from the Tavern in all directions, except directly across the Lake,
and numerous boats and launches make this as accessible as any other
direction. Near enough to be interesting is the wharf, with its daily
bustle of the arrival and departure of trains, launches and steamers.
For all the indoor sports a Casino has been erected, far enough away
so that the music, dancing, the sharp clangor of bowling, the singing
of extemporized glee-clubs, and the enthusiasm of audiences at amateur
theatricals and the like do not disturb the peaceful slumbers of those
who retire early. While Tahoe Tavern itself is _sui generis_ in
that it is the most wonderful combination of primitive simplicity
with twentieth century luxury, the Casino is even more remarkable.
Its interior finish is the work of a nature artist. Its porches
immediately overlook the Lake, and when one has wearied of dancing
there is a witchery as rare and subtle as it is delightful to sit
in the subdued light overlooking the ripples of the moonlit water,
sipping some liquid refreshment, eating an ice or chatting with a
suitable partner.
Here a fine orchestra discourses sweet music, moving pictures are
regularly shown, lectures and concerts occasionally provided, besides
all the conveniences for private card-parties and other pleasures that
fashionable visitors expect for their entertainment.
[Illustration: Ballroom in the Casino, Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: Tahoe Tavern from Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Path in the Woods by Lake Tahoe, Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: Morning Service at the _Chapel of the
Transfiguration_, Tahoe Tavern]
Ruskin has somewhere brought out the idea in his finest phraseology
that nowhere can man so readily worship God as in the presence of the
most beautiful of His works in Nature. This is readily apparent at
Tahoe, hence the summer visitors and others of religious trend will
delight to learn that churches for both Catholic and Episcopal
worshipers have been erected not far from the Tavern. The Catholic
Church was dedicated Sept. 10, 1911. It has a seating capacity of a
hundred and seventy-five. Its location was chosen with an eye to the
beautiful, being on Tahoe Heights, and is less than fifteen minutes'
walk from the Tavern.
The Episcopal "Church of the Transfiguration" is unique in that it
is an open air building, the altar only being roofed. Towering pines
stand as aisles and the vaulted ceiling is the clear blue dome of
heaven. Rustic and simple, it harmonizes exquisitely with its
surroundings, and strangely insensible must that worshiper be who, as
he kneels in this Nature shrine, and the organ peals forth its solemn
notes, with a wonderful accompaniment of hundreds of singing birds,
and the ascending incense of a thousand flowers, does not feel his own
soul lifted into a higher and more spiritual mental frame.
One of the chief troubles about a hotel like Tahoe Tavern is that it
is _too_ tempting, _too_ luxurious, _too_ seductive to the senses. The
cool, delicious breezes from the Lake make the nights heavenly for
sleep. With Sancho Panza we cry aloud: "Blessed be the man that
invented sleep," and we add: "Blessed be the man that invented cool
nights to sleep in." And I have no fault to find with the full
indulgence in sleep. It is good for the weary man or woman. It is well
to make up arrears, to pay oneself the accumulated debts of insomnia
and tossing and restlessness with an abundance of calm, dreamless,
restful sleep. Nay, not only would I have men claim their arrearage,
but lay in a surplus stock against future emergencies, future drafts
upon their bank account of "restorer."
Nor would I find any fault with the allurements of the Lake, either
for swimming, boating, "launching," canoeing or fishing. Indulge them
all to your heart's desire and you will not only be none the worse,
but immeasurably better for every hour of yielding. A plunge every
morning is stimulating, invigorating and jolly. It clears the brain,
sets the blood racing up and down one's spine, arms, fingers, legs and
toes, and sweeps the cobwebs out of the brain. A row is equally good.
It pulls on the muscles of the lower back, as well as the arms, chest
and shoulders. It drives away Bright's disease and banishes asthma and
lung trouble. It makes one breathe deep and long and strong, and
when inbreathing, one can take in power from Tahoe's waters, forests,
mountains and snow-fields. It means a purifying of the blood, a
clearing of the brain, a sending of a fuller supply of gastric juices
to the stomach, of digestive sauces to the palate, and a corresponding
stimulus to the whole body, which now responds with vim, energy,
buoyancy and exuberance to all calls made upon it by the spirit.
So with walking through the woods, by the Lake, along the River Trail,
up the mountains. The results are the same until the man who hates and
despises the poets shouts out with glee and exclaims: "_Them's_
my sentiments!" when you throw out with fervor such lines as:
Oh! the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock,
The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock
Of the plunge in a pool's living water...
How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ
All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!
While all the conventional amusements are provided at Tahoe Tavern a
large number of the guests, like myself, find much pleasure in feeding
and making friends with the chipmunks, which have been so fostered
and befriended that there are _scores_ of them, most of them so
fearless as to climb into the laps, eat from the hands, run over the
shoulders, and even explore the pockets of those who bring nuts
and other dainties for their delectation. Children and adults,
even gray-haired grandpas and grandmas, love these tiny morsels
of animation, with their quick, active, nervous movements, their
simulations of fear and their sudden bursts of half-timorous
confidence. With big black eyes, how they squat and watch, or stand,
immovable on their hind legs, their little forepaws held as if in
petition, solemnly, seriously, steadily watch, watch, watching,
until they are satisfied either that you are all right, or are to be
shunned. For, with a whisk of the tail, they either dart towards
you, or run in the other direction and hide in the brush, climb with
amazing speed up a tree, or rush into their holes in the ground.
Some of them are such babies that they cannot be many months old, and
they feel the friendly atmosphere into which they have been born. And
it is an interesting sight to see a keen, stern, active business man
from "the city" saunter with his wife after lunch or dinner, sit down
on the steps leading down to the water's edge, or on a tree stump,
or squat down on his haunches anywhere on the walk, the lawn, or the
veranda, fish some nuts out of his pocket and begin to squeak with his
lips to attract the chipmunks. Sometimes it is a learned advocate of
the law, or a banker, or a wine-merchant, or the manager of a large
commission-house. It seems to make no difference. The "chips" catch
them all, and every one delights in making friends with them.
Here is a tiny little chap, watching me as I loll on the stairs. His
black, twinkling eye fixes itself on me. He is making sure. Suddenly
he darts toward my outstretched fingers where a peanut is securely
held. He seizes it with his sharp teeth, but I hold on. Then with his
little paws he presses and pushes, while he hangs on to the nut with a
grip that will not be denied. If he doesn't get it all, he succeeds in
snapping off a piece and then, either darting off, with a quick whisk
of his tail, to enjoy it in his chosen seclusion, or, squatting down
on his hind legs, he holds the delicious morsel between his fore-paws
and chews away with a rapidity as astonishing as it is interesting and
amusing.
Now a fat old fellow--he looks like a grandpa in age--comes up. He
is equally suspicious at first, takes his preliminary reconnaissance,
darts forward and just about reaches you, when he darts away again.
Only for a moment however. On he comes, seizes the nut, and eats it
then and there, or darts off with inconceivable rapidity, up the tree
trunk to a branch twenty, forty feet up, and then sits in most cunning
and _cute_ posture, but in just as big a hurry and in equally
excitable fashion to eat his lunch as if he were within reach.
Sometimes half a dozen or more of them, big and little, will surround
you. One leaps upon your knee, another comes into your lap, while
another runs all over your back and shoulders. Now and again two
aim at the same time for the same nut, and then, look out. They are
selfish little beggars and there is an immense amount of human nature
in such tiny creatures. The bigger one wants the morsel and chases
the smaller one away, and he is so mad about it and gets so in earnest
that sometimes he chases the other fellow so far that he forgets
what it was all about. He loses the nut himself, but, anyhow, he has
prevented the other fellow from getting it. How truly human!
Then the younger one, or the smaller one, or the older one, will whisk
himself up a tree, perch on a branch and begin to scold, or he climbs
to the top of a stump, or a rock, or merely stands upright without
any foreign aid, and how he can "Chip, chip, chip, chip!" His piercing
little shriek makes many a stranger to his voice and ways wonder
what little bird it is that has so harsh a cry, and he keeps at it so
persistently that again you say, How human! and you wonder whether it
is husband scolding wife, or wife husband, or--any of the thousand
and one persons who, because they have the power, use it as a right to
scold the other thousand and one poor creatures who have to submit, or
think they have (which is pretty much the same thing).
These proceedings at Tahoe Tavern are diversified by the presence of
a friendly bluejay. He is one of the smartest birds in the world. Some
relation, no doubt, to the bird told of by Mark Twain in his _Tramp
Abroad_. This bluejay has watched the visitors and the chipmunks
until he has become extra wise. He has noticed that the latter toil
not neither do they spin and yet neither Solomon Levi nor Kelly feed
more sumptuously or more often than do they, simply because they have
succeeded in beguiling the hearts of the guests who are so bored
with each other that association with the "lower" animals is a great
relief. So he has started the "friendly chipmunk" rôle. He stifles
his raucous cry, he puts on a shy, timid and yet friendly demeanor.
He flies conveniently near, and gives forth a gentle note, asking,
_please_, your kind and favorable attention to the fact that he
is a bluejay. As soon as he sees your eye upon him, he hops a little
nearer; not too near, however, either to mislead you or to put himself
in your hands, but just near enough to tempt you to try to tempt him.
You hold out a nut, and then, with a quick dart and a sharp peck with
a bill trained to certain and sure work, your thumb and finger lose
that which they held, and Mr. Bluejay is eating it in perfect security
well beyond your reach. Oh, he is a fascinating creature is this
bunch of beautiful blue feathers decorating the harshest voice of all
birddom in the region of Lake Tahoe.
But birds, squirrels, flowers, scenery, sports, worship, fine
music, the best kind of food, "air the angel's breathe," and sleep
recuperative enough to revivify the old and decrepit, fishing, rowing,
swimming and the like are not all that need fill one's days at Tahoe
Tavern.
_Hike_[1] out, afoot or horseback. Take the trails. Get Bob
Watson, or one of his under-studies, to pilot you to Watson Peak and
lake, go to Ellis, Squaw or a score of other peaks, visit the various
Sierran lakes, or take a camping out or hunting trip to Hell Hole, the
Yosemite, or any one of the scenic spots, one, two, five, or ten days
away. Then, my word for it, you will return home "a new man," life
will put on a new meaning, and sensations long since lost will
come back with unthought-of force, for you will have "regained your
youth"--that dream of the old of all the ages.
[Footnote 1: This word, slang or not, is finely expressive, and is
already fully established in the accepted nomenclature of mountain
climbers.]
There are a number of interesting walks, drives and automobile trips
which may be taken from the Tavern, besides the lakeshore walks which
are always interesting. Indian Camp is half a mile away; Tahoe City,
a little further, and here the interesting Frémont howitzer, to whose
history I have devoted a separate chapter, may be seen; Tavern Spring,
a beautiful walk through the woods, one and a quarter miles; the Fish
Hatchery, a mile away, where all the processes of hatching various
kinds of trout before they are distributed to the different lakes and
streams may be witnessed.
To those who prefer longer walks, or horseback rides,
there are the Logging Camp, three and a third miles;
Idlewyld, four miles; Stanford Rock, five miles; Ward Peak, six miles;
Blackwood Creek Dairy, six miles; Carnelian Bay, six miles; and Twin
Peaks, seven miles. Several of these interesting places can be reached
also by automobile.
An especially delightful walk or horseback ride is by the Truckee
River Trail to Deer Park Inn, six and a half miles, and thence two
miles farther to Five Lakes, near which the waters divide, one stream
flowing into the Rubicon, thence into the Sacramento and out by the
Golden Gate into the Pacific Ocean; the other by Bear Creek into the
Truckee River, thence into Pyramid Lake in the heart of the Nevada
desert.
Automobile trips from the Tavern are numerous, depending entirely upon
the length of time one can give to them. Chief of all is the Tahoe
Boulevard trip around the Lake to Tallac, and thence on by Lakeside
and by Cave Rock to Glenbrook, a distance of fifty miles. Hobart
Lumber Mills, twenty-two miles, are well worth a visit to those who
have never seen modern methods of making lumber; Independence Lake,
thirty miles, is easily reached in two hours, and it is one of the
charming spots of the High Sierras; Webber Lake, forty-three miles,
is another exquisite beauty spot, where there is an excellent Country
Club House. Reno is reached by three routes, all of them interesting,
and each well worth traveling over. An excellent trip is to leave the
Tavern after breakfast, ride on the Tahoe Boulevard to Glenbrook for
lunch, then over to Carson City, where a brief visit can be made
at the Capital of the State of Nevada, the Indian School and the
prehistoric foot-prints, that for years have been the wonder of the
scientists of the world. Then on to Reno, where at the Riverside
Hotel, mine host Gosse, one of the noted figures of the hotel world of
the West, will accord a hearty welcome. Next morning Pyramid Lake can
be visited and the return to the Tavern made by way of Truckee.
For those who enjoy motor-boating on the Lake excellent provision is
made. The Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company own several
steam and gasoline launches, with varied capacities,--from six to two
hundred and fifty passengers--full particulars of which can always be
obtained.
Fishing boats in large numbers are to be had either with or without
oarsmen, together with full equipment for fishing or hunting trips.
The Tavern stables are prepared to supply all reasonable demands for
saddle-horses, driving-teams, and pack-animals for hunting trips, and
arrangements can be made for equipment and guides for mountain trips,
of any duration, from a couple of days to three months or more. There
is also a garage with first class cars and experienced chauffeurs for
hire.
[Illustration: Ladies' Lounging Room, the Casino, Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: The Front of Tahoe Tavern from a Table in the
Dining-Room]
[Illustration: The Launch _Catalini_, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Bathing in Lake Tahoe, Near Tahoe Tavern]
CHAPTER XV
TRAIL TRIPS IN THE TAHOE REGION
To nature-lovers, more or less active, the trails all around and about
Lake Tahoe are a source of perpetual surprise and delight. I know of
no region in California that possesses such a wealth of trails--not
even the Yosemite or Mt. Shasta regions. The Lake is an ever-present
friend. From ridges, peaks, summits and passes, near at hand or scores
of miles away, it never fails to satisfy the eye. Again and again,
when one is least expecting it, a turn in the trail, or a few steps
forward or backward on a summit ridge brings it into sight, and its
pure blue surface, now seen smooth and glossy as a mirror, again
shining in pearly brilliancy in the sun, or gently rippled by a calm
morning or evening zephyr, or tossed into white caps by a rising
wind-storm, pelted with fierce rain or hail, or glimpsed only through
sudden openings in a snowstorm, at sunrise or sunset, each with its
own dazzling brilliancies--it always gives one a thrill and warming
sensation at the heart.
Then, too, the number of peaks to the summits of which trails have
been cut, so that the walker, or the horseback rider may have easy
access, are many and varied. In all there are not less than forty
peaks, each of which is well worth a trip, each presenting some
feature of its own that renders its personality worth cultivating.
In this and other chapters, I present my own experiences as
illustrative to give the general reader an idea of what may be
expected if he (or she) is induced to try one of the chief delights of
a sojourn in this scenic region.
WATSON'S PEAK AND LAKE
Leaving Tahoe Tavern, crossing the bridge to Tahoe City, the trail
leaves the main road on the left about a mile and a half further on,
passing the horse pasture on the right. Near Tahoe City is the Free
Camping Ground owned by the Transportation Company. This has a mile
frontage overlooking the Lake, and scores of people habitually avail
themselves of the privilege, bringing their own outfits with them, as,
at present, there are no arrangements made for renting tents and the
needed furnishings to outsiders.
The slope up which the trail now ascends with gradual rise is covered
with variegated chaparral, making a beautiful mountain carpet and
cushion _for the eye_. To the foot and body it is entangling
and annoying, placing an effectual barrier before any but the most
strenuous, athletic and determined of men.
Now the white firs, with their white bark, and the red-barked yellow
pines begin to appear. They accompany us all the rest of the way to
the peak and lake.
Soon we cross Burton Creek, a mere creek except during the
snow-melting or rain-falling time. It empties into Carnelian Bay.
Burton was one of the old-timers who owned the Island ranch near the
Lake shore, and who came to the Tahoe region at the time of the Squaw
Valley mining excitement. When the "bottom fell out" of that he did
a variety of things to earn a living, one of which was to cut bunch
grass from Lake Valley and bring it on mules over the pass that bears
his name, boat it across to Lakeside at the south end of the Lake, on
the Placerville and Virginia City stage-road, and there sell it to the
stage station. Hay thus gathered was worth in those days from $80 to
$100 per ton.
About two and a half miles from the Tavern we come to a wood road,
which is followed for half a mile. Years ago all these slopes were
denuded of their valuable timber, which was "chuted" down to the Lake
and then towed across to the sawmills at Glenbrook. The remnants
are now being gathered up and used as fuel for the hotel and the
steamboats.
Here and there are charming little nurseries of tiny and growing
yellow pines and white fir. How sweet, fresh and beautiful they
look,--the Christmas trees of the fairies. And how glad they make the
heart of the real lover of his country, to whom "conservation" is not
a fad, but an imperative necessity for the future--an obligation felt
towards the generations yet to come.
Of entirely different associations, and arousing a less agreeable
chain of memories, are the ruined log-cabins of the wood-cutter's and
logger's days. Several of these are passed.
As we re-enter the trail, Watson's Peak, 8500 feet high, with its
basaltic crown, looms before us. At our feet is a big bed of wild
sunflowers, their flaring yellow and gold richly coloring the more
somber slopes. Here I once saw a band of upwards of 2000 sheep, herded
by a Basque, one of that strange European people who seem especially
adapted by centuries of such life to be natural shepherds. Few of them
speak much American, but they all know enough, when you ask them how
many sheep they have, to answer, "About sixteen hundred." The limit
allowed on any government reserve in any one band is, I think,
1750, and though a passing ranger may be sure there are more, he is
nonplussed when, on his making question, the owner or the shepherd
shrugs his shoulders and says, "If you don't believe me, they're
there. Go and count 'em!"
Before the officials treated some of the Basque shepherds with what
seemed to be too great severity there were numerous forest fires on
the reserve. These men were generally both self-willed and ignorant,
and we passed by at this spot a clump of finely growing firs, which
had been destroyed by a fire started by a shepherd the year before.
Watson assures me that he has personally known many cases where a tree
had been blown across a trail, and the shepherd would stop his sheep,
set fire to the "wind-fall" and then leave it to burn--sometimes
allowing it to smolder for months, to the infinite peril of the forest
should an arousing wind blow the fire into life and make it spread.
Fire notices, however, now are everywhere, and a few severe
punishments have largely put a stop to all carelessness on the part of
shepherds, let alone their culpable neglect. There are still campers
and automobilists and others, of the so-called superior and educated
race, who need as severe lessons as some of these ignorant Basque
shepherds. They knock down the forest-service placards, throw down
matches, cigar and cigarette stumps, and often go off and leave a
campfire burning. The time is rapidly coming when severer and swifter
penalties will be meted out to this class of culprits, for not only
are their actions against the law, but they jeopardize all property
in and near to the forests, as well as the lives, sometimes, of many
innocent men, women and children, besides destroying the value of the
mountain slopes as watersheds.
As our trail winds and ascends, the rotting stumps of trees cut years
ago meet the eye on every hand, until at length, when at about 7000
feet altitude we see no more. The indications are clear that, though
the timber is abundant above this elevation, for some reason or other
cutting ceased. Careful observation reveals a possible reason for
this. From this point on up the soil is both thin and poor, and though
the trees seem to have flourished they are, in reality, gnarled,
twisted, stunted and unfit for a good quality of lumber. Many of them
are already showing signs of decay, possibly a proof that they grew
rapidly and are rotting with equal or greater speed.
[Illustration: Pleasure Party on the 'Wild Goose', Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Looking Toward the Casino, Tahoe Tavern, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: A Trail Party About to Leave Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: On the Trail Returning from the Summit of Mt. Tallac]
At this elevation, 7000 to 8000 feet, the red fir begins to appear. It
is an attractive and ever-pleasing tree, its dark red bark soon making
it a familar friend.
How remarkably a woodsman can read what would be an unintelligible
jumble of facts to a city man. Here on one trip we found a tree. Its
top was smitten off and removed a distance of forty to fifty feet.
Parts of the tree were scattered for a distance of two hundred yards.
What caused it? The unobservant man would have passed it by, and the
observant, though untrained and inexperienced, would have wondered
without an answer. And yet a few minutes' observation, with the
interpretation of Bob Watson, made it as clear as the adding of two
to two. The lightning had struck the tree, and shot the top off as if
lifted and carried away bodily, at the same time scattering the pieces
in every direction. Then, it had seemed to jump from this tree to
another, out of the side of which it had torn a large piece, as if,
like a wild beast in angry fury, it had bitten out a giant mouthful of
something it hated. It had then jumped--where? There was no sign. It
simply disappeared.
Near by we found quite a nursery of graceful, dainty and attractive
young firs; "Noah's ark trees," I always feel like calling them, for
they remind one constantly of the trees found in the Noah's arks of
childhood days, made by the Swiss during the long winter nights in
their mountain chalets, where the trees are of a similar character to
those of the Sierras.
Near to the point at which we turn to the left for Watson's Peak, and
to the right for Watson's Lake, is a delicious, cool, clear spring,
which I instinctively called, "the Spring of the Angels." When Bob
asked the _why_ of the name, the answer quickly came: "It is up
so high and is so pure and good." The elevation is about 8000 feet. We
take to the left.
Here also is found the mountain pine, its fine, smooth, black bark
contrasting markedly with that of the firs and pines further down. It
is generally found not lower than this elevation around Lake Tahoe.
Near by are some scattered hemlocks. This tree is found even higher
than the mountain pine, and is seldom found lower than 8000 feet. In
these higher elevations one sees what a struggle some of the trees
have for mere existence. Again and again a mountain pine will be
found, a tree perhaps fifty feet high, bowed over almost to the
ground. This was done by snow. Given the slightest list from the
perpendicular when the heavy, wet snow falls upon it, it is bound
slowly to be forced over. If it is a tough, strong tree it may sustain
the weight until melting time comes, when it is released. But it never
becomes upright again. On the other hand if a cold snap comes after
the snow has bent it over, it is no uncommon thing for it to snap
right in two, eight, ten or more feet from the ground.
Now we stand on the summit. This peak and its attendant lake were
named after my incomparable guide, Robert Watson, and it is well
that the name of so admirable a man should be preserved in the
region through which he has intelligently and kindly guided so many
interested visitors. The elevation is 8500 feet.
What a wonderful panorama is spread out before us. Close by, just
across the valley in which nestles Watson's Lake, 7900 feet elevation,
is Mt. Pluto, 8500 feet, the sides of which are covered with a dense
virgin forest, thus presenting a magnificent and glorious sight. There
is no trail through this forest though sheep are taken there to graze
in the quiet meadows secluded on the heights.
Further to the east and north is Mt. Rose, 10,800 feet, on which is
perched the Meteorological Observatory of the University of Nevada.
Beyond is the Washoe Range.
Even before reaching the summit we gain a fine view, through the
trees, of Castle Peak, 9139 feet, while further north is Mt. Lola,
9167 feet. Close at hand is a glorious specimen of red fir, fully four
and a half feet in diameter. Below us to the west is a patch of vivid
green, known as Antone Meadows. It was named after a Switzer who lived
there years ago and whose children now own it. Not far away is Round
Meadow, locally known as Bear-Trap Meadow, for one may still find
there an old bear-trap that hunters were wont to use thirty or forty
years ago. In this meadow is the cabin of the Forest Ranger, which we
shall see on the return trip.
Looking now over Lake Tahoe to the western horizon we see, over Tahoe
Tavern, and a little west of north, Needle Peak (8920 feet), to the
right of which is Lyon Peak (about 9000 feet). A trifle to the south
of Needle Peak is Granite Chief, followed by Squaw Peak (8960 feet),
Ward Peak (8665 feet), and Twin Peak (8924 feet) the one to the right
having the appearance of a buffalo feeding.
While these peaks appear in a line, and as if belonging to the same
range, a glimpse at the map will reveal that they are some miles
apart.
As we look further south, across the head of Ward and Blackwood Creek
Canyons, the mountains do not seem so high, though we discern Barker
Peak (over 8000 feet).
Still further southward is Ellis Peak (8700 feet) apparently well
timbered. It was named after Jock Ellis, who, on the further side, had
a dairy ranch for a while. But when he found the cream would not rise
in the colder periods of the year, he gave up his dairy, and went to
raising sheep. In the summer months, however, he had no trouble in
disposing of all the butter he could make, or milk and cream he
cared to sell, for he was on the road from Georgetown which passed by
Rubicon Springs to McKinney's on the Lake.
On the ridge to the left are the Rubicon Peaks (9199 feet) three of
them apparently, all closely overlooking Lake Tahoe, and leading the
eye down to Sugar Pine Point, which is at the south end of McKinney's
Bay.
To the west of Rubicon Peaks is Phipps Peak (9120 feet), and a little
farther back Mt. Tallac (9185 feet), while farther to the south is
Ralston Peak (about 9500 feet), at this angle and distance appearing
not unlike one of the domes of the Yosemite Valley. Near by, to the
right, is Pyramid Peak (10,020 feet), though from here it presents
a very different appearance from that it holds when viewed from
Mt. Tallac. Still farther to the right is Tell's Peak (9125 feet),
apparently at the end of a richly timbered ridge. Tell was an old
Switzer who used to keep a dairy ranch on the slopes of the mountain
bearing his name.
At the extreme south of Lake Tahoe stands Round Top (10,130 feet),
to the left of which are the three great peaks of the Tahoe region,
Freel's (10,900 feet), Job's (10,500 feet) and Job's Sister (10,820
feet). Freel was one of the old timers who used to have a cattle-range
on the slopes.
Then, allowing the eye to follow along the southeastern curve of
the Lake up to the mountains on the eastern side, the first great
depression is the pass over which the Placerville road goes down the
Kingsbury grade to Genoa. At the foot of the grade, at the entrance
to the Carson Valley is Van Sickle's old place, one of the early day
stage-stations on the Placerville road.
Van Sickle was a noted character, a fearless, rude pioneer, but well
liked and highly respected. His fame was materially enhanced when he
killed Sam Brown, one of the noted desperadoes of the Tahoe region in
the days of the Virginia City mining excitement. Tradition says that
Brown was a fire-eating southerner, from Texas, a man proud of his bad
record of several murders. He was notorious in Virginia City, and when
the war broke out was one of the outspoken heralds and advocates of
secession. He had trouble with Van Sickle and had threatened to kill
him on sight. Coming to the place for this purpose he himself was
killed, for Van Sickle secured a shot-gun, "laid for him," and shot
him. A great sense of relief was felt by many people at this, what was
then considered not only a justifiable but highly laudable act, for
Brown was seeking to raise a body of men to go South and fight in
the Civil War. This event had much to do with stopping too vigorous
advocacy of the claims of the South from that time on in Virginia City
and the immediate neighborhood.
The road around the Lake forks at a place originally known as
Edgewood's, the branch to the left continuing along the eastern shore
of Lake Tahoe, past Round Mound and Cave Rock to Glenbrook, where it
swings over the grade to the east and over the summit, divides, one
branch going down Clear Creek Canyon, and the other down King's Canyon
to Carson City. It is thirteen and a half miles from Glenbrook to
Carson by way of King's Canyon, and automobiles use this route, while
stages run regularly over the other route via Clear Creek Canyon which
is only fourteen and a quarter miles to Carson.
It was during the lumbering days at Glenbrook that the railway ran
from the mills to the summit, nine miles, carrying carloads of lumber
there, which were then unloaded and shot down the water-flume to
Carson City.
Letting the eye still follow the eastern shore of Lake Tahoe
completing the circuit, northward, Snow Valley Peak and Marietta Peak
are reached. Under the latter, to the southwest, is Marlette Lake,
largely an artificial body over a mile long and half a mile wide,
which is the reservoir for the water supply of Virginia City. The
course of the conveying flume may distinctly be traced, for part of
its twenty-four miles of length. Both peak and lake were named after
S.H. Marlette, once Surveyor-General of Nevada, and a well-known
character of the earlier mining days.
Just below Marlette Lake, almost directly facing Tahoe Tavern, are
several scarrings, running almost parallel to each other and going in
the most direct fashion to Lake Tahoe. These denote where the flume
broke and the water made its own rude channels to the Lake beneath.
From this inadequate and imperfect description it can readily be
imagined what a sublime and comprehensive view is afforded from
Watson's Peak. Every visitor to Tahoe should take the trip, especially
those who stay for a few days or longer at Tahoe Tavern.
* * * * *
WATSON LAKE
About half a mile northwest from the summit of Watson Peak is Watson
Lake, 7900 feet. It is about 300 yards long by 250 yards broad, hence
rudely oval in shape. While about fifty feet deep in the center, it
shallows toward the edges, where lilies abound, and then becomes mere
marsh. Practically it is surrounded by trees. Restocked with a variety
of fish (trout) in large numbers each year, it is one of the best
fishing lakes at the northern end of Lake Tahoe, and a most enjoyable
day to the angler is to start early, take his lunch along, and spend
the day there.
To those who are not anglers this same day can be spent in the quiet
enjoyment of the trees, flowers, lake and sky.
The outlet from the lake is by Deer Creek, and thence into the Truckee
not far from the site of the old mining-camp of Knoxville.
The return trip to Tahoe Tavern is made through a virgin forest, on
a ridge between Watson Lake and the Truckee Valley, the trail having
been outlined only about five years ago. Later the Forest Rangers
considerably improved it, until now it is a very easy and comfortable
trail to traverse. One notices here the especial "blaze" on the trees,
of the rangers. It consists of a perpendicular parallelogram with a
square above, thus
[Illustration: 'Ranger's Blaze']
Wherever this blaze is found everybody in the region knows it for a
ranger's blaze, denoting a trail leading to a ranger's cabin.
On this ride one has a wonderful illustration of the popular fallacy
in woodcraft that moss is always found on the north side of the trees.
Here the moss is mainly on the west. The fact is the moss is generally
found on the side from which the rain-storms come, and here they are
mainly from the south and southwest. A mile or so away on the trail to
Watson's Lake the moss is all on the southwest side of the trees.
Most of the trees here are red fir and mountain pine, some of them
being of large size, and noble specimens.
A little further on a fine opening reveals Deer Creek, through which
the waters of Watson Lake flow to the Truckee. It was nearing the hour
of sunset when I reached this point, and the trees were glowing
with flaming gold, reminding one of the pictures John Enneking, the
wonderful Boston artist, so loves to paint, while below the water
gleamed like dazzling diamonds.
Along here the side of the ridge below the trail seemed as if plowed
into a number of rudely parallel lines. These were sheep-trails made
as the sheep followed each other over the softer soil of the mountain
side.
A mile and a half from Watson Lake we came to a telephone box. This
was the signal box of the Forest Rangers connecting with Lake Tahoe,
five miles away, Truckee, eight miles, Shaffer's Mills, five miles and
thence to Brockway, six miles. In the direction we were going it was
but one mile to the ranger's log-cabin in Round Meadow.
In the winter time the ranger often finds it difficult to keep the
line in operation. The damp snow falling upon the wire, clings to it,
freezes and keeps receiving additions until it is bigger than a man's
arm, and the weight breaks it down.
As we rode along we saw a fat porcupine, weighing full twenty-five
pounds and deliberately walking up the slope near by, as if going to
its den in the rocks, but, though we yelled and shouted, it scorned
to notice us and indifferently went its way. A horned owl now and then
hooted and bade us begone, while a badger came out from his hole, but
hurried back when he saw or smelled who we were.
Now and again we caught marvelous sunset reflections on Lake Tahoe
through the trees, and on the eastern mountains was a peach glow more
soft and beautiful than the famous Alpen glow.
Soon the sun was gone, and then, as we rode through the' dark aisles
of the trees the stars came out and shone with dazzling splendor
overhead. Just as we left the ranger's cabin a long dark corridor of
majestic trees framed in a patch of black velvet in the upper sky, and
there, in the very center, shining in resplendent glory, was Venus,
the evening star.
The wind began to blow a regular cyclone from the north, so the
roaring of the trees told us, but we were largely sheltered, and as we
looked up through the dancing and whirling tree-tops there was not a
cloud in the sky.
Thus we returned to the Tavern, dramatically and gloriously bringing
our delightful and easy trip to an end.
I have been rather prolix, and have entered much more fully into
detail than some may deem necessary in the account of this trip, for
two important reasons. It is a trip that none should fail to take, and
I have made it a sort of general account, giving in broad outline what
the visitor may expect of any of the peak trips in the vicinity of
Tahoe Tavern. It goes without saying that, constantly, from a score or
more outlook points, the eye finds its resting place upon Lake Tahoe,
each view being different and more charming than the one that preceded
it.
* * * * *
TO SQUAW VALLEY, GRANITE CHIEF PEAK, FIVE LAKES AND DEER PARK SPRINGS
Leaving Tahoe Tavern we cross the Truckee River and ride down on the
north side. The flowing Truckee is placid and smooth, save where eager
trout jump and splash. The meadows are richly green and the mountain
slope on the further side is radiant with virgin tree-life in joyous
exuberance. Jays are harshly calling, chipmunks are excitedly running,
the pure blue of the sky over-arches all, the wine of the morning is
in the air, and we are glad we are alive. A spring of pure cold water
on the right, about a mile out, tempts us to a delicious morning
draught.
A little further down is "Pap." Church's "Devil's Playground,"
"Devil's Post," and devil's this, that and the other, out of which
he gained considerable satisfaction while driving stage-coach between
Truckee and Tahoe in the days before the railroad.
It is well carefully to observe these singular lava puddingstone
masses, for, according to the theory of John Le Conte, the eminent
physicist, recounted in another chapter, these were the restraining
masses that made the Lake at one time eighty or a hundred feet higher
than it is to-day.
Four miles from the Tavern we pass Engineer Von Schmidt's old dam, for
the history of which see the chapter on "The Truckee River."
Near Deer Park Station is another spring on the right. In the old
stage days "Pap." Church always stopped here and gave his passengers
the opportunity to drink of the water, while he made discourse as to
its remarkable coldness. Five years ago a land slide completely buried
it, and the road had to be cut through again. Ever since the spring
has been partially clogged and does not flow freely, but it is cold
enough to make one's teeth ache.
In the winter of 1881-2 a land-and-snow-slide occurred a little beyond
Deer Park Station. Watson was carrying the mail on snow-shoes at the
time and saw it. There had been a five foot fall of snow in early
March, and a week or two later came a second fall of seven feet.
Something started the mass, and down it came, rushing completely
across the river and damming it up, high on the other side, and the
course of the slide can clearly be seen to-day. It is now, however,
almost covered with recent growth of chaparral, and thus contributed
to one of the most beautiful effects of light and shade I ever saw.
The mountain slope on one side was completely covered with a growth of
perfect trees. Through these came pencillings of light from the rising
sun, casting alternate rulings of light and shadow in parallel lines
on the glossy surface of the chaparral beyond. The effect was enhanced
by the fleecy and sunshiny clouds floating in the cobalt blue above.
Near the mouth of Bear Creek the river makes a slight curve and also
a drop at the same time, and the road, making a slight rise, presents
the view of a beautiful stretch of roaring and foaming cascades.
Here the canyon walls are of bare, rocky ridges, of white and red
barrenness, with occasional patches of timber, but very different from
the tree-clad slopes that we have enjoyed hitherto all the way down
from the Tavern.
Beyond is a little grove of quaking aspens. Their leaves, quivering
in the morning breeze, attract the eye. Crossing the railway, the road
makes a climb up a hill that at one time may have formed a natural dam
across the river. Here is a scarred tree on the left where Handsome
Jack ran his stage off the bank in 1875, breaking his leg and
seriously injuring his passengers.
Crossing the next bridge to the left at the mouth of Squaw Creek, six
miles from the Tavern, on a small flat by the side of the river is
the site of the town of Claraville, one of the reminders of the Squaw
Valley mining excitement.
Just below this bridge is an old log chute, and a dam in the river.
This dam backed up the water and made a "cushion" into which the logs
came dashing and splashing, down from the mountain heights above. They
were then floated down the river to the sawmill at Truckee.
At Knoxville we forded the river at a point where a giant split
bowlder made a tunnel and the water dashed through with roaring speed.
Retracing our steps for a mile or so we came to the Wigwam Inn, a
wayside resort and store just at the entrance to Squaw Valley. To the
right flows Squaw Creek, alongside of which is the bed of the logging
railway belonging to the Truckee Lumber Co. It was abandoned two or
three years ago, when all the available logs of the region had been
cut. Most of the timber-land between Squaw Creek and Truckee, on both
sides of the river, was purchased years ago, from its locators, by the
Truckee Lumber Company. But Scott Bros., purchased a hundred and
sixty acres from the locators and established a dairy in Squaw Valley,
supplying the logging-camps with milk and butter for many years past.
For forty years or more this region has been the scene of active
logging, the work having begun under the direction of Messrs.
Bricknell and Kinger, of Forest Hill. The present president of the
Truckee Lumber Co. is Mr. Hazlett, who married the daughter of
Kinger. This company, after the railway removed from Glenbrook and was
established between Tahoe and Truckee, lumbered along the west side of
Tahoe as far as Ward Creek.
Entering the valley we find it free from willows, open and clear. The
upper end is surrounded, amphitheater fashion, by majestic mountains,
rising to a height of upwards of 9000 feet. Clothed with sage-brush at
the lower end and rich grass further up, even to the very base of the
mountains, it is, in some respects, the prettiest valley in the whole
of this part of the Sierra Nevadas.
The upper meadows are full of milk cows, quietly grazing or lying down
and chewing their cuds, while just beyond the great dairy buildings
is the unpretentious cottage of the Forest Ranger. Remnants of old log
chutes remind one of the logging activities that used to be carried on
here.
One of the most observable features of Squaw Valley is its level
character. This is discussed in the chapter on glacial action.
On the right the vein of quartz which out-crops at Knoxville is
visible in several places and the various dump-piles show how many
claimants worked on their locations in the hope of finding profitable
ore.
Half way up the valley is an Iron Spring, the oxydization from which
has gathered together a large amount of red which the Indians still
prize highly and use for face paint.
How these suggestions excite the imagination--old logging chutes,
mining-claims and Indians. Once this valley rang with the clang of
chains on driven oxen, the sharp stroke of the ax as it bit into the
heart of the tree, the crash of the giant trees as they fell, the rude
snarl of the saw as it cut them up into logs, the shout of the driver
as he drove his horses alongside the chute and hurried the logs down
to the river, the quick blast of the imprisoned powder, the falling
of shattered rocks, the emptying of the ore or waste-bucket upon the
dump--all these sounds once echoed to and from these hillsides and
mountain slopes.
Now everything is as quiet and placid as a New England pastoral scene,
and only the towering mountains, snow-clad even as late as this in the
fall, suggest that we are in the far-away wilds of the great West.
But Squaw Valley had another epoch, which it was hoped would
materially and forever destroy its quiet and pastoral character. In
the earlier days of the California gold excitement the main road
from Truckee and Dormer Lake went into Nevada County and thus on to
Sacramento. In 1862 the supervisors of Placer County, urged on by the
merchants, sent up a gang of men from Placerville to build a road from
Squaw Valley, into the Little American Valley, down the Forest Hill
Divide, thus hoping to bring the emigrant travel to Forest Hill,
Michigan Bluff, and other parts of Placer County.
It was also argued that emigrants would be glad to take this new road
as all the pasture along the other road was "eaten off." Over this
historic road we are now about to ride.
As we look up it is a forbidding prospect. Only brave men and sanguine
would ever have dared to contemplate such a plan. The mountain cliffs,
separated and split, arise before us as impassable barriers. Yet one
branch of the old trail used to pass through the divide to the right,
over to Hopkins Springs, while the one that was converted into the
wagon road took the left-hand canyon to the main divide.
We now begin to ascend this road at the head of Squaw Valley, and in
five minutes, or less, are able to decide _why_ it was never a
success. The grade is frightful, and for an hour or more we go slowly
up it, stopping every few yards to give our horses breath. All the way
along we can trace the blazes on the trees made over sixty years
ago. It is hard enough for horses to go up this grade, but to
pull heavily-ladened wagons--it seems impossible that even those
giant-hearted men, used to seeing so many impossible things
accomplished, could ever have believed that such a road could be
feasible. What wonderful, marvelous, undaunted characters they must
have been, men with wills of inflexible steel, to overcome such
obstacles and dare such hardships. Yet there were compensations. Squaw
Creek's clear, pellucid, snow-fed stream runs purling, babbling or
roaring and foaming by to the right. These pioneers with their women
and children had crossed the sandy, alkali and waterless deserts.
For days and weeks they had not had water enough to keep their faces
clean, to wash the sand from their eyes. Now, though they had come
to a land of apparently unscalable mountains and impassable
rock-barriers, they had grass for the stock, and water,--delicious,
fresh, pure, refreshing water for themselves. I can imagine that when
they reached here they felt it was a new paradise, and that God was
especially smiling upon them, and to such men, with such feelings,
what could daunt, what prevent, what long stay their onward march.
As we ascend, the mountains on our right assume the form of artificial
parapets of almost white rock, outlined against the bluest of blue
skies. There is one gray peak ahead, tinged with green. The trail is
all washed away and our horses stumble and slide, slip and almost
fall over the barren and rough rocks, and the scattered bowlders, a
devastating cloud-burst could not wash away.
Here is a spring on the left, hidden in a grove of alders and willows,
and now new and more fantastic spires arise on the right. Higher up we
see where those sturdy road-builders rolled giant rocks out of their
way to make an impassable road look as if it could be traversed.
Reaching the point at the foot of Squaw Peak at last we look back over
Squaw Valley. In the late summer tints it is beautiful, but what must
it be in the full flush of its summer glory and perfection? Then
it must be a delight to the eye and a refreshment to the soul. How
interesting, too, it is to rehabilitate it as a great glacial lake.
One can see its pellucid waters of clear amethystine blue and imagine
the scenes that transpired when the ancestors of the present Indians
fished, in rude dugouts, or on logs, or extemporized rafts, upon its
surface. Now it is covered with brown, yellowish grass, with tree-clad
slopes rising from the marge.
Turning to the right we find ourselves in a country of massive
bowlders. They seem to have been broken off from the summits above and
arrested here for future ages and movements to change or pass on.
The road grows severer than ever, and we cannot help again picturing
those old heroes driving their wagons up, while the women and children
toiled painfully on foot up the steep and rocky slopes. Could anything
ever daunt them after this? any obstacle, however insurmountable,
discourage them? any labor, however severe, compel them to turn back?
Though there is a deep pathos in all these memories, the heroism of it
makes our blood tingle with pride that such men and women belonged to
us, that we are privileged to live in the land their labors, loves and
lives have sanctified.
We turn to the right; a tiny waterfall, which in the season must be
quite a sight, trickles down near by; we are now advancing directly
upon the serrated ridge of fantastic spires that have long accompanied
us. We now find those white-seeming pinnacles are of delicate pinks,
creams, blues, slates and grays. In one place, however, it seems for
all the world as if there were a miniature Gothic chapel built of
dark, brownish-black lava. Another small patch of the same color and
material, lower down, presents a gable end, with windows, reminding us
of the popular picture of Melrose Abbey in the moonlight.
Now we are lined on either side by removed bowlders, but the road! ah
the road! who could ever have traveled over it? Trees twenty feet high
have now grown up in the roadway. To the left Squaw Peak (8960 feet)
towers above us, while we make the last great pull through the rocky
portion ere we come to the easier rise to the shoulders of Granite
Chief. Here the road was graded out from the side of a granite
mountain, blasted out and built up, but it is now sadly washed out.
Further up, a broad porphyritic dyke crosses our path, then more
trees, and we come to the gentle slope of a kind of granitic sand
which composes the open space leading to the pass between Granite
Chief on the right, and a peculiar battlemented rock, locally known
as Fort Sumpter, on the left. This was named by the Squaw Valley
stampeders who came over the trail in the early days of the Civil War,
when all patriots and others were excited to the core at the news that
Fort Sumpter had been fired upon. On one of the highest points stands
a juniper on which a big blaze was cut by the early road-makers, so
that there need be no doubt as to which way the road turned. Other
nearby trees, in their wild ruggedness and sturdy growth, remind us
of a woman whose skirts are blown about by a fierce wind. Their
appearance speaks of storms braved, battles of wind and snow and ice
and cold fought and won, for they have neither branch nor leaf on the
exposed side, and on the other are pitiably scant.
As we cross the sandy divide, over which a wagon could drive anywhere,
we find white sage in abundance. Expansive vistas loom before us,
ahead and to the right, while Squaw Peak now presents the appearance
of a vast sky-line crater. We seem to be standing on the inside of it,
but on the side where the wall has disappeared. Across, the peak has a
circular, palisaded appearance, and the lower peaks to the right seem
as if they were the continuation of the wall, making a vast crater
several miles in diameter. The plateau upon which we stand seems as
if it might have been a level spot almost near the center of the bowl.
Fort Sumpter is a part of this great crater-like wall and Granite
Chief is the end of the ridge.
As a rule there is a giant bank of snow on the saddle over which the
trail goes between Ft. Sumpter and Granite Chief, but this year (1913)
it has totally disappeared. It has been the driest season known for
many years.
Looking back towards the Lake a glorious and expansive view is
presented. Watson Peak, Mt. Rose, Marlette Peak, Glenbrook and the
pass behind it, are all in sight and the Lake glistening in pearly
brilliancy below.
At the end of the Squaw Peak ridge, on the right, is a mass of
andesite, looking like rude cordwood, and just above is a mass of
breccia very similar to that found in the Truckee Valley a few miles
below Tahoe Tavern.
Below us, at the head of Squaw Creek is a small blue pond, scarcely
large and important enough to be called a lake, yet a distinctive
feature and one that would be highly prized in a less-favored
landscape.
On the very summit of the ridge we get fine views of Mounts Ralston,
Richardson, Pyramid Peak and the whole Rock Bound Range, while close
at hand to the north is Needle Peak (8920 feet), and to the south,
Mt. Mildred (8400 feet). To our left is Fort Sumpter, to the right the
Granite Chief, and between the two a stiff breeze is blowing.
Have you ever stood on a mountain ridge or divide when a fierce gale
was blowing, so that you were unable to walk without staggering, and
where it was hard to get your breath, much less speak, and where it
seemed as if Nature herself had set herself the purpose of cleansing
you through and through with her sweetening pneumatic processes? If
not, you have missed one of the blessed influences of life.
Rough? harsh? severe? Of course, but what of that, compared with the
blessings that result. It is things like that that teach one to
love Nature. Read John Muir's account--in his _Mountains of
California_--and see how he reveled in wind-storms, and even
climbed into a tree and clung to its top "like a bobolink on a reed"
in order to enjoy a storm to the full.
Immediately at our feet lie the various mazes of canyons and ravines
that make the diverse forks of the American River. In one place is
a forbidding El Capitan, while in another we can clearly follow for
miles the Royal Gorge of this many branched Sierran river. To the
right is Castle Peak (9139 feet) to the north and west of Donner Lake,
while nearby is Tinker's Knob (9020 feet) leading the eye down to
Hopkins' Soda Springs. Beyond is Donner Peak (8135 feet) pointing
out the location of Summit Valley, just to the left (west) where the
trains of the Southern Pacific send up their smoke-puffs and clouds
into the air.
At our feet is the Little American Valley, in which is the road, up
the eastern portion of which we have so toilsomely climbed. With a
little pointing out it is possible to follow the route it followed on
the balance of its steep and perilous way. Crossing the valley beneath
it zig-zagged over the bluff to the right, through the timber to the
ridge between the North and Middle Forks, then down, down, by Last
Chance to Michigan Bluff. The reverent man instinctively thanks God
that he is not compelled to drive a wagon, containing his household
goods, as well as his wife and children, over such roads nowadays.
Just before making the descent we succeed in getting a suggestive
glimpse of what is finely revealed on a clear day. Slightly to the
south of west is Mount Diablo, while northwards the Marysville Buttes,
Lassen's rugged butte, and even stately Mt. Shasta are in distinct
sight. At this time the atmosphere is smoky with forest fires and the
burning of the tules in the Sacramento and other interior valleys,
hence our view is not a clear one.
It did not take us long to reach the old stage-station in the Little
American Valley. Here Greek George--he was never known by any other
name--had a station, only the charred logs remaining to tell of some
irreverent sheep-herder or Indian who had no regard for historic
landmarks. The pile of rocks which remain denote the presence of
the chimney. When the new stage-road was built and travel over this
road--always very slim and precarious--completely declined, Greek
George removed, but his log hotel and bunk-house remained until a few
years ago.
We lunch by the side of the old chimney and ruminate over the scenes
that may have transpired here in those early days.
On our way back we pass the stumps of two large firs which were
undoubtedly cut down to supply George's houses with shakes. At the
base of Ft. Sumpter we leave the trail down which we have come, with
the intention of going--without a trail--down Whisky Creek, over
several interesting meadows to Five Lake Creek, and thence up by the
Five Lakes, over the pass into Bear Creek Canyon, past Deer Park to
the Truckee River and thus to the Tavern.
With such an excellent guide as Bob Watson we have no hesitation in
striking out in any direction and in a short time Mt. Mildred (8400
feet) is on our right.
Great groves of willows and alders cover immense areas of the canyon's
sides, while we pass a giant red fir with a diameter of fully six
feet.
When about half a mile from Five Lake Creek the largest portion of
the canyon is taken up with irregular masses of granite over which a
glacier, or glaciers, have moved. The striation and markings are down
the valley, and looking up from below the canyon for a mile or more
it has the appearance of a series of irregular giant steps, each step
gradually sloping back to the step above. From above the course of
the glacier seems clear. It must have flowed downwards, polishing and
smoothing each step in turn, then falling over the twenty, thirty
or fifty feet high edge to the next lower level, to ascend the next
slope, reach the next precipice, and so on.
At the point where we strike Five Lake Creek, in a large expanse of
meadow, we pass a camp, where in the distance we can clearly see three
men and a woman. Deer hunters probably. We give them a cheery Halloo!
and pass on.
Five Lake Creek here makes a sharp bend into the canyon which is a
continuation of the canyon down which we have been traveling, and
enters the Rubicon River at Hell Hole. We, however, turn _up_
the Creek to the northeast, here striking the regular Hell Hole trail
built a few years ago by Miss Katherine Chandler, of Deer Park. Just
ahead of us, appearing through a grove of trees near to where the Five
Lakes are nestling, is a perfectly white cloud, absolutely startling
in the vividness of its contrast to the deep blue of the sky and the
equally deep green of the firs and pines.
A wilderness of bowlders compels the winding about of the trail, but
we hear and see Five Lake Creek, roaring and dashing along, for it
has a large flow of water and its course is steep and rocky. We pass
through groups of willows, wild currants and alders, enter a sparsely
wooded meadow and in a few moments see the first of the Five Lakes.
There is but little difference in their levels, though their sizes
vary considerably. The first one is the largest. Here is a log cabin
and two or three boats. These are owned by the Deer Park Springs
resort, and are for their fishing and hunting patrons. They also own a
hundred and sixty acres here, which include the area of the lake. The
two first or lower lakes are the largest and the deepest. It is their
flow which makes Five Lakes Creek. The three upper lakes are smaller
and shallower. It is said that a divide used to separate the two lower
from the three upper lakes, and the flow from the latter descended
through Bear Creek, past Deer Park, into the Truckee River and thence
into far-away Pyramid Lake in Nevada.
From this point the trail is clear and well defined, being traveled
constantly during the season by guests of Deer Park Springs. Passing
through a fine nursery of beautiful and exquisite red firs we drop
into the canyon of Bear Creek. To the left are great andesite crowns
on the mountain tops. Here also are more glacially polished masses and
cliffs of granite, clearly indicating great glacial activity in the
upper part of this canyon. The trail is ticklish in a few places, with
steps up and down which our horses take gingerly, but nothing which
need excite an extra heart-beat to one used to mountain trails.
In less than half an hour we are at Deer Park Springs, drinking its
pleasant waters, and while we still have six and a half miles to go
to the Tavern it is over easy and ordinary road, and therefore our
pleasant trip is practically at an end.
* * * * *
TO ELLIS PEAK
Homewood is the natural starting point for Ellis Peak (8745 feet) as
the trail practically leaves the Lake high-road at that point, and
strikes directly upon the mountain slope. Hundreds make the trip on
foot and it is by no means an arduous task, but many prefer to go
horse-back or burro-back. In its upward beginnings the trail follows
the course of an old logging chute for a distance of some two miles,
the lake terminus of which is now buried in a nursery of white fir and
masses of white lilac. There are a few cedars and pines left untouched
by the logger's ax, but they are not prime lumber trees, or not one of
them would now be standing.
To the right is Dick Madden Creek, which, like all the streams on the
eastern slopes of the great western escarpment of Lake Tahoe, comes
dashing and roaring down steep and rocky beds to the Lake.
When at about 7000 feet we find few other than red firs and mountain
pines. Here is a wonderful nursery of them that have secured a firm
hold upon life. Throughout the whole region the year 1913 seems to
have been a most kindly one for the untended, uncared for baby-trees.
There has been comparatively little snowfall for three successive
years, and this has given the young trees a chance. As soon as their
heads appear above the snow and they are not battered down by storm
they can make their way, but if the heavy snow falls and remains upon
them too long, they are either smothered, or so broken down, that life
becomes a fearful struggle and scores of them succumb. Yet in spite
of this fact hemlocks and red firs seem to prefer the north or shady
slopes of the mountains and invariably thrive much better there than
where there is sunnier exposure.
When about three miles up from the Lake we reach a richly-grassed
meadow, about five acres in extent, confined in a bowl-shaped rim,
broken down at the east side, through which a rivulet, which flows
across the meadow, finds outlet. This is undoubtedly one of the many
mountain lakes of the region, too shallow and with too sluggish a flow
of water into it to clear itself of the detritus washed down from the
disintegrating slopes above, hence it ultimately filled up and entered
upon a new life as a meadow.
On the upper side of the meadow the trail passes through a glorious
grove of hemlocks, the clean and clear "floor" of which leads one to
the observation that hemlocks generally seem to be hostile to other
and lesser growth coming in to occupy the ground with them.
Sierran heather of purple color now appears here and there in patches
and we find quantities of it further along. There are also several
peculiar puff-balls, and close by a remarkable fungus-growth like a
cauliflower, fully a foot in diameter.
Nearing the summit we come to another meadow followed by another
grove, where scarcely any trees but hemlocks are to be seen. Here
also we see great beds of the California primrose which grows with a
straight upright stem crowned with blood-red or deep scarlet flowers
above a rich duster of leaves. These flowers generally can be found
blooming quite late in the season, following the snowline as the
summer's sun makes it climb higher each day. When the winter's snows
have been extra heavy the plants are covered and no flowers appear, as
the snow melts too late, but when there is a lesser amount they bloom
as freely as ever, apparently none the worse for their dormant period.
Over the peak billowy white clouds are tossing, like giant cradles
built of the daintiest and most silvery cloud-stuff to be found in the
heavens for the rocking of the cloud-babies to sleep.
On a sister peak to Ellis Peak, just to the south, is to be seen
a remarkable and strikingly picturesque cluster of hemlocks. It
is almost circular in form, with eight trees in the center, and
twenty-three on the outer rim, which is over a hundred feet in
circumference. Seldom does one see so interesting a group of trees
anywhere, even when planted, and these, of course, are of native
growth.
The summit itself is of broken and shattered granite, which has
allowed a scraggly mountain pine to take root and grow close to the
U.S. Geological Survey monument. A fierce gale was blowing from the
west, and turning toward the tree-clad slopes of the east, we stood
in the wind, with the everlasting blue above and the glorious and
never-failing green beneath. Unconsciously there sprang to my lips
Joaquin Miller's lines:
And ever and ever His boundless blue,
And ever and ever His green, green sod,
And ever and ever between the two
Walk the wonderful winds of God.
Braving the wind and looking over the steep precipice to the west we
see, some four hundred or five hundred feet below us, so that it seems
that we might almost throw a stone into it, a small lake. This is
Bessie Lake, named after Mrs. C.F. Kohl, of Idlewyld. It discharges
its surplus waters into Blackwood Creek, and has several times been
stocked with fish. In the mid-distance is Loon Lake, which is the
head-waters of the California Ditch, which follows over the Georgetown
Divide, carries water some forty to fifty miles, and is distributed
by its owners, the Reno Water and Electric Power Co., for mining,
irrigation and domestic purposes.
East of Loon Lake are Spider and Pleasant Lakes, all of which we
are told are connected with one another and controlled by the same
company. Another lake, Bixly or Bixby, slightly to the north of
Pleasant, is also connected.
To the east of Pleasant Lake, Buck Island and Rock Bound Lakes were
dazzlingly brilliant in the mid-day sun.
One has but to look at the map to realize what a comprehensive survey
is possible in every direction from Ellis Peak. There is no wonder
that it is so popular. The panorama is unobstructed--the outlook
practically complete and perfect. Though the whole of the Lake is not
revealed, there is sufficient of it to make a transcendent picture.
Every peak to the north and on the eastern side is in sight, while the
Tallac range, and the near-by mountains make one long for an aeroplane
that he might step from peak to peak without the effort of journeying
by land to their elevated summits.
On the left side of Tinker's Knob is a peak, unmarked on the map, to
which the name of Lion Peak has been given, for the following reason:
Some years ago former Governor Stanford's nephew, who has been a
visitor for many years at Hopkins' Spring, was climbing, together with
a companion, over this peak, when they came to a cave. Lighting a rude
torch they thoughtlessly entered it and had barely got well inside
before they saw the two fierce eyes of a mountain lion glaring at
them. Surprised and startled, they were about to turn and run, when
the astonished animal sprang past them and disappeared before they
recollected they had a gun.
It should not be overlooked that Ellis Peak is the most eastern
mountain of the Sierran divide. East, its drainage empties into Lake
Tahoe and thus eastward into the Big Basin; west, into the Rubicon,
thence to the American, the Sacramento and finally out by the Golden
Gate to the Pacific.
To the west of the Rubicon Peaks is a chain of lakes in the valley
below known as the Rock Bound Lakes. There are nine of these in all,
though several of them are practically unknown except to the few
guides and the sheepmen who range over the surrounding mountains.
As far as the eye can see, westward, there are distinct glacial
markings, a wonderful revelation of the widespread and far-reaching
activity of these glaciers borne on the highest crests of the Sierras.
The canyon in which the Rubicon River flows is definitely outlined, as
is also the deep chasm known as Hell Hole. Near by is Bear Lake, about
the same size and appearance as Watson Lake, its overflow emptying
into the Rubicon.
Close at hand to the north and west are Barker's Peak, Barker's Pass,
and Barker's Creek, and these decide us to go home by way of Barker's
Pass instead of the way we came. Accordingly we drop down, returning
a short distance to the south, over the western slope of Ellis Peak to
Ellis Valley. Both peak and valley receive their name from Jock Ellis,
a Squaw Valley stay-behind, who entered the cattle and sheep business,
and pastured his animals in this rich and well-watered region.
On our way we pass through the most remarkable white fir nursery we
have yet seen. Not far away were a few hoary monarchs from the still
hanging but burst open cones of which winged seeds were flying before
the breeze. These potential firs were carried in many cases over a
mile before they found lodgement. It was a beautiful and delightful
demonstration of Nature's lavish method of preserving this useful
species of tree alive.
Sweeping now to the north and east we make a rapid descent of some six
hundred or seven hundred feet to Barker's Pass, the elevation of which
is about 7000 to 7500 feet, the nearby Peak having an elevation of
about 8500 feet. It is a round, bare mountain, and seems as if it
ought to be marked higher (on the map) than it is.
Rapidly dropping we come to a peculiar mass of stratified rock,
acutely tilted, unlike any found elsewhere in the region except
on Five Lake Creek on the way to Hell Hole. Just before reaching
Blackwood's Creek the trail passes through rude piles of breccia
similar to that of the Devil's Playground near the Truckee River. It
may be perfectly possible that one of the volcanic flows that covered
large portions of the High Sierras, after the Cretaceous degradations
had taken place, came from a vent, or volcano, near by, and slowly
flowed down Blackwood Creek, leaving vast masses behind which have
rapidly disintegrated until these are all that remain.
These conjectures occupy our brain until we reach the Lake again,
alongside of which the road soon brings us back to our starting point,
after another most enjoyable, instructive, healthful and delightful
day.
The foregoing are but samples of a hundred similar trail trips that
can be taken from every part of the Lake, and from all the resorts.
Each place has its chosen trips, and though, of course, there are many
points of similarity, there are enough individualities to make each
trip distinctive.
My friends often ask me what food and drink I take along on such
hiking or riding trips. Generally the hotel provides a luncheon, but
personally, I prefer a few Grant's crackers (a thick, hard cracker
full of sweet nutriment, made at Berkeley, Calif.), a handful of
shelled nuts--walnuts, pecans, or almonds, a small bottle of Horlick's
Malted Milk tablets, a few slabs of Ghirardelli's milk chocolate, and
an apple or an orange. On this food I can ride or walk _days at a
time_, without anything else. Grant's crackers, Horlick's Malted
Milk tablets, and Ghirardelli's chocolate are the best of their kind,
and all are nutritious to the full, as well as delicious to the
taste. For drink I find Horlick's Malted Milk the most comforting and
invigorating, and it has none of the after "letting-down" effects that
accompany coffee drinking.
CHAPTER XVI
CAMPING-OUT TRIPS IN THE TAHOE REGION
There are many trips in the Tahoe Region which can be made, with
greater or lesser ease, on foot or horseback, in one day, so that one
can sleep in his hotel each night. On the other hand there are some
highly desirable trips that can be taken only by camping-out, and
to these I wish to commend those of my readers of both sexes who
are strong enough to care for such intimate contact with God's
great-out-of-doors.
To me one of Life's greatest delights, appealing alike to body, mind
and soul, is a camping-out trip. Breathing day and night the pure air
of mountain and forest,--occasionally swept by breezes from desert and
ocean,--exercising one's body into vigorous healthfulness, sweating
in the sun with life-giving labor,--even though it be only tramping
or riding up and down trails,--sauntering over meadows, rambling and
exploring untrailed spaces, under giant sky-piercing trees; lying down
at night on the restful brown Mother Earth; sleeping peacefully and
dreamlessly through delicious star-and-moon-lit nights, cooled and
refreshed by the night winds, awakening in the morning full of new
life and vigor, to feel the fresh tang of the air and the cool
shock of the wash (or even plunge) in the snow-or-spring-fed stream;
companioning with birds and bees, chipmunks and squirrels, grouse and
quail, deer and antelope, trees and plants, shrubs and flowers, lava
and granite, lakes and creeks, rivers and ponds; smelling the sweet
fragrance of the trees, shrubs, plants and vines; bathing in an
atmosphere of calm and quiet that seems almost Divine; covered with
a sky as cloudless and pure blue as the dome of heaven itself, and
which, at night, changes into a rich blue-black velvet, studded with
silvery emblazonments, that dance and dazzle in the pellucid air;
listening to the varied voices of Nature, each eager to give tongue
to its joy; eating healthful, simple food with appetite and relish;
absorbing the assurance that Nature means good and nothing but good to
man, thus coming nearer to the heart of God; losing the fret and
worry of money-getting and all other of Life's lower ambitions and
strivings; feeling the inflow of strength,--physical, mental and
spiritual; gaining calmness, serenity, poise and power;--is there any
wonder that a man so blessed should speak and write with radiant and
exuberant enthusiasm of that which has been so lavish to him. This is
what camping-out (in part) means to me.
Hence, when I leave home for a mountain trip I always put into my
_Indestructo_[1] an extra blue flannel shirt, riding boots and
breeches (or a pair of overalls), a cap, and a bottle of Vaseline. The
hunter and fisherman, of course, will bring his especial equipment,
as, also, will the geologist or botanist.
The first essentials of a successful camping-out trip are personal.
One must have the receptive and acceptive spirit. No matter what
comes it is for the best; an experience worth having. Nothing must be
complained of. The "grouch" has no place on a camping-trip, and one
who is a "grouch," a "sissy," a "faultfinder," a "worrier," a
"quitter," or who cannot or will not enter fully into the spirit of
the thing had better stay at home.
[Footnote 1: _Indestructo_ is the name given to a trunk that has
been such a delight to me for its enduring and useful qualities, that
I cannot refrain from "passing it on." A poor trunk, to a constant
traveler, is a perpetual nuisance and worry. My trunks always gave
me trouble until I got an _Indestructo_. Since then I have had
freedom from all such distress. It is fully insured for five years.]
If experiences are met with that are disagreeable, meet them as a man
should; a woman always does,--or always has on trips taken with me.
The "self-pitier," the "self-indulgent," the "fearful" also had better
stay at home.
The next essentials are a good guide--such as is suggested by the
Dedication of this book--and good saddle-and-pack-animals, good
bedding, good food and the proper season. Then if the spot you have
chosen contains anything worth while, you cannot fail to have an
enjoyable, interesting, educative, health-giving and generally
profitable time.
In outfitting for such a trip always put into your pocket (and in the
pack a reserve supply) a few Grant's crackers, a handful of Horlick's
Malted Milk tablets, and a cake of Ghirardelli's chocolate. With
these you are safe for a whole day or two, or more, if anything should
happen to separate you from your pack animal, or you should desire to
ride on without stopping to prepare a noon, or later, camp meal.
The Tahoe Region offers scores of just such trips, where for one or
two months each year for a dozen years a visitor may camp-out in some
new region. For instance, every student of God's handiwork should go
up to Deer Park, camp-out at Five Lakes, and study the evidences of
lava flows at the head of Bear Creek. Go to the Lake of the Woods and
spend a week there, tracing the glacial movements that made Desolation
Valley. Take such a trip as I enjoyed to Hell Hole on the Rubicon,
but take more time for it than I could give; cross the range to the
Yosemite, and thus link the two sublimest parts of the Sierras in
your memory; follow the old trails that used to echo to the voices of
pioneers from Michigan Bluff, Last Chance, Hayden Hill, etc.; go out
with one of the Forest Rangers and get a glimpse into his wonderful
life of activity, independence and solitude. Thus you will come in
contact with larger conceptions, fuller ideas, deeper sympathies,
higher aspirations than is possible where you follow the ordinary
routine of the ordinary, mediocre, self-contented man. Thank God for
the spark of discontent, of ambition, of aspiration, of desire to
see beyond, to know more, to climb higher, to solve the mysteries, to
abolish the unknown.
Then, if you dare the perils and joys of winter, get Bob Watson,
or some other expert on snow-shoes to go with you over Tahoe's wild
wastes of snow. Emulate Snow-shoe Thompson, a short sketch of
whose life and adventures will be found in my book, _Heroes of
California_, and henceforth the days and nights of spring, summer,
fall and winter will never seem quite the same to you.
Merely as a sample, the balance of this chapter is devoted to the trip
made in the fall of 1913 with Watson from Tahoe Tavern.
* * * * *
TO HELLHOLE AND THE RUBICON RIVER
I certainly think I can conjecture with accuracy the way it received
its name. The trails in and out were first made and used by the wild
animals--bear, deer, antelope, mountain lions, etc., then by the first
Americans--the Indians, and at last, by the white man. Undoubtedly the
first whites to come over the trails were miners from the Georgetown
and Placerville districts, lured by the marvelous discoveries of the
Comstock lode in Virginia City. Then in 1862-3 came the Squaw Valley
stampede and this "strike" being so much nearer than the Comstock
naturally attracted much attention, especially as the California mines
of the Sierra Nevada were becoming less profitable. One of these old
miners, whose language was more luridly picturesque than refined, on
coming into the region or going out of it,--when he struck the rough,
rugged, uncertain, rocky, and exceedingly steep grade, must have
called it a "hell of a hole" to get into or out of, and in future
references the name stuck until, at last, it was passed down to future
ages on the maps of the U.S. Geological Survey as the true and correct
name.
[Illustration: Angora Lake, near Lake Tahoe, Calif.]
[Illustration: GLENBROOK ON THE NEVADA SIDE OF LAKE TAHOE]
[Illustration: THE STEAMER _TAHOE_, AT THE WHARF, JUST BEFORE
STARTING AROUND THE LAKE]
But if the reader thinks the name in the slightest degree
characteristic of the place itself he never made a greater blunder.
Instead, it is a paradise of delightful surprises. A large, fairly
level area--hundreds of acres at least--through which runs the clear
and pellucid waters of the Rubicon River on their way to join those of
the American, and dotted all over with giant cedars, pines, firs and
live oaks, with tiny secluded meadows, lush with richest grasses,
it is a place to lure the city-dweller for a long and profitable
vacation. Whether he hunts, fishes, botanizes, geologizes or merely
loafs and invites his soul, it is equally fascinating, and he is
a wise man who breaks loose from "Society"--spelled with either a
capital or small letter--the bank, the office, the counting-house,
the store, the warehouse, the mill, or the factory, and, with a genial
companion or two, buries himself away from the outer world in this
restful, peaceful, and God-blessed solitude.
When I first saw it I exclaimed: "Hell Hole? Then give me more of it,"
and instead of hastening on to other places of well-known charm,
I insisted upon one day at least of complete rest to allow its
perfection to "seep in" and become a part of my intimate inner life of
remembrance.
It was under Bob Watson's efficient guidance I left Tahoe Tavern, for
a five day trip. We took a pack-horse well laden with grub, utensils
for cooking and our sleeping bags. Riding down the Truckee, up Bear
Creek, past Deer Park Springs, I was struck more forcibly than ever
before by the marvelous glacial phenomena in the amphitheater at the
head of the canyon through a portion of which the trail passes, and
also with the volcanic masses that rest upon the granite, mainly on
the right hand side of the pass. Its first appearance shows a cap
of from two hundred to three hundred feet in thickness; later on two
other patches of it appear, the upper one presenting the granite and
superposed granite on the same level, clearly indicating a channel of
early erosion filled up by the later flow of volcanic matter.
Passing by Five Lakes and down Five Lake Creek to its junction with
the canyon down which we had come from the Little American Valley, we
were soon headed down the creek for the Rubicon. To the right towered
Mt. Mildred (8400 feet), on the other side of which is Shank's Cove.
Shank was a sheep-man who for years ran his sheep here during the
summer, taking them down to the Sacramento Valley in winter. After
passing several grassy meadows, cottonwood groves, and alder thickets
we reached Bear Pen Creek, a rocky, bone-dry crossing, nine miles from
the divide. To the left, Powder Horn Creek comes in, which heads on
the northwestern slope of the ridge, on which, on the southern side,
Barker Creek has its rise. It received this peculiar name from the
fact that General Phipps, from whom Phipps Peak is named, was once
chasing a bear, when suddenly the infuriated animal turned upon him,
made a savage strike at him with his paw and succeeded in knocking the
bottom out of his old-fashioned powder-horn.
Further down we came suddenly upon a hawk who had just captured a
grouse, and taken off his head. As the bird dropped his prey on our
approach we took it as a gift of the gods, and next morning, with two
or three quail, it made an excellent breakfast for us.
Nearing the descent into Hell Hole we gained striking glimpses of a
great glacially-formed valley in the mountains on the farther side,
while a ridge to our left revealed a cap of volcanic rock apparently
of columnar structure and extending from the eastern end half way the
length of the ridge.
Watson assured me that here he has found herds of sixteen and nineteen
deer, on separate occasions. They seem to follow, in the early spring,
the line of the melting snow. At this time they are tame and fearless,
and will stand and look at you with surprise and impatience. They
seldom run away. On one occasion he came upon a doe and two fawns
not far from the brink or ridge of Hell Hole. He was close upon
them before he was aware, but stopped suddenly. The doe saw him, but
instead of turning to flee she stood and impatiently stamped her
foot several times. Then as he seemed to pay no attention and to
be harmless, she and her young began to graze again, and shortly
disappeared.
Before long we arrived at what may be called the "jumping-off place."
In reality it is a steep descent into the depths of a wide canyon,
but earth has so lodged in the rocky slopes that they are covered with
dense growths of trees and chaparral, so that it is impossible to
see very far ahead. Down, down, down we went, winding and twisting,
curving around and dodging, but getting deeper with every zig-zag
until almost as suddenly as we began the steep descent we found
ourselves on a fairly level platform. Hell Hole was reached.
The day spent here was a delightful one. While Watson fished I wrote,
loafed, rambled about, studied the rock formations, and wished for a
week or more instead of a day.
Next morning we struck into the canyon of the Rubicon River, for Soda
Spring, half a mile away, where salt and soda exude in such
quantities as to whiten the rocks. Here the deer, bear, grouse, quail,
ground-hogs, and other creatures come for salt. Indeed, this is a
natural "salt lick," and there are eight or ten piles of rock, behind
which Indian and white hunters used to watch for the coming of the
game they desired to kill. Twenty years ago one could get game here
practically every day. The Washoes used to descend the western slope
as far as this; the men for deer, the women for acorns, though they
had to be on the alert as the Sierra Indians resented their intrusion.
Right and left as we rode on there were great "islands" of granite,
fifty to one hundred feet high, masses that either had been hurled
from the heights above in some cataclysm, or planed to their present
shape by long-forgotten glaciers. These granite masses alternate with
flower and shrub-bestrewed meadows that once were glacial lakes.
At times we found ourselves in a dense forest where the trees were
ancient monarchs, whose solitudes had never been disturbed by stroke
of ax, or grate of saw. Clumps of dogwood and chaparral of a dozen
kinds confuse the tyro, and he loses all sense of direction. Only the
instinct that makes a real mountain and forest guide could enable
one successfully to navigate these overgrown wilds, for we were now
wandering up a region where trails had been abandoned for years. Here
and there, when we came to the rocky slopes "ducks"[2] in confusing
variety were found but scarce a sign of a trail, and the "blazes"
on the trees were more confusing than if we had been left to our own
devices.
Yellow jackets' nests hung from many branches, and we were now and
then pestered by the flying creatures themselves. Then we had a good
laugh. Our pack-horse, Shoshone, got between two trees. His head could
pass but his pack couldn't, and there he stood struggling to pull
through. He couldn't do it, but stupidly he would not back up.
Talk about horse-sense! A burro would have backed up in a minute,
but most horses would struggle in such a place until they died.
[Footnote 2: _Ducks_ are small piles of stone so placed as to
denote the course of the trail.]
Near here there came into sight a granite ridge between the Rubicon
and Five Lake Creek. This grows higher until it becomes quite a
mountain, between Five Lake Creek and Barker Creek. On the right
McKinstry Peak (7918 feet) towered up, with its double top, leading
the eye along a ridge of red granite rock to Red Peak.
About three miles up the canyon we found a number of rocky basins in
the course of the Rubicon with water, eight, ten and more feet deep in
them, temptingly suggesting a plunge. I didn't need much tempting,
and as quickly as I could disrobe I had plunged in. What a cold,
invigorating shock it was. There's nothing like such a plunge for
thoroughly arousing one and sending the blood quickly coursing through
his veins.
Nearby were great beds of brake-ferns, four and five feet high, groves
of immense alders, sugar pines, some of which were fully eight feet
through and the trunks of which were honeycombed with woodpecker
holes. I saw and heard several woodpeckers at work. They had red
top-knots, and the noise they made echoed through the woods more as if
a sledge hammer had struck the tree than the bill of a bird. How they
climb up the trunk of the trees, holding on in a mysterious fashion
and moving head up or down, as they desire, with jerky little pulls,
bobbing their heads as if emphasizing some remarks they were making to
themselves.
And what ideal spots for camping-out we passed, shady trees, nearby
meadows, to give abundant feed for the horses, the pure waters of the
Rubicon close by, with scenery, trees, flowers, animals, birds--all
the glory of nature--surrounding one with objects of delight, interest
and study.
One large area was strewn with hundreds of thousands of the big
long cones of the sugar pine. When one wishes to pack and ship home
specimens of these and other cones, it is well to soak them in water.
They then close up and carry safely, opening up as before, as they dry
out.
Then we passed some giant "wind falls," mainly spruces. The roots of
these monarchs of the forest had twined themselves around rocks of
every size and shape, some of them massive bowlders, but when the
storm came, the purchase, or leverage of the tall trees was so great
that these heavy rock-masses were pulled out of place and lifted up as
the trees crashed over to their fall.
Now we came to a stretch of perfect virgin forest. No ax, no saw, no
log chutes, no wagons, no dragging of logs, no sign of the hand of
man. Nature was the only woodsman, with her storms and winds, her
snows and rains, to soften the soil and uproot her growing sons and
daughters. There was confusion in places, even rude chaos, but in
and through and above it all a cleanness, a sweetness, a purity, a
grandeur, harmony, glory, beauty and majesty--all of which disappear
when destroying man comes upon the scene.
About five miles up, we left the Rubicon and struck up toward Barker
Creek. Here was another of the great, tempting granite basins, full of
clear cool water. We also passed patches of belated scarlet larkspur,
shooting stars, and glaring golden-rod.
Half a mile up we reached Barker Creek, now a bowlder-strewn arroyo
which aroused my covetousness to high degree. How I would love to
build, with my own hands, a cottage, bungalow or house of some kind
with these great bowlders, of varied sizes and colors, shapes and
material.
Just above the junction of Barker Creek and the Rubicon is "Little
Hell Hole," a camping-place almost as famous as its larger namesake,
and noted for the fact that half a mile away is a small canyon full of
mineral springs--sulphur, iron, soda, magnesia, etc. Naturally it is a
"deer-lick," which makes it a Mecca during the open season to hunters.
The springs bubble up out of the bed of the stream, the water of which
is stained with the coloring matter. When the stream runs low so that
one can get to the springs he finds some of them as pleasant to the
taste as those of Rubicon and Glen Alpine.
As we got higher we left the spruces behind, and the junipers, covered
with berries, began to appear. Then we came to open spaces where the
wind began to sing in the tops of the pines.
About a mile up Barker Creek, Watson showed me the course of one of
his trails back to the Tavern. It ascends a formidable ridge and leads
quickly to Idlewyld, but we were bound for Rubicon Springs. The old
trail was inaccessible, but Mr. Colwell of the Springs had lately
marked out a new trail, so we took our chances on finding our way
somehow. Over windfalls, up and down and around rocky promontories,
we came to West Meadow Creek Wash, its rude bowlder-strewn course
striking directly across our path. Here we struck beds of brakes
nestling in the shade of giant trees. On the left side of the creek
where we were, we ran into dense clumps of wild-cherry which prevented
further progress. Scouting found us an outlet on the other side of
Barker Creek. The divide on the left towered up with rugged majesty,
reddish in color, and split into gigantic irregular terraces, the
taluses of which were all crowded with dense chaparral growths.
On this side the slopes were all more open, nothing but rugged
bowlders clinging on the bare surfaces.
How enjoyable was this forcing our way along through these solitary
wilderness places, so that I was really sorry when we finally dropped
over a forested slope into the Rubicon Springs and McKinney's Road. A
mile away we found the hotel, with Mr. and Mrs. Colwell. The buildings
are old but all nature is gloriously grand and beautiful.
Though cordially invited to stay overnight, we pushed on over the
Rubicon River, up the hill on part of the Georgetown road for a
mile and a half,--from which we had a fine view of Buck Island
Lake,--struck the trail for another mile and in the early afternoon
made camp at Rock Bound Lake. Here we rowed and swam, studied the
country from the nearby hills, and then slept the sleep of the
healthfully weary under the blue vault of heaven.
Though Rubicon Springs was not far away there was such an air of
quietude in this spot that we felt as if we were in one of Nature's
choicest retreats.
Returning to Rubicon we followed the road back to where we had struck
it the day before. The old trail from McKinney's used to come over the
divide from the east and strike the Rubicon near where we then stood,
pass by the Springs and then follow the river, but to avoid the steep
grades the road had to be constructed around by Buck Island Lake.
Those who ride into Rubicon Springs from McKinney's, just as they make
the last descent, have a wonderful view of Georgetown Mountain before
them. Its sloping side is glacially planed off at a steep angle, and
it reveals the vast extent the great ice field must have covered in
the days of glacial activity. Many bowlders near the Springs are very
strongly marked by glacial action.
About a mile from the Springs we came to a tree on which a "cut-off"
sign was placed. When the road was being constructed the builders
started a new grade at this point and after going for a mile or so
found it was so steep that it had to be abandoned and a lesser grade
found by going around.
From the summit we could clearly follow the course of the Little
Rubicon, and also secured an excellent view of the sharp point of
Rubicon Peak (9193 feet).
A stiff and cool breeze was blowing from the west so we were not sorry
to find shelter from the wind as we entered a wooded park, where the
song of the pines cheered us on our way. Soon we struck the road and
followed it until we came to the headwaters of Miller's Creek on the
right. Miller used to run sheep up in the meadows, which afford a
smooth grade for the road for some distance. There are many alders
here, which bear mute though powerful testimony, in the shape of their
gnarled and bent over ground-groveling trunks, of the heavy winters'
snows.
These meadows clearly were once glacial lakes, now filled up, and
Miller's Creek was the instrument of their destruction. Crossing the
last of the meadows we came to Burton's Pass, so called from H.D.
Burton, another Placerville pioneer who used to cut hay here, pack it
on mules to McKinney's, and then ship it across to Lakeside, where he
sold it for $80 to $100 a ton. We then passed McKinney's old cabin,
the place he built and occupied in 1863, before he went to live at the
Lake. Only a few fragments now remain, time and storms having nearly
completed the work of destruction.
Nearby was a beautiful lily pond, soon to be a meadow, and just beyond
this we stood on the actual divide between the Great Basin and the
Pacific. We were at the head of Phipps Creek, named on the map General
Creek, from General Phipps. At the mouth of the creek this pioneer
located on 160 acres, which, when he died about 1883, was sold to M.H.
de Young, of the _San Francisco Chronicle_. After holding it for
many years he sold it in turn to I. Hellman, the banker, who now uses
it as his summer estate, having built a fine residence upon it.
Near here we lunched at a sheep-herder's camp and heard an interesting
story of the relocation of an old mine that had helped create the
Squaw Valley excitement forty years before. Owing to new and improved
methods of extracting the precious metal it is now deemed that this
may soon develop into a paying property.
Returning to the road we passed Jock Ellis's cabin, in a similar state
of ruin to that of McKinney. Ellis Peak (8945 feet) is named after
him. He was a Squaw Valley stampeder. Nearby we saw the largest
tamarack I have yet found in the Sierras. It was fully five feet
through and fluted in an interesting and peculiar fashion.
From here we made a mile detour to visit Hank Richards Lake, a
beautiful crystal jewel in an incomparable wooded setting. Then
back to Phipps Creek, over a perfect jumble of granite bowlders and
tree-clad slopes until we finally struck the trail and followed it to
the Lake, and thence home to the Tavern.
The reader should observe that in this, as in the chapter on "Trail
Trips," only a sample is given of a score or more of similar trips.
His host at any of the hotels can suggest others equally interesting.
CHAPTER XVII
HISTORIC TAHOE TOWNS
There have been only three towns on the immediate banks of Lake Tahoe,
viz., Tahoe City, Glenbrook and Incline, though Knoxville was located
on the Truckee River only six miles away.
_Tahoe City_. Tahoe City was founded in 1864 at the collapse
of the Squaw Valley mining excitement, the story of which is fully
related in another chapter. Practically all its first inhabitants
were from the deserted town of Knoxville. They saw that the lumbering
industry was active and its permanence fully assured so long as
Virginia City, Gold Hill and other Nevada mining-camps remained
profitable. The forests around the Lake seemed inexhaustible, and
there was no need for them to go back to an uncertainty in the placer
mines of El Dorado County, when they were pretty sure to be able
to make a good living here. They, also, probably exercised a little
imagination and saw the possibilities of Lake Tahoe as a health and
pleasure resort. Its great beauty must have impressed them somewhat,
and the exploitation of these features may have occurred to them.
Anyhow, in 1864, the Bailey Hotel was erected, and, later, a man
named Hill erected the Grand Central. The Squaw Valley excitement had
attracted a number from the Nevada camps, and when these men returned
they took with them glowing accounts of the beauty of Lake Tahoe, and
of the fishing and hunting to be enjoyed there. Thus the Lake received
some of its earliest resort patronage. During lumbering days it was an
active, bustling place, being the nearest town to which the loggers,
drivers, tree-fellers, millmen and others could flee for their weekly
recreation and periodic carouses. Yet it must not be thought that the
town was wholly given over to roughness. Helen Hunt Jackson, a widely
traveled and observant woman of finest susceptibilities, says of the
Lake Tahoe House, which she visited in stage-coach days, that it was
"one of the very best in all California." It was the stopping-place of
the _élite_ who came to see and enjoy Tahoe, and until later
and more fashionable hotels were built around the Lake enjoyed great
popularity.
As soon as the logging industry declined Tahoe City began to go down,
and only the fishing and tourist interests kept it alive.
When the railway was moved over from Glenbrook and the shops and yard
of the Transportation Company were established here it regained some
of its former activity and life, and is now the chief business center
on the Lake. It is the headquarters of the campers who come for
pleasure each year, and its store does a very large and thriving
business. New cottages are being erected and it is destined ere long
to be a stirring pleasure resort town, for, as the delights of Tahoe
become more widely known, every available piece of land will increase
in value and where there is now one summer home there will be a
hundred.
_Glenbrook_. On the Nevada side of the Lake, Glenbrook used to be
one of the most active, busy, bustling towns in the west. It scarcely
seems credible to one who visits the quiet, placid resort of to-day
that when I first saw it, some thirty years ago, it had three or
four large sawmills in constant operation, day and night. It was then
regarded, and so designated in the _History of Nevada_, published
in 1881, as "the great lumber manufacturing town of the state."
The town was begun in 1860, the land being squatted upon by G.W.
Warren, N.E. Murdock, and R. Walton. In 1861 Captain A.W. Pray erected
a saw-mill, run by water-power, but as water sometimes failed, when
the demand for lumber increased, he changed to steam-power. He also
secured a thousand acres, much of it the finest timber land, from the
government, using in its purchase Sioux Scrip.
Up to 1862 the only way to travel from California to Carson and
Virginia City, south of Lake Tahoe, was by the Placerville road which
came by Bijou and Lakeside and then over the Kingsbury Grade, via
Friday's Station, afterward called Small's, by which latter name it
is still known on the maps of the U.S. Geological Survey. In 1862,
however, a new road was projected, branching off to the northwest
(the left) from Small's, and following the eastern shore of the Lake,
passed Zephyr Cove and Cave Rock to Glenbrook, thence by Spooner's
and down King's Canyon to Carson. This was called the Lake Bigler Toll
Road (notice the fact that "Tahoe" was then officially designated in
Nevada as "Bigler"), and was completed in 1863.
This demanded the opening of a better class of hotel for travelers
and others in Glenbrook, and in the same year the road was finished
Messrs. Winters and Colbath erected the "Glenbrook Hotel," which
finally came into the hands of Messrs. Yerington and Bliss, who,
later, were the builders of the railway, the owners of most of the
surrounding timberlands, and who had practical control of the major
portion of the lumber interests. But prior to this a lumber-mill was
built by J.H.F. Goff and George Morrill in the northern part of the
town. This did a good business, for even in those early days common
lumber was worth $25.00 per thousand feet, and clear lumber, $45.00.
The mill was soon destroyed by fire, but the site was bought by A.H.
Davis and Son, who erected a new mill, which they operated for a
while and then sold to Wells, Fargo & Co. It was not until 1873 that
Yerington & Bliss came to Glenbrook. They revolutionized the lumber
industry. While Captain Pray had long used a steam tug to raft logs
across Lake Tahoe, the lumber itself was hauled down to Carson and
Virginia City. Now, owning large areas of timberland, operating two
and then three saw-mills in Glenbrook, and several others in the
nearby mountains, Messrs. Yerington & Bliss sought easier means of
transportation for their merchandisable product. They constructed
dams and reservoirs, with V flumes in a number of places, making
them converge as near as possible at the Summit, some six miles from
Glenbrook. To this point they built a narrow gauge railway for the
purpose of transporting the millions of feet of lumber sawn at their
mills.
From Summit a large V flume was constructed down Clear Creek Canyon
into Carson City, and into this flume a constant stream of water was
poured from the reservoirs which carried upon its bosom another stream
of boards, timber, studding, joists and sheathing, the two streams
emptying simultaneously just outside of Carson City at a point on the
Virginia & Truckee railway, where the lumber was loaded and thence
shipped to its place of consumption.
That tremendous amounts of lumber were being manufactured is shown
by the fact that the official records of Douglas County, Nevada, for
1875, give 21,700,000 feet as the product for that year.
One department of the lumber business should not be overlooked in this
connection. As the timber disappeared from the mountain slopes nearest
Glenbrook, the operators were compelled to go further afield for their
logs. These were cut on the mountain slopes north, south, east and
west, and sent down the "chutes" into the Lake. Where the ground was
level great wagons, drawn by ten, sixteen, twenty oxen, hauled the
logs to the shore, where they were dumped into the water. Here they
were confined in "booms," consisting of a number of long, thin poles
fastened together at the ends with chains, which completely encircled
a "raft" of logs arranged in the form of a V. The raft was then
attached, by strong cables, to a steamer and towed to Glenbrook, where
the mills were so located that the logs were drawn up from the Lake
directly upon the saw-carriages. The size of some of the rafts may be
imagined when it is known that they yielded from 250,000 to 300,000
feet of lumber.
The principal vessel for this purpose at the time I first visited Lake
Tahoe in 1881 was an iron tug, called the _Meteor_. It was built
in 1876 at Wilmington, Delaware, by Harlan, Hollingsworth & Co., then
taken apart, shipped by rail to Carson City and hauled by teams to
Lake Tahoe. It was a propeller, eighty feet long and ten feet beam,
and cost $18,000.
The first store erected in Glenbrook was placed on piles over the
water. This was built in 1874, by J.A. Rigby and A. Childers. One
morning the latter partner disappeared, and it was surmised that he
had fallen into the water and was drowned. New partners were taken
into the firm, but in January, 1877, the store was burned, and it was
not re-erected on its original site.
When the lumber interests and the railway were removed Glenbrook
declined, until it was the most deserted looking place possible. Then
the sons of Mr. Bliss, one of whom was born there, cleared away all
the evidences of its former lumbering activities, built a handsome and
commodious modern hotel on the most scenic point, and re-established
the place as a choice resort on the Nevada shore, as described
elsewhere.
_Incline_. It will be a source of interest, even to many who know
Lake Tahoe well, that there used to be a town named Incline on its
shores. In the curve of Crystal Bay, a few miles from where the scars
show where the water escaped from Marlette Lake flume, this town
was located in 1882. It was the source of supplies for the lumbering
interests of the Sierra Nevada Wood and Lumber Company, and received
its name from a sixteen-hundred feet incline up which lumber was
hauled. The incline was operated by an endless cable, somewhat after
the style of Mount Lowe, in Southern California, the car on one side
going up, and on the other coming down one trip, and _vice versa_
the next. The lumber thus raised was thrown into the flume, carried
therein around to Lake View, on the line of the Virginia and Truckee
railway, there loaded on cars and shipped to Carson and Virginia,
largely for use in the mines.
When the logging interests were active the place had quite a
population, had its own post-office and was an election precinct. When
the logging interests waned the town declined, and in 1898 the post
office was discontinued. Now nothing remains but the old incline,
grown up with weeds and chaparral. New towns are springing up at Al
Tahoe, Lakeside and Carnelian Bay which will soon demand a revision of
this chapter.
[Illustration: Lake Tahoe from Tahoe Tavern]
[Illustration: Steamer Tahoe Rounding Rubicon Point, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: McKinney's and Moana Villa, With Rubicon Peaks
in the Distance, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Steamer Landing, McKinney's, Lake Tahoe]
CHAPTER XVIII
BY STEAMER AROUND LAKE TAHOE
The ride around Lake Tahoe is one of varied delights, as the visitor
sees not only the Lake itself from every possible angle, but gains an
ever shifting panorama of country, and, more remarkable than all, he
rides directly over that wonderful kaleidoscope of changing color that
is a never-ceasing surprise and enchantment.
Tahoe Tavern is the starting point of the ride, the train conveying
the passenger directly to the wharf from which he takes the steamer.
Capt. Pomin is in control.
Not far from where this, the most beautiful and charming hotel of the
Lake is erected, there used to be a logging camp, noted as the place
from which the first ties were cut for that portion of the Central
Pacific Railroad lying east of the summit of the Sierras. A number of
beautiful private residences line the Lake for some distance, the area
having been portioned out in acre and half-acre lots. Chief of these
are the summer home of Professor W.T. Reid, for a time President of
the State University of California, and Idlewyld, the residence of Mr.
and Mrs. Frederick Kohl, of San Francisco.
One of the oldest villas of this portion of the Lake used to be owned
by Thomas McConnell, of Galt, and it was his daughter, Mary, who first
made the ascent of one of the peaks now known as Maggie's Peaks, as a
marble tablet placed there testifies.
In the mountains beyond are Ward's Peak (8665 feet) to the right, and
Twin Peak (8924) to the left, from the first of which heads Ward's
Creek, and the second Blackwood Creek, both entering the Lake two
miles or so apart. Just beyond Twin Peak are Barker's Peak (8000
feet), and nearer to the Lake, Ellis Peak (8745 feet), the waters from
the former making the South Fork of Blackwood Creek. Ellis Peak, being
easily reached by a good trail, is the common point of ascent from
Homewood, McKinney's, Tahoe Tavern and other resorts.
Six miles out from the Tavern, the first stop is made at Homewood, one
of the newer resorts.
Three and one-half to four miles further along is McKinney's, one of
the oldest, best known and well established resorts on Lake Tahoe. It
was founded by J.W. McKinney, who was first attracted to this region
by the Squaw Valley excitement. (See special chapter.) For a time in
1862-3 he sold lots on the townsite of Knoxville, then when the
bottom dropped out of the "boom" he returned to Georgetown, engaged in
mining, but returned to Tahoe in or about 1867, located on 160 acres
on the present site and in 1891-2, after having erected two or three
cottages, embarked fairly and fully in the resort business. For
several years his chief patronage came from the mining-camps, etc.,
of Nevada, Gold Hill, Virginia City, Dayton, Carson City, Genoa, etc.
They came by stage to Glenbrook and thence across the Lake, on the
small steamer that already was doing tourist business in summer and
hauling logs to the lumber mills in winter and spring. Thus this
resort gained its early renown.
The bottom of the Lake may be seen at a considerable depth near
McKinney's, and looks like a piece of mosaic work. The low conical
peak, back of McKinney's is about 1400 feet above the Lake and used to
be called by McKinney, Napoleon's Hat.
The next stop of the steamer is quite close to McKinney's, viz.,
Moana Villa, and a mile or so further on at Pomin's, the former an old
established resort, and the latter an entirely new one. After passing
Sugar Pine Point, Meek's Bay and Grecian Bay are entered. These two
shallow indentations along the shore line are places where the color
effects are more beautiful than anywhere else in the Lake, and vie
with the attractions of the shore in arresting the keen attention of
the traveler. Meek's Bay is three miles long, and, immediately ahead,
tower the five peaks of the Rubicon Range, some 3000 feet above
the Lake. Beyond, a thousand feet higher, is snow-crowned
Tallac,--_the_ mountain--as the Washoe Indians called it, the
dominating peak of the southwest end of the Lake.
Rubicon Point is the extension of the Rubicon Range and it falls
off abruptly into the deepest portion of the Lake. The result is a
marvelous shading off of the water from a rich sapphire to a deep
purple, while the shore on either side varies from a bright sparkling
blue to a blue so deep and rich as almost to be sombre. Well, indeed,
might Lake Tahoe be named "the Lake of ineffable blue." Here are
shades and gradations that to reproduce in textile fabrics would have
pricked a king's ambition, and made the dyers of the Tyrian purple of
old turn green with envy. Solomon in his wonderful temple never saw
such blue as God here has spread out as His free gift to all the eyes,
past, present and to come, and he who has not yet seen Tahoe has yet
much to learn of color glories, mysteries, melodies, symphonies and
harmonies.
Soon, Emerald Bay is entered. This is regarded by many as the rich
jewel of Lake Tahoe. The main body of the Bay is of the deep blue
our eyes have already become accustomed to, but the shore-line is
a wonderful combination of jade and emerald, that dances and
scintillates as the breeze plays with the surface of the waters. A
landing is made at Emerald Bay Camp, one of the most popular resorts
of the Lake, and while at the landing the curious traveler should take
a good look at the steep bank of the opposite shore. This is a lateral
moraine of two glaciers, one of which formed Emerald Bay, as is
explained in Chapter VIII, and the other formed Cascade Lake, which
nestles on the other side of the ridge.
At the head of Emerald Bay, also, is Eagle Falls, caused by the
outflow of water from Eagle Lake, which is snugly ensconced at the
base of the rugged granite cliffs some three miles inland.
Four miles beyond Emerald Bay is Tallac, one of the historic resorts
on the Lake.
Tallac was originally Yanks. Yank was really Ephraim Clement,
originally a Yankee from Maine, a stout, hearty, bluff man, who
homesteaded his land, added to it until he owned about a thousand
acres, and finally sold out to E.J. (Lucky) Baldwin. Baldwin had come
over from Virginia City and seeing the great havoc made in the fine
timber, of which he was very fond, exclaimed with an oath: "Someone
will be cutting this (the timber of Yanks) next," and then and there
he began to bargain for the place. In 1878 he bought, changed the
name, and thenceforward Tallac became known. Little by little, as
Yank had done, so Baldwin bought from sheep-men, squatters, and others
until he had quite a holding.
The hotel was built and in 1879 Sharp Brothers ran it. In 1880 Capt.
Gordon was manager for a year, and in 1881 Baldwin gave a lease to
Messrs. Lawrence & Comstock who held it until 1914.
Baldwin was a great lover of trees, and when the present hotel and
cottages were built, not a single tree was cut without his express
permission. Yet he had no foolish sentiment about the matter as is
proven by the fact that all the buildings were constructed from
local lumber produced in his own sawmill, except the redwood used for
finishing. The hotel as it now stands was completed in 1900.
Gulls, pelicans and mud-hens can generally be seen in large numbers
around the piers at Tallac, and the fleet of fishing boats, each with
its one or more eager anglers, is one of the sights.
The steamer stops here long enough to allow a few minutes ashore, and
the visitors ramble over to the hotel, chat or chatter with the Washoe
Indian squaws who have their baskets for sale, or enjoy the grassy and
shaded grounds.
From the wharf at Tallac visitors for Glen Alpine, Fallen Leaf Lodge,
and Cathedral Park take their respective stages. These three resorts
are within a few miles and afford additional opportunities for lovers
of the region to add to their knowledge of its scenic, botanic,
arboreal and geologic features. Indeed such glacial experts as Joseph
LeConte, John Muir, and David Starr Jordan have united in declaring
that the region around Glen Alpine gives a better opportunity for the
study of comparatively recent glacial phenomena than any other known
area.
Adjoining Tallac on the east is the private residence of W.S. Tevis,
of San Francisco. His beautiful yacht, the _Consuelo_, may
generally be seen anchored here, when not in actual service.
Half a mile from Tallac is The Grove, close to the Upper Truckee
River, the main feeder of Lake Tahoe, and four miles further
is Al-Tahoe, a new and well-equipped hotel, standing on a bluff
commanding an expansive view of the Lake. It practically occupies the
site of an old resort well-known as "Rowland's." It is near to Freel's
Peak (10,900 feet), which in olden days was known as Sand Mountain, on
account of its summit being composed of sand.
A mile and a half further along is Bijou, a pleasant and comfortable
stopping place, while three miles further a picturesque rustic
pavilion on the end of the pier denotes Lakeside Park, a well-known
and long-famous resort. Forty-five years ago, or more, Capt. W.W.
Latham built the famous State Line House at this point, and twenty
years ago it came into the hands of its present owners.
This is the most easterly of all the resorts and settlements at the
south end of Lake Tahoe. It is in California, in El Dorado County,
though its post-office is Stateline, the dividing line between
California and Nevada. The Park is over 2000 acres in extent and has
already become the nucleus for a choice summer residence section.
Leaving Lakeside Park the steamer now turns northward and follows the
eastern or Nevada shore, until Cave Rock is passed and Glenbrook is
reached. This is the only resort on that side of Lake Tahoe. Once the
scene of an active, busy, lumber town, where great mills daily turned
out hundreds of thousands of feet of timber for the mines of Virginia
City and the building up of the great historic mining-camps of Nevada,
the magic of change and of modern improvements has swept away
every sign of these earlier activities and left Glenbrook a quiet,
delightful, restful resort, nestling in its own wide and expansive
meadows at the foot of towering mountains that give a rich and
contrasting background for the perennial beauty of the Lake.
Practically all that remains to remind one of the old days are the
remnants of the logging piers and cribs, the school-house, the quiet
"City of Those who are Gone," and further up the hills, the old
railroad grade on which the logs were carried to the mill and the
lumber taken through the tunnel, which still remains, to the flume by
which it was further conveyed to the railroad at Carson City.
Immediately to the right of Glenbrook, as the steamer heads for the
wharf, can be seen the celebrated Shakspeare Rock. John Vance Cheney,
the poet, thus describes it:
No sooner had the steamer been made fast than a ledge of rocks
was pointed out to us, rising precipitously some distance from
the pier. "Can't you see it?" again and again asked our guide,
renewing his endeavor to dispel our distressing stupidity.
At length "it" appeared to us, and we stood mute with
astonishment. There, on the front of a bold cliff, graven with
all the care of the best copies with which we are familiar,
looked down upon us the face of Shakspeare! As if in
remembrance of her favorite son, here in this far wild region,
nature had caused his features, cut in everlasting rock, to be
hung on high, a fitting symbol of his intellectual
sovereignty over the world. The likeness needs no aid from the
imagination: it is life-like, recognized instantly by the most
careless observer, and, let it be added, never forgotten. The
beard is a trifle longer than we are accustomed to see it, but
this deviation does not detract from the majesty of expression
becoming the illustrious original. The spacious forehead, the
nose, even the eyes, all are admirably represented. A more
astounding surprise it has not been the writer's fortune to
experience. The portrait looks as if it were made by moss
growing upon the smooth flat surface of a huge rock; but we
were informed that the face is all of stone, and has undergone
no perceptible change since its discovery about five years
since. [This was written in 1882.] A lady tourist from
Massachusetts has, it is believed, the honor of first pointing
it out. Nature cannot forget her Shakspeare. So we all mused,
and, musing, would have forgotten our dinners, had we not
been summoned inside the hotel. The repast was not peculiarly
relishable; consequently, we had all the more opportunity
to feed spiritually upon the masterpiece on the cliff,--the
rock-portrait of Avon's, of England's, of the World's immortal
bard.
As the steamer leaves Glenbrook one may gain clear and distinct views
of the four prominent peaks of the Nevada side. Above Lakeside, at the
southeast end, is Monument Peak, then, about midway between Lakeside
and Glenbrook is a sharp-pointed bare mass of rock known as Genoa
Peak. Immediately behind Glenbrook is Dubliss Mountain (8729 feet),
so named after Duane Bliss, father and son, both of whom have done
so much to make Tahoe known to the world. Marlette Peak is to the
northeast, 8864 feet, with Snow Valley Peak, 9214 feet, a little to
the South. These both overshadow Marlette Lake, a full description of
which is given elsewhere. All these peaks afford excellent views of
Lake Tahoe on the one side and of the valleys and mountains of western
Nevada on the other.
The steamer now continues along the Nevada shore, past the scars
caused by the breaking of the Marlette Lake flume, by Crystal Bay
and the site of the old town of Incline, around State Line Point to
Brockway.
This resort has been long and favorably known for its famous hot
mineral springs. The hot water is piped to all rooms and private baths
of the hotels and cottages, and is a great source of pleasure as well
as health-giving comfort to the guests.
We are now on the home-stretch, and soon after leaving Brockway (1-½
miles away) and forty-five minutes (eight miles) from Tahoe Tavern, we
reach Tahoe Vista. Here one is afforded a perfect view of the Lake and
its snowcapped ranges east and south.
Crossing Agate and Carnelian Bays the steamer's last stop is at
Carnelian Bay. Here there is great building activity going on and many
neat and commodious cottages and bungalows are being erected.
[Illustration: Snowballing in June, July and August, near the Summit
of "The Crags," Deer Park Springs, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Fishing in Grass Lake, Near Glen Alpine Springs]
[Illustration: Rubicon Point, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Brockway's Hot Springs Hotel, Lake Tahoe]
Observatory Point is the last object passed before the Tavern is again
reached. This name was given because of the fact that it was once
the chosen site, by James Lick, for the observatory he contemplated
building. This plan, however, was never carried out, as it was shown
to the philanthropist that the cold weather of winter would work
exceeding hardship upon the astronomers without any compensating
advantages. The result was the Observatory was finally established on
Mt. Hamilton, and it is now a part of the great California University
system.
Thus the complete circuit of Lake Tahoe is made daily in summer by the
steamer, and no matter how often the trip is taken it never palls
upon the intelligent and careful observer. New glories and wonders are
constantly springing forth as pleasant surprises and one soon learns
to realize that here Nature indeed has been most prodigal in her
scenic gifts to mankind.
CHAPTER XIX
DEER PARK SPRINGS
While in one sense _all_ the resorts of the Tahoe region are
_mountain_ resorts, a difference should be noted between those
that are located directly on the shores of Lake Tahoe, or some lesser
lake, and those that are away from immediate proximity to a lake.
The latter type is more correctly designated mountain resorts, and of
these are three in the Tahoe region, viz., Deer Park Springs,
Rubicon Springs and Glen Alpine. All these resorts were discovered
by following the trails of animals which were visiting them for "salt
licks" that existed in connection with their mineral waters as related
in the chapter on Glen Alpine.
Deer Park is a private estate of approximately 469 acres, in two
sections, one the Mineral Springs Section, consisting of nearly
309 acres, and on which the celebrated springs--two of soda, one of
sulphur, and one of iron--are located, and the other, the Five Lakes
Section, of 160 acres. The former begins a mile from the Truckee
River, up Bear Creek Canyon. This was originally taken up from the
Government as timber claims, but the timber has never been cut, and
the great pines, firs and junipers remain as the original settlers
found them. The Five Lakes section is a fascinating and attractive
location two miles away, over the first divide of the mountains, and
therefore 1000 feet higher than the Inn, where five glacial lakes
nestle in their granite basin. Four of these, and a large part of the
fifth, are included in the estate, while all surrounding is government
land of the Tahoe National Forest. If a dam were built to restrain the
flow of water into Five Lake Creek, it would need only to be ten feet
high to convert the five lakes into one, so near are they to the same
level.
As it is the flow from these lakes forms Five Lakes Creek, which
empties into the Rubicon and thence into the South Fork of the
American.
Five Lakes afford excellent fishing and a log-cabin, three boats and
fishing tackle are kept here throughout the season for the pleasure of
guests. Those who disdain the ordinary accommodations of a hotel can
here camp out, rough it, and make it their headquarters while climbing
the adjoining peaks or exploring the ravines and canyons at the head
of the American River.
In 1914 a student from Stanford University was _host_ at the Five
Lakes log-cabin. He cooked for those who desired it, helped gather fir
boughs for camp beds, prepared fishing-tackle for women anglers, rowed
them to and fro over the lakes, and accompanied parties to the nearby
summits. There are full accommodations at the cabin for seven persons,
and the rule of the camp is that guests stay only one night, moving on
to make room for the next comer, unless arrangements for a longer stay
are made beforehand. Thus all the guests at Deer Park Inn may enjoy
this novel experience if they so desire.
In the region of Five Lakes, Basque and other foreign shepherds may
be found tending their flocks, and prospectors, with queer little
pack-burros, who climb the mountains seeking the elusive gold, as they
did in the days of '49.
It was from Deer Park that the trail into the famous Hell Hole was
recut by Miss Katherine Chandler, owner of the Inn and estate, in
1908, after having been lost for many years. Arrangements for this
trip, and other famous hunting and fishing trips may be made at the
Inn and many people who have gone over the mountains to the Yosemite
have outfitted and secured their guide here.
One of the finest trail trips of the Tahoe region is that afforded
over the trail, back of Deer Park Inn, to the rugged pile known as The
Crags, over Inspirational Ridge to Ward's Peak. In the early part
of the season great snow banks are encountered, and when the flowers
begin to bloom there are great fields covered with Sierran primroses,
with many patches of white heather and beautiful cyclamens. This is
but one of many fine trail trips that may be made.
_Deer Park Inn_ is one of the oldest and best established resorts
of the Tahoe region. The house that I occupied on my short visit was
a solid log cabin, full of romantic interest, for it was quaint,
old-fashioned and appropriate to the surroundings. The key-note of the
place is comfort. Under its present management a large number of wild
New England flowers have been planted to add their beauty to that of
the native California flower, and each year, about the third week in
July, the guests wander over the sun-kissed slopes, climb the snowy
heights and ramble through the shady woods gathering Sierran flowers
of every hue, form and variety for an annual flower show. This is one
of the distinctive features of the life at Deer Park Inn.
It is an interesting fact here to notice that, when Miss Parsons,
chief author of _Flowers of California_, was preparing that
volume, she found such a wealth of mountain flora in the Deer Park
region that she spent about as many weeks as she had planned for days.
Other botanists have found it equally productive.
To those who come early in the season tobogganing and snow shoeing are
not unusual experiences. The shady sides of the mountains offer these
winter sports as late as June and early July, and many Californians
who have never enjoyed the frolic of snow-balling come here to gain
their first experience in this common eastern enjoyment.
Elsewhere I have referred to the many evidences of glacial action
found about a mile above Deer Park Inn. Still further up the canyon,
on the trail going to Five Lakes, are interesting deposits of volcanic
rock--andeside--so that these two geological phenomena may be studied
close at hand.
Having its own rich meadows on Bear Creek, the Deer Park Spring tables
are always supplied with good milk and cream from its own dairies,
while fresh fruit and vegetables are supplied daily. Fish and game in
season are frequent, and the table being under the direct and personal
supervision of the management has gained an enviable reputation.
Living water flows in marvelous abundance through Deer Park all
throughout the year. Springs and melting snow send four different
streams, tributary to Bear Creek, coursing across the property.
The domestic water supply of the Inn is gained from springs on the
mountain side, 800 feet above the Inn, and it is piped all over the
place and to every cottage.
There has been some talk, recently, of converting Deer Park into a
private park. There is no better location for such a purpose in the
whole Tahoe region. Situated as it is in the heart of a canyon it
is readily isolated and thus kept entirely secluded and free from
intrusion. While such a procedure would be a great advantage to
any individual or club who might purchase the estate, it would be a
decided loss to the general public who for so many years have enjoyed
the charms and delights of this earliest of Sierran mountain resorts.
CHAPTER XX
RUBICON SPRINGS
One of the oldest and most famous resorts of the High Sierras is
Rubicon Springs. It is nine miles from Lake Tahoe, at McKinney's,
over a mountain road built many years ago, engineered so as to afford
marvelously entrancing glimpses of the Lake and of the mountain
scenery on either hand. Here are primeval forest, flower-strewn
meadows of emerald, crystal streams and placid-faced glacial lakes
in which snow-clad mountain summits are mirrored in quiet glory. The
Rubicon River is one of the feeders of the American River, and the
springs are located not far from its head waters.
The Rubicon Springs were originally discovered and located upon by the
Hunsaker brothers, two genuine explorers and adventurers whose names
deserve to be preserved in connection with the Tahoe region. They
were originally from the Hoosier state, coming to California in 1849,
across the plains, by Fort Hall, the sink of the Humboldt, Ragtown,
and by Carson Canyon to old Hangtown (now Placerville). They mined
for several years. Then came the Comstock excitement. They joined the
exodus of miners for the Nevada mountains and were among the earliest
to help to construct the Georgetown trail. Thus it was they discovered
Rubicon. In 1869 they located upon 160 acres, built a log-house and
established a stopping station which they called Hunsaker Springs. In
the winter they rested or returned to Georgetown, making occasional
trapping trips, hunting bear and deer, and the meat of which they
sold. In those days deer used to winter in large numbers almost as far
down as Georgetown (some fifteen miles or so), so that hunting them
for market was a profitable undertaking in the hands of experts.
They and John McKinney, the founder of McKinney's, were great friends,
having worked together in the Georgetown mines. They soon made their
places famous. Their mining friends came over from Virginia City,
Gold Hill, Carson, etc., by way of Glenbrook, where they were
ferried across Lake Tahoe by the old side-wheel steamer, _Governor
Stanford_, to McKinney's. Then by pack trail over to Hunsakers.
For many years they used to cut a great deal of hay from the nearby
meadows. A natural timothy grows, sometimes fully four feet high.
A year's yield would often total fully thirty tons, for which the
highest price was paid at the mines.
There was another spring, beside Hunsakers', about a mile higher up,
owned by a friend of the Hunsakers, named Potter. In time he sold this
spring to a Mrs. Clark, who finally sold it back to him, when it was
bought by Mr. R. Colwell, of Moana Villa. When the Hunsakers grew too
old to run their place they sold it to a man named Abbott, who, in
due time wished to sell out. But, in the meantime the railroad had
surveyed their land, granted by Congress, and found that the springs
and part of the hotel building were on their land, so that while
Abbott sold all his holdings to Mr. Colwell, he could not sell the
main objects of the purchaser's desire. An amicable arrangement,
however, was made between all the parties at interest.
Mr. Colwell is now the owner of all the property.
For countless centuries the Indians of both west and east of Tahoe
were used to congregate in the Rubicon country. They came to drink
the medicinal waters, fish, catch deer and game birds, and also gather
acorns and pine nuts. How well I remember my own visit to the Springs
in the fall of 1913. Watson and I had had three delightful days on
the trail and in Hell Hole, and had come, without a trail, from
Little Hell Hole up to Rubicon. The quaking aspens were dropping
their leaves, the tang of coming winter was in the air, mornings and
evenings, yet the middle of the day was so warm that we drank deeply
of the waters of the naturally carbonated springs. No, this statement
is scarcely one of fact. It was warm, but had it been cold, we, or,
at least, I should have drank heartily of the waters because I liked
them. They are really delicious, and thousands have testified to their
healthfulness.
We saw the station of the water company, where a man remains through
the year to register the river's flow and the snowfall. Then we passed
a large lily lake to the left,--a once bold glacial lake now rapidly
nearing the filled-up stage ere it becomes a mountain meadow--and were
fairly on the Georgetown grade, the sixty mile road that reaches from
McKinney's to Georgetown. It is a stern road, that would make the
"rocky road to Dublin" look like a "flowery bed of ease," though we
followed it only a mile and a half to leave it for the steep trail
that reaches Rock Bound Lake. This is one of the larger of the small
glacial lakes of the Tahoe Region, and is near enough to Rubicon
Springs to be reached easily on foot.
From a knoll close by one gains an excellent panorama of Dick's,
Jack's and Ralston's Peaks. Tallac and Pyramid are not in sight. The
fishing here is excellent, the water deep and cold and the lake large
enough to give one all the exercise he needs in rowing.
On the summit of the Georgetown road one looks down upon the nearby
placid bosom of Buck Island Lake. It received this name from Hunsaker.
The lake is very irregular in shape, about a third of a mile long,
and a quarter of a mile wide in its widest part. Near one end is a
small island. Hunsaker found the deer swam over to this island to
rest and sleep during the heat of the day, hence the name.
[Illustration: Angora Lakes, Fallen Leaf Lake and Lake Tahoe ]
[Illustration: White Cloud Falls, Cascade Lake]
[Illustration: Upper Eagle Falls, Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe]
The Little Rubicon river flows into Buck Island Lake and out again,
and about two miles below Rubicon Springs the Georgetown road crosses
the river at the foot of the lake.
With these two lakes, and others not far away, fine hunting and
fishing, with several mountains nearby for climbing, the hotsprings,
a fine table and good horses to ride it can well be understood that
Rubicon Springs makes a delightful summer stopping-place. One great
advantage that it possesses, under its present proprietorship is that
guests may alternate between Moana Villa and the Springs and thus
spend part of their time on the Lake and the other part in the heart
of the mountains. The Colwells are hearty and homelike hosts, and are
devoted to giving their many guests the greatest possible enjoyment,
pleasure and health that a summer's vacation can contain.
CHAPTER XXI
EMERALD BAY AND CAMP
Situated near the southwest corner of Lake Tahoe is Emerald Bay,
by many thousands regarded as the choicest portion of Lake Tahoe.
Surrounded by so many wonderful scenes, as one is at Tahoe, it is
difficult to decide which possesses surpassing power, but few there
are who see Emerald Bay without at once succumbing to its allurement.
Its geological history has already been given in Chapter VIII, in
which it is clearly shown by Dr. Joseph Le Conte that it was once a
glacial lake, and that the entrance to the main lake used to be the
terminal moraine that separated the two bodies of water. As a natural
consequence, therefore, visitors may expect to find evidences of
glacial action on every hand. They are not disappointed. The walls of
the Bay, on both north and south, are composed of glacial detritus,
that of the south being a pure moraine, separating the once glacial
lake of Emerald Bay from Cascade Lake.
Emerald Bay is about three miles in length, with a southwesterly
trend, and half a mile wide. The entrance is perhaps a quarter of a
mile wide and is formed by a triangular spit of sand, on which grows a
lone pine, on the one side, and a green chaparral-clad slope, known
as Eagle Point, on the other. The Bay opens and widens a little
immediately the entrance is joined. The mountains at the head of the
Bay form a majestic background. To the southwest (the left) is Mount
Tallac, with a rugged, jagged and irregular ridge leading to the west,
disappearing behind two tree-clad sister peaks, which dominate the
southern side of the Bay's head. These are known as Maggie's Peaks
(8540 and 8725 feet respectively, that to the south being the higher),
though originally their name, like that of so many rounded, shapely,
twin peaks in the western world gained by the white man from the
Indian, signified the well-developed breasts of the healthy and
vigorous maiden. Emerging from behind these the further ridge again
appears with a nearer and smoother ridge, leading up to a broken and
jagged crest that pierces the sky in rugged outline. A deep gorge is
clearly suggested in front of this ridge, in which Eagle Lake nestles,
and the granite mass which forms the eastern wall of this gorge towers
up, apparently higher than the nearer of Maggie's peaks, and is known
as Phipps' Peak (9000 feet). This is followed by still another peak,
nearer and equally as high, leading the eye further to the north,
where its pine-clad ridge merges into more ridges striking northward.
Between Maggie's and Phipps' Peaks the rocky masses are broken down
into irregular, half rolling, half rugged foothills, where pines,
firs, tamaracks and cedars send their pointed spires upwards from
varying levels. In the morning hours, or in the afternoon up to
sunset, when the shadows reveal the differing layers, rows, and levels
of the trees, they stand out with remarkable distinctness, each tree
possessing its own perfectly discernible individuality, yet each
contributing to the richness of the clothing of the mountainside, as a
whole.
Down across the lower portion of Maggie's Peaks, too to 200 feet above
the level of the Bay, the new automobile road has ruled its sloping
line down to the cut, where a sturdy rustic bridge takes it over the
stream which conveys the surplus waters from Eagle Lake to the Bay. On
the other side it is lost in the rolling foothills and the tree-lined
lower slopes of Cathedral Peak from whence it winds and hugs the Lake
shore, over Rubicon Point to Tahoe Tavern.
But Emerald Bay has other romantic attractions besides its scenery.
In the early 'sixties Ben Holladay, one of the founders of the great
Overland Stage system that reached from the Pacific Coast to the
Missouri River, built a pretentious house at the head of the Bay.
Naturally it was occupied by the family only part of the time, and in
1879, a tramp, finding it unoccupied, took up his lodgings therein,
and, as a mark of his royal departure, the structure burned down the
next morning. The site was then bought by the well-known capitalist,
Lux, of the great cattle firm of Miller & Lux, and is now owned by
Mrs. Armstrong.
As the steamer slowly and easily glides down the Bay, it circles
around a rocky islet, on which a number of trees find shelter. This
island was inhabited at one time by an eccentric Englishman, known
as Captain Dick, who, after having completed a cottage to live in,
carried out the serious idea of erecting a morgue, or a mausoleum, as
a means of final earthly deposit upon dissolution. This queer-looking
dog-house might have become a sarcophagus had it not been for one
thing, viz., Captain Dick, one dark and stormy night, having visited
one of the neighboring resorts where he had pressed his cordial
intemperately, determined to return to his solitary home. In vain the
danger was urged upon him. With characteristic obstinacy, enforced by
the false courage and destruction of his ordinarily keen perception by
the damnable liquor that had "stolen away his brains," he refused to
listen, pushed his sail-boat from the wharf and was never seen again.
His overturned boat was afterwards found, blown ashore.
[Illustration: The marble tablet on one of Maggie's Peaks, bearing
the inscription: "FLEETWOOD PEAK, ASCENDED BY MISS MARY McCONNELL,
SEPT. 12, 1869."]
[Illustration: The island in Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: 'Whispering Pines', Al Tahoe, on Lake Tahoe]
* * * * *
EMERALD BAY CAMP
Emerald Bay is made accessible to regular summer guests by Emerald Bay
Camp, one of the choice and highly commendable resorts of the Tahoe
region. The Camp is located snugly among the pines of the north side
of the Bay, and consists of the usual hotel, with nearby cottages and
tents.
Less than five minutes' walk connects it with the picturesque
Automobile Boulevard, which is now connected with the Camp by an
automobile road. The distance is four-fifths of a mile and hundreds of
people now enjoy the hospitality of Emerald Bay Camp who come directly
to it in their own machines.
Its location suggests many advantages for the angler, the famous
Indian fishing grounds being located at the mouth of the bay. Cascade,
Eagle, and the unfished Velma Lakes are easily accessible to trampers,
the outlets from these furnishing sporty brook trout fishing. These
streams and lakes are all stocked with Eastern brook, Loch Levin
and cutthroat. The protected waters of the bay make boating safe and
bathing a comfortable delight.
But not all the beauty of nature and the advantages of excellent
location can make a popular camp. There is much in the individuality
of those who own or "run" it. Emerald Bay Camp is owned by Mr. Nelson
L. Salter, for many years so favorably known in the Yosemite Valley.
Such is its growing popularity that Mr. Salter has recently (1921)
purchased another ten acres of adjoining land, thus enlarging his
frontage on the Bay to about 1000 feet, and giving him many more
cottages for the entertainment of his guests.
* * * * *
EAGLE LAKE
From Emerald Bay Camp there are quite a number of interesting trail
and climbing trips, one of the commonest of which is that to Eagle
Lake.
Taking the trail west, one zigzags to the north until the Automobile
Boulevard is reached. A half mile's walk brings one to the bridge over
Eagle Creek. Here a few steps lead to the head of the upper portion of
Eagle Falls, which dash down a hundred feet or so to the rocky ledge,
from whence they fall to their basin, ere they flow out to join the
waters of Emerald Bay.
A few yards beyond the bridge the trail starts. It is a genuine
mountain trail, now over rough jagged blocks of granite, then through
groves of pines, firs, tamaracks and spruces, where flowers, ferns,
mosses and liverworts delight the eyes as they gaze down, and the
spiculae and cones and blue sky thrill one with delight as they look
above, and where the sunlight glitters through the trees as they look
ahead. To the right Eagle Creek comes noisily down, over falls and
cascades, making its own music to the accompaniment of the singing
voices of the trees. Now and again the creek comes to a quiet,
pastoral stretch, where it becomes absolutely "still water". Not that
it is motionless, but noiseless, covered over with trees and vines,
that reflect upon its calm surface and half hide the trout that float
so easily and lazily through its clear, pure, cold stream.
There is enough of climbing to call into exercise long unused muscles,
the granite blocks are rough, angular and irregular enough to exercise
eyes, hands and feet to keep one from falling, and the lungs are
filled with balsam-ladened mountain-air, fresh from God's own perfect
laboratories, healing, vivifying, rejuvenating, strengthening, while
the heart is helped on and encouraged to pump more and more of its
blood, drawn from long almost quiescent cells into the air-chambers of
the lungs, there to receive the purifying and life-giving oxygen and
other chemical elements that multiply the leucocytes vastly and set
them at work driving out the disease germs that accumulate and linger
in every city-living man's and woman's system.
Suddenly from a little rise the lake is revealed. Eagle Lake, or Pine
Lake, or Spruce Lake, or Hidden Lake, or Granite Lake, or Sheltered
Lake--any of these names would be appropriate. Almost circular in
form--that is if you are not expected to be too rigidly exact in
geometric terms--it is literally a jewel of lapis lazuli in a setting
of granite cliffs.
Here one may sit and rest, enjoying the placid waters of the lake, the
rugged grandeur of the immediate cliffs, or the slopes of the towering
mountains that encircle the horizon.
Eagle Lake is but one of the hundred of glacially made Sierran lakes
of the Tahoe region, but a study of its idiosyncrasies would reveal
distinctive and charming characteristics.
* * * * *
CATHEDRAL PEAK
There are two Cathedral Peaks at Tahoe, one above Cathedral Park on
Fallen Leaf Lake, the other at the rear of Emerald Bay Camp. Early in
the season, 1914, three _girls_ decided to climb this peak from
the camp although there was no trail. One of them wrote the following
account of the trip:
The most interesting peak of the Rubicon ridge is Cathedral.
The mountain rises directly back of Emerald Bay, some three
thousand feet above the Lake. About six hundred feet above the
camp there is a meadow where larkspur grows four and five
feet high. But from Eagle Creek the aspect is quite different.
There are no soft contours. Huge rocks pile up--one great
perpendicular surface adding five hundred feet to the
height--into spires and domes for all the world like some vast
cathedral which taunts the soul with its aloofness. If, on
some sunshiny afternoon you look up from the camp and see
a ghost-moon hanging, no more than a foot above the highest
spire, you must surely be "citified" if you do not pause to
drink in its weird sublimity and wild beauty.
Many winters of storm and snow have loosed the rocks
and carried them down the mountain. Those thrown down years
ago are moss-covered and have collected enough soil in their
crevices to nourish underbrush and large trees. But there are
bare rocks along Eagle Creek to-day large enough for a man
to hew a cabin from. Standing in awe of their size one surely
must look curiously up the mountain to find the spaces they
once occupied. Then, taking in the size of the peak it is
equally natural that one should be filled with a desire to
climb it and look down the other side and across the vista
to the neighboring ranges. While we were getting used to the
altitude we stood below admiring. Every evening we went out on
the wharf, gazed up at its grandeur and discussed the best
way to go, for though we knew we should have to break our own
trail, we had decided to attempt the climb. We set a day and
the hour for rising; the night before laid out our tramping
clothes and religiously went to bed at eight. I doubt if any
of us slept, for we were used to later hours and excitement
kept us awake.
As it was the first trip of the season, we lost some time at
the start, admiring each others' costumes. Two of us adhered
to the regulation short skirt and bloomers, but the third
girl wore trousers, poked into the top of her high boots. This
proved, by far, the most satisfactory dress before the day's
tramping was done. We got started at four-thirty. The first
awakened birds were twittering. The shadows of the moraine lay
reflected in the unruffled surface of the Bay. Gradually rosy
flushes showed in the east. By the time we reached the meadow
the sun rose suddenly above the Nevada mountains and some of
the chill went out of the atmosphere.
The meadow was flooded with snow-water. Beyond, the mountain
rose by sheer steps of rock with slides of decomposed granite
between. We avoided the under-brush as far as possible,
preferring to take back and forth across the loose granite.
The wind came up as we left the meadow, grew in force as we
climbed. Some one suggested breakfast, and then there began a
search for a sheltered place. A spot sided by three bowlders
away from under-brush was decided upon. By the time the fire
was built the wind was
a gale sending the flames leaping in every direction--up the
rocks and up our arms as we broiled the bacon. Breakfast was a
failure, as far as comfort was concerned. It was a relief when
we finally tramped out the embers and resumed our journey.
The top of a long snow-drift was a previously chosen
land-mark. It was seven when we reached the top of it. Some
one came out on the Bay in a row-boat--we were too high for
recognition--thought better of it and went back. Towards the
top we left the decomposed granite and underbrush behind,
climbing the rocks in preference to the snow, where the choice
was allowed us. The wind howled and shrieked, and blew with
a force great enough to destroy balance, while its icy touch
brought the blood tingling to our cheeks.
At last we reached the summit. And oh! the joy of achievement.
All Rubicon ridge and its neighbors, as far as the eye could
see, were white with snow; the lakes in the valley below
were still frozen--only one showing any blue. Clouds came up
rapidly from the west, rushed by to the Nevada side where
they piled up in great cumulous heaps. The apex of Pyramid was
cloud-capped all day. Shifting gusts drove the waters of
Tahoe scurrying first this way, then that. Where in the early
morning every tree had viewed her image among the reflected
tints of sunrise, at ten-thirty white-caps flashed and
disappeared to flash in a different place among the
everchanging eddies. Cascade and Fallen Leaf Lakes presented
a continuous procession of white-caps to the east, while Eagle
lay black and sinister in the shadow of Maggie's Peaks.
After lunch, the wind blowing too cold for comfort, we started
home, straight down--over snow, granite and underbrush--till
we hit the State Highway. Here we found a sheltered place by a
creek and talked over the day's happenings.
Along the roadside we drew up a resolution on the satisfaction
of the trip. The girl who had been cold all day didn't ever
want to see snow again, but already the others were discussing
a possible ascent from the Eagle Creek side--so great is the
lure of the high places.
CHAPTER XXII
AL-TAHOE
Al-Tahoe, four miles east of Tallac, is one of the newer, better and
more fashionable and pretentious resorts recently established at the
south end of the Lake. Its projectors saw the increasing demand for
summer residences on the Lake, and realizing to the full the superior
advantages of this location, they divided their large holding into
suitable villa and bungalow sites, and other lots, and readily
disposed of a number of them to those who were ready to build. To
further the colonizing plans of these chosen and selected purchasers
a fine, modern, well-equipped hotel was erected, replete with every
convenience and luxury that progressive Americans now expect and
demand in their chosen resorts. The result is quite a settlement
has grown up, and Al-Tahoe sees ahead an era of rapid growth and
prosperity. Its homes are substantial and beautiful and indicate that
John LeConte's prophecy, elsewhere quoted, is already coming to pass.
Pasadena capitalists are behind the hotel and town project.
Being advantageously located on the State and National automobile
boulevard, and near to all the choice mountain, lake and other resorts
of the southern end of Tahoe, it appeals to those who wish to combine
equally ready access to civilization with the wild ruggedness and
infinite variety of many-featured Nature.
It is situated on a high plateau, gently sloping from the bluff, with
a Lake-frontage of about three quarters of a mile. The land rises with
a gentle slope to the edge of the terrace facing the stream, meadow,
and mountains on the south.
With no stagnant water, there are practically no mosquitoes, and it is
confessedly one of the most healthful spots of all this health giving
region. Being on a lea shore, the cold air from the snowy summits of
the mountains tempered by the warm soil of the foothills and level
area, there is no place on the Lake better adapted for bathing and
boating, especially as the beach is sandy and shallow, sloping off for
some distance from the shore.
The accompanying photographs give some idea of the hotel and its
cottages, together with some Al-Tahoe homes. The water supply for the
town and hotel is gained from beautiful and pure Star Lake, 3000 feet
higher than Lake Tahoe, and where snow may be seen during the entire
year. The Al-Tahoe Company owns its own electric generating plant and
supplies all the cottages with electric light.
The hotel itself is conducted on the American plan, and in every
modern way meets the requirements of the most exacting patrons.
Amusements of every kind are provided, and there is a good livery
stable and automobile garage.
The town itself is being built up with a select class of summer
residents. No saloons are allowed. There are still desirable lots for
sale, and the Al-Tahoe Company, or L.H. Bannister, the Postmaster,
will be glad to correspond with any who contemplate purchasing or
building. Letters may be addressed to either at Al-Tahoe, Lake Tahoe,
Calif.
CHAPTER XXIII
GLEN ALPINE SPRINGS
The earliest of all the resorts of the Tahoe region away from the
shores of Tahoe itself, Glen Alpine Springs still retains its natural
supremacy. Located seven miles away from Tallac, reached by excellent
roads in automobile stages, sequestered and sheltered, yet absolutely
in the very heart of the most interesting part of the Tahoe region,
scenically and geologically, it continues to attract an increasing
number of the better class of guests that annually visit these
divinely-favored California Sierras. John Muir wrote truthfully when
he said:
The Glen Alpine Springs tourist resort seems to me one of the
most delightful places in all the famous Tahoe region. From
no other valley, as far as I know, may excursions be made in
a single day to so many peaks, wild gardens, glacier lakes,
glacier meadows, and Alpine groves, cascades, etc.
The drive from Tallac around Fallen Leaf Lake under trees whose
boles form arch or portal, framing pictures of the sunny lake, is a
memorable experience; then on past Glen Alpine Falls, Lily Lake, and
Modjeska Falls, up the deep mountain glen, where the road ends at the
hospitable cottages, log-houses and spacious tents of Glen Alpine.
[Illustration: Mount Tallac, Rubicon Peaks, etc., from Long Wharf
at Al Tahoe, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Al Tahoe Inn and Cottages, on Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Murphey Cottage, Al Tahoe, on Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Porterfield Cottage, Al Tahoe, on Lake Tahoe]
Here is the world-famous spring, discovered in the 'fifties by
Nathan Gilmore (for whom Gilmore Lake is named). Mr. Gilmore
was born in Ohio, but, when a mere youth, instead of attending
college and graduating in law as his parents had arranged for
and expected, he yielded to the lure of the California gold
excitement, came West, and in 1850 found himself in Placerville.
In due time he married, and to the sickness of his daughter
Evelyn, now Mrs. John L. Ramsay, of Freewater, Ore., is owing
his discovery of Glen Alpine. The doctor ordered him to bring the
child up into the mountains. Accompanied by an old friend, Barton
Richardson, of the James Barton Key family of Philadelphia, he came
up to Tallac, with the ailing child and its mother. Being of active
temperament he and Mr. Richardson scaled Mt. Tallac, and in returning
were much entranced by Fallen Leaf Lake. Later Mr. Gilmore came to
Fallen Leaf alone, wandering over its moraines and lingering by its
shores to drink in its impressive and growingly-overpowering beauty.
In those days there was no road at the southern end of Fallen Leaf and
the interested explorer was perforce led to follow the trails of bear,
deer and other wild animals. Rambling through the woods, some two
miles above the lake he came to a willow-surrounded swampy place,
where the logs and fallen trees were clearly worn by the footprints
of many generations of wild animals. Prompted by curiosity he followed
the hidden trail, saw where a small stream of mineral-stained water
was flowing, observed where the deer, etc., had licked the stones, and
finally came to the source in what he afterwards called Glen Alpine
Springs. Scientific observation afterwards showed that the water had
an almost uniform temperature, even in the hottest days of summer, of
39.6 degrees Fahr., and that there was free carbonic acid gas to the
extent of 138.36 cubic inches. The analysis revealed that each U.S.
gallon contained grains as follows:
Sodium Chloride ............ 21.17
Sodium Carbonate ........... 32.75
Potassium Carbonate ........ Trace
Ferrous Carbonate........... 1.8
Alumnia .................... 1.43
Borates .................... Trace
Magnesium Carbonate ......... 9.96
Calcium Carbonate ........... 45.09
Calcium Sulphate ............ 4.10
Silica ...................... 2.50
Organic Matter............... Trace
------
Total Solids................ 118.80
The water is pleasant to the taste, and, as has been shown, highly
charged with carbonic acid gas; its action is diuretic, laxative and
stimulative to the entire digestive tract. Eminent physicians claim
that it is beneficial in dyspepsia, torpid liver, kidney and bladder
irritation, and is also a tonic.
Whether this be true or not I cannot say, but I do know that every
time I go to Glen Alpine I drink freely and abundantly of the water,
to my great physical pleasure and satisfaction. It is one of the most
delicious sparkling waters I have ever tasted, as gratifying to the
palate and soothing to the fevered mucous membranes as Apollinaris or
Shasta Water, and I am not alone in the wish I often express, viz.,
that I might have such a spring in my backyard at home.
One result of this discovery was that Mr. Gilmore decided to locate
upon the land. As soon as the first claim was made secure a rude
one-roomed cabin was built and Mr. Richardson was the first guest.
Preparatory to bringing his family, Mr. Gilmore added two more rooms,
and to render ingress easier he built a road to intersect with the
Tallac road at the northern end of Fallen Leaf Lake. As this had to
be blasted out with black powder,--it was before the days of
dynamite,--Mr. Gilmore's devotion to the place can be well understood.
When his daughters grew up, they and their friends came here to spend
their summers, and by and by, almost unconsciously, but pleasantly and
agreeably, the place became a public resort. Though Mr. Gilmore has
long since passed on, having died in Placerville, Calif., in the year
1898, Glen Alpine Springs is still in the ownership of his family, and
its management and direction is entirely in their hands.
As in the beginning they have ever sought to preserve its character of
simplicity. It is their aim that everything should be as primitive as
possible, consonant with healthfulness, privacy and comfort. While
no sanitary precautions are neglected, and water, hot and cold, is
extravagantly provided, with free shower baths, there are none of
the frills and furbelows that generally convert these--what should
be--simple nature resorts into bad imitations of the luxurious hotels
of the city. There are positively no dress events. Men and women are
urged to bring their old clothes and wear them out here, or provide
only khaki or corduroy, with short skirts, bloomers and leggings for
the fair sex. Strong shoes are required; hob-nailed if one expects to
do any climbing. Wraps for evening, and heavy underwear for an unusual
day (storms sometimes come in Sierran regions unexpectedly), are
sensible precautions.
Sleeping out-of-doors is one of the features of the place, an
invigorating, rejuvenating joy, which Mark Twain affirmed was able
to destroy any amount of fatigue that a person's body could gather.
Visitors are given their choice of a comfortable bed in the open, in a
cottage, tent, or one of the main buildings. There are practically no
rules at Glen Alpine save those that would operate in any respectable
home. No liquors are sold, and visitors are frankly told that "If they
must have liquid stimulants they must bring them along." In order that
those who desire to sleep may not be disturbed by the thoughtlessness
of others, music is prohibited after ten o'clock. One of the delights
of the place is the nightly camp-fire. Here is a large open space,
close to the spring, surrounded by commodious and comfortable canvas
seats, that will easily hold eight or ten persons, the blazing fire
is started every evening. Those who have musical instruments--guitars,
banjos, mandolins, flutes, cornets, violins, and even the plebeian
accordion or the modest Jew's-harp--are requested to bring them.
Solos, choruses, hymns and college songs are indulged in to the
heart's content. Now and again dances are given, and when any speaker
arrives who is willing to entertain the guests, a talk, lecture or
sermon is arranged for.
Three things are never found at Glen Alpine. These are poison-oak,
rattlesnakes and poisonous insects. The rowdy, gambling and carousing
element are equally absent, for should they ever appear, they speedily
discover their lack of harmony and voluntarily retire.
While the Glen Alpine resort is not situated directly on one of the
lakes, it owns over twenty boats on eight of the nearby lakes, and
the use of these is freely accorded to its guests. That it is in close
proximity to lakes and peaks is evidenced by the following table,
which gives the distance in miles from the hotel:
_Miles_
2-1/2 Angora Lake
4 American Lake
6 Avalanche Lake
3-1/4 Alta Morris Lake
7 Azure Lake
5 Center Lake
5-1/2 Crystal Lake
5-3/4 Crater Lake
6 Cup Lake
4-3/4 Cathedral Lake
5-1/2 Echo Lake
2 Fallen Leaf Lake
5-1/4 Floating Island Lake
4-1/4 Forest Lake
6 Fontinalis Lake
1-1/4 Glen Alpine Falls
1-1/4 Grass Lake
4-3/4 Grouse Lake
3-1/2 Glmore Lake
3-1/4 Heather Lake
3-1/4 Half Moon Lake
5 Kalmia Lake
1 Lily Lake
2-1/4 Lucile Lake
3-3/4 LeConte Lake
2-1/2 Margery Lake
1/4 Modjeska Falls
3-1/2 Observation Point
4-1/4 Olney Lake
4-1/4 Pit Lake
6 Pyramid Lake
4-3/4 Rainbow Lake
2-3/4 Susie Lake
3-1/2 Susie Lake Falls
2-3/4 Summit Lake
6 Snow Lake
[Illustration: Cluster of Tents, Glen Alpine Springs]
[Illustration: Glen Alpine Falls, Near Glen Alpine Springs]
[Illustration: In the 'Good Old Days'. Glen Alpine Stage approaching
Office at Glen Alpine Springs]
_Miles_
4-1/4 Tamarack Lake
6 Tallac Lake
7 Tahoe Lake
6-1/2 Velma Lakes
3-1/4 Woods, Lake of the
3-1/2 Angora Peak
5-1/4 Dicks Peak
5-1/2 Jacks Peak
2-1/2 Keiths Dome
7 Pyramid Peak
6-1/2 Ralston Peak
3-3/4 Richardsons Peak
5 Upper Truckee River
4-3/4 Mt. Tallac
7 Mt. Agassiz
3 Cracked Crag
As the proprietors of Glen Alpine ask: "Where else outside of
Switzerland is there a like region of lakes (forty-odd) and world of
Sierran grandeur, such air with the tonic of altitude, mineral-spring
water, trout-fishing, and camaraderie of kindred spirits!"
While the foregoing list gives a comprehensive suggestion of the wide
reach of Glen Alpine's territory there are several especial peaks and
lakes that are peculiarly its own. These are Pyramid, Agassiz, Dicks,
Jacks, Richardsons, Ralston, and the Angora Peaks, Mount Tallac,
Mosquito Pass, and Lakes Olney, LeConte, Heather, Susie, Grass,
Lucile, Margery, and Summit with Lake of the Woods and others in
Desolation Valley, Gilmore, Half Moon, Alta, Morris, Lily, Tamarack,
Rainbow, Grouse, and the Upper and Lower Echo. Desolation Valley and
all its surroundings is also within close reach. This is some four
miles westward of Glen Alpine Springs, and is reached by way of easy
mountain trails under sweet-scented pines and gnarled old junipers;
besides singing streams; across crystal lakes, through a cliff-guarded
glade where snowbanks linger until midsummer, ever renewing the
carpet of green, decking it with heather and myriad exquisite mountain
blossoms. On, over a granite embankment, and lo! your feet are stayed
and your heart is stilled as your eyes behold marvelous Desolation
Valley. Greeting you on its southern boundary stands majestic Pyramid
Peak, with its eternal snows. Lofty companions circling to your very
feet make the walls forming the granite cradle of Olney, the Lake of
Mazes. The waters are blue as the skies above them, and pure as the
melting snows from Pyramid which form them. He who has not looked
upon this, the most remarkable of all the wonder pictures in the Tahoe
region, has missed that for which there is no substitute.
The whole Glen Alpine basin,--which practically extends from the
Tallac range on the north, from Heather Lake Pass (the outlet from
Desolation Valley) and Cracked Crag on the west and southwest, Ralston
Peak and range to the south and the Angora Peaks on the east,--is one
mass of glacial scoriations. Within a few stone-throws of the spring,
on a little-used trail to Grass Lake, there are several beautiful
and interesting markings. One of these is a finely defined curve or
groove, extending for 100 feet or more, above which, about 1½ feet, is
another groove, some two to four feet wide. These run rudely parallel
for some distance, then unite and continue as one. Coming back to the
trail--a hundred or so feet away,--on the left hand side returning to
the spring, is a gigantic sloping granite block, perfectly polished
with glacial action, and black as though its surface had been coated
in the process. Near here the trail _ducks_ or markers are placed
in a deep grooving or trough three or four feet wide, and of equal
depth, while to the right are two other similar troughs working their
winding and tortuous way into the valley beneath.
In Chapter VIII an idea is given of the movements of the great
glaciers that formed Desolation Valley and all the nearby lakes,
as well as Glen Alpine basin. These gigantic ice-sheets, with their
firmly-wedged carving blocks of granite, moved over the Heather Lake
Pass, gouging out that lake, and Susie Lake, in its onward march, and
then, added to by glacial flows from Cracked Crag, the southern slopes
of the Tallac range, and the Angora Peaks, it passed on and down,
shaping this interestingly rugged, wild and picturesque basin as we
find it to-day. How many centuries of cutting and gouging, beveling
and grooving were required to accomplish this, who can tell? Never
resting, never halting, ever moving, irresistibly cutting, carving,
grinding and demolishing, it carried away its millions of millions
of tons of rocky débris in bowlders, pebbles, sand and mud, and thus
helped make the gigantic moraines of Fallen Leaf Lake. The ice-flow
itself passed along over where the terminal moraine now stands,
cutting out Fallen Leaf Lake basin in its movement, and finally rested
in the vast bowl of Lake Tahoe.
To the careful student every foot of Glen Alpine basin is worthy of
study, and he who desires to further the cause of science will do
well to make a map of his observations, recording the direction,
appearance, depth, length and width of all the glacial markings he
discovers. On the U.S. Government maps the stream flowing through Glen
Alpine basin is marked as Eau Claire Creek. To the proprietors of Glen
Alpine, and the visitors, the French name is absurd and out of place.
No Frenchman has ever resided here, and if it was desired to call
it Clear Water Creek, why not use good, understandable, common-sense
English. At the request of those most intimately concerned, therefore,
the name has been changed on the map that accompanies this volume,
to Glen Alpine Creek, a name that "belongs" and to which no one can
possibly have any objection.
CHAPTER XXIV
FALLEN LEAF LAKE AND ITS RESORTS
Fallen Leaf Lake is a noble body of water, three and a half miles
long and about one mile across. Why it is called Fallen Leaf is fully
explained in the chapter on Indian Legends. Some people have thought
it was named from its shape, but this cannot be, for, from the summit
of Mt. Tallac, every one instantly notices its resemblance to the
imprint of a human foot. It is shaped more like a cork-sole, as if cut
out of the solid rock, filled up with a rich indigo-blue fluid, and
then made extra beautiful and secluded with a rich tree and plant
growth on every slope that surrounds it.
The color of the water is as richly blue as is Tahoe itself, and there
is the same suggestion of an emerald ring around it, as in the larger
Lake, though this ring is neither so wide nor so highly colored.
In elevation it is some 80 feet above Lake Tahoe, thus giving it an
altitude of 6300 feet.
At the upper end, near Fallen Leaf Lodge, under the cliffs it has a
depth of over 380 feet, but it becomes much shallower at the northern
or lower end near the outlet. Its surroundings are majestic and
enthralling as well as picturesque and alluring. On the west Mt.
Tallac towers its nearly 10,000 feet into the sea of the upper air,
flanked on the south by the lesser noble and majestic Cathedral Peak.
In the earlier part of the season when these are covered with snow,
the pure white materially enhances the splendor of both mountain and
lake by enriching their varied colorings with the marked contrast.
[Illustration: Glen Alpine Falls]
[Illustration: Glimpse of Grass Lake, looking across and up
Glen Alpine Canyon]
[Illustration: The Triumphant Angler, Lake Tahoe]
To the southwest rise the Angora Peaks, and these likewise catch,
and hold the winter's snow, often, like Mt. Tallac, retaining beds of
_névé_ from year to year.
To the geological student, especially one interested in glacial
phenomena, the lateral and terminal moraines of Fallen Leaf Lake are
of marked and unusual interest. The moraine on the east is upwards of
1000 feet high, and is a majestic ridge, clothed from the lake shore
to its summit with a rich growth of pines, firs and hemlocks. Its
great height and bulk will suggest to the thoughtful reader the
questions as to how it was formed, and whence came all the material
of its manufacture. It extends nearly the whole length of the
lake, diminishing somewhat in size at the northern end. There is a
corresponding moraine on the western side not less compelling in its
interest though scarcely as large in size as its eastern counterpart.
The terminal moraine, which is the one that closed up the lake,
separating and raising it above the level of Lake Tahoe, is a less
noble mound, yet geologically it allures the mind and demands study as
much as the others. In Chapter VIII, Dr. Joseph LeConte's theories are
given in full explaining the various glacial phenomena connected with
this lake.
The fish of Fallen Leaf are practically the same as those of Tahoe,
though rod and fly fishing is more indulged in here.
Boating, canoeing and the use of the motor boat are daily recreations,
and swimming is regularly indulged in during the summer season.
FALLEN LEAF LODGE
The distinguishing characteristics of this resort are simplicity,
home-likeness, unostentation. It makes its appeal especially to the
thoughtful and the studious, the not luxuriously rich, those who love
Nature rather than the elegance of a first-class hotel, and who desire
to climb trails, study trees, hunt, fish, and generally recreate
out-of-doors rather than dress and fare sumptuously.
It is situated on the southwestern edge of Fallen Leaf Lake, five
miles from Tallac, reached by a road that winds through the trees of
the Baldwin estate, and then skirts the eastern and southern shores
of the Lake. Stages--horse and automobile--run daily during the season
and meet all the steamers at Tallac.
The "Lodge" consists of a number of detached buildings, conveniently
and picturesquely scattered among the pines on the slopes and at the
edge of the lake. There are dining hall, social hall, post office,
store, electric power-house, boat-house, with stables far enough away
to be sanitary, and cottages and tents located in every suitable nook
that can be found. There are one, two or three-roomed cottages, tents,
single and double, all in genuine camp style. There is no elegance
or luxury, though most of the cottages have modern toilets, porcelain
bath-tubs with running hot and cold water. Electric lights are
everywhere.
The camp has been in existence now (1915) for seven years and each
year has seen considerable enlargement and improvement, until now
Fallen Leaf Lodge in the heart of the summer season is an active,
busy, happy and home-like community.
The table is wholesome, substantial and appetizing. There is no
pretense at elaborateness. Home-cooking, well served, of simple and
healthful dishes, in reasonable variety, is all that is offered.
Needless to say there is no bar or saloon, though there is no attempt
to compel a personal standpoint on the liquor question upon those who
are accustomed to the use of alcoholic liquors at meals.
In its natural beauties and advantages Fallen Leaf Lodge claims--and
with strong justification--one of the very best of locations. Fallen
Leaf Lake is large enough to give scope to all the motor-boats,
row-boats, canoes and launches that are likely to be brought to it for
the next hundred years, and ten thousand fishermen could successfully
angle upon its bosom or along its shores. For millions of Tahoe trout,
rainbow, Eastern brook, Loch Levin, Mackinac and German brown have
been put into this and nearby lakes in the last few years. While
some jerk-line fishing is indulged in, this lake, unlike Lake Tahoe,
affords constant recreation for the more sportsmanlike fly-fishing.
Another of the special advantages of Fallen Leaf Lodge is its
possession of a fine log-house and camp on the shore of Lake of the
Woods, five miles away, in Desolation Valley. To those who wish to
fish in greater solitude, to climb the peaks of the Crystal Range, or
boat over the many and various lakes of Desolation Valley this is a
great convenience.
Nothing can surpass the calm grandeur of the setting of this glorious
beautiful water. Lying at the lower edge of Desolation Valley and
facing stupendous mountains, the picture it presents, with Pyramid
Peak reflected in its gorgeously lit-up sunset waters, is one that
will forever linger in the memory.
The close proximity of Fallen Leaf Lodge to Mt. Tallac, Cathedral
Peak, the Angora Peaks, Mounts Jack, Dick, and Richardson, Ralston
Peak, Keith's Dome, Maggie's Peaks, Tell's Peak, with the towering
peaks of the Crystal Range--Pyramid and Agassiz--to the west, and
Freel's, Job's and Job's Sister to the southeast, afford an abundance
and variety of mountain-climbing that are seldom found in any region,
however favored.
But in addition to the peaks there are Sierran lakes galore, rich
in unusual beauty and picturesqueness, and most of them stocked with
trout that compel the exertion of the angler's skill, as much as
tickle the palate of the uncorrupted epicure. Close by are Cascade,
Cathedral, Floating Island, Echo, Heather, Lucile, Margery, Gilmore,
Le Conte, Lily, Susie, Tamarack, Grouse, Lake of the Woods, Avalanche,
Pit, Crystal, Pyramid, Half Moon, with the marvelous and alluring maze
of lakes, bays, straits, channels, inlets and "blind alleys" of the
Lake Olney of the ever-fascinating Desolation Valley. And those I
have named are all within comparatively easy walking distance to the
ordinarily healthful and vigorous man or woman. For those who seek
more strenuous exercise, or desire horse-back or camping-out trips
another twenty, aye fifty lakes, within a radius of fifty miles may
be found, with their connecting creeks, streams and rivers where gamey
trout abound, and where flowers, shrubs and trees in never-ceasing
variety and charm tempt the botanist and nature-lover.
While to some it may not be an attraction, to others there may be both
pleasure and interest in witnessing the operations of the Fallen Leaf
sawmill. This is situated on the western side of the lake, and is
a scene of activity and bustle when logging and lumbering are in
progress. On the hills about the lake the "fellers" may be found,
chopping their way into the hearts of the forest monarchs of pine,
fir and cedar, and then inserting the saw, whose biting teeth soon
cut from rim to rim and cause the crashing downfall of trees that have
stood for centuries. Denuded of their limbs these are then sawn into
appropriate lengths, "snaked" by chains pulled by powerful horses to
the "chute", down which they are shot into the lake, from whence they
are easily towed to the mill. The chute consists of felled logs,
laid side by side, evenly and regularly, so as to form a continuous
trough. This is greased, so that when the heavy logs are placed therein
they slide of their own weight, where there is a declivity, and are
easily dragged or propelled on the level ground.
[Illustration: Boating on Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: Fallen Leaf Lodge Among the Pines, on Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: Camp Agassiz Boys setting out for a Trip, Lake Tahoe,
Cal. Copyright 1910, by Harold A. Parker.]
[Illustration: Tahoe Meadows, With Mt. Tallac in the Distance]
I use the word propelled to suggest the interesting method used in
these chutes. Sometimes ten or a dozen logs will be placed, following
each other, a few feet apart, on the trough (the chute). A chain is
fastened to the rear end of the hindermost log. This chain is attached
to a single-tree fastened to a horse's harness. The horse is started.
This makes the hinder log strike the next one, this bumps into the
third and gives it a start, in its turn it bumps the fourth, the
fourth the fifth, and so on, until the whole dozen are in motion. Had
the string of logs been fastened together, the horse would have found
it impossible to move them, but "propelling" them in this fashion they
are all set in motion, and their inertia once overcome there is no
difficulty experienced in keeping them going.
The views from Fallen Leaf Lodge are varied and beautiful, one in
particular being especially enchanting. Over the Terminal moraine,
across the hidden face of Lake Tahoe, the eye falls upon the mountains
in Nevada, on the far-away eastern side. In the soft light of evening
they look like fairy mountains, not real rocky masses of gigantic,
rugged substance, but something painted upon the horizon with delicate
fingers, and in tints and shades to correspond, for they look tenderer
and sweeter, gentler and lovelier than anything man could conceive or
execute.
The owner of Fallen Leaf Lodge is Professor William W. Price, a
graduate of Stanford University, who first came into this region
to study and catch special Sierran birds and other fauna for the
Smithsonian Institution, the American Museum of Natural History, and
the British Museum. Later, when he founded the Agassiz school for
boys, at Auburn, California, he established Camp Agassiz near Fallen
Leaf Lake, in a grove of pines, firs, and cedars. Assisted by other
university men he made of this an ideal open-air school and camp
for boys. They were taught such practical things as to take care
of themselves in the mountains, find a trail, or go to a given spot
without a trail, fish, hunt, make camp, build fires in a rain-storm,
find proper shelter during a lightning-storm, carry a pack, pack a
mule or burro, even to the throwing of the "diamond hitch," the
"squaw hitch," and the "square" or other packer's especial "knots" and
"ties". They were induced to climb mountains, row, swim, "ski", and
snow-slide, and all were taught to recognize at sight the common
birds, smaller wild animals, trees, and flowers. Frequent camping-out
trips were arranged for, and the youngsters thus gained health, vigor
and permanent strength while doing what they all enjoyed doing.
In due time the parents wished to share the fun, joy, and out-of-door
experiences of their youngsters; then the friends, and those who heard
about them, and out of the numerous requests for accommodations Fallen
Leaf Lodge was born. For a time Mr. Price tried an ordinary hotel
manager, but the peculiar and individualistic needs of his peculiar
and individualistic camp at length led Mrs. Price and himself to take
the complete control. From that time its success has been continuous.
Mr. Price is a scientific expert upon the flora (especially the
trees), the birds and the four-footed fauna of the whole region, and
his readiness and willingness to communicate his knowledge to his
guests is a great advantage to the studious and inquiring.
Owing to the demands made upon his time by the management of Fallen
Leaf Lodge Mr. Price has transferred his school into other hands, and
has given up the Boys' Camp, though the lads are still welcome, with
their parents, as regular guests at the Lodge.
It should be noted that Fallen Leaf Lodge is but two miles from Glen
Alpine Springs and that all that is said of the close proximity of the
most interesting features of the southern end of the Lake Tahoe region
to Glen Alpine, applies with equal force (plus the two miles) to
Fallen Leaf Lodge.
CATHEDRAL PARK ON FALLEN LEAF LAKE
One of the newest of the Tahoe region resorts is that of Cathedral
Park, located on the western side of Fallen Leaf Lake. It was opened
in the latter part of the season of 1912 by Carl Fluegge. Everything
about it is new, from the flooring of the tents to the fine
dining-room, cottages and stables. A special road has been constructed
on the west side of the lake, over which Cathedral Park stages run
daily the three and a half miles, to meet every steamer during the
season at Tallac.
Rising directly from the edge of the lake, surrounded by majestic
trees, protected by the gigantic height of Mt. Tallac (9785 feet)
from the western winds, a clear open view of Fallen Leaf Lake and the
thousand-feet high lateral moraine on the eastern side is obtained;
there could be no better location for such a resort.
The distinctive features of Cathedral Park are simplicity and
home-comforts, with special advantages for hunting, fishing and
camping out. For ten years Mr. Fluegge has taken out some of the most
distinguished patrons of the Tahoe region in his capacity as expert
guide and huntsman. He knows every trail thoroughly and has scaled
every mountain of the surrounding country. He knows the habits and
haunts of bear, deer, and other game, and is a successful hunter of
them, as well as of grouse and quail. His office and social-hall bear
practical evidence of his prowess and skill in the mounted heads of
deer, and the dressed skins of bear that he has shot. He is also an
expert angler, and well acquainted with the best fishing in Granite,
Eagle, the Rock-Bound, Gilmore and other lakes, as well as those
closer at hand. There are twelve such lakes within easy reach of
Cathedral Park. Fishing and hunting are his hobbies and delights,
hence he makes a thoroughly competent, because interested, and
interesting guide. Nothing pleases him more than to get out with his
guests and assist them in their angling and hunting. To aid in this he
has established his own permanent camp at the beautiful Angora Lakes,
four miles from Cathedral Park, which is placed freely at the disposal
of his guests.
Especial arrangements are made for the perfect and satisfactory
accommodation of guests who desire to sleep out of doors. Tents,
sleeping porches and platforms are arranged with a view to the
strictest privacy, and those who desire this healthful open-air mode
of life can nowhere be better accommodated than here. As Mark Twain
has said, it is the "open air" sleeping in the Lake Tahoe region that
is so beneficial. Again to quote him: "The air up there in the clouds
is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it
be?--it is the same the angels breathe. I think that hardly any amount
of fatigue can be gathered together that a man cannot sleep off in
one night here. _Not under a roof, but under the sky_." Therefore
Cathedral Park says to those who wish to breathe the same air as the
angels while they are yet on the earth: Come to us and we will meet
your reasonable wishes in every possible way.
[Illustration: Picturesque Palo Alto Lodge, at Lakeside Park, Lake
Tahoe]
[Illustration: The Long Wharf at Lakeside Park, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Automobile Road Around Cave Rock, Lake Tahoe]
The presence of Mrs. Fluegge, who is associated with her husband
in the management, guarantees to ladies, whether unaccompanied, or
with their families, the best of care, and the former are especially
invited to come and test the homelike qualities of the place.
The water supply of Cathedral Park is gained from its own springs, on
the mountain side above the resort. It is piped down to every tent or
cottage and the supply is superabundant. Fish are caught almost daily
on the landing in front of the hotel. Fallen Leaf is an ideal spot for
rowing, canoeing, and launch rides, and the hotel owns its own launch
in which parties are regularly taken around the lake. During the
summer season bathing is as delightful here as in any of the seaside
resorts of the Atlantic and Pacific, and almost every one takes a
plunge daily.
A camp-fire is built every night, where singing, storytelling, and
open air amusements of an impromptu nature are indulged in to one's
heart's content, though visitors are all expected to remember the
rights of others and not keep too late hours.
Informal dances are indulged in occasionally and everything is done to
promote the comfort, pleasure and enjoyment of the guests that earnest
desire, constant watchfulness and long experience can suggest.
The table is simple and homelike, but abundant, well-served and
satisfactory. This department is entirely under the control of Mrs.
Fluegge, who never employs any other than white help in the kitchen.
Fresh fruit and vegetables, lake trout and game in season, fresh milk
and cream, with everything of the best that the markets afford, are
none too good for the guests at Cathedral Park.
Unlike most of the Lake Tahoe resorts, it keeps open throughout the
whole year, and is managed with but one idea, viz., to give absolute
and complete satisfaction to all its guests.
Its rates are reasonable, and especial prices are given to children
under ten years of age and to families who wish to stay for any length
of time.
The short trail to Mount Tallac rises directly from Cathedral Park,
and all that has been said of the close proximity of Glen Alpine and
Fallen Leaf Lodge to the most interesting peaks, lakes, etc., of the
Tahoe region applies with equal force to Cathedral Park, plus the
short additional distance, which is something less than a mile.
Mr. Fluegge will be glad to correspond with those contemplating a
visit to Cathedral Park, especially should they desire his services
for hunting, fishing, or camping-out trips of a few days or a month's
duration. The address is Cathedral Park, Tallac P.O., Lake Tahoe,
California.
CHAPTER XXV
LAKESIDE PARK
Situated on the shore of Lake Tahoe and at the same time on the
great Lincoln Highway stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific,--a
division of the State Automobile Highway reaching from Sacramento,
California, to Carson City, Nevada, via Placerville, Lakeside Park is
readily reached by travelers from every direction, whether they
come by steamer, buggy, or automobile. The Lakeside Park hotel was
established in 1892 and has an enviable reputation. It consists of
hotel, with adjacent cottages and tents, comfortably furnished and
equipped with every healthful necessity. Here surrounded by beautiful
trees, that sing sweet songs to the touch of the winds, drinking in
health and vigor from their balsamic odors, enjoying the invigorating
sunshine and the purifying breezes coming from mountain, forest
and Lake, swimming in the Lake, rowing, canoeing, climbing mountain
trails, exploring rocky and wooded canyons, fishing, hunting,
botanizing, studying geology in one of the most wonderful volumes
Nature has ever written, sleeping out-of-doors under the trees and the
glowing stars after being lulled to rest by the soothing lappings
of the gentle waves upon the beach--who can conceive a more ideal
vacation-time than this.
Unlike many parts of Lake Tahoe, Lakeside Park possesses a fine
stretch of beautiful, clean, sandy beach. There are no rocks, deep
holes, tide or undertow. Children can wade, bathe or swim in perfect
safety as the shore gradually slopes into deeper water.
The whole settlement is abundantly supplied with purest spring water
which is piped down from its source high on the mountain slopes to the
south. The hotel is fully equipped with hot and cold water for baths
and all other needed purposes, and there is a good store, well stocked
livery stable, row-boats, steam laundry and home dairy.
The store carries a very complete line of provisions and supplies,
fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, dairy-produce, ice, hay, grain,
lumber, shingles, stove-wood, paints, gasoline--in fact, everything
that is likely to be in demand in such a community. Camp-fire wood is
abundant and free to patrons. This is particularly advantageous for
those who wish to tent and "board themselves." Housekeeping tents
are provided, on platforms in the grove, at reasonable rates, and the
hotel owns its pasture in which the horses of patrons are cared for
free of charge.
The location of Lakeside Park in relation to Lake Tahoe is peculiarly
advantageous in that it affords daily opportunity for driving,
horseback-riding or walking directly along the shore for miles. Indeed
the twelve mile drive to Glenbrook is one of the noted drives of
the world, taking in the celebrated Cave Rock, and giving the widest
possible outlooks of the whole expanse of the Lake.
Patrons of the hotel or camps are assured that there are no
rattlesnakes, fleas, malaria, fogs, or poison oak. The character
and tone of the place will also be recognized when it is known
that saloons and gambling resorts are absolutely prohibited in the
residential tract.
The most majestic of all the mountains of Lake Tahoe are closely
adjacent to Lakeside Park. Mt. Sinclair, 9500 feet, rises immediately
from the eastern boundary, whilst Monument Peak, Mounts Freel, Job,
and Job's Sister, ranging from 10,000 to 11,200 feet above sea level
are close by. Such near proximity to these mountains gives unequalled
opportunities for tramping, riding and driving through and over
marvelous diversity of hill, valley, woodland, canyon and mountain.
Scores of miles of mountain trails remain to be thoroughly explored
and to the hunter these highest mountains are the most alluring spots
of the whole Tahoe Region.
Yet while these mountains are close by Lakeside Park is near enough
to Fallen Leaf Lake, Glen Alpine Springs and Desolation Valley to give
fullest opportunity for trips to these noted spots and their adjacent
attractions.
In addition it allows ready incursions into Nevada, where the
prehistoric footprints at Carson City, the marvelous Steamboat
Springs, and the world-famed mines and Sutro Tunnel of Virginia City
have been a lure for many thousands during the past decades. It is
also near to Hope Valley and the peak on which Frémont climbed when,
in 1844, he discovered and first described Lake Tahoe, and is the
natural stopping-place for those who wish to go over the road the
Pathfinder made, accompanied by Kit Carson, his guide and scout, whose
name is retained in Carson City, Carson Tree, Carson Valley and Carson
Canyon, all of which are within a day's easy ride.
PRIVATE RESIDENCES AT LAKESIDE PARK
To meet the ever-increasing demand for lots on which to build summer
homes on Lake Tahoe the Lakeside Park Company has set aside a limited
and desirable portion of its large property on the southeasterly shore
of Lake Tahoe for cottages and log cabins, bungalows and lodges,
or acre tracts for chalets and villas. Already quite a number have
availed themselves of this privilege and a colony of beautiful homes
is being established. Mr. and Mrs. Hill, with a keen eye for the
appropriate, and at the same time wishful to show how a most perfect
bungalow can be constructed at a remarkably low price, have planned
and erected several most attractive "specimens" or "models," at prices
ranging from $450 to $1000 and over. The fact that the tract is so
located in an _actual_, not merely a nominal, wooded park, where
pines, firs, tamaracks and other Sierran trees abound, allow the
proprietors to offer fine logs for cabins and rustic-work in almost
unlimited quantities, and in the granite-ribbed mountains close by is
a quarry from which rock for foundations, chimneys and open fireplaces
may be taken without stint. These are great advantages not to be
ignored by those who desire to build, and those who are first on the
scene naturally will be accorded the first choice both of lots and
material.
There is but one Lake Tahoe in America, and as the men of California
and Nevada cities find more time for leisure it will not be many years
before every available spot will be purchased and summer residences
abound, just as is the case in the noted eastern lakes, or those near
to such cities as Minneapolis, etc., in the middle west.
In setting aside this residential section at Lakeside Park the owners
have planned with far-sighted and generous liberality. The Lake
frontage is reserved for general use of the hotel guests and cottage
community, so there will be no conflict regarding privileges of
boating, bathing, fishing, and "rest cure" on the beach. Another wise
provision is that a generous portion of the amounts received from
early sales of lots is being devoted to general improvements that are
for mutual benefit; such as the extension of roads, paths, trails
and water-pipes, a substantial breakwater for better protection of
launches and boats, larger dancing-pavilion or platform, automobile
garage, more dressing rooms for bathers, etc.
CHAPTER XXVI
GLENBROOK AND MARLETTE LAKE
In Chapter XVI the history of Glenbrook is given in some detail. It is
now, however, converted into a pleasure resort especially popular
with residents of Nevada, and largely used by automobiles crossing the
Sierras and passing around Lake Tahoe.
The Inn, and its veranda overlooking the Lake, is built with an eye
to comfort and convenience. Every need for pleasure and recreation is
arranged for. For those who enjoy privacy, cozy cottages are provided,
around which beautiful wild flowers grow in wonderful profusion. The
guests here are especially favored in that the Inn has its own ranch,
dairy, poultry farm, fruit orchard and vegetable garden. The table,
therefore, is abundantly provided, and everything is of known quality
and brought in fresh daily.
Glenbrook Inn makes no pretense to be a fashionable resort. It
especially invites those individuals and families who wish to be free
from the exhausting "frivolities of fashion," to come and enjoy to the
full Nature's simple charms, regardless of the city's conventions as
to dress and fashion. Rest and recreation, amusement and recuperation
are the key-notes. Simplicity of life, abundance of sleep, sufficiency
of good food, tastefully served, the chief hours of the day spent
in the open air, fishing, boating, swimming, trail-climbing,
horseback-riding, driving or automobiling,--these bring health,
renewed energy and the joy of life.
The specific pleasures provided at Glenbrook are varied. It is
confessedly the best place for fishing on the Lake. During the season
the fishermen from all the resorts at the south end of the Lake bring
their patrons over in this direction. The Inn has its own fleet of
gasoline launches and row boats, with experienced men to handle them,
and it supplies fishing-tackle free, but those who wish to use the rod
must bring that with them. As is explained in the chapter on fishing
the trout of Lake Tahoe are taken both by rod and "jerk-line"
trolling. Near Glenbrook, however, the rod can be used to greater
advantage than anywhere else, and catches of from one-half to thirty
pounds are of daily occurrence.
While promiscuous fishing is not allowed now in the famous Marlette
Lake, eight miles away, the patrons of Glenbrook Inn can always secure
permits, without any vexatious inquiries or delays, and there an
abundance of gamey trout of various species are caught.
The bathing facilities here are exceptionally good. There is a long
stretch of sandy beach, which extends far out into the water, thus
ensuring both warmth and safety to children as well as adults.
In mountain and trail climbing Glenbrook has a field all its own. The
ride or drive to Marlette Lake is a beautiful one, and the climb to
Marlette Peak not arduous. The chief mountain peaks easily reached
from Glenbrook are Dubliss, Edith, and Genoa Peaks, which not only
afford the same wonderful and entrancing views of Lake Tahoe that
one gains from Freel's, Mt. Tallac, Ellis and Watson's Peaks, but in
addition lay before the entranced vision the wonderful Carson Valley,
with Mt. Davidson and other historic peaks on the eastern horizon.
The drive along the shore by the famous Cave Rock to Lakeside Park
or Tallac is one that can be enjoyed daily, and for those who like
driving through and over tree-clad hills, surrounded by majestic
mountains, the drive over the Carson road is enchanting.
[Illustration: Glennbrook Inn, on Nevada side Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Sunset at Glenbrook, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: by Harold A. Parker. Carnelian Bay, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Cottage overlooking Carnelian Bay, Lake Tahoe]
It is at Glenbrook that the famous Shakspeare head is to be seen
graphically described by John Vance Cheney, and quoted elsewhere
(Chap. XVI).
TO MARLETTE LAKE FROM GLENBROOK
Marlette Lake and Peak are two of the attractive features to visitors
at Glenbrook Inn. The trip can be made in a little over two hours, and
as on the return it is down hill nearly all the way, the return trip
takes a little less.
Leaving Glenbrook on the excellently kept macadamized road over
which Hank Monk used to drive stage from Carson City, the eyes of the
traveler are constantly observing new and charming features in the
mountain landscape. The Lake with its peculiar attractions is left
entirely behind, with not another glimpse of it until we stand on the
flume at Lake Marlette. Hence it is a complete change of scenery, for
now we are looking ahead to tree-clad summits where eagles soar and
the sky shines blue.
About two and a half miles out we come to Spooner's, once an active,
bustling, roadside hotel, where in the lumbering and mining days teams
lined the road four, six and eight deep. Now, nothing but a ramshackle
old building remains to tell of its former greatness. Here we made a
sharp turn to the left, leaving the main road and taking the special
Marlette Lake road. We cross the grade of the abandoned railway--the
rails, engines and equipment of which are now operating between
Truckee and Tahoe--see in the distance the tunnel through which the
trains used to take the lumber, and notice on the hill-sides the lines
of the old flumes which used to convey the water to the reservoir on
the other side of the tunnel, or bring water and lumber ready to be
sent on the further journey down to Carson City.
My driver was in a reflective mood, and as he pointed these things
out to me, made some sage and pertinent remarks about the peculiar
features of some industries which required large expenditures to
operate, all of which were useless in a comparatively short time.
Mainly uphill the road continues through groves of cottonwood, by
logged-over mountain slopes and sheep-inhabited meadows until the
divide is reached. Here a very rapid down hill speedily brings us to
the south edge of Marlette Lake. Skirting the southern end we follow
the road to the caretaker's house, tie our horses, and walk down to
the dam, and then on the flume or by its side to a point overlooking
Lake Tahoe, from which a marvelously expansive view is to be obtained.
We return now to Marlette and while drinking a cup of coffee prepared
for us by the hospitable caretaker, glean the following facts in
regard to the history and uses of Marlette Lake.
Marlette is an artificial lake, fifteen hundred feet above the level
of Lake Tahoe, and about three miles from its easterly shore. Its
waters are conveyed by tunnel, flume, etc., over the mountains, the
Washoe Valley and up the mountain again to Virginia City. Originally
the only supply of water available for Virginia City was from a few
springs and mining tunnels. This supply soon became insufficient and
many tunnels were run into hills both north and south from Virginia
for the express purpose of tapping water. These soon failed and it
became necessary to look for a permanent supply to the main range
of the Sierra Nevada twenty-five or more miles away. Accordingly
the Virginia and Gold Hill Water Company called upon Mr. Hermann
Schussler, the engineer under whose supervision the Spring Valley
Water Works of San Francisco were constructed. After a careful survey
of the ground he found water at Hobart Creek, in the mountains on the
east side of Lake Tahoe, and in the spring of 1872, received orders to
go ahead and install a water system. He ordered pipe made to fit every
portion of the route. It had to pass across the deep depression of
Washoe Valley with water at a perpendicular pressure of 1720 feet,
equivalent to 800 pounds to the square inch.
The first operations were so successful that as needs grew the supply
flume was extended eight and a half miles to Marlette Lake, thus
making the total distance to Virginia City thirty-one and a half
miles. This Lake was named after S.H. Marlette, formerly Surveyor
General of Nevada, who was associated with W.S. Hobart, of San
Francisco, the owner of the land and one of the original projectors of
the Water Company. The site was a natural basin, the dam of which had
been broken down or eroded centuries ago. A dam was built in 1875, and
later raised eleven feet higher so as to afford more storage capacity.
The area of the lake is now about 600 acres (before the heightening
of the dam it was 300 acres), and its storage capacity is about two
billion gallons.
When the supply was enlarged a second pipe was laid alongside the
first with an equal capacity, each being able to convey 2,200,000
gallons every twenty-four hours. A third pipe was installed later. The
second and third pipes were laid by the late Captain J.B. Overton, who
was Superintendent of the Company for over thirty-two years. Captain
Overton also extended the flume lines, constructed the tunnel through
the mountain ridge, built the Marlette Lake dam and made many other
improvements and extensions.
On leaving Marlette Lake through an opening at the lower portion
of the dam the water is conducted five miles in a covered flume and
thence through a tunnel four thousand feet long through the summit
of the dividing ridge or rim of the Tahoe basin to its easterly side.
From this point it is again conducted through covered flumes, together
with water from Hobart Creek and other streams, to the intake of
the pipes across Washoe Valley. These pipes are three in number, two
twelve inch and one ten inch. The difference in elevation between
the inlet and discharge from No. 1 and No. 2 pipes is 465 feet. The
difference in elevation between the inlet and discharge of No. 3 pipe
is 565 feet. The pipes are laid across Washoe Valley in the form of
inverted syphons. At the lowest point in the valley, the perpendicular
pressure is 1720 feet on No. 1 and No. 2 pipes and 1820 feet on No.
3 pipe. The pipe lines go up and down nine canyons in their course
across the Valley. Each line is something over seven miles in length.
The pressure gauges at Lake View, the point of heaviest pressure,
register 820 lbs. on No. 1 and No. 2 pipes when filled, and 910 lbs.
on No. 3 pipe when filled.
When this work was first contemplated many hydraulic engineers
condemned the project as impossible, as never before had water been
carried so far under such pressure. But the fact that the first pipes
laid by Engineer Schussler are still in active use demonstrates the
scientific and practical knowledge and skill with which he attacked
the problem.
It is an interesting fact to note that, prior to the building of the
dam, part of the water was used for "fluming" lumber and wood to
Lake View, and also for a short period of time after the dam was
constructed. But for the past twenty years this practice has been
discontinued, the water being solely for the supply of Virginia City.
The total cost of the work was about $3,500,000. The Company is now
under the immediate and personal supervision of James M. Leonard. The
flumes and pipe-lines have recently been rebuilt and repaired where
necessary so that the entire system is in excellent condition and a
high state of efficiency.
DUBLISS, EDITH AND GENOA PEAKS
The ride to these three peaks can easily be made in a day, and though
they are all in reasonably close proximity, there are differences
enough in their respective outlooks to make a visit to each of them
enjoyable and profitable. With a good saddle-horse from the Glenbrook
stables, a guide, and a lunch tied to the saddle, one may start out
confident that a most delightful scenic trip is before him. The first
hour's riding is over the rocky and tree-clad slopes, far wilder
and more rugged than one would imagine, rudely bordering the Lake
southwards. Then turning east, hills and vales, flowery meads and
dainty native nurseries of pines, firs and hemlocks enchant the eye.
Reaching the summit of any one of the peaks, a wide expanse of Lake is
offered, extending to the surrounding mountains north, south and west,
but on Genoa Peak an additional charm is found in the close proximity
of the Nevada Valley, and mountains to the eastward. The contrast
between the richly clad Sierras and the apparently unclothed, volcanic
Nevada mountains is remarkable.
CHAPTER XXVII
CARNELIAN BAY AND TAHOE COUNTRY CLUB
On making the circuit of the Lake the last stopping-place on the
trip starting south, or the first when starting north and east, is
Carnelian Bay. This is a new settlement rapidly coming into prominence
because of the number of cottages and bungalows erected by their
owners on their own lots. From early until late in the seasons of
1913 and 1914 the sounds of the saw and hammer were seldom still. The
result is the growth of quite a summer settlement. Easy of access,
either by train and steamer from Truckee, or by direct wagon or auto
road via Truckee or the new boulevard from the south end of the Lake,
Carnelian Bay attracts the real home-seeker. It has been the first
section to fully realize what John LeConte has so ably set forth in
another chapter on Tahoe as a Summer Residence. With the completion of
the state highway around Lake Tahoe and the projected automobile route
from Reno and Carson City, Carnelian Bay will be adjacent to the main
arteries of travel. The proposed link of the Lincoln Highway around
the north shore of the Lake will put Carnelian Bay directly on the
great international auto road.
The beauties of Lake Tahoe can hardly be magnified to the people of
the West. Those who have once viewed its wonders and its magnificence,
who have for a season breathed its invigorating and stimulating
atmosphere, who have caught the wily trout which abound in its waters,
who have sailed, or rowed, or motor-boated over its indigo-blue
surface, carry in memory pictures in comparison with which any
word-picture would be inadequate and incomplete.
Hence the projectors of Carnelian Bay struck a popular note when, out
of their 81-acre tract, they put on sale convenient-sized lots. Of
these 75 were purchased almost immediately, and by 1914 there were
over 45 homes, large and small, already erected. Every lot was sold to
a purchaser who expressed his definite intention of speedily erecting
a house, cottage or bungalow for his own use. Hence the community
is of a selected class into which one may come with confidence and
assurance of congenial associations.
While there is no hotel at present there are several cottages and
bungalows especially erected for rent to transient guests, and a
good store, together with its close proximity to Tahoe City and Tahoe
Tavern, render a summer vacation here one of comfort, pleasure and
perfect enjoyment.
PROJECTED TAHOE COUNTRY CLUB AT CARNELIAN
The increasing need exists among those who are familiar with the
beauties and advantages of Lake Tahoe as a summer residence resort for
accommodations for families or transients where the usual comforts
of home may be obtained at a cost not prohibitive to the family of
ordinary means. Last year no less than 80,000 persons visited Lake
Tahoe. It is safe to say that this number will increase annually,
particularly with added accommodations at the Lake and with better
facilities for automobile travel. The proximity of Lake Tahoe to the
coast cities and the cities of the Sierras and the Middle West makes
it at once attractive to the business man who desires to spend his
summer vacation where the family is located for the summer months.
The Tahoe Country Club is designed to meet the need. The incorporators
have taken over in fee simple a beautiful tract embracing about 1500
feet of the beach at Carnelian Bay, California, perhaps the most
attractive site on Lake Tahoe. It commands a view of the entire length
of the Lake, looking toward the south, and embracing a magnificent
panoramic view of the mountains beyond. This site contains
approximately nine acres, and includes a natural inland harbor, making
off from a protected bay. The beach is shallow, of clean sand, sloping
down from easy terraces beautified by shade trees and lawns.
The plan of organization of the Tahoe Country Club is cooperative. Its
benefits are to be shared by its members, their families, and such
of their friends as they may invite to be guests of the club. The
properties taken over by the incorporation, including the 1500 feet
of beach front, harbor, wharf, and a system of water works already
installed, together with the perpetual title to the water rights, is
conservatively appraised at $30,000. This is held in fee, free from
incumbrance.
The charter--or organizing--members of the club will be the investors
in the bonds issued and secured on the real estate taken over by
the incorporation. This bond issue, the redemption of which will be
guaranteed by first mortgage on the properties, will be for $20,000.
These will be in denominations of $100 each, bearing six per cent.
interest after two years from June 1, 1914, and will be redeemable, at
the option of the mortgagor, at any regular annual interest period on
or after five years from the date of issue. They will be payable in
fifteen years.
Each original bond purchaser becomes a charter life member of
the club, entitled, without the payment of annual dues or other
assessments, to the privileges and benefits offered. These, briefly,
aside from the natural advantages of location, scenery, etc., are
an assured congenial environment, known associations (not always a
possibility in a public summer hotel), the absence of every possible
unpleasant influence, opportunities for fishing, boating, tennis,
golf and other outdoor sports, and first-class accommodations at a
cost far below that charged at regular high-class summer hotels.
[Illustration: Proposed Family Club House, Carnelian Bay, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Launch towing boats out to the fishing grounds,
Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: An Early Morning Catch, Tahoe Trout, Lake Tahoe]
The proceeds of the bond issue are to be devoted to the erection of
the first unit of the club's buildings, consisting of the club house
proper, and probably six four-room cottages adjacent. Thus the
value of the real estate securing the bonds will at once be enhanced
virtually to the full extent of the investment made by the charter
members.
With the initial buildings assured and in process of erection, the
membership and patronage of the club will be augmented by extending
the privileges of the organization to non-investors, who will be
enrolled upon payment of a fixed membership charge. These associate
members, like the charter members, will enjoy the privileges offered
for themselves and their families and for such of their friends as
they may desire to recommend, and for whom limited-period guest-cards
are requested.
With a membership so broadly scattered as will be the membership of
this club, community control of its affairs would be impracticable,
if not impossible. It has been decided, therefore, to vest the
supervisory control of the club in a self-perpetuating advisory
board, composed of many of the most prominent citizens of Nevada and
California.
The plan proposed is a feasible and practicable one, and one that
ought to appeal to nature lovers who desire just such opportunities
as it will afford on Lake Tahoe. The president of the company and the
directing genius who has made Carnelian Bay possible is L.P. Delano,
of Reno, Nevada, to whom all requests for further particulars
regarding the Tahoe Country Club, or of Carnelian Bay should be
addressed.
CHAPTER XXVIII
FISHING IN THE LAKES OF THE TAHOE REGION
Fishing in Lake Tahoe, and the other lakes of the region is a pleasure
and a recreation as well as an art and a science. There are laymen,
tyros, neophytes, proficients and artists. The real fraternity has
passes, catchwords, grips and signals to which outsiders seek to
"catch on" in vain.
The chief native trout of Lake Tahoe is locally known as the
"cut-throat," because of a brilliant dash of red on either side of the
throat. The name, however, gives no hint of the exquisite beauty of
the markings of the fish, the skill required and excitement developed
in catching it, and the dainty deliciousness of its flesh when
properly cooked.
Owing to the wonderful adaptability of Lake Tahoe, and the lakes
and brooks of the surrounding region, to fish life, several other
well-known varieties have been introduced, all of which have thrived
abundantly and now afford opportunity for the skill of the fisherman
and delight the palate of the connoisseur. These are the Mackinac,
rainbow, eastern brook, and Loch Levin. There is also found a
beautiful and dainty silver trout, along the shore where the cold
waters of the various brooks or creeks flow into Lake Tahoe (and also
in some of the smaller lakes), that is much prized. Some fishermen
claim that it is the "prettiest, gamiest, sweetest and choicest" fish
of the Lake, and it has been caught weighing as high as twelve pounds.
Another fish, native to Lake Tahoe, is found in vast numbers by the
Indians in the fall. The ordinary summer visitor to Tahoe seldom sees
or hears of these, as they rarely bite until the summer season is
over, say in October. This is a white fish, varying in size from half
a pound to four pounds in weight, with finely flavored flesh. It is
found in shallow water and near the mouths of the creeks, and the
Indians have a way of "snagging" them in. Building a kind of half
platform and half stone screen over the pools where they abound, the
Indians take a long wire, the end of which they have sharpened and
bent to form a rude hook. Then, without bait, or any attempt at sport,
they lower the hook and as rapidly as the fish appear, "snag" them
out, literally by the hundreds. Most of these are salted down for
winter use. This is supposed to be a native, and the traditions of the
Indians confirm the supposition.
The largest native Tahoe trout caught, of which there is any authentic
record, was captured not far from Glenbrook and weighed 35 pounds,
and, strange to say, its capturer was an amateur. This, the boatmen
tell me, is generally the case--the amateurs almost invariably
bringing in the largest fish. Although there are rumors of fish having
been caught weighing as high as 45 pounds it is impossible to trace
these down to any accurate and reliable source, hence, until there is
positive assurance to the contrary it may be regarded that this catch
is the largest on record.
The common Tahoe method of "trolling" for trout is different from
the eastern method. It is the result of years of experience and is
practically as follows: A copper line, 100 to 200 feet long, which
sinks of its own weight, on which a large copper spoon is placed
above the hook, which is baited with a minnow and angle-worm, is used.
Thrown into the water the line is gently pulled forward by the angler,
then allowed to sink back. He takes care, however, always to keep it
taut. This makes the spoon revolve and attracts the fish. The moment
the angler feels a strike he gives his line a quick jerk and proceeds
to pull in, landing the fish with the net. The local term for this
method of fishing is "jerk-line."
The copper line used is generally a 6 oz. for 100 feet, and the length
is adjusted to the places in which the fisherman wishes to operate.
Let us, for a short time, watch the would-be angler. Women are
often far more eager than men. The hotels of Tahoe keep their own
fishing-boats. The larger ones have a fleet of twenty or more, and in
the season this is found insufficient for the number who wish to try
their hand and prove their luck. Often great rivalry exists not only
in securing the boatmen who have had extra good luck or displayed
extraordinary skill, but also between the guests as to the extent
of their various "catches." When a boatman has taken his "fare" into
regions that have proven successful, and does this with frequency, it
is natural that those who wish to run up a large score should try hard
to secure him. This adds to the fun--especially to the onlookers.
The boat is all ready; the angler takes his (or her) seat in the
cushioned stern, feet resting upon a double carpet--this is fishing
_de luxe_. The oarsman pushes off and quietly rows away from the
pier out into deep water, which, at Tahoe varies from 75 feet to the
unknown depths of 1500 feet or more. The color of the water suggests
even to the tyro the depth, and as soon as the "Tahoe blue" is reached
the boatman takes his large hand-reel, unfastens the hook, baits
it with minnow and worm and then hands it to the angler, with
instructions to allow it to unreel when thrown out on the port side at
the stern.
At the same time he prepares a second hook from a second reel which he
throws out at the starboard side. At the end of each copper line a few
yards of fish-cord are attached in which a loop is adjusted for the
fingers. This holds the line secure while the backward and forward
pulls are being made, and affords a good hold for the hook-impaling
"jerk" when a strike is felt. While the "angler" pulls on his line the
boatman slowly rows along, and holding his line on the fingers of his
"starboard" hand, he secures the proper motion as he rows.
Then, pulling over the ledges or ridges between shallow and deeper,
or deeper and deep water, he exercises all his skill and acquired
knowledge and experience to enable his "fare" to make a good catch.
As soon as a strike is felt and duly hooked he sees that the line is
drawn in steadily so as not to afford the fish a chance to rid itself
of the hook, and, as soon as it appears, he drops his oar, seizes the
net, and lands the catch to the great delight of his less-experienced
fare.
Many are the tales that a privileged listener may hear around the
fisherman's night-haunts, telling of the antics of their many and
various fares, when a strike has been made. Some become so excited
that they tangle up their lines, and one boatman assures me that, on
one occasion a lady was so "rattled" that she finally wrapped her line
in such a fashion around both elbows that she sat helpless and he had
to come to her rescue and release her.
On another occasion a pair of "newly-weds" went out angling.
When "hubby" caught a fish, the pair celebrated the catch by
enthusiastically kissing, totally regardless of the surprise or envy
that might be excited in the bosom of the poor boatman, and when
"wifie" caught a fish the same procedure was repeated. "Of course,"
said the boatman, in telling me the story, "that pair caught more
fish than any one I had had for a month, simply to taunt me with their
carryings on."
In the height of the season the guests become the most enthusiastic
fishermen of all. They take a growing pride in their increasing scores
and the fishing then resolves itself into an earnest, almost deadly,
tournament in which each determines to outscore the others. This is
what the boatmen enjoy--though it often means longer hours and more
severe rowing--for it is far easier to work (so they say) for a
"fare" who is really interested than for one who is halfhearted and
indifferent.
As these rivals' boats pass each other they call out in triumph their
rising luck, or listen gloweringly to the recital of others' good
fortune, when they are compelled to silence because of their own
failure.
Sometimes the boatmen find these rivalries rather embarrassing, for
the excitement and nervousness of their "fares" become communicated to
them. Then, perhaps, they lose a promising strike, or, in their hurry,
fail to land the fish when it appears. Scolding and recriminations
are not uncommon on such occasions, and thus is the gayety of nations
added to.
What is it that really constitutes "fisherman's luck"? Who can tell?
The theories of Tahoe fishermen are as many as there are men. Some
think one thing, some another. One will talk learnedly of the phases
of the moon, another of the effect of warmer or colder weather upon
the "bugs" upon which the fish feed.
Sometimes one will "jerk" half a day and never get a strike; other
days the boat will scarcely have left the wharf before one pulls the
fish in almost as fast as hooks can be baited and thrown out. When
fishing is slow an amateur soon becomes tired out. The monotonous pull
on the line soon makes the arm weary, and destroys all enthusiasm.
But let the strikes begin and weariness disappears. Some days the fish
will bite for an hour, say from eleven to twelve, and then quit and
not give another strike all day. The very next day, in the same spot,
one cannot get a bite until afternoon.
One of my fishermen friends once related the following: "Again and
again I have heard old and experienced fishermen say that no fish can
be caught in a thunder-storm. Yet in July 1913 four boats were towed
by a launch out to the Nevada side, near to Glenbrook. It appeared
stormy before the party left, but they refused to be daunted or
discouraged by the doleful prognostications of the "know-it-alls."
Before long the lightning began, the clouds hung heavy, and while they
fished they were treated to alternate doses of thunder, lightning,
cloud, sunshine, rain and hail. In less than an hour every member of
the party--and there were several ladies--were soaked and drenched to
the skin, but all were happy. For, contrary to the assertions of the
experts, every angler was having glorious success. Each boat secured
its full quota, 40 fish to each, and the catch averaged 70 pounds to
a boat, scarcely a fish being pulled out that did not weigh over a
pound. Talk about luck; these people surely had it."
Once again; I was out one day with Boat No. 14 (each boat has its own
number), and the boatman told me the following story. I know him
well and his truthfulness is beyond question. He had with him two
well-known San Francisco gentlemen, whom I will name respectively,
Rosenbaum and Rosenblatt. They were out for the day. For hours they
"jerked" without success. At last one turned to the other and said:
"Rosie, I've got a hunch that our luck's going to change. I'm going to
count twenty and before I'm through we'll each have a fish." Slowly he
began to count, one,--two,--three. Just as he counted fourteen, both
men felt a strike, gave the fateful jerk, and pulled in a large fish,
and from that moment their luck changed.
This is not the whole of the story, however. Some days later the same
boatman was out on the Nevada side with two gentlemen, who could
not get a bite. Merely to while away the time the boatman told the
foregoing facts. To his surprise and somewhat to his disgust at his
own indiscretion in telling the story, one of the gentlemen began
to count, and, believe it or not, he assures me that at the fateful
fourteen, he gained a first-class strike, and continued to have
success throughout the afternoon.
As he left the boat he turned to his companion and said: "Well, that
fourteen's proved a lucky number. I'm going right over to the roulette
wheel to see what luck it will give me over there."
My boatman friend added that as he heard nothing of any great winnings
at the wheel that night, and Mr. N. looked rather quiet and sober the
next day, he is afraid the luck did not last. Needless to say that
except to me, and then only in my capacity as a writer, the story has
never been told.
Now, while the jerk-line method brings much joy to the heart of the
successful and lucky amateur, the genuine disciple of Izaak Walton
scorns this unsportsman-like method. He comes earlier in the season,
April, May, or June, or later, in September, and brings his rod and
line, when the fish keep nearer to the shore in the pot-holes and
rocky formations, and then angles with the fly. It is only at these
times, however, that he is at all likely to have any success, as the
Tahoe trout does not generally rise to the fly.
Yet, strange to say, in all the smaller trout-stocked lakes of the
region, Fallen Leaf, Cascade, Heather, Lily, Susie, Lucile, Grass,
LeConte, Rock Bound, the Velmas, Angora, Echo, Tamarack, Lake of the
Woods, Rainbow, Pit, Gilmore, Kalmia, Fontinalis, Eagle, Granite, and
as many more, the trout are invariably caught with the fly, though
the species most sought after is not the native Tahoe trout, but the
eastern brook. This is essentially fish for the genuine angler, and
many are the tales--true and otherwise--told of the sport the capture
of this fish has afforded in the region.
There are several interesting peculiarities about the fish of Lake
Tahoe and its region that it is well to note. In the large lake
(Tahoe) the native cutthroat grows to much the largest size--the
35-lb. one referred to elsewhere being proof of its great growth.
The next in size is the Mackinac which is often caught as large as 10
lb., and now and again up to 15 lb.
In Fallen Leaf Lake, which was stocked with Mackinac some years ago,
the native trout has become comparatively scarce, the former seemingly
having driven it out, though in Lake Tahoe there is no such result. In
Fallen Leaf not more than one or two in ten will be cutthroats, while
Mackinacs abound, up to 6 lbs. and 7 lbs. in weight. Occasionally much
larger fish are seen, though they are seldom brought to net. Not long
ago a Loch Levin, weighing 12 lbs., was caught here.
While the catch of fish in the smaller lakes of the region is
exceedingly large the fish themselves are smaller, the opportunities
for hiding and fattening and growing older being comparatively greater
in the larger body of water.
During the height of the season when there are a great many boats
out it is common to hire a launch which will tow from four to a dozen
boats over towards Emerald Bay on the California side, or towards
Glenbrook on the Nevada side, where the fishing grounds are known to
be of the best. The boatmen especially enjoy these days out--although
the "fares" may not always suspect it--as it gives them a change from
their ordinary routine and table fare. They enjoy trout as well as
do the visitors, and of course, they are all expert cooks as well as
boatmen. When noon-time comes, if there has been any luck, a camp-fire
is built and the fish are fried, or broiled on the coals, or by
experts, made into an excellent chowder. And never does one enjoy a
fish dinner so much as under these circumstances. The exercise, the
fresh air, the motion over the water, the deliciousness and delicate
flavor of the fish, all conspire to tempt the most capricious
appetite.
Once in a while a black bass will be caught, though it is not believed
that this is a native fish. It does not seem to thrive in Tahoe though
the boatmen tell me they occasionally see a few, especially off the
docks at Tallac and other points at the south end of the Lake.
Now and again small bull-heads will be seen, and a very small
rock-bass. But these never bite on hook and line, and are seldom found
more than two or three inches long.
On the other hand big schools of suckers and chubs are seen. The
former naturally are scorned by all true fishermen as they are
regarded as hogs, or scavengers, and are thrown back whenever caught,
or are taken and fed to the gulls or pelicans. The chubs occasionally
are hooked and are from half a pound to a pound and a half in size.
As a rule these are thrown back, though they make good eating to those
who do not object to their excess of bones.
One of the most interesting of sights is to see one of the schools of
minnows that fairly abound in Lake Tahoe. In the clear and pellucid
water one can clearly see them swim along. As they pass a rocky place
a trout will dart out and catch his prey. A flutter at once passes
through the whole school. Yet, strange to say, the trout will
sometimes swim around such a body and either stupify them with fear,
or hypnotize them into forgetfulness of their presence, for they will
float quietly in the center of the mass, catching the minnows one by
one as they need them without exciting the least fear or attention.
The minnows generally remain in fairly shallow water, and keep so
closely together that a line of demarcation is made between where they
are and outside, as if it had been cut with a knife along a straight
edge, and in some mysterious way the fish dare not cross it, though it
constantly moves along with their movements.
It will be obvious that necessarily there is much market-fishing in
Lake Tahoe and its surrounding lakes. Indeed there are large numbers
of fishermen--Indians and whites--who supply the various hotels both
of the Lake region and in San Francisco, Oakland, Sacramento and
adjacent cities, and even as far as Denver and Salt Lake City,
eastwards, and Los Angeles to the south. These fishermen are very
persistent in their work, keeping at it from early morning until
late at night, though their catches are supposed to be officially
regulated.
The amount of fish caught and shipped by these market-fishermen is
remarkable. In 1911 the report shows that over 22,000 pounds were sent
out by express, over half of which were sent from Tallac alone. And
this does not take any account of the amount caught and eaten by
private residents around the Lake, by the visitors or by the hotels.
The fish that are to be shipped are not, as one might naturally
suppose, packed in ice. Experience has demonstrated a better way which
is now universally followed. At Tallac the hotel has a large place
devoted to this process, which is practically as follows: Each boatman
has a fish-box, numbered to correspond with his boat. These are kept
in the water during the season, and if the catch of his "fare" for one
day is not sufficient for a shipment it is placed in the box. When
a sufficient number is on hand, they are taken out by the boatman,
carefully cleaned and hung up to dry in fly-proof, open-air cages.
When perfectly dry inside and out they are packed in sweet-smelling
Tallac Meadow hay, and shipped by express.
Many visitors cannot understand why there are no fish in some of
the lakes that, to their eyes, seem just as well adapted for fish as
others that possess an abundance. Even old timers do not all know the
reason. If a lake is shallow, when the deep snow falls it soon sinks
below the surface in a heavy mushy mass that presses down upon the
fish and prevents their breathing. Then, if a severe frost follows and
the mass freezes the ice squeezes the fish to the bottom. Over three
years ago Watson took fish to Bessie Lake, putting in as many as 6000
fry of Lake Tahoe and other species. The next year, and the following
years they were all right, having grown to eight or nine inches in
length. Then came a severe winter and in the spring there was not a
living fish left. The bottom was strewn with them, many of them with
broken backs.
[Illustration: A gnarled monarch of the High Sierras, an aged Juniper,
near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Mountain Heather, in Desolation Valley, Near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: The Successful Deer Hunter at Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Chris Nelson, With His Catch, a 23 Lb. Tahoe Trout]
CHAPTER XXIX
HUNTING AT LAKE TAHOE
In the chapter on the Birds and Animals of the Tahoe Region I have
written of the game to be found. There are few places left in the
Sierras where such good deer- and bear-hunting can be found as near
Tahoe. During the dense snow-falls the deer descend the western
slopes, approaching nearer and nearer to the settlements of the upper
foothills, and there they do fairly well until the snow begins to
recede in the spring. They keep as near to the snow line as possible,
and are then as tame and gentle almost as sheep. When the season
opens, however, they soon flee to certain secret recesses and hidden
lairs known to none but the old and experienced guides of the region.
There are so many of these wooded retreats, however, and the Tahoe
area is so vast, that it is seldom an expert goes out for deer
(or bear) that he fails. Hence the sportsman is always assured of
"something worth while."
As for bear I have told elsewhere of recent hunts on Mt. Freel from
Tallac, and the two bears killed there in 1913, and of Carl Flugge's
experiences. With Tallac hunters, Flugge, Bob Watson or any other
experienced man, one can scarcely fail to have exciting and successful
times.
CHAPTER XXX
THE FLOWERS OF THE TAHOE REGION
It would be impossible in the space of a brief chapter to present
even a list of all the flowers found and recorded in the Tahoe Region.
Suffice it to say that 1300 different species already have been
listed. This chapter will merely call attention to the most prominent,
or, on the other hand, the rarer and special flowering plants that the
visitor should eagerly search for.
As fast as the snow retires from the sun-kissed slopes the flowers
begin to come out. Indeed in April, were one at Tahoe, he could make
a daily pilgrimage to the receding snow-line and there enjoy new
revelations of dainty beauty each morning. For the flowers, as the
snow-coating becomes thinner, respond to the "call of the sun", and
thrust up their spears out of the softened and moistened earth, so
that when the last touch of snow is gone they are often already in bud
ready to burst forth into flower at the first kiss of sunshine.
In May they come trooping along in all their pristine glory, God's
thoughts cast upon the mold of earth, so that even the men and women
of downcast eyes and souls may know the ever-fresh, ever-present love
of God.
Most interesting of all is the snow-plant (_sarcodes san-guinea
Torrey_). The name is unfortunate. The plant doesn't look like
snow, nor does it grow on or in the snow. It simply follows the snow
line, as so many of the Sierran plants do, and as the snow melts and
leaves the valley, one must climb to find it. It is of a rich red
color, which glows in the sunlight like a living thing. It has no
leaves but is supplied with over-lapping scale-like bracts of a
warm flesh-tint. At the lower part of the flower these are rigid and
closely adherent to the stem, but higher up they become looser and
curl gracefully about among the vivid red bells. In the spring of 1914
they were wonderfully plentiful at the Tavern and all around the Lake.
I literally saw hundreds of them.
Next in interest comes the heather, both red and white. In Desolation
Valley, as well as around most of the Sierran lakes of the Tahoe
Region, beds of heather are found that have won enthusiastic Scotchmen
to declare that Tahoe heather beats that of Scotland. The red heather
is the more abundant, and its rich deep green leaves and crown of
glowing red makes it to be desired, but the white heather is a flower
fit for the delicate corsage bouquet of a queen, or the lapel of the
noblest of men. Dainty and exquisite, perfect in shape and color its
tiny white bell is _par-excellence_ the emblem of passionate
purity.
Blue gentians (_Gentina calycosa, Griseb_) abound, their deep
blue blossoms rivaling the pure blue of our Sierran skies. These often
come late in the season and cheer the hearts of those who come upon
them with "a glad sweet surprise". There are also white gentians found
aplenty.
The water lilies of the Tahoe Region are strikingly beautiful. In many
of the Sierran lakes conditions seem to exist which make them flourish
and they are found in plentiful quantities.
Wild marigolds abound in large patches, even on the mountain heights,
where there is plenty of moisture and sunshine, and a species of
marguerite, or mountain daisy, is not uncommon. The Indian paint-brush
is found everywhere and is in full bloom in deepest red in September.
Wild sunflowers also abound except where the sheep have been. Then not
a sign of once vast patches can be found. They are eaten clear to the
ground.
The mullein attains especial dignity in this mountain region. Stately
and proud it rises above the lesser though more beautiful flowers of
the wild. It generally dies down in September, though an occasional
flowering stalk may be seen as late as October.
Another very common but ever-welcome plant, for its pungent and
pleasing odor, is the pennyroyal. It abounds throughout the whole
region and its hardiness keeps it flowering until late in the fall.
Beautiful and delicate at all times wherever seen, the wild snowdrop
is especially welcome in the Tahoe Region, where, amid soaring pines
and firs, it timidly though faithfully blooms and cheers the eye with
its rare purity.
Now and again one will find the beautiful California fuchsia
(_zauschneria Californica_, Presl.) its delicate beauty
delighting the eye and suggesting some of the rare orchids of a pale
yellow tint.
The Sierra primrose (_Primula Suffrutescens_) is often found near
to the snow-line. Its tufts of evergreen leaves seem to revel in the
cold water of the melting snow and the exquisite rose-tints of the
flowers are enhanced by the pure white of what snow is left to help
bring them into being.
It is natural that, in a region so abounding in water, ferns of many
kinds should also abound. The common brake flourishes on the eastern
slopes, but I have never found the maiden hair. On the western slopes
it is abundant, but rarely if ever found on the easterly exposures.
Most striking and attractive among the shrubs are the mountain ash,
the mountain mahogany (_cereocarpus parvifolius_, Nutt.) the
California laurel (_umbellularia Californica_, Nutt.) and the
California holly, or _toyon_. The rich berries, the green leaves,
the exquisite and dainty flowers, the delicious and stimulating odors
all combine to make these most welcome in every Sierran landscape, no
matter at what season they appear.
While in the foregoing notes on the flowers of the Tahoe region I have
hastily gone over the ground, one particular mountain to the north of
Tahoe has been so thoroughly and scientifically studied that it seems
appropriate to call more particular attention to it in order that
botanists may realize how rich the region is in rare treasures. For
what follows I am indebted to the various writings of Professor P.
Beveridge Kennedy, long time professor at the University of Nevada,
but recently elected to the faculty of the University of California.
One could almost write a "Botany" of Mt. Rose alone, so interesting
are the floral specimens found there. This mountain stands unique in
the Lake Tahoe region in that it is an intermediate between the high
mountains of the Sierra Nevada and those of the interior of the Great
Basin. Its flora are undoubtedly influenced by the dry atmospheric
conditions that exist on the eastern side. A mere suggestion only can
be given here of the full enjoyment afforded by a careful study of
what it offers.
At from 10,000 feet up the following new species have been found.
_Eriogonum rhodanthum_, a perennial which forms dense mats on
hard rocky ground. The caudex is made up of many strands twisted
together like rope, its numerous branches terminated by clusters of
very small, new and old leaves, with flower clusters. Another similar
species is the _E. rosensis_.
An interesting rock-cress is found in the _Arabis Depauperata_,
which here shows the results of its fierce struggles for existence. It
bears minute purple flowers.
Flowering in the middle of August, but past flowering at the end of
September the _Gilia montana_ is found, with its numerous white
and pink leaves.
Nearby is the _Phlox dejecta_ in large quantities, resembling a
desert moss, and covering the rocks with its tinted carpet.
An Indian paint-brush with a flower in an oblong cream-colored spike,
with purple blotches, was named _Castilleia inconspicua_, possibly
because it is so much less conspicuous and alluring to the eye than
its well-known and striking brother of the California fields, _C.
parviflora_. This species has been of great interest to botanists,
as when first observed it was placed in the genus _Orthocarpus_.
Professor Kennedy thinks it is undoubtedly a connecting link between
the two genera. It has been found only on Mount Rose, where it is
common at between 9000 and 10,000 feet elevation. It reaches, however,
to the summit, though it is more sparingly found there.
Professor Kennedy also describes _Hulsea Caespitosa_, or Alpine
dandelion, a densely pubescent plant, emitting a disagreeable odor,
whose large yellow flowers surprise one when seen glowing apparently
out of the masses of loose volcanic rock. It is soon found, however,
that they have roots deep down in good soil beneath. Another new
species, _Chrysothamnus Monocephala_, or Alpine rabbit-brush, is
a very low, shrubby plant, with insignificant pale yellow flowers.
A beautiful little plant, well adapted to rockeries and suited for
cultivation, is _Polemonium Montrosense_. Under good conditions
it grows excellently. It was found on the summit of Mt. Rose, and at
lower elevations.
Clusters of the Alpine Monkey-flower (_Mimulus Implexus_, Greene), are
also found on Mt. Rose, as well as on other Tahoe mountain summits.
The rich yellow flowers bloom profusely, though their bed is often a
moraine of wet rocks over which a turbulent cold stream has recently
subsided.
Slightly below the summit the little elephant's-head have been found
(_Elephantella attolens_(Gray) Heller). Rydberg in his _Flora of
Montana_ showed that these were not properly the true _pendicularis_,
as they had hitherto been regarded, hence the new name. The corolla
strikingly resembles the head of an elephant, the beak of the galea
forming the trunk, the lateral lobes of the lips the ears, and the
stigma the finger-like appendage of the trunk.
In August, growing below the perpetual snow banks at about 10,000 feet
elevation that supply an abundance of moisture, one will often find
clumps of _Rhodiola Integrifolia_, which attract the eye with
their deep reddish-purple flowers and fruits. The leaves also have a
purple tinge.
Nearby clambering over the granite bowlders the Alpine heath,
_Cassiope Mertensianae_, with its multitude of rose-tinted flower
bells, sometimes is found, though not in the profusion it displays in
Desolation Valley.
Another very interesting plant is the Alpine currant (_Ribes
Inebrians_, Lindl.) which between the years 1832 and 1907 has
received no less than eight different names accorded by European and
American botanists. It is a remarkable shrub, in that it occurs higher
on the mountain than any other form of vegetation except lichens. The
roots penetrate deeply into the crevices of the lava rocks, enabling
it to withstand the fierce winds. The flowers, which appear in
August, are white, shading to pink, and the red berries, which are not
especially palatable on account of their insipid taste and numerous
seeds, are abundant in September. Another new Mt. Rose _ribes_
has been named _Churchii_ in honor of Professor J.E. Church, Jr.,
whose original work at the Mt. Rose Observatory is described in the
chapter devoted to that purpose.
Growing at elevations of from 6000 to 10,000 feet, displaying a
profusion of white flowers sometimes delicately tinged with light
purple is the _Phlox Douglasii_, Hook. It is low but with loose,
much-branched prostrate stems and remarkably stout, almost woody
roots.
A new Alpine willow (_Salix Caespitosa_) has also been
discovered. Professor Kennedy thus writes of it:
The melting snow, as it comes through and over the rocks in
the nature of a spring, brings with it particles of sand and
vegetation, which form a very shallow layer of soil on a flat
area to one side of the main branch of the stream. On this the
willow branches adhere like ivy, rooting at every joint and
interlaced so as to form a dense mat. From these, erect leafy
shoots, one or two inches high, appear, with the many flowered
catkins extending above the foliage. The pistillate plants
occupy separate but adjacent areas to the staminate ones.
[Illustration: Professor Fergusson at the Fergusson Meteorograph
at Mt. Rose Observatory. 10,090 Feet]
[Illustration: An Alpine White Pine, Defying the Storms, on the
North Slope of Mt. Rose, 9,500 Ft.]
[Illustration: Tallac, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Looking North from Cave Rock, Lake Tahoe]
CHAPTER XXXI
THE CHAPARRAL OF THE TAHOE REGION
The word _chaparral_ is a Spanish word, transferred bodily into
our language, without, however, retaining its strict and original
significance. In Spanish it means a plantation of evergreen oaks, or,
thick bramble-bushes entangled with thorny shrubs in clumps. Hence,
in the west, it has come to mean any low or scrub brush that thickly
covers a hill or mountain-side. As there is a varied chaparral in the
Tahoe region, it is well for the visitor to know of what it is mainly
composed.
Experience has demonstrated that where the larger lumber is cut
off close on the Sierran slopes of the Tahoe region the low bushy
chaparral at once takes full possession. It seems to prevent the
tree seeds from growing and thus is an effectual preventive to
reforestation. This, however, is generally not so apparent east of the
main range as it is on the western slopes. One of its chief elements
is the manzanita (_Arctostaphylos patula_) easily distinguishable
by the red wood of its stem and larger branches, glossy leaves,
waxen blossoms (when in flower) and green or red berries in the early
autumn.
The snow-bush abounds. It is a low sage-green bush, very thorny, hence
is locally called "bide-a-wee" from the name given by the English
soldiers to a very thorny bush they had to encounter during the Boer
War. In the late days of spring and even as late as July it is covered
with a white blossom that makes it glorious and attractive.
Then there is the thimble-berry with its big, light yellow, sprawling
leaves, and its attractively red, thimble-shaped, but rather tasteless
berries. The Indians, however, are very fond of them, and so are some
of the birds and animals, likewise of the service berries, which look
much like the blueberry, though their flavor is not so choice.
Here and there patches of the wild gooseberry add to the tangle of
the chaparral. The gooseberries when ripe are very red, as are the
currants, but they are armored with a tough skin completely covered
with sharp, hairy thorns. In Southern California all the fruit of
the wild _ribes_ have the thorns, but they do not compare in
penetrating power and strength with those of the Tahoe gooseberries.
One of the most charming features of the chaparral is the mountain
ash, especially when the berries are ripe and red. The Scotch name
_rowan_ seems peculiarly appropriate. Even while the berries are
yellow they are attractive to the eye, and alluring to the birds, but
when they become red they give a splendid dash of rich color that sets
off the whole mountain side.
The mountain mahogany is not uncommon (_Cereocarpus parvifolius_,
Nutt.) and though its green flowers are inconspicuous, its long,
solitary plumes at fruiting time attract the eye.
While the California laurel (_Umbellularia Californica_, Nutt.)
often grows to great height, it is found in chaparral clumps on the
mountain sides. It is commonly known as the bay tree, on account of
the bay-like shape and odor of its leaves when crushed. It gives a
spicy fragrance to the air and is always welcome to those who know it.
In many places throughout the mountains of the Tahoe region there are
clumps or groves of wild cherry (_Prunus Demissa_, Walpers), the
cherries generally ripening in September. But if one expects the ripe
red _wild_ cherries to have any of the delicious richness and
sweetness of the ripe Queen Anne or other good variety he is doomed
to sad disappointment. For they are sour and bitter--bitter as
quinine,--and that is perhaps the reason their juice has been
extracted and made into medicine supposed to have extraordinary tonic
and healing virtue.
The elder is often found (_Sambucus Glauca_, Nutt.), sometimes
quite tall and at other times broken down by the snow, but bravely
covering its bent and gnarled trunks and branches with dense foliage
and cream-white blossom-clusters. The berries are always attractive to
the eye in their purple tint, with the creamy blush on them, and happy
is that traveler who has an expert make for him an elderberry pie, or
distill the rich cordial the berries make.
Another feature of the chaparral often occupies the field entirely
to itself, viz., the chamisal or greasewood (_Adenostoma
fasciculatum_, Hook, and Arn.). Its small clustered and needle-like
leaves, richly covered with large, feathery panicles of tiny
blossoms, give it an appearance not unlike Scotch heather, and make a
mountainside dainty and beautiful.
The California buckeye (_Aesculus Californica_, Nutt.) is also
found, especially upon stream banks or on the moist slopes of
the canyons. Its light gray limbs, broad leaves, and long, white
flower-spikes make it an attractive shrub or tree (for it often
reaches forty feet in height), and when the leaves drop, as they do
early, the skeleton presents a beautiful and delicate network against
the deep azure of the sky.
Another feature of the chaparral is the scrub oak. In 1913 the bushes
were almost free from acorns. They generally appear only every other
year, and when they do bear the crop is a wonderfully numerous one.
A vast amount of wild lilac (_Ceanothus Velutinus_) is found on
all the slopes. It generally blooms in June and then the hillsides are
one fragrant and glowing mass of vivid white tinged with the creamy
hue that adds so much charm to the flowers.
The year 1913, however, was a peculiar year, throughout, for plant
life. In the middle of September in Page's Meadows a large patch
of ceanothus was in full bloom, either revealing a remarkably late
flowering, or a second effort at beautification.
Another ceanothus, commonly called mountain birch, is often found.
When in abundance and in full flower it makes a mountain side appear
as if covered with drifted snow.
Willows abound in the canyons and on the mountains of the Tahoe
region, and they are an invariable sign of the near presence of water.
There is scarcely a canyon where alders, cottonwoods and quaking
aspens may not be found. In 1913 either the lack of water, some
adverse climatic condition, or some fungus blight caused the aspen
leaves to blotch and fall from the trees as early as the beginning of
September. As a rule they remain until late in October, changing to
autumnal tints of every richness and hue and reminding one of the
glorious hues of the eastern maples when touched by the first frosts
of winter.
No one used to exploring dry and desert regions, such as the Colorado
and Mohave Deserts of Southern California, the Grand Canyon region,
the Navajo Reservation, etc., in Arizona and New Mexico, the constant
presence of water in the Tahoe region is a perpetual delight. Daily
in my trips here I have wondered at the absence of my canteen and
sometimes in moments of forgetfulness I would reach for it, and be
almost paralyzed with horror not to find it in its accustomed place.
But the never-ending joy of feeling that one could start out for a
day's trip, or a camping-out expedition of a week or a month and never
give the subject of water a moment's thought, can only be appreciated
by those who are direfully familiar with the dependence placed upon
the canteen in less favored regions.
CHAPTER XXXII
HOW TO DISTINGUISH THE TREES OF THE TAHOE REGION
By "trees" in this chapter I mean only the evergreen trees--the pines,
firs, spruces, hemlocks, cedars, junipers and tamaracks. Many visitors
like to know at least enough when they are looking at a tree, to tell
which of the above species it belongs to. All I aim to do here is to
seek to make clear the distinguishing features of the various
trees, and to give some of the more readily discernible signs of the
different varieties of the same species found in the region.
It must not be forgotten that tree growth is largely dependent upon
soil conditions. The soil of the Tahoe region is chiefly glacial
detritus.
On the slopes and summits of the ridges it is sandy, gravelly,
and liberally strewn with masses of drift bowlders. The flats
largely formed of silting while they still constituted beds
of lakes, have a deep soil of fine sand and mold resting on
coarse gravel and bowlder drift. Ridges composed of brecciated
lavas, which crumble easily under the influence of atmospheric
agencies, are covered with soil two or three feet, or even
more, in depth, where gentle slopes or broad saddles have
favored deposition and prevented washing. The granite areas of
the main range and elsewhere have a very thin soil. The flats
at the entrance of small streams into Lake Tahoe are covered
with deep soil, owing to deposition of vegetable matter
brought from the slopes adjacent to their channels. As a
whole, the soil of the region is of sufficient fertility to
support a heavy forest growth, its depth depends wholly on
local circumstances
favoring washing and removal of the soil elements as fast
as formed, or holding them in place and compelling
accumulations.[1]
Coniferous species of trees constitute fully ninety-five per cent.
of the arborescent growth in the region. The remaining five per
cent. consists mostly of different species of oak, ash, maple,
mountain-mahogany, aspen, cottonwood, California buckeye, western
red-bud, arborescent willows, alders, etc.
Of the conifers the species are as follows: yellow pine, _pinus
ponderosa_; Jeffrey pine, _pinus jeffreyi_; sugar pine, _pinus
lambertiana_; lodge-pole pine, _pinus murrayana_; white pine, _pinus
monticola_; digger pine, _pinus sabiniana_; white-bark pine, _pinus
albicaulis_; red fir, _pseudotsuga taxifolia_; white fir, _abies
concolor_; Shasta fir, _abies magnifica_; patton hemlock or alpine
spruce, _tsuga pattoniana_; incense cedar, _libocedrus decurrens_;
western juniper, _juniperus occidentalis_; yew, _taxus brevifolia_.
[Footnote 1: John B. Leiberg, in _Forest Conditions in the Northern
Sierra Nevada_.]
The range and chief characteristic of these trees, generally speaking,
are as follows:
_Digger Pine_. This is seldom found in the Tahoe region, except
in the lower reaches of the canyons on the west side of the range. It
is sometimes known as the Nut Pine, for it bears a nut of which the
natives are very fond. It has two cone forms, one in which the spurs
point straight down, the other in which they are more or less curved
at the tip. They grow to a height of forty to fifty and occasionally
ninety feet high; with open crown and thin gray foliage.
_Western Juniper_. This is a typical tree of the arid regions
east of the Sierra, yet it is to be found scattered throughout the
Tahoe country, generally at an elevation between five thousand and
eight thousand feet. It ranges in height from ten to twenty-five or
even sixty-five feet. Its dull red bark, which shreds or flakes
easily, its berries, which begin a green color, shade through to
gray, and when ripe are a rich purple, make it readily discernible.
It is a characteristic feature of the scenery at timber line in many
Tahoe landscapes.
With the crowns beaten by storms into irregular shapes,
often dead on one side but flourishing on the other, the tops
usually dismantled and the trunks excessively thickened at
base, such figures, whether erect, half overthrown or wholly
crouching, are the most picturesque of mountain trees and are
frequently of very great age.--_Jepson_.
_Yew_. This is not often found and then only in the west canyons
above the main range. It is a small and insignificant tree, rarely
exceeding forty feet in height. It has a thin red-brown smooth bark
which becomes shreddy as it flakes off in thin and rather small
pieces. The seeds are borne on the under side of the sprays and
when mature set in a fleshy scarlet cup, the whole looking like a
brilliantly colored berry five or six inches long. They ripen in July
or August.
_Incense Cedar_. This is commonly found all over the region at
elevations below 7500 feet, though its chief habitat is at elevations
of 3500 to 6000 feet. It grows to a height of fifty to one hundred and
fifty feet, with a strongly conical trunk, very thick at the base, and
gradually diminishing in size upward. The bark is thick, red-brown,
loose and fibrous, and when the tree is old, broken into prominent
heavy longitudinal furrows. The cones are red-brown, oblong-ovate when
closed, three-fourths to an inch long.
_Shasta Fir_. This is found on the summits, slopes and shores
of Lake Tahoe, and to levels 6200 feet in elevation on the slopes and
summits directly connected with the main range. It is found along the
Mount Pluto ridge. It is essentially a tree of the mountains, where
the annual precipitation ranges from fifty inches upward. In the Tahoe
region it is locally known as the red fir. Sometimes it is called the
red bark fir and golden fir. It grows from sixty to even one hundred
and seventy-five feet high with trunk one to five feet in diameter and
a narrowly cone-shaped crown composed of numerous horizontal strata of
fan-shaped sprays. The bark on young trees is whitish or silvery, on
old trunks dark red, very deeply and roughly fissured. The cones when
young are of a beautiful dull purple, when mature becoming brown.
_White Pine_. This is found on northern slopes as low down as
6500 feet, though it generally ranges above 7000 feet, and is quite
common. It sometimes is called the silver pine, and generally in the
Tahoe region, the mountain pine. It grows to a height of from fifty to
one hundred and seventy-five feet, the branches slender and spreading
or somewhat drooping, and mostly confined to the upper portion of the
shaft. The trunk is from one to six feet in diameter and clothed with
a very smooth though slightly checked whitish or reddish bark. The
needles are five (rarely four) in a place, very slender, one to three
and three-fourths inches long, sheathed at the base by thinnish narrow
deciduous scales, some of which are one inch long. The cones come in
clusters of one to seven, from six to eight or rarely ten inches
long, very slender when closed and usually curved towards the tip,
black-purple or green when young, buff-brown when ripe. It is best
recognized by its light-gray smooth bark, broken into squarish
plates, its pale-blue-green foliage composed of short needles, and its
pendulous cones so slender as to give rise to the name "Finger-Cone
Pine."
_Sugar Pine_. This is found on the lower terraces of Tahoe,
fringing the region with a sparse and scattering growth, but it is
not found on the higher slopes of the Sierra. On the western side
its range is nearly identical with that of the red fir. It grows from
eighty to one hundred and fifty feet high, the young and adult trees
symmetrical, but the aged trees commonly with broken summits or
characteristically flat-topped with one or two long arm-like branches
exceeding shorter ones. The trunk is from two to eight feet in
diameter, and the bark brown or reddish, closely fissured into rough
ridges. The needles are slender, five in a bundle, two to three and a
half inches long. The cones are pendulous, borne on stalks at the
end of the branches, mostly in the very summit of the tree, very
long-oblong, thirteen to eighteen inches long, four to six inches in
diameter when opened.
This pine gains its name from its sugary exudation, sought by
the native tribes, which forms hard white crystallized nodules
on the upper side of fire or ax wounds in the wood. This flow
contains resin, is manna-like, has cathartic properties, and
is as sweet as cane-sugar. The seeds are edible. Although very
small they are more valued by the native tribes than the large
seeds of the Digger Pine on account of their better flavor.
In former days, when it came October, the Indians went to the
high mountains about their valleys to gather the cones. They
camped on the ridges where the sugar pines grow and celebrated
their sylvan journey by tree-climbing contests among the men.
In these latter days, being possessed of the white man's
ax, they find it more convenient to cut the tree down. It is
undoubtedly the most remarkable of all pines, viewed either
from the standpoint of its economic value or sylvan interest.
It is the largest of pine trees, considered whether as to
weight or girth, and more than any other tree gives beauty and
distinction to the Sierran forest.--_Jepson_.
The long cones found in abundance about Tahoe Tavern are those of the
sugar pine.
_Yellow Pine and Jeffrey Pine_. These are practically one and
the same, though the latter is generally regarded as a variety and the
former the type. Mr. Leiberg says:
The two forms differ chiefly in the size of the cones, in the
tint and odor of the foliage, and in the color and thickness
of the bark, differences which are insufficient to constitute
specific characters. The most conspicuous of the above
differences is that in the size of the cones, which may
seemingly hold good if only a few hundred trees are examined.
But when one comes to deal with thousands of individuals
the distinction vanishes. It is common to find trees of the
Jeffrey type as to foliage and bark that bear the big cones,
and the characteristic smaller cones of the typical yellow
pine, both at the same time and on the same individual, while
old cones strewn about on the ground indicate that in some
seasons trees of the Jeffrey type produce only small-sized
cones. The odor and the color of leaves and bark are more or
less dependent on soil conditions and the inherent vitality
of the individual tree, and the same characters are found
in specimens belonging to the yellow and Jeffrey pine. It
is noticeable that the big-cone variety preferably grows at
considerable elevation and on rocky sterile ground, while the
typical form of the yellow pine prevails throughout the lower
regions and on tracts with a more generous soil.
The yellow pine has a wider range than any other of the Tahoe
conifers, though on the high, rocky areas, south and west of
Rubicon Springs it is lacking. It crosses from the western
slopes to the eastern sides of the Sierras and down into the
Tahoe basin over the heads of Miller and McKinney Creeks,
in both places as a thin line, or rather as scattering trees
mixed with Shasta fir and white pine.
It grows from sixty to two hundred and twenty-five feet high with
trunk two to nine feet in diameter. The limbs in mature trees are
horizontal or even drooping. The bark of typical trees is tawny
yellow or yellow-brown, divided by fissures into large smoothish
or scaly-surfaced plates which are often one to four feet long and
one-half to one and a quarter feet wide. The needles are in threes,
five to ten inches long; the cones reddish brown.
It must be noted, too, that "the bark is exceedingly variable,
black-barked or brown-barked trees, roughly or narrowly
fissured, are very common and in their extreme forms
very different in trunk appearance from the typical or
most-abundant 'turtle-back' form with broad, yellow or light
brown plates."--_Jepson_.
_Lodge Pole Pine_. The range of this tree is almost identical
with that of the Shasta fir, though here and there it is found at as
low an altitude as 4500 feet. It loves the margins of creeks, glades
and lakes situated at altitudes of 6000 feet and upward, where it
usually forms a fringe of nearly pure growth in the wet and swampy
portions of the ground. In the Tahoe region it is invariably called a
tamarack or tamarack pine. It is a symmetrical tree commonly reaching
as high as fifty to eighty feet, but occasionally one hundred and
twenty-five feet. When stunted, however, it is only a few feet. The
bark is remarkably thin, rarely more than one quarter inch thick,
light gray in color, very smooth but flaking into small thin scales.
There are only two needles to a bunch, in a sheath, one and a half to
two and three quarters inches long. The cones are chestnut brown, one
to one and three quarters inches long.
It is when sleeping under the lodge pole pines that you begin to
appreciate their perfect charm and beauty. You unroll your blankets
at the foot of a stately tree at night, unconscious and careless as to
what tree it is. During the night, when the moon is at the full, you
awaken and look up into a glory of shimmering light. The fine tapering
shape, the delicate fairy-like beauty, instantly appeal to the
sensitive soul and he feels he is in a veritable temple of beauty.
They are very sensitive trees. In many places a mere grass fire, quick
and very fierce for a short time, has destroyed quite a number.
_White Fir_. This follows closely the range of the incense cedar,
though in some places it is found as high as 8700 feet. It is one
of the most perfect trees in the Sierras. Ranging from sixty to one
hundred and fifty and even two hundred feet high, with a narrow crown
composed of flat sprays and a trunk naked for one-third to one-half
its height and from one to six feet in diameter, with a smooth bark,
silvery or whitish in young trees, becoming thick and heavily fissured
into rounded ridges on old trunks, and gray or drab-brown in color,
it is readily distinguishable, with its companion, the red fir, by the
regularity of construction of trunk, branch and branchlet. As Smeaton
Chase expresses it, "The fine smooth arms, set in regular formation,
divide and redivide again and again _ad infinitum_, weaving at
last into a maze of exquisitely symmetrical twigs and branchlets."
_Red Fir_. The range of the red fir is irregular. It occurs
on the Rubicon River and some of the headwaters of the west-flowing
streams, reaching a general height of 6000 feet, though it is
occasionally found as high as 7000 feet. In some parts of California
this is known as Douglas Spruce, and Jepson, in his _Silva of
California_ definitely states:
The name "fir" as applied to the species is so well
established among woodsmen that for the sake of
intelligibility the combination Douglas Fir, which prevents
confusion with the true firs and has been adopted by the
Pacific Coast Lumberman's Association, is here accepted,
notwithstanding that the name used by botanists, "Douglas
Spruce" is actually more fitting on account of the greater
number of spruce-like characteristics. It is neither true
spruce, fir, nor hemlock, but a marked type of a distinct
genus, namely, _pseudotsuga_.
It must not be confounded with the red silver fir (_Abies
Magnifica_) so eloquently described as the chief delight of the
Yosemite region by Smeaton Chase. It grows from seventy to two hundred
and fifty or possibly three hundred and fifty feet high, and is the
most important lumber tree of the country, considering the quality of
its timber, the size and length of its logs, and the great amount of
heavy wood and freedom from knots, shakes or defects. On young trees
the bark is smooth, gray or mottled, sometimes alder-like; on old
trunks one to six and a half inches thick, soft or putty-like, dark
brown, fissured into broad heavy furrows. The young rapid growth in
the open woods produces "red fir", the older slower growth in denser
woods is "yellow fir". Every tree to a greater or lesser extent
exhibits successively these two phases, which are dependent upon
situation and exposure.
The chief difference between the white and red fir is in the
_spiculae_ or leaves. Those of the red fir are shorter, stubbier
and stiffer than those of the white. The bark, however, is pretty
nearly alike in young trees and shows a marked difference when they
get to be forty to fifty years old.
_The Alpine Spruce_ (_Hesperopeuce Pattoniana_ Lemmon) is
found only in the highest elevations. Common in Alaska it is limited
in the Tahoe region to the upper points of forests that creep up
along glacier beds and volcanic ravines, close to perpetual ice. It
disappears at 10,000 feet altitude on Mt. Whitney and is found nowhere
south of this point. On Tallac, Mt. Rose and all the higher peaks
of the Tahoe region it is common, giving constant delight with its
slender shaft, eighty to a hundred feet high, and with a diameter at
its base of from six to twelve feet. It is only in the lower portions
of the belt where it occurs. Higher it is reduced to low conical
masses of foliage or prostrate creeping shrubs.
By many it is regarded as a hemlock, but it is not strictly so. It was
first discovered in 1852 by John Jeffrey, who followed David Douglas
in his explorations of the forests of the American Northwest.
In favorable situations, the lower limbs are retained and
become long, out-reaching, and spreading over the mountain
slope for many feet; the upper limbs are irregularly disposed,
not whorled; they strike downward from the start (so that it
is almost impossible to climb one of the trees for want of
foothold), then curving outward to the outline of the tree,
they are terminated by short, hairy branchlets that decline
gracefully, and are decorated with pendant cones which are
glaucous purple until maturity, then leather brown, with
reflexed scales.
The main stem sends out strong ascending shoots, the leading
one terminating so slenderly as to bend from side to side with
its many purple pendants before the wind, and shimmering in
the sunlight with rare beauty.--_Lemmon_.
On the slopes of Mt. Rose near timber line, which ranges from 9700 to
10,000 feet according to exposures, while still a tree of considerable
size, it loses its symmetrical appearance. Professor Kennedy says:
Buffeted by the fierce winter winds and snows, the branches on
the west side of the tree are either entirely wanting or very
short and gnarled, and the bark is commonly denuded. Unlike
its associate, _Pinus Albicaulis_, which is abundant as
a prostrate shrub far above timber line, the spruce is rarely
encountered above timber line at this place, but here and
there a hardy individual may be found lurking among the pines.
The greatest elevation at which it was noticed is 10,500 feet.
To me this is one of the most beautiful of Sierran trees. Its delicate
silvery hue, and the rarely exquisite shading from the old growth to
the new, its gracefulness, the quaint and fascinating tilt of its
tip which waveringly bends over in obedience to whichever breeze is
blowing makes it the most alluringly feminine of all the trees of the
Sierra Nevada.
It is interesting to note the differences in the cones, and in the way
they grow; singly, in clusters, at the end of branches, on the stems,
large, medium-sized, small, short and stubby, long and slender,
conical, etc. Then, too, while the pines generally have cones every
year, the firs seem to miss a year, and to bear only alternate years.
The gray squirrels are often great reapers of the cones, before they
are ripe. They cut them down and then eat off the tips of the scales
so that they present a pathetically stripped appearance.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE BIRDS AND ANIMALS OF THE TAHOE REGION
_Birds_. The bird life of the Tahoe region does not seem
particularly interesting or impressive to the casual observer. At
first sight there are not many birds, and those that do appear have
neither so vivid plumage nor sweet song as their feathered relatives
of the east, south and west. Nevertheless there are several
interesting species, and while this chapter makes no pretense to
completeness it suggests what one untrained observer without birds
particularly on his mind has witnessed in the course of his several
trips to the Tahoe region.
It soon becomes evident that altitude has much to do with bird life,
some, as the meadow-lark and blackbird never being found higher than
the Lake shore, others at the intermediate elevations where the Alpine
hemlock thrives, while still others, such as the rosy finch and the
rock-wren, are found only on the highest and most craggy peaks.
While water birds are not numerous in the summer, observant visitors
at Lake Tahoe for the first time are generally surprised to find
numbers of sea gulls. They fly back and forth, however, to and from
their native haunts by the sea. They never raise their young here,
generally making their return flight to the shores of the Pacific in
September, October and at latest November, to come back in March and
April. While out on the mountain in these months, fifty or more miles
west of Lake Tahoe I have seen them, high in the air, flying straight
to the place they desired.
The blue heron in its solitary and stately watchfulness is
occasionally seen, and again etches itself like a Japanese picture
against the pure blue of the sky. The American bittern is also seen
rarely.
Kingfishers are found, both on the lakes and streams. It is
fascinating to watch them unobserved, perched on a twig, as motionless
as if petrified, until, suddenly, their prey is within grasp, and with
a sudden splash is seized.
On several of the lakes, occasionally on bays of Tahoe itself, and
often in the marshy lands and sloughs of the Upper Truckee, near
Tallac, ducks, mallard and teal are found. Mud chickens in abundance
are also found pretty nearly everywhere all through the year.
The weird cry of the loon is not infrequently heard on some of the
lakes, and one of these latter is named Loon Lake from the fact that
several were found there for a number of years.
Flocks of white pelicans are sometimes seen. Blackbirds of two or
three kinds are found in the marshes, also killdeer, jacksnipe and the
ever active and interesting spotted sandpipers. A few meadow-larks
now and again are heard singing their exquisite song, reminding one
of Browning's wise thrush which "sings each song twice over, lest you
should think he cannot recapture that first fine careless rapture."
Doves are not common, but now and again one may hear their sweet
melancholy song, telling us in Joaquin Miller's poetic and exquisite
interpretation:
There are many to-morrows, my love, my love,
But only one to-day.
In the summer robins are frequently seen. Especially do they revel
on the lawns at Tahoe Tavern, their red-breasts and their peculiar
"smithing" or "cokeing" just as alluring and interesting as the
plumage and voices of the richer feathered and finer songsters of the
bird family.
Mountain quails are quite common, and one sometimes sees a dozen
flocks in a day. Grouse are fairly plentiful. One day just on the
other side of Granite Chief Peak a fine specimen sailed up and out
from the trail at our very feet, soared for quite a distance, as
straight as a bullet to its billet for a cluster of pine trees, and
there hid in the branches. My guide walked down, gun in hand, ready
to shoot, and as he came nearer, two others dashed up in disconcerting
suddenness and flew, one to the right, the other to the left. We never
got a sight of any of them again.
At another time I was coming over by Split Crag from the Lake of the
Woods, with Mr. Price, of Fallen Leaf Lodge, when two beautiful grouse
arose from the trail and soared away in their characteristic style.
At one time sage-hens were not infrequent on the Nevada side of the
Lake, and as far west as Brockways. Indeed it used to be a common
thing for hunters, in the early days, to come from Truckee, through
Martis Valley, to the Hot Springs (as Brockways was then named) and
shoot sage-hens all along the way. A few miles north of Truckee, Sage
Hen Creek still preserves, in the name, the fact that the sage-hen was
well known there.
Bald-headed and golden eagles are often seen in easy and circular
flight above the highest peaks. In the fall and winter they pass over
into the wild country near the almost inaccessible peaks above
the American River and there raise their young. One year Mr. Price
observed a pair of golden eagles which nested on Mt. Tallac. He and I
were seated at lunch one day in September, 1913, on the very summit of
Pyramid Peak, when, suddenly, as a bolt out of a clear sky, startling
us with its wild rush, an eagle shot obliquely at us from the upper
air. The speed with which it fell made a noise as of a "rushing mighty
wind." Down! down, it fell, and then with the utmost grace imaginable,
swept up, still going at terrific speed, circled about, and was soon
lost to sight.
Almost as fond of the wind-tossed pines high up on the slopes of the
mountain as is the eagle of the most rugged peaks, is Clark's crow,
a grayish white bird, with black wings, and a harsh, rasping call,
somewhat between that of a crow and the jay.
Of an entirely different nature, seldom seen except on the topmost
peaks, is the rosy-headed finch. While on the summit of Pyramid Peak,
we saw two of them, and one of them favored us with his (or her)
sweet, gentle song.
Hawks are quite common; among those generally seen are the long tailed
grouse-hawk, the sparrow hawk, and the sharp-shinned hawk. Night-hawks
are quite conspicuous, if one walks about after sunset. They are dusky
with a white throat and band on the wing. They sail through the air
without any effort, wings outspread and beak wide open, and thus glean
their harvest of winged insects as they skim along. Oftentimes their
sudden swoop will startle you as they rush by.
Woodpeckers are numerous, and two or three species may be seen almost
anywhere in a day's walk through one of the wooded sections. Many are
the trees which bear evidence of their industry, skill and providence.
The huge crow-like pileolated woodpecker with its scarlet crest, the
red-shafted flicker, the Sierra creeper, the red-breasted sap-sucker,
Williamson's sap-sucker, the white-headed woodpecker, Cabanis's
woodpecker with spotted wings and gray breast, the most common of
woodpeckers, and Lewis's woodpecker, a large heavy bird, glossy black
above, with a white collar and a rich red underpart, have all been
seen for many years in succession.
The red-breasted sap-sucker and Williamson's sap-sucker are found most
frequently among the aspens and willows along the lake shore, while
the red-shafted flicker, Cabanis's woodpecker, and the white-head
favor the woods. One observer says the slender-billed nut-hatch is
much more common than the red-breasted, and that his nasal laugh
resounded at all times through the pines.
High up in the hemlock forests is the interesting Alpine three-toed
woodpecker. It looks very much like Cabanis's, only it has three toes
in place of four, and a yellow crown instead of a black and red one.
In importance after the woodpeckers come the members of the sparrow
family that inhabit the Tahoe region. The little black-headed
snowbird, Thurber's junco, is the most common of all the Tahoe birds.
The thick-billed sparrow, a grayish bird with spotted breast and
enormous bill is found on all the brushy hillsides and is noted for
its glorious bursts of rich song.
Now and again one will see a flock of English sparrows, and the
sweet-voiced song-sparrow endeavors to make up for the vulgarity of
its English cousin by the delicate softness of its peculiar song.
Others of the family are the two purple finches (reddish birds), the
pine-finch, very plain and streaked, the green-tailed towhee, with its
cat-like call, and the white-crowned sparrow,--its sweetly melancholy
song, "Oh, dear me," in falling cadence, is heard in every Sierran
meadow.
The mountain song-sparrow, western lark, western chipping-fox,
gold-finch, and house- and cassin-finches are seen. The fly-catchers
are omnipresent in August, though their shy disposition makes them
hard to identify. Hammond, olive-sided and western pewee are often
seen, and at times the tall tree-tops are alive with kinglets.
Some visitors complain that they do not often see or hear the
warblers, but in 1905, one bird-lover reported seven common
representatives. She says:
The yellow bird was often heard and seen in the willows along
the Lake. Late in August the shrubs on the shore were alive
with the Audubon group, which is so abundant in the vicinity
of Los Angeles all winter. Pileolated warblers, with rich
yellow suits and black caps, hovered like hummers among the
low shrubs in the woods. Now and then a Pacific yellow-throat
sang his bewitching "wichity wichity, wichity, wee." Hermit
and black-throated gray warblers were also recorded. The
third week in August there was an extensive immigration of
Macgillivray warblers. Their delicate gray heads,
yellow underparts, and the bobbing movement of the tail,
distinguished them from the others.
The water ouzel finds congenial habitat in the canyons of the Tahoe
region, and the careful observer may see scores of them as he walks
along the streams and by the cascades and waterfalls during a summer's
season. At one place they are so numerous as to have led to the naming
of a beautiful waterfall, Ouzel Falls, after them. Another bird is
much sought after and can be seen and heard here, perhaps as often
as any other place in the country. That is the hermit thrush, small,
delicate, grayish, with spotted breast. The shyness of the bird is
proverbial, and it frequents the deepest willow and aspen thickets.
Once heard, its sweet song can never be forgotten, and happy is he who
can get near enough to hear it undisturbed. Far off, it is flute-like,
pure and penetrating, though not loud. Gradually it softens until it
sounds but as the faintest of tinkling bell-like notes, which die away
leaving one with the assurance that he has been hearing the song
of the chief bird of the fairies, or of birds which accompany the
heavenly lullabies of the mother angels putting their baby angels to
sleep.
Cliff-swallows often nest on the high banks at Tahoe City, and a few
have been seen nesting under the eaves of the store on the wharf. The
nests of barn swallows also have been found under the eaves of the
ice-house.
Nor must the exquisite hummers be overlooked. In Truckee Canyon, and
near Tahoe Tavern they are quite numerous. They sit on the telephone
wires and try to make you listen to their pathetic and scarcely
discernible song, and as you sit on the seats at the Tavern, if you
happen to have some bright colored object about you, especially red,
they will flit to and fro eagerly seeking for the honey-laden flower
that red ought to betoken.
Several times down Truckee Canyon I have seen wild canaries. They are
rather rare, as are also the Louisiana tanager, most gorgeous of all
the Tahoe birds, and the black-headed grosbeak.
Of the wrens, both the rock wren and the canyon wren are occasionally
seen, the peculiar song of the latter bringing a thrill of cheer to
those who are familiar with its falling chromatic scale.
Then there is the merry chick-a-dee-dee, the busy creepers, and the
nut-hatches hunting for insects on the tree trunks.
The harsh note of the blue jay is heard from Tahoe Tavern, all around
the Lake and in almost every wooded slope in the Sierras. He is a
noisy, generally unlovable creature, and the terror of the small birds
in the nesting season, because of his well-known habit of stealing
eggs and young. At Tahoe Tavern, however, I found several of them that
were shamed into friendliness of behavior, and astonishing tameness,
by the chipmunks. They would come and eat nuts from my fingers, and
one of them several times came and perched upon my shoulder. There is
also the grayish solitaire which looks very much like the mockingbird
of less variable climes.
The foregoing account of the birds, which I submitted for revision to
Professor Peter Frandsen, of the University of Nevada, called forth
from him the following:
I have very little to add to this admirable bird account.
Besides the gulls, their black relatives, the swallow-like
terns, are occasionally seen. The black-crowned night-heron is
less common than the great blue heron. Clarke's crow is more
properly called Clarke's nutcracker--a different genus. The
road robin or chewink is fairly common in the thickets above
the Lake. Nuttal's poor will, with its call of two syllables,
is not infrequently heard at night. The silent mountain
blue-bird, _sialia arctica_, is sometimes seen. So is the
western warbling vireo. The solitary white-rumped shrike is
occasionally met with in late summer. Owls are common but what
species other than the western horned owl I do not know. Other
rather rare birds are the beautiful lazuli bunting and the
western warbling vireo. Among the wood-peckers I have also
noted the bristle-bellied wood-pecker, or Lewis's wood-pecker,
Harris's wood-pecker, and the downy wood-pecker.
_ANIMALS_. These are even more numerous than the birds, though
except to the experienced observer many of them are seldom noticed.
While raccoons are not found on the eastern slopes of the High
Sierras, or in the near neighborhood of the Lake, they are not
uncommon on the western slopes, near the Rubicon and the headwaters of
the various forks of the American and other near-by rivers.
Watson assured me that every fall he sees tracks on the Rubicon and
in the Hell Hole region of very large mountain lions. They hide, among
other places, under and on the limbs of the wild grapevines, which
here grow to unusual size. In the fall of 1912 he saw some strange
markings, and following them was led to a cluster of wild raspberry
vines, among which was a dead deer covered over with fir boughs. In
telling me the story he said:
I can generally read most of the things I see in the woods,
but this completely puzzled me. I determined to find out all
there was to be found. Close by I discovered the fir from
which the boughs had been stripped. It was as if some one of
giant strength had reached up to a height of seven or eight
feet and completely stripped the tree of all its lower limbs.
Then I asked myself the question: "Who's camping here?" I
thought he had used these limbs to make a bed of. But there
was no water nearby, and no signs of camping, so I saw that
was a wrong lead. Then I noticed that the limbs were too big
to be torn off by a man's hands, and there were blood stains
all about. Then I found the fragments of a deer. "Now," I said
to myself, "I've got it. A bear has killed this deer and has
eaten part of it and will come back for the rest." You know
a bear does this sometimes. But when I hunted for bear tracks
there wasn't a sign of a bear. Then I assumed that some hunter
had been along, killed a doe (contrary to law), had eaten what
he could and hidden the rest, covering the hide with leaves
and these branches. But then I knew a hunter would cut off
those branches with a knife, and these were torn off. The
blood spattered about, the torn-off boughs and the fact
that there were no tracks puzzled me, and I felt there was a
mystery and, probably, a tragedy.
But a day or two later I met a woodsman friend of mine, and I
took him to the spot. He explained the whole thing clearly.
As soon as he saw it he said, "That's a mountain-lion."
"But," said I, "Where's his tracks?" "He didn't make any," he
replied, "he surprised the doe by crawling along the vines.
I've found calves and deer hidden like this before, and I've
seen clear traces of the panthers, and once I watched one as
he killed, ate and then hid his prey. But as you know he won't
touch it after it begins to decompose, but a bear will. And
that's the reason we generally think it is a bear that does
the killing, when in reality it is a mountain lion who has
had his fill and left the remains for other predatory animals,
while he has gone off to hunt for a fresh kill."
Occasionally sheep-herders report considerable devastations from
mountain-lions and bear to the Forest Rangers. James Bryden, who
grazes his sheep on the Tahoe reserve near Downieville, lost sixteen
sheep in one night in July, 1911.
There are three kinds each of chipmunks and ground-squirrels. All of
the former have striped backs and do more or less climbing of trees.
Of their friendliness, greediness, and even sociability--where nuts
are in evidence or anticipated--I have written fully in the chapter on
Tahoe Tavern. Of the three ground-squirrels the largest is the common
ground-squirrel of the valleys of California. It is gray, somewhat
spotted on the back, and has a whitish collar and a bushy tail. The
next in size is the "picket-pin", so called from his habit of sitting
bolt upright on his haunches and remaining steadfast there, without
the slightest movement, until danger threatens, when he whisks away so
rapidly that it is quite impossible to follow his movements. In color
he is of a grayish brown, with thick-set body, and short, slim tail.
He has an exceeding sharp call, and makes his home in grassy meadows
from the level of the Lake nearly to the summits of the highest peaks.
The "copper-head" is the other ground-squirrel, though by some he may
be regarded as a chipmunk, for he has a striped back.
The flying squirrel is also found here. It comes out only at night and
lives in holes in trees. On each side between the fore and hind legs
it has a hairy flap, which when stretched out makes the body very
broad, and together with its hairy tail it is enabled to sail from
one tree to another, though always alighting at a lower level. A more
correct name would be a "sailing" squirrel. The fur is very soft, of
a mouse color and the animal makes a most beautiful pet. It has great
lustrous eyes and is about a foot in length.
The tree squirrel about the Lake is the pine squirrel or "chickeree."
The large tree squirrel is abundant on the west slope of the Sierra
from about six thousand feet downward, but it is not in the Lake
basin, so far as I am aware. The pine squirrel is everywhere, from
the Lake side to the summits of the highest wooded peaks. It is dark
above, whitish to yellow below, usually with a black line along the
side. The tail is full, bushy, the hairs tipped with white forming a
broad fringe. It feeds on the seeds of the pine cones.
The woodchuck or marmot is a huge, lumbering, squirrel-like animal in
the rocky regions, wholly terrestrial and feeding chiefly on roots and
grass. The young are fairly good eating and to shoot them with a rifle
is some sport.
Of the fur bearing and carnivorous animals the otter, fisher, etc.,
all are uncommon, though some are trapped every year by residents of
the Lake. The otter and mink live along the larger streams and on the
Lake shore where they feed chiefly on fish. They may sometimes catch a
wild fowl asleep. The martin and fisher live in pine trees usually
in the deepest forests, and they probably prey on squirrels, mice and
birds. They are usually nocturnal in their habits. The martin is the
size of a large tree squirrel; the fisher is about twice that size.
The foxes are not often seen, but the coyote is everywhere, a scourge
to the few bands of sheep. Often at night his long-drawn, doleful howl
may be heard, a fitting sound in some of the wild granite canyons.
One day while passing Eagle Crag, opposite Idlewild, the summer
residence of C.F. Kohl, of San Francisco, with Bob Watson, he informed
me that, in 1877, he was following the tracks of a deer and they led
him to a cave or grotto in the upper portion of the Crag. While he
stood looking in at the entrance a snarling coyote dashed out, far
more afraid of him than he was surprised at the sudden appearance of
the creature.
A few bears are still found in the farther away recesses of the
Sierras, and on one mountain range close to the Lake, viz., the one on
which Freel's, Job's and Job's Sister are the chief peaks. These are
brown or cinnamon, and black. There are no grizzlies found on the
eastern slopes of the Sierras, nowadays, and it is possible they never
crossed the divide from the richer-clad western slopes. In September,
1913, a hunting party, led by Mr. Comstock, of Tallac, and Lloyd
Tevis, killed two black bears, one of them weighing fully four hundred
pounds, on Freel's Mountain, and in the same season Mr. Carl Flugge,
of Cathedral Park, brought home a good-sized cinnamon from the Rubicon
country, the skin of which now adorns my office floor.
The grizzly has long since been driven from the mountains, though
there may be a few in southern Alpine County, but the evidence is
not conclusive. The panther is migratory, preying on young colts and
calves. They are not at all common, though some are heard of every
year. The "ermine" is pure white in winter, except the tip of the
tail, which is black. It is yellowish brown in summer.
There are two rabbits, one a huge jackrabbit of the great plains
region, the other the "snowshoe" rabbit, so called because of his
broad furry feet which keep it from sinking into the soft snow in
winter. Both rabbits are very rare, and probably both turn white in
winter. I have seen specimens of the snowshoe rabbit taken in winter
that are pure white.
On the wildest and most desolate peaks and rock piles is found the
cony or pika or "rock rabbit" as it is variously called. It is small,
only six inches or so in length, tailless but with large round ears
and soft grayish fur like a rabbit's.
The jumping mouse is interesting. It may be seen sometimes at evening
in swampy areas and meadows. It is yellowish above, whitish below,
with an extremely long tail. It travels by long leaps, takes readily
to the water and is an expert swimmer. The meadow mice are bluish grey
and are found in swampy places. The wood mice are pure white below,
brown above and are found everywhere.
Quite a number of badgers are to be found in the Tahoe region, and
they must find abundance of good food, for the specimens I have seen
were rolling in fat, and as broad backed as a fourteen inch board.
Several times, also, have I seen porcupines, one of them, weighing
fully twenty-five pounds, on the slopes of Mt. Watson, waddling
along as if he were a small bear. They live on the tender bark of the
mountain and tamarack pines, sometimes girdling the trees and causing
them to die. They are slow-gaited creatures, easily caught by dogs,
but with their needle spines, and the sharp, quick-slapping action of
their tails, by means of which they can thrust, insert, inject--which
is the better word?--a score or more of these spines into a dog's
face, they are antagonists whose prowess cannot be ignored.
Very few people would think of the porcupine as an animal destructive
to forest trees, yet one of the Tahoe Forest rangers reports that in
the spring of 1913 fifty young trees, averaging thirty feet high, were
killed or ruined by porcupines stripping them of their bark.
Sometimes as many as ninety per cent. of the young trees growing on
a burned-over area are thus destroyed. They travel and feed at night,
hence the ordinary observer would never know their habits.
The bushy-tailed woodrat proves itself a nuisance about the houses
where it is as omnivorous an eater as is its far-removed cousin, the
house rat. The gopher is one of the mammals whose mark is more often
seen than the creature itself. It lives like the mole in underground
burrows, coming to the surface only to push up the dirt that it has
been digging.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE SQUAW VALLEY MINING EXCITEMENT
The Tahoe region was once thrilled through and through by a real
mining excitement that belonged to itself alone. It had felt the
wonderful activity that resulted from the discovery of the Comstock
lode in Virginia City. It had seen its southern border crowded with
miners and prospectors hurrying to the new field, and later had heard
the blasting and picking, the shoveling and dumping of rocks while the
road from Placerville was being constructed.
It had seen another road built up from Carson over the King's Canyon
grade, and lumber mills established at Glenbrook in order to supply
the mines with timbers for their tunnels and excavations, as the
valuable ore and its attendant waste-rocks were hauled to the surface.
But now it was to have an excitement and a stampede all its own. An
energetic prospector from Georgetown, El Dorado County, named Knox,
discovered a big ledge of quartz in Squaw Valley. It was similar rock
to that in which the Comstock silver was found in large quantities.
Though the assays of the floating-rock did not yield a large amount of
the precious metals, they showed a little--as high as $3.50 per ton.
This was enough. There were bound to be higher grade ores deeper down.
The finder filed his necessary "locations," and doubtless aided by
copious draughts of "red-eye" saw, in swift imagination, his claim
develop into a mine as rich as those that had made the millionaires
of Virginia City. Anyhow the rumor spread like a prairie fire, and men
came rushing in from Georgetown, Placerville, Last Chance, Kentucky
Flat, Michigan Bluff, Hayden Hill, Dutch Flat, Baker Divide, Yankee
Jim, Mayflower, Paradise, Yuba, Deadwood, Jackass Gulch and all the
other camps whose locators and residents had not been as fortunate
financially as they were linguistically.
Knox started a "city" which he named Knoxville, the remains of
which are still to be seen in the shape of ruined log-cabins, stone
chimneys, foundations of hewed logs, a graveyard, etc., on the left
hand side of the railway coming from Truckee, and about six miles from
Tahoe.
One has but to let his imagination run riot for a few moments to see
this now deserted camp a scene of the greatest activity. The many
shafts and tunnels, dump-piles and prospect-holes show how busy a spot
it must have been. The hills about teemed with men. At night the
log store--still standing--and the saloons--tents, shacks and log
houses--were crowded with those who sought in the flowing bowl some
surcease from the burden of their arduous labors.
Now and again a shooting took place, a man actually "died with his
boots on," as in the case of one King, a bad man from Texas who had a
record, and whose sudden end was little, if any, lamented. He had had
a falling out with the store-keeper, Tracey, and had threatened to
kill him on sight. The former bade him keep away from his store, but
King laughed at the prohibition, and with the blind daring that often
counts as courage with such men--for he assumed that the store-keeper
would not dare to shoot--he came down the following day, intending
himself to do all the shooting there was to be done. But he reckoned
mistakenly. Tracey saw him coming, came to the door, bade him Halt!
and on his sneering refusal, shot the bad man dead.
In September, 1913, I paid a visit to Knoxville. Just above the town,
on the eastern slope of the mountain, were several tunnels and great
dump-piles, clearly showing the vast amount of work that had been
done. The quartz ledge that caused the excitement was distinctly in
evidence, indeed, when the Tahoe Railway roadbed was being graded,
this quartz ledge was blasted into, and the director of operations
sent a number of specimens for assay, the rock looked so favorable.
Here and there were the remains of old log-cabins, with their outside
stone chimneys. In some cases young tamaracks, fifteen and twenty feet
high, had grown up within the areas once confined by the walls. These
ruins extended all the way down to Deer Creek, showing the large
number of inhabitants the town once possessed.
I saw the graveyard by the side of the river, where King's body was
the first to be buried, and I stood in the doorway of the store from
which the shot that killed him was fired.
In imagination, I saw the whole life of the camp, as I have seen
mining-camps after a stampede in Nevada. The shacks, rows of tents,
and the rudely scattered and varied dwellings that the ingenuity and
skill of men hastily extemporized. Most of the log-houses are now
gone, their charred remnants telling of the indifferent carelessness
of campers, prospectors or Indians.
The main street was in a pretty little meadowed vale, lined on either
side with trees, and close to the Truckee, which here rushes and
dashes and roars and sparkles among the bowlders and rocks that
bestrew its bed.
When it was found the ore did not "pan out," the excitement died
down even more rapidly than it arose, and in 1863-4 the camp was
practically dead.
It has been charged that the Squaw Valley claims were "salted" with
ore brought from Virginia City. I am inclined to doubt this, and many
of the old timers deny it. They assert that Knox was "on the square"
and that he firmly believed he had paying ore. It is possible there
may have been the salting of an individual claim or so after the camp
started, but the originators of the camp started it in good faith,
as they themselves were the greatest losers when the "bottom" of the
excitement dropped out.
About a mile further up the river is still to be seen the site of the
rival town of Claraville, founded at the same time as Knoxville.
There is little left here, though the assay office, built up against
a massive square rock still stands. It is of hewed timbers rudely
dovetailed together at the corners.
It would scarcely be worth while to recount even this short history
of the long dead,--almost stillborn--Squaw Valley camp were it not for
the many men it brought to Lake Tahoe who have left their impress and
their names upon its most salient canyons, streams, peaks and other
landmarks. Many of these have been referred to elsewhere.
One of the first to arrive was William Pomin, the brother of the
present captain of the steamer _Tahoe_. His wife gave birth to
the first white child born on Lake Tahoe, and she was named after the
Lake. She now lives in San Francisco. When she was no more than two or
three months old, her mother took her on mule-back, sixty miles over
the trail to Forest Hill, _in one day_. Pomin removed to the
north shore of the Lake when Squaw Valley "busted," and was one of
the founders of Tahoe City, building and conducting one of the first
hotels there.
Another of these old timers was J.W. McKinney, from whom McKinney's
was named. He came from the mining-camp of Georgetown over the trail,
and engaged himself in selling town lots at Knoxville. He and Knox had
worked together in the El Dorado excitement.
He originally came over the plains in the gold-alluring days of '49.
When his party reached the land of the Indians, these aborigines were
too wise to make open attacks. They hit upon the dastardly method of
shooting arrows into the bellies of the oxen, so that the pioneers
would be compelled to abandon them. One night McKinney was on guard
duty. He was required to patrol back and forth and meet another
sentinel at a certain tree. There they would stop and chat for a few
moments before resuming their solitary march. Just before day-break,
after a few words, they separated. On answering the breakfast call
McKinney found he was alone, and on going back to investigate, found
his companion lying dead with an arrow through his heart. The moccasin
tracks of an Indian clearly revealed who was the murderer, and a
little study showed that the Indian had swam the river, waited until
the sentinel passed close by him, and had then sent the arrow true to
its fatal mark.
The next night the Indians shot an arrow into an ox. In the morning it
was unable to travel, but McKinney and his friends had determined
to do something to put a stop to these attacks. Taking the ox in the
shadow of a knoll, they shot it, and eight men then hid in the shelter
of some brush where the carcass was clearly in view.
When the train pulled out it seemed as if they had abandoned the ox.
It was scarcely out of sight when the watchers saw eight Indians come
sneaking up. Each man took the Indian allotted to him, but by some
error two men shot at the same Indian, so that when the guns were
fired and seven men fell dead the other escaped. On one of them was
found seven twenty-dollar gold pieces wrapped up in a dirty rag, which
had doubtless cost some poor emigrant or miner his life. Some of the
party wished to leave this gold with the dead Indian, but McKinney
said his scruples would not allow him to do any such thing, and the
gold found its way into his pocket.
Though a man of practically no education--it is even said by those who
claim to have known him well that he could neither read nor write,
but this seems improbable--he was a man of such keen powers of
observation, retentive memory, ability in conversation and strong
personality, that he was able to associate on an equality with men
of most superior attainments. John Muir was a frequent visitor to
his home, especially in the winter time when all tourists and resort
guests had gone away. John McGee, another well-known lover of the
winter mountains, was also a welcome guest, who fully appreciated the
manly vigor and sterling character of the transplanted Missourian.
John Ward, from whom Ward Creek and Ward Peak (8,665 feet) are named,
was another Squaw Valley mining excitement stampeder. He came in the
early days of the rush, and as soon as the camp died down, located on
the mouth of the creek that now bears his name.
The next creek to the south--Blackwood's,--is named after still
another Squaw Valley stampeder. For years he lived at the mouth of
this creek and gained his livelihood as a fisherman.
The same explanation accounts for Dick Madden Creek.
Barker who has peak, pass and valley named after him, came from
Georgetown to Knoxville, and like so many other of his unfortunate
mining brethren from over the divide, started a dairy on the west side
of the pass which bears his name. The valley, however, was so high and
cold that more than half the year the cream would not rise, so he gave
up dairying and went elsewhere.
These are but a few of many who might be mentioned, whose names
are linked with the Tahoe region, and who came to it in the hope of
"making their everlasting fortunes" when Squaw Valley "started up."
CHAPTER XXXV
THE FRÉMONT HOWITZER AND LAKE TAHOE
Hundreds of thousands of Americans doubtless have read "How a Woman's
Wit Saved California to the Union," yet few indeed know how intimately
that fascinating piece of history is linked with Lake Tahoe.
Here is the story of the link:
When Frémont started out on his Second Exploration (fairly well dealt
with in another chapter), he stopped at the Kansas frontier to equip.
When he finally started, the party (108) was armed generally with
Hall's carbines, which, says Frémont:
with a brass twelve-pound howitzer, had been furnished to me
from the United States arsenal at St. Louis, agreeably to the
command of Colonel S.W. Kearny, commanding the third
military division. Three men were especially detailed for the
management of this, under the charge of Louis Zindel, a native
of Germany, who had been nineteen years a non-commissioned
officer of the artillery in the Prussian army, and regularly
instructed in the duties of his profession.
As soon as the news that he had added a cannon to his equipment
reached Washington, the Secretary of War, James M. Porter, sent a
message after him, post haste, countermanding the expedition on the
ground that he had prepared himself with a military equipment, which
the pacific nature of his journey did not require. It was specially
charged as a heinous offense that he had procured a small mountain
howitzer from the arsenal at St. Louis, in addition to his other
firearms.
But Frémont had already started. He was not far on his way, and the
message could have reached him easily. It was not destined to do so,
however, until after his return. The message came to the hands of his
girl-wife, Jessie Benton Frémont, the daughter of Missouri's great
senator, Thomas H. Benton, and she knew, as Charles A. Moody has well
written, that
this order, obeyed, would indefinitely postpone the
expedition--probably wreck it entirely. She did not forward
it. Consulting no one, since there was no one at hand to
consult, she sent a swift messenger to her husband with word
to break camp and move forward at once--"he could not have
the reason for haste, but there was reason enough." And he,
knowing well and well trusting the sanity and breadth of
that girl-brain, hastened forward, unquestioning, while she
promptly informed the officer whose order she had vetoed,
what she had done, and why. So far as human wit may penetrate,
obedience to that backward summons would have meant, three
years later, the winning of California by another nation--and
what _that_ loss would have signified to the United
States none can know fully, but any may partly guess who
realizes a part of what California has meant for us.
In commenting later upon this countermand of the Expedition Frémont
remarks:
It is not probable that I would have been recalled from the
Missouri frontier to Washington to explain why I had taken an
arm that simply served to increase the means of defense for
a small party very certain to encounter Indian hostility, and
which involved very trifling expense. The administration in
Washington was apparently afraid of the English situation in
Oregon.
Unconscious, therefore, of his wife's action,--which might easily have
ruined his career--Frémont pushed on. The howitzer accompanied him
into Oregon, back through into Nevada, and is clearly seen in the
picture of Pyramid Lake drawn by Mr. Preuss (which appears in the
original report), showing it after it had traveled in the neighborhood
of four thousand miles.
The last time it was fired as far as the Frémont Expedition is
concerned was on Christmas Eve, in 1843. The party was camped on
Christmas Lake, now known as Warner Lake, Oregon, and the following
morning the gun crew wakened Frémont with a salute, fired in honor of
the day. A month later, two hundred and fifty miles south, it was to
be abandoned in the mountains near West Walker River, on account of
the deep snow which made it impossible for the weary horses to drag it
further.
On the 28th of January Frémont thus writes:
To-night we did not succeed in getting the howitzer into camp.
This was the most laborious day we had yet passed through, the
steep ascents and deep snows exhausting both men and animals.
Possibly now the thought began to take possession of him that the
weapon must be left behind. For long weary days it had been a constant
companion. It had been dragged over the plains, mountains and canyons.
It was made to ford rivers, plunge through quicksands and wallow
through bog, mire, mud, marsh and snow. Again and again it delayed
them when coming over sandy roads, but tenaciously Frémont held on to
it. Now deep snow forbade its being dragged further. Haste over the
high mountains of the Sierra Nevada was imperative, for such peaks
and passes are no lady's playground when the forces of winter begin to
linger there, yet one can well imagine the regret and distress felt by
the Pathfinder at being compelled to abandon this cannon, to which he
had so desperately clung on all the wearisome miles his company had
hitherto marched.
On the 29th he writes:
The principal stream still running through an impracticable
canyon, we ascended a very steep hill, which proved afterwards
the last and fatal obstacle to our little howitzer, which was
finally abandoned at this place. [This place appears to be
about eight or ten miles up the river from Coleville, and
on the right or east side of the river.] We passed through
a small meadow a few miles below, crossing the river, which
depth, swift current, and rock, made it difficult to ford
[this brings him to the west bank for the first time, but the
cannon did not get this far, and therefore was left on the
east side of the river. This is to be noted on account of
the fact that it was found on the other side of the river in
another canyon], and after a few more miles of very difficult
trail, issued into a larger prairie bottom, at the farther end
of which we camped, in a position rendered strong by rocks and
trees.
The reader must not forget that the notes in brackets [ ] are
interjections in Frémont's narrative by Mr. Smith, (see the chapter on
Frémont's discovery of Lake Tahoe).
Frémont continues:
The other division of the party did not come in to-night, but
camped in the upper meadow, and arrived the next morning. They
had not succeeded in getting the howitzer beyond the place
mentioned, and where it had been left by Mr. Preuss, in
obedience to my orders; and, in anticipation of the snow-banks
and snow-fields ahead, foreseeing the inevitable detention to
which it would subject us, I reluctantly determined to leave
it there for a time. It was of the kind invented by the
French for the mountain part of their war in Algiers; and the
distance it had come with us proved how well it was adapted
to its purpose. We left it, to the great sorrow of the whole
party, who were grieved to part with a companion which had
made the whole
distance from St. Louis, and commanded respect for us on some
critical occasions, and which might be needed for the same
purpose again.
[It is the impression of those of the old settlers on Walker
River, of whom we have inquired regarding the subject, that
the cannon was found early in the 60's near the head of Lost
Canyon. This canyon comes into Little Antelope Valley--a
branch of Antelope Valley--from the south. This impression
evidently was accepted by the government geological surveyors,
for they twisted the name of the creek coming down this canyon
to "Lost Cannon Creek", and called a peak, which looks down
into this canyon, Lost Cannon Peak. The origin of the name of
this canyon lies in the fact that an emigrant party, on its
way to the Sonora Pass, and in an endeavor probably to avoid
the rough river canyon down which Frémont came, essayed this
pass instead of the meadows above. It is a canyon which,
at first, promises an easy pass but finally becomes almost
impassable. The party in question found it necessary to
abandon several of their wagons before they could get over.
They, or another party, buried one of their men there, also
some blacksmith tools. My endeavors to ascertain what party
this was have thus far not been successful. Mr. Timothy B.
Smith, who went to Walker River in 1859, says that the wagons
were there at that time. The cannon is supposed to have been
found with or near these wagons. Mr. Richard Watkins, of
Coleville, who went into that section in 1861, or soon after,
informs me that wagons were also found in one of the canyons
leading to the Sonora Pass from Pickle Meadow. The cannon,
according to Mr. Watkins, was found with these wagons. At any
rate, it seems likely that the cannon was not found at the
place where Frémont left it, but had been picked up by some
emigrant party, who, in turn, were compelled to abandon it
with several of their wagons.]
For several years the cannon remained where its emigrant finders
removed it, then at the breaking out of the Civil War, "Dan de
Quille," William Wright, the author of _The Big Bonanza_, the
fellow reporter of Mark Twain on one of the Virginia City newspapers,
called the attention of certain belligerent adherents of the south to
it, and they determined to secure it. But the loyal sons of the Union
were also alert and Captain A.W. Pray, who was then in the Nevada
mining metropolis, succeeded in getting and maintaining possession of
it. As he moved to Glenbrook, on Lake Tahoe, that year, he took the
cannon with him. Being mounted on a carriage with fairly high wheels,
these latter were taken and converted into a hay-wagon, with which,
for several years, he hauled hay from the Glenbrook meadows to his
barn in town. The cannon itself was mounted on a heavy wooden block to
which it was affixed with iron bands, securely held in place by bolts
and nuts. For years it was used at Glenbrook on all patriotic and
special occasions. Frémont never came back to claim it. The government
made no claim upon it. So while Captain Pray regarded it as his own
it was commonly understood and generally accepted that it was town
property, to be used by all alike on occasions of public rejoicing.
After Captain Fray's death, however, the cannon was sold by his widow
to the Native Sons of Nevada, and the news of the sale soon spread
abroad and caused no little commotion. To say that the people were
astonished is to put it mildly. They were in a state of consternation.
Frémont's cannon sold and going to be removed? Impossible! No! it was
so! The purchasers were coming to remove it the next day.
Were they? That remained to be seen!
That night in the darkness, three or four determined men quietly and
stealthily removed the nuts from the bolts, and, leaving the block
of wood, quietly carried the cannon and hid it in a car of scrap-iron
that was to be transported the next day from Glenbrook to Tahoe City.
When the day dawned and the purchasers arrived, the cannon was not
to be found, and no one, apparently, knew what had become of it.
Solicitations, arguments, threats had no effect. The cannon was gone.
That was all there was to it, and Mrs. Pray and the Nevada purchasers
had to accept that--to them--disagreeable fact.
But the cannon was not lost. It was only gone on before. For several
years it remained hidden under the blacksmith shop at Tahoe City,
its presence known only to the few conspirators--one of whom was my
informant. About five years ago it was resurrected and ever since then
its brazen throat has bellowed the salutation of the Fourth of July
to the loyal inhabitants of Tahoe. It now stands on the slight hill
overlooking the Lake at Tahoe City, a short distance east of the
hotel.
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE MOUNT ROSE OBSERVATORY
While Californians rightly and justly claim Tahoe as their own, it
must not be forgotten that Nevadans have an equal claim. In the Nevada
State University, situated at Reno, there is a magnificent band
of young men, working and teaching as professors, who regard
all opportunities as sacred trusts, and who are making for their
university a wonderful record of scientific achievement for universal
benefit.
Located on the Nevada side of the Tahoe region line, at the northeast
end of the Lake, is Mount Rose. It is one of the most salient and
important of the peaks that surround Tahoe, its elevation being
10,800 feet. The professor of Latin in the Nevada University, James E.
Church, Jr., a strenuous nature-lover, a mountain-climber, gifted with
robust physical and mental health, making the ascent of Mt. Whitney in
March, 1905, was suddenly seized with the idea that a meteorological
observatory could be established on Mt. Rose, and records of
temperature, wind, snow or rain-fall taken throughout the winter
months. The summit of Mt. Rose by road is approximately twenty miles
in a southwesterly direction from Reno, and Professor Church and his
associates deemed it near enough for week-end visits. The courage,
energy and robust manliness required to carry the work along can be
appreciated only by those who have gone over the ground in winter, and
forms another chapter of quiet and unknown heroism in the interest of
science written by so many of our younger western professors who are
not content with mere academic attainment and distinction.
The idea of obtaining winter temperatures on the mountains of the
Pacific Coast was first suggested by Professor McAdie, head of the
Weather Bureau in San Francisco.[1] He responded to the request for
instruments, and through his recommendation, thermometers, rain-gauge,
etc., were speedily forthcoming from the Weather Bureau. On June 24,
1905, with "Billy" and "Randy," family ponies, loaded with a newly
designed thermometer-shelter, constructed so as to withstand winter
gales and yet allow the easy exit of snow, the first advance on Mt.
Rose was made.
From that day the work has been carried on with a vigor and enthusiasm
that are thrilling in their inspiration. An improved instrument was
added that recorded temperatures on a self-registering roll, all
fluctuations, and the highest and lowest temperatures, wind-pressures,
all variations in humidity, temperature, and air pressure as well as
the directions and the velocity of the wind for periods of seventy
days and more. This instrument was the achievement of Professor S.P.
Fergusson, for many years a pioneer worker in mountain meteorology
at Blue Hill Observatory and an associate of Professor Church at the
Mount Rose Observatory, which has now become a part of the University
of Nevada.
After two winters' work it was discovered, on making comparisons with
the records at the Central Weather Station at Reno, 6268 feet
below, that frost forecast could probably be made on Mt. Rose from
twenty-four to forty-eight hours in advance of the appearance of the
frost in the lower levels, provided the weather current was traveling
in its normal course eastward from the coast.
[Footnote 1: Since this was written Professor McAdie has been
appointed to the chair of Meteorology at Harvard University.]
Second only in importance was the discovery and photographic
recording of evidence of the value of timber high up on mountains, and
especially on the lips of canyons, for holding the snow until late in
the season.
This latter phase of the Observatory's work has developed into a most
novel and valuable contribution to practical forestry and conservation
of water, under Dr. Church's clear and logical direction. At
Contact Pass, 9000 feet elevation, and at the base of the mountain,
supplementary stations have been established, where measurements of
snow depth and density, the evaporation of snow, and temperatures
within the snow have been taken. Lake Tahoe, with its seventy miles of
coast line also affords ready access throughout the winter, by means
of motor boat, snow-shoes and explorer's camp, to forests of various
types and densities where snow measurements of the highest importance
have been made.
Delicate instruments of measurement and weight, etc., have been
invented by Dr. Church and his associates to meet the needs as they
have arisen, and continuous observations for several years seem to
justify the following general conclusions. These are quoted from
a bulletin by Dr. Church, issued by the International Irrigation
Congress.
The conservation of snow is dependent on mountains and forests
and is most complete where these two factors are combined. The
mountain range is not only the recipient of more snow than
the plain or the valley at its base, but in consequence of
the lower temperature prevailing on its slopes the snow there
melts more slowly.
However, mountains, because of their elevation, are exposed
to the sweep of violent winds which not only blow the snow in
considerable quantities to lower levels, where the temperature
is higher, but also dissipate and evaporate the snow to a
wasteful degree. The southern slopes, also, are so tilted as
to be more completely exposed to the direct rays of the sun,
and in the Sierra Nevada and probably elsewhere are subjected
to the persistent action of the prevailing southwest wind.
On the other hand, the mountain mass, by breaking the force of
the wind, causes much of the drifting snow to pile up on
its lee slope and at the base of its cliffs, where it finds
comparative shelter from the wind and sun.
Forests, also, conserve the snow. In wind-swept regions, they
break the force of the wind, catching the snow and holding it
in position even on the windward slopes of the mountains. On
the lower slopes, where the wind is less violent, the forests
catch the falling snow directly in proportion to their
openness, but conserve it after it has fallen directly in
proportion to their density. This phenomenon is due to the
crowns of the trees, which catch the falling snow and expose
it to rapid evaporation in the open air but likewise shut out
the sun and wind from the snow that has succeeded in passing
through the forest crowns to the ground. Both mountains
and forests, therefore, are to a certain extent wasters of
snow--the mountains because they are partially exposed to
sun and wind; the trees, because they catch a portion of
the falling snow on their branches and expose it to rapid
disintegration. However, the mountains by their mass and
elevation conserve immeasurably more snow than they waste, and
forested areas conserve far more snow than unforested. If the
unforested mountain slopes can be covered with timber, much
of the waste now occurring on them can be prevented, and by
thinning the denser forests the source of waste in them also
can be checked.
The experiences met with by the voluntary band of observers to secure
the data needed in their work are romantic in the extreme. An average
winter trip requires from a day and a half to two days and a half
from Reno. From the base of the mountain the ascent must be made on
snow-shoes. When work first began there was no building on the summit,
and no shelter station on the way. Imagine these brave fellows, daring
the storms and blizzards and fierce temperatures of winter calmly
ascending these rugged and steep slopes, in the face of every kind of
winter threat, merely to make scientific observations. In March, 1906,
Professor Johnson and Dr. Rudolph spent the night at timber-line in
a pit dug in the snow to obtain protection from a gale, at the
temperature of 5° Fahr. _below_ zero, and fought their way to
the summit. But so withering was the gale at that altitude even at
mid-day, that a precipitate retreat was made to avoid freezing. The
faces of the climbers showed plainly the punishment received. Three
days later Dr. Church attempted to rescue the record just as the storm
was passing. He made his way in an impenetrable fog to 10,000 feet,
when the snow and ice-crystals deposited by the storm in a state of
unstable equilibrium on crust and trees were hurled by a sudden
gale high into the air in a blinding blizzard. During his retreat he
wandered into the wildest part of the mountain before he escaped from
the skirts of the storm.
Other experiences read like chapters from Peary's or Nansen's records
in the Frozen North, and they are just as heroic and thrilling. Yet
in face of all these physical difficulties, which only the most superb
courage and enthusiasm could overcome, Dr. Church writes that, to
the spirit, the mountain reveals itself, at midnight and at noon,
at twilight and at dawn, in storm and in calm, in frost-plume and in
verdure, as a wonderland so remote from the ordinary experiences of
life that the traveler unconsciously deems that he is entering another
world.
In the last days of October, 1913, I was privileged to make the trip
from Reno in the company of Dr. Church, and two others. We were just
ahead of winter's storms, however, though Old Boreas raved somewhat
wildly on the summit and covered it with snow a few hours after
our descent. The experience was one long to be remembered, and the
personal touch of the heroic spirit afforded by the trip will be a
permanent inspiration.
CHAPTER XXXVII
LAKE TAHOE IN WINTER[1]
BY DR. J.E. CHURCH, JR., OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NEVADA
[Footnote 1: By courtesy of _Sunset_ magazine.]
Lake Tahoe is an ideal winter resort for the red-blooded. For the
Viking and the near Viking; for the man and the woman who, for the
very exhilaration of it, seek the bracing air and the snow-clad
forests, Lake Tahoe is as charming in winter as in summer, and far
grander. There is the same water--in morning placid, in afternoon
foam-flecked, on days of storm tempestuous. The Lake never freezes;
not even a film of ice fringes its edge. Sunny skies and warm
noons and the Lake's own restlessness prevent. Emerald Bay alone is
sometimes closed with ice, but more often it is as open as the outer
Lake. Even the pebbles glisten on the beach as far back as the wash of
the waves extends.
But beyond the reach of the waves a deep mantle of white clads the
forests and caps the distant peaks. The refuse of the forests, the
dusty roads, and the inequalities of the ground are all buried deep.
A smooth, gently undulating surface of dazzling white has taken their
place.
The forest trees are laden with snow--each frond bears its pyramid and
each needle its plume of white. The fresh green of the foliage and the
ruddy brown of the bark are accentuated rather than subdued by their
white setting. But as the eye travels the long vista of ascending and
retreating forest, the green and the brown of the near-by trees fade
gradually away until the forest becomes a fluffy mantle of white
upon the distant mountain side. Above and beyond the forest's utmost
reaches rise the mountain crags and peaks, every angle rounded into
gentle contours beneath its burden of snow.
[Illustration: The Fergusson Metrograph on the summit of Mt. Rose,
wrecked by snow "feathers," some of which were six feet long.]
[Illustration: Refuge Hut and Headquarters for Snow Studies on
Mt. Rose, 9000 Feet]
[Illustration: Skiing from Tallac to Fallen Leaf Lodge]
[Illustration: Snow Surveyor on the Mountains Above Glen Alpine
in Winter]
Along the margin of the Lake appear the habitations and works of
men deeply buried and snow-hooded until they recall the scenes in
Whittier's _Snow Bound_.
The lover of the Lake and its bird life will miss the gulls but will
find compensation in the presence of the wild fowl--the ducks and the
geese--that have returned to their winter haunts.
Lake Tahoe is remarkably adapted as a winter resort for three prime
reasons: first, it is easily accessible; second, no place in
the Sierra Nevada, excepting not even Yosemite, offers so many
attractions; third, it is the natural and easy gateway in winter to
the remote fastnesses of the northern Sierra.
Among the attractions preeminently associated with Lake Tahoe in
winter are boating and cruising, snow-shoeing and exploring, camping
for those whose souls are of sterner stuff, hunting, mountain
climbing, photography, and the enjoyment of winter landscape. Fishing
during the winter months is prohibited by law.
If one asks where to go, a bewildering group of trips and pleasures
appears. But there come forth speedily from out the number a few of
unsurpassed allurement. These are a _ski_ trip from Tallac to
Fallen Leaf Lake to see the breakers and the spray driven by a rising
gale against the rock-bound shore, and, when the lake has grown
quieter, a boat ride to Fallen Leaf Lodge beneath the frowning
parapets of Mount Tallac. Next a _ski_ trip up the Glen to the
buried hostelry at Glen Alpine, where one enters by way of a dormer
window but is received to a cheerful fire and with royal hospitality.
Then under the skillful guidance of the keeper, a day's climb up the
southern face of Mount Tallac for an unrivalled panoramic view from
its summit and a speedy but safe glissade back to the hostelry far,
far below.
And if the legs be not too stiff from the glissade, a climb over
the southern wall of the Glen to Desolation Valley and Pyramid Peak,
whence can be seen the long gorge of the Rubicon. The thousand lakes
that dot this region present no barrier to one's progress, for they
are frozen over and lie buried deep beneath the snow that falls here
in an abundance hardly exceeded elsewhere in the Tahoe region.
A close rival of these is the climb from Rubicon Park up the stately
range in its rear to visit the mountain hemlock, the graceful queen
of the high mountain, and to gaze across the chasm at the twin crags
beyond.
And peer of them all, though requiring but little exertion, is a trip
to Brockway to enjoy the unrivalled view of the "Land's End" of the
Lake and catch the colors of the pansies that are still in bloom in a
niche of the old sea wall. If one possess the artist's mood, he will
add thereto a boat ride round State Line Point in the lazy swell of
the evening sea beneath the silent pine-clad cliffs, while the moon,
as beautiful as any summer moon, rides overhead. Only the carpet of
snow and the film of ice that gathers from the spray upon the boat
keeps one alive to the reality that the season is winter.
Finally a rowing trip along the western shore of the Lake with stops
at pleasure _en route_. One can have weather to suit his taste,
for the waters on this shore are safe in storm, and the barometer and
the sky will give full warning long before the weather attains the
danger point. The man who loves the breath of the storm and the glow
of excitement will loose his boat from Tallac when the clouds swing
down the canyon and speed forth borne, as it were, on the wings of the
waves toward the distant foot of the Lake--past the black water wall
where the waves of Emerald Bay sweep into Tahoe, through the frothy
waters where the wind shifts and whips around Rubicon Point, over the
white caps of Meek's Bay until by skillful maneuvering the jutting
cape is weathered and quieter water is found in McKinney Bay. Full
time there is, with the wind astern, to reach the river's mouth at
Tahoe City, but the voyager who loves the woodland will tarry for
a night in the dense fir forest of Blackwood, while his boat rides
safely moored to the limb of a prostrate tree.
Regarding the eastern side of the Lake, the bald shore and jutting
headlands, the fewness of the landing places, and the sweep of the
waves make cruising in these waters a matter of supreme skill and
farsightedness. Let the Viking learn with broad-beamed boat the
mastery of the western shore before he turns his boat's prow to the
east.
For the man of milder tastes the motorboat will suffice or the mail
steamer, which plies the waters of Lake Tahoe twice a week.
In tobogganing, the hills and open meadows at Tahoe City and at
Glenbrook will furnish royal sport for the devotee. Skating and
ice-yachting must be sought in regions where the snow is less deep and
the cold more intense.
_Skiing_ is the chief method of locomotion in winter at the Lake
and the novice soon becomes expert in the milder forms of the sport.
_Ski_ trails thread the forests at Tahoe City and radiate from
every resort.
The open inns at Tahoe City and Glenbrook, and The Grove near Tallac
and the resorts on Fallen Leaf Lake insure the traveler's comfort,
while the hospitality of the caretakers at all of the resorts is
proverbial. The question of when and how to go is naturally a leading
one. During the months of November to April, two sledging services are
furnished each thrice a week--one from Carson City to Glenbrook, the
other from Truckee to Tahoe City. (The narrow gauge railway has also
established a semi-weekly winter schedule.) The mail boat connects
with the incoming sledges and train on Tuesday and Saturday. The
route from Carson City, which crosses the heights of the Carson Range,
affords a superb view of the Lake at sunset. The route from Truckee
traverses the wooded canyon of the Truckee River, when scenically at
its best.
The traveler who approaches the Lake by way of Glenbrook and leaves
by way of the canyon of the Truckee will have an experience in winter
travel both unique and replete with beautiful landscapes.
The journey from Truckee to the Lake can also be made on _ski_
in one short day. It is an exhilarating trip, if one travels light.
If one desires to tarry _en route_, he may carry his blankets and
food on his back or haul them on a toboggan, and spend the night at
the half-way station, known as Uncle Billy's.
The best time to visit the Lake is after the heaviest of the winter
snows have fallen. The period of steady and heavy precipitation
occurs in January. After this month is past, there are long periods
of settled weather broken only occasionally by storms, which add to
rather than detract from one's pleasure.
The special equipment requisite for winter trips to Tahoe is slight.
The list includes goggles (preferably amber), German socks and
rubbers, woolen shirt, sweater, short heavy coat, and mittens. For
mountain climbing a pair of Canadian snowshoes should be added to the
equipment; for traveling on the level, a pair of _ski_ can be
rented at Truckee or the Lake. If one desires to camp instead of
stopping at the resorts around the Lake, a tent and waterproof
sleeping bag should be procured.
The cost of transportation in winter is scarcely more than in summer.
The sledge trip from either Truckee or Carson City to the Lake is
$2.50, an amount only $1.00 in excess of the regular fare by rail.
Board will cost no more than in summer.
TRUCKEE
Closely associated with Lake Tahoe as a center for winter sports is
Truckee, the natural point of departure for the Lake. Here a winter
carnival is held annually for the entertainment of outsiders. Among
the chief sports are _ski-racing_ and jumping and tobogganing.
The toboggan course is two thousand feet long and has a fall of
one-hundred fifty feet. A device is employed for drawing the toboggans
back to the starting point. The hotel facilities are ample. Toboggans
and _ski_ can be rented for use here or at the Lake. Clothing and
other winter outfits can be procured. Canadian snow-shoes, however,
must be obtained in San Francisco.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
LAKE TAHOE AS A SUMMER RESIDENCE
One of the most marked differences that the traveler observes between
the noted lakes of Europe and Lake Tahoe is the comparative dearth of
homes, summer villas, bungalows, residences, on the latter. This is
natural. California and Nevada are new countries. They have scarcely
had time to "find themselves" fully as yet. It took a thousand years
to people the shores of the European lakes as we find them to-day,
and in due time Tahoe will assuredly come to its own in this regard.
Indeed as John LeConte well wrote a number of years ago:
The shores of Lake Tahoe afford the most beautiful sites for
summer residences. When the states of California and Nevada
become more populous, the delicious summer climate of this
elevated region, the exquisite beauty of the surrounding
scenery, and the admirable facilities afforded for fishing
and other aquatic sports, will dot the shores of this mountain
Lake with the cottages of those who are able to combine health
with pleasure. But it must be remembered that the prolonged
severity of the winter climate, and especially the great
depth of snowfall, render these elevated situations unfit for
permanent residences. According to the observations of Dr.
G.M. Bourne, during the winter of 1873-74, the aggregate
snowfall near the shores of the Lake amounted to more than
thirty-four feet. In fact, frequently there are not more than
four months in the year in which the ground of the margin of
the Lake is entirely free from snow. And the vast gorges which
furrow the sides of the surrounding amphitheater of lofty
mountain
peaks are perpetually snow-clad. Hence, it is unreasonable to
assume that many persons besides the wealthy will be able
to enjoy the luxury of private residences here, which can
be occupied only during the summer months of the year.
Nevertheless, when the refinement and taste incident to the
development of an older civilization shall have permeated the
minds of the wealthy classes of citizens, this charming lake
region will not only continue to be the favorite resort of
tourists and artists, but will become, during the summer
season, the abode of families whose abundant means enable them
to enjoy the healthful climate, the gorgeous scenery, and the
invigorating sports which lend an inexpressive charm to the
sojourn on its shores.
Amidst the magnificent nature that surrounds this region,
there should be an inspiration corresponding more or less
with the grandeur of the aspect of the material world. The
modifications impressed upon the moral and intellectual
character of man by the physical aspects of nature, is a
theme more properly belonging to those who have cultivated the
æsthetic side of humanity. The poet and the artist can alone
appreciate, in the fullness of their humanizing influence,
the potent effects of these æsthetic inspirations. The lake
districts in all Alpine countries seem to impress peculiar
characteristics upon their inhabitants.
When quietly floating upon the placid surface of Lake Tahoe,
the largest of the "Gems of the Sierra"--nestled, as it is,
amidst a huge amphitheater of mountain peaks--it is difficult
to say whether we are more powerfully impressed with the
genuine childlike awe and wonder inspired by the contemplation
of the noble grandeur of nature, or with the calmer and more
gentle sense of the beautiful produced by the less imposing
aspects of the surrounding scenery. On the one hand crag and
beetling cliff sweeping in rugged and colossal massiveness
above dark waves of pine and fir, far into the keen and clear
blue air; the huge mantle of snow, so cumulus-like in its
brightness, thrown in many a solid fold over ice-sculptured
crest and shoulders; the dark cathedral-like spires and
splintered pinnacles, half snow, half stone, rising into the
sky like the very pillars of heaven. On the other hand the
waving verdure of the valleys below, the dash of waterfalls,
the plenteous gush of springs,
the laugh and dance of brook and rivulet as they hurry down
the plains. Add to this picture the deep repose of the azure
water, in which are mirrored snow-clad peaks, as well as
marginal fringes of waving forests and green meadows, and it
is difficult to decide whether the sense of grandeur or of
beauty has obtained the mastery of the soul.
CHAPTER XXXIX
THE TAHOE NATIONAL FOREST
The Tahoe National Forest was first set apart by proclamation,
September 17, 1906. Previous to this there had been the Tahoe and Yuba
Forest Reserves which were established by proclamation under the acts
of March 3, 1891, and June 4, 1897. The original Tahoe Forest Reserve
consisted of six townships along the west side of Lake Tahoe. Part of
this territory is now in the Tahoe and part in the El Dorado National
Forest. Changes and additions were later made by proclamations of
March 2, 1909, and July 28, 1910.
Although Lake Tahoe does not lie within any National Forest it is
almost surrounded by the Tahoe and El Dorado Forests. There are a few
miles of shore-line on the Nevada side in the vicinity of Glenbrook
which are not within the National Forest Boundary.
The gross area of the Tahoe National Forest is 1,272,470 acres. Of
this amount, however, 692,677 acres are privately owned. The El Dorado
National Forest has a gross area of 836,200 acres with 284,798 of them
in private hands. These privately owned lands are technically spoken
of as "alienated lands."
The towns of Truckee, Emigrant Gap, Cisco, Donner, Fulda, Downieville,
Sierra City, Alleghany, Forest, Graniteville, Goodyear's Bar, and
Last Chance, as well as Tahoe City, are all within the Tahoe National
Forest.
It is estimated that there are probably 350 people living on the
Forest outside of the towns. These are principally miners or small
ranch-owners living along the rivers in the lower altitudes.
Slowly but surely the people are awakening to the great value of the
natural resources that are being conserved in the National Forests. In
the Tahoe Reserve the preservation of the forest cover is essential to
the holding of snow and rain-fall, preventing rapid run-off,
thereby conserving much of what would be waste and destructive
_flood-water_, until it can be used for irrigation and other
beneficial purposes.
Many streams of great power possibilities rise and flow through the
Tahoe Forest Reserve, such as the Truckee, Little Truckee, Yuba and
American rivers. Working in conjunction with the U.S. Reclamation
Service the Truckee General Electric Company uses the water that flows
out of Lake Tahoe down the Truckee River for the development of power.
The Pacific Gas and Electric Company, of San Francisco, controls the
waters of the South Yuba river, and its Colgate plant is on the main
Yuba, though it obtains some of its water supply from the North Yuba.
Lake Spaulding, one of the largest artificial lakes in the world, is a
creation of this same company. It is situated near Emigrant Gap and is
used for the development of power.
The Northern Water and Power Company controls the Bowman reservoir and
a string of lakes on the headwaters of Canyon Creek, a branch of the
South Yuba river. As yet its power possibilities are not developed.
Through the activities of these companies electricity and water for
irrigation are supplied to towns and country regions contiguous to
their lines, and they have materially aided in the development of the
Sacramento Valley.
Only about five per cent. of the Reserve is barren land, and this is
mostly situated at a high elevation above timber line. The tree growth
is excellent, and under proper direction reproduction _could_ be
made all that any one could desire. Fully twenty per cent., however,
of the present Reserve is covered with chaparral. Practically all
of this originally was timbered. The chaparral has grown up because
nothing was done at the proper time to foster reproduction over acres
that had been cut. Systematic and scientific efforts are now being
made to remedy this condition, the rangers being encouraged to
study the trees, gather seeds from the best of their type, plant and
cultivate them. Tree cutting is now so regular as to obtain by natural
reproduction a second crop on the logged-over areas. Where natural
reproduction fails planting is resorted to. Thus it is hoped, in time,
to replant all the logged-over areas now owned by the government,
serving the double purpose of conserving the water-supply and
providing timber for the needs of the future. Much of the timber-land,
however, of the Tahoe region, is patented to private owners. Little,
if anything, is being done towards reforestation on these private
tracts. Legal enactments, ultimately, may produce effective action
along this needed line.
As has elsewhere been shown the world owes a debt of gratitude to the
Tahoe region. Had it not been for the timber secured so readily from
the Tahoe slopes the mining operations of Virginia City, Gold Hill and
Dayton would have been seriously retarded and crippled. As it was the
Tahoe trees were transferred as mining-timbers for propping up
the immense and continuous excavations of that vast series of
honey-combings underground, the products of which revivified the gold
supply of the world.
Tahoe timber also has contributed much to the upbuilding of the
towns and country farms on the whole upper Pacific Coast and interior
regions of Northern California, and today much of its timber finds its
way to San Francisco and other Pacific Coast markets.
At Floriston, on the Truckee River, a mill is in successful operation,
using Tahoe fir for the making of paper. Red and white fir, which are
practically useless for lumber, are found to make excellent wrapping
and tissue papers, and thus, from being unremunerative products of
our forests, become sources of income. After planing off the bark, the
wood is made into small chips, about a half inch square, and an eighth
of an inch thick. These chips are then "digested" by a process of
mixing with acids and cooking, through which it becomes "wood pulp."
Different processes produce different pulps, two of which are mixed
together, allowed to flow out on a very fine wire screen nine feet
wide, revolving at a rate of 300 feet a minute, with a "jigging"
movement from side to side. This makes all the fibers lie flat. They
are then sent through steel rollers, the water squeezed out, and
finally carried over and around twenty-five revolving steam-heated
cylinders which completely dry the paper and put the needed gloss or
finish on it.
The rainfall on the Tahoe Reserve averages about fifty inches
annually, the most frequent rains occurring between October and May.
Necessarily there is much snow-fall on the higher regions. Further
down the snow disappears in the early spring, say March, but in the
upper altitudes it remains until late June, with perpetual snow in the
sheltered portions of the topmost peaks.
Agriculture, owing to the average high altitude, is a negligible
industry in the Reserve, little more being done than to raise a little
fruit, grain and vegetables, mainly for home consumption. Naturally
there is a fair amount of grazing, almost the whole area of the
Reserve being used for this purpose during the summer months. Many
portions of meadow-land are used for dairy-herds, most of the hotels
and resorts on and near Lake Tahoe having their own herds and meadows.
Bands of beef-cattle are also pastured, together with large bands
of sheep, the two kinds of stock often grazing in common, the cattle
using the meadows and the sheep the ridges and timber-lands. In taking
the trail-rides described in other chapters I invariably came across
both cattle and sheep, and all the near-by meadows are occupied by
the dairy-herds belonging to the hotels. Patented lands of private
ownership within the bounds of the Forest are often also leased to
cattle- and sheep-men. Last year it was estimated that there were
47,000 head of sheep, and about 6000 head of cattle on the Reserve.
Under the protection of the rangers grazing conditions are rapidly
improving, the cattle- and sheep-men being held strictly to certain
rules laid down by the Supervisor. Systematic efforts are made to rid
the Forest, as far as possible, of predatory animals that kill the
sheep, also of poisonous plants which render grazing dangerous.
There are far less cattle on the Sierra ranges in the Tahoe region
than there are sheep. During the summer most of the mountain valleys
have their great sheep-bands. Many are brought over from Nevada,
and far more from the Sacramento Valley and other regions near the
Pacific. The feed, as a rule, is good and abundant from the time the
snow leaves until the end of September or even later. Though the year
1913 was the third dry season (comparatively speaking) the region
had suffered, I found a score or more of meadows in my rambles around
Tahoe, where thousands of sheep might have had rich and abundant
pasture.
But well may John Muir dislike sheep in his beloved Sierras, and term
them in his near-to-hatred "the locusts of the mountains." When the
most fertile valley has been "fed off" by sheep, or they have "bedded
down" night after night upon it, it takes some time before the young
growth comes up again.
It is the custom when the lambing season is over, and the lambs
are strong enough to travel and old enough to ship, to move to some
convenient point on the railway, where there is an abundance of
feed and water on the way, and there ship either to Reno, Carson and
Virginia City, or to some market on the Pacific Coast. Hence overland
travelers on the Southern Pacific trains are often surprised to see
vast flocks of sheep and hear the bleating of the lambs at unlooked
for stations at the highest points of the Sierra Nevada, as at Soda
Springs, Cisco, Emigrant Gap, Blue Canyon, or sidings on the way.
There is a large mining industry within the Reserve. Since 1849 the
western part of the Forest has been most active, one county, Sierra,
having produced since then upwards of $200,000,000. The present output
is much smaller than formerly, still it is large enough to render
mining an important factor in the productive wealth of the state.
In 1853 hydraulic mining was inaugurated near Nevada City. This gave
renewed interest to placer-mining.
Four of the old emigrant roads cross the Tahoe and El Dorado Reserves.
The most famous of these is the one across Donner Pass and through
Emigrant Gap. This was the general course taken by the unfortunate
Donner Party, as recorded in another chapter.
Another road was the Heuness Pass road, on a branch of which was
Nigger Tent, a rendezvous of robbers and cutthroats in the early days.
Prospectors and miners were often robbed and murdered at this place.
The Heuness Pass Road and the Donner Road branch in Sardine Valley,
the former going through by Webber Lake, and the latter through the
present site of Truckee. On the latter road, in the vicinity of You
Bet, is a large tree which bears the name "Frémont's Flagpole," though
it is doubtful whether it was ever used by Frémont for this purpose.
The third important road is the present Placerville Road,--a portion
of the State Highway and the great trans-continental Lincoln Highway,
elsewhere described.
The fourth is the Amador Grade Road, on which stood the tree whereupon
Kit Carson carved his name.
The Georgetown Road is an important and historic feature of the Tahoe
Region, for it connects Georgetown with Virginia City, and it was from
the former place so many Tahoe pioneers came. I have already referred
to the trail built in the early 60's. Then when the Georgetown miners
constructed a ditch to convey water for mining purposes from Loon
Lake, they soon thereafter, about '72 or '73, built a road about forty
miles long, to enable them to reach the Lake, which was their main
reservoir. Loon, Pleasant and Bixby's Lakes were all dammed and
located upon for the water company.
When the Hunsakers built the road from McKinney's to their Springs in
1883 there was a stretch of only about seven miles from Loon Lake to
the Springs to complete a road between Lake Tahoe and Georgetown.
The matter was laid before the Supervisors of Placer and El Dorado
Counties, and they jointly built the road in 1884, following as
nearly as possible the old Georgetown trail, which was practically the
boundary between the two counties.
While automobiles have gone over it, it is scarcely good enough for
that form of travel, but cattle, sheep and horses are driven over it
constantly, campers make good use of it in the summer, and though it
has not the activity of the days when it was first built, it has fully
justified its existence by the comfort and convenience it gives to the
sparsely settled population of the region for which the waters of
the Reserve were flumed in every direction. When legal enactment
practically abolished placer mining, owing to its ruining the
agricultural lands lower down by the carrying of the mud and silt
upon them, the water systems were utilized for domestic and irrigation
purposes, thus laying the foundation of the great systems now being
used for power purposes.
One of the greatest excitements known in the Tahoe region occurred
when the first notice of the discovery of the Comstock lode in
Virginia City appeared in the _Nevada City Journal_, July 1,
1859. Immediately the whole country was aroused, fully one-third of
all the male population setting forth for the mines. This was also one
of the great urgents in the building of a railway which soon ultimated
in the Central Pacific.
There are several mineral springs of note on the Forest, chief of
which are Deer Park Springs, Glen Alpine Springs and Brockway's.
The most northern grove of Big Trees, _Sequoia Gigantea_, in
existence, is found in the Tahoe Forest, on the Forest Hill Divide,
near the southern boundary of Placer County, on a tributary of the
Middle Fork of the American River. There are six of these trees as
well as several which have fallen.
Dotted over the Reserve are cabins of the rangers. These men live a
most interesting, and sometimes adventurous and daring life. Primarily
their days and nights are largely those of solitude, and it is
interesting to throw a little light upon the way they spend their
time.
Necessarily their chief thought and care is that of protecting the
Forest from fire. To accomplish this end fire-brakes--wide passages,
trails, or roads--are cut through the trees and brush, so that it is
possible to halt a fire when it reaches one of the constant patrols
and watches that are maintained. Lookout stations are placed on
elevated points. In the fall of 1911 a Lookout Tower was erected
on Banner Mountain, four miles southeast of Nevada City, in which a
watchman with a revolving telescope is on duty day and night. This
mountain is at 3900 feet elevation and affords an unobstructed view
of about one-third of the whole area of the Tahoe Forest.
[Illustration: Outlet of Lake Tahoe, Truckee River]
[Illustration: Flock of Sheep Being Driven from the Tahoe National
Forest]
[Illustration: Island Park, Lake Tahoe]
By a system of maps, sights and signals the location of fires can
be determined with reasonable accuracy, and the telephone enables
warnings to be sent to all concerned.
Telephone lines bisect the Reserve in several directions, and
fire-fighting appliances are _cached_ in accessible places
ready for immediate use. When a Forest officer is notified of the
approximate location of a fire he goes immediately with what help
he thinks he needs. If he finds that the fire is larger than he
can handle with the available force at his command, he notifies
the Supervisor, who secures men from the most practical point and
dispatches them to the fire as soon as possible, by automobile or
train.
To give further fire protection a gasoline launch--the
_Ranger_--twenty-six feet long and with a carrying capacity of
fifteen men, and a speed of about nine miles an hour, was placed on
Lake Tahoe in 1910, at the Kent Ranger Station, located a mile below
the Tavern. The guard who is in charge of this boat is on the Lake
about eight hours each day, going up the Lake in the morning towards
Tallac and taking the northern end of the Lake in the afternoon. The
launch is put in service each year about the 15th of June and kept
there until the fire-danger is over in the fall. Normal years this is
about the 15th of September, but in 1913 the launch remained and the
patrolman was on duty much later.
If the guard sights a fire anywhere within the watershed of Lake
Tahoe, he immediately obtains men at the nearest point and proceeds
to the fire. Since the launch has been on the Lake there have been no
serious fires. Every fire has been caught in its infancy and put out
before any damage has been done. There has been only one fire of any
size on the Lake since the launch was installed. This burned about 20
acres just east of Brockway. Numerous small fires of an acre or less
have been put out each year.
The Forest Guard in charge of the launch for the years 1912-13 was
Mark W. Edmonds. Mr. Edmonds is the son of Dr. H.W. Edmonds, who is
now in the Arctic doing scientific work for the Carnegie Institute.
The force of men at work on the Reserve varies in number according to
the season of the year. When the fire-season is on many more men are
on duty than in the winter-season. The year-long force consists of the
Supervisor, Deputy Supervisor, Forest Clerk, Stenographer, thirteen
Rangers and two Forest Examiners who are Forest School men engaged
chiefly on timber sale and investigative work. The force in 1913
during the season of greatest danger was fifty-six. Some of the
temporary employees are engaged for six months, some for three months
and others for shorter periods. The longer termed men are generally
Assistant Rangers who cannot be employed the year around, but who are
considered first for permanent jobs that occur on the statutory roll
on account of their Civil Service standing.
Forest fires are caused in a variety of ways, but chiefly through
inexcusable carelessness. Now and then lightning produces fire, but
the throwing down of lighted matches by smokers, the butt ends of
cigars and cigarettes that are still alight, leaving camp-fires
unextinguished, or building them too large, allowing fires for burning
waste land or brush to get from under control--these are the chief
sources of forest fires. Accordingly the local and federal authorities
constantly keep posted on Forest Reserves notices calling attention
to the dangers and urging care upon all who use the forests for any
purpose whatever.
In addition to fire-fighting the rangers are required to give constant
oversight to the sheep- and cattle-ranges, and to the animals that
are brought there, so that the feed is not eaten out, or too many head
pastured upon a given area. Seeds of forest trees must be gathered at
the proper season and experiments in reforestation conducted, besides
a certain amount of actual planting-out performed. The habits of
seed-eating birds and animals are studied, especially in relation to
reforestation. A very small number of squirrels or mice can get away
with a vast number of seeds in a season. Methods of protecting the
seeds without destroying too many of the wild animals must be devised.
Available areas of timber are sought for and offered for sale. Certain
men are detailed to measure the trees and determine the value of the
timber; they must mark the trees included in the sale, leaving out
enough seed-trees for satisfactory reproduction. If it be a second
sale over a cut-over area the problems are somewhat altered. Will the
trees that are left suffer from wind-fall? If partially suppressed
trees are left can they be depended upon to recover and make a good
growth?
Then, too, the questions of natural _versus_ artificial
reforestation have to be scientifically studied and exhaustive tests
made. Shall seeds be sown, or shall young trees be planted? Which
trees are best suited for certain localities, and which are the more
profitable when grown?
To many people it is not known that dwellers in or near National
Forests can obtain free of charge timber for their domestic needs.
The rangers determine where this "free area" shall be located, exactly
what trees, whether dead or alive, shall be taken, and endeavor to lay
down rules that shall give equal chances for all comers.
As one of the mottos of the Forest Service is "the greatest good to
the greatest number," small sales are encouraged to those who wish
to make their own lumber or shakes. Settlers in remote localities are
often helped in this manner.
Cases of trespass have to be guarded against, and now and again
suits have had to be brought against loggers for encroaching upon
the territory of the Reserve, and removing timber which they had not
purchased.
In 1911 every District Ranger was appointed a Deputy Fish and Game
Commissioner and thus was duly authorized to enforce the law in regard
to fish and game.
Another subject of interest and importance to the ranger is the study
of insect infestation. Many trees are killed annually by certain
insects, and these must be discovered and their devastation prevented.
Then, too, there are diseases and parasites that affect the trees, and
this branch of study demands constant attention.
Hence it will be seen that the office of the Forest Ranger is by no
means a sinecure. He works hard and he works long and alone and our
kindly thoughts should go out to him in his solitary patrols and
vigils.
The present Supervisor of the Tahoe Forest is Richard L.P. Bigelow, to
whose kindness I am indebted for much of the information contained in
this chapter.
CHAPTER XL
PUBLIC USE OF THE WATERS OF LAKE TAHOE
There has always been considerable discussion and dissension among
conflicting interests as to the use of the waters of Lake Tahoe
for private or semi-public uses, and, finally, in 1903 the U.S.
Reclamation Service entered into the field. At my request Mr. D.W.
Cole, engineer-in-charge of the Truckee-Carson project, kindly
furnishes the following data:
Along in the 60's of the last century the region around the
Lake acquired great importance on account of the fine growth
of timber on the surrounding mountain slopes. It is said that
a great many million feet of lumber were harvested in this
region. For many years the entire lumber supply for the old
Comstock mines was derived from this source. Virginia City,
Carson City and the neighboring mining communities were built
from the timber of the Lake Tahoe basin, and it might be said
that the foundation of the fortunes of the California gold
kings, who developed the Comstock mines, was made of the pine
wood which grew upon the shores of Lake Tahoe, without
which that wonderful output of $700,000,000 of gold from the
Comstock lode would have been impossible.
Supplementing the timber supply the water from Marlette
Lake, a tributary to Lake Tahoe, was diverted by a remarkable
engineering achievement for supplying Virginia City and the
deep mines. Marlette Lake lies several hundred feet above Lake
Tahoe on the Nevada side, and half a century ago its waters
were taken through flume, tunnel and pipe line across the
dividing mountain range and out into the desert valley of the
Carson River for sustaining
the gold seekers of Virginia City. This work of the pioneer
engineers was scarcely less bold in its conception and
wonderful in its execution than the famous Sutro tunnel which
drains the underground waters from the Comstock mines.
About 1870 the first use of Lake Tahoe for other than
navigation purposes was made by building a log crib dam at the
outlet for the purpose of storing flood-waters to be used in
log-driving in the Truckee River below the Lake.
The outlet of the Lake was in a land grant section belonging
to the Central Pacific Railway Company, and one of the
earlier lumber companies procured a charter from the State
of California and proceeded to build a dam and operate it for
log-driving purposes.
In the course of time the development of water-power in
the Truckee River below the Lake became of considerable
importance, both for saw-mill and other manufacturing
purposes. The dam at the Lake's outlet was passed from the
possession of the Donner Boom & Lumber Company into the hands
of other interests who were making a larger use of power.
Eventually, in the last decade of the century, the water-power
plants were converted into hydro-electric plants and began to
furnish electric current for power and lighting in the city of
Reno and as far south as Virginia City.
About the year 1908 the ownership of the several hydroelectric
plants was passed to the Truckee River General Electric
Company, under the management of the Stone & Webster
Engineering Corporation, of Boston, one of the very large
public utilities corporations of the country.
This company has enlarged and improved the plants and is now
furnishing a large amount of electric current for all purposes
in Reno, Virginia City, Carson City, Yerington, Thompson,
Minden and various other towns and mining camps in the State
of Nevada, forming a group of communities which are wholly
dependent upon this power for their various purposes.
In 1903 the United States Reclamation Service filed an
appropriation of all surplus waters which had theretofore gone
to waste from Lake Tahoe, and under this appropriation, with
others covering waters in the Carson River, the
Truckee-Carson Reclamation Project in Nevada was commenced.
By this irrigation project it is proposed to cover an area
of about 206,000 acres, of which 35,000 acres are now being
irrigated and about 500 families have their homes upon
productive lands, which were formerly a part of the great
desert which was traversed with much suffering by the pioneer
gold seekers.
In 1908 the Reclamation Service entered into negotiations for
the purchase of the real estate and dam controlling the outlet
of Lake Tahoe, but before the purchase was concluded the
reorganized power company secured possession of the property.
A condemnation suit was then brought by the United States
to acquire possession and control of the Lake's outlet. A
contract was entered into with the power company for the joint
building of a new dam with gates for controlling the outlet
from the Lake. This dam was partly built in 1909, replacing
a portion of the old timber structure. Owing to various
complications this new cement dam has stood in an uncomplete
condition until the fall of 1913 when arrangements were made
for its completion, and now the structure is entirely done and
is well adapted to control the outlet from the Lake so as
to hold the waters at satisfactory levels according to the
various uses for which the water is required.
There have been confusing statements made in the public press
and otherwise concerning the intentions and actions of the
Reclamation Service and of the power company. The gist of
the whole matter is that both the Reclamation Service and
the power company have proposed by means of the new dam to
regulate the Lake within a range of six feet vertically,
this being well within the limits of fluctuations which have
occurred during the past 40 years when the Lake has been
partially controlled by means of the old logging dam, and
during which period the navigation and resort interests have
taken the place of the lumber business in the commercial
aspects of the Lake.
The records show that during these 40 years the Lake has
fluctuated to the extent of a little more than eight feet
between low and high water marks.
The landowners around the Lake are principally interested in
its esthetic qualities as a basis for the commercial interests
involved in the tourist traffic and summer resort business.
These interests would naturally desire the Lake to be held at
a fixed level.
Likewise the navigation interests which operate a large
number of boats of various sizes would be best pleased with a
stationary level of the Lake, in order that their wharves and
boat routes might be built and maintained for a single level
of the water.
On the other hand the natural conditions and the use of water
for power and irrigation, which are among the older vested
rights, require the Lake to be used to some extent as a
storage reservoir, which implies a fluctuating level.
The whole problem is to reconcile these various interests so
as to derive the greatest possible economic advantages while
maintaining the great beauties of the Lake for those whose
interests lie mainly in that direction.
There has been suspicion on the part of some of the riparian
owners that either the power company or the Government, or
both, have been entertaining ulterior motives with the purpose
of drawing down the Lake to unprecedented levels and of
extracting from the Lake an amount of water greater than the
average annual inflow. It may be stated once for all that
there has never been such a purpose and that all calculations
of the available water in the Lake have been based upon a long
record of seasonable fluctuations which prove that the average
annual outflow from the Lake is about 300,000 acre feet.
All plans have contemplated the use of _only_ this average
amount of water annually.
The Lake has an area of 193 square miles. The elevation of its
high-water mark has been at 6231.3, whereas its low-water mark
is recorded at elevation 6223.1 above sea level.
Should the Government be successful in acquiring the outlet
property from the power company by the condemnation suit now
in court, it is proposed to operate the gates of the dam at
all times so as to maintain the Lake at the highest level
consistent with the maintenance of a desirable shore-line and the
conservation of water for the public utilities. It is proposed
never to draw the Lake below the previous low-water mark or to
allow it to rise as high as the previous high-water mark, at
which low and high limits damage in some degree was done to one
or another's interests at the Lake.
The regulation proposed by the Government provides for
recognition and protection of all rights in and to the waters
and shores of Lake Tahoe, including the rights of the general
public and of the lovers of natural beauty everywhere, and it
is believed that the charms, as well as the utilities, of this
paragon of lakes can more safely be entrusted to a permanent
government agency than to any single private interest.
A few additions to Mr. Cole's lucid statement will help the general
reader to a fuller comprehension of the difficulty as between the
States of Nevada and California. It will be recalled that Lake Tahoe
has an area of about 193 square miles, of which 78 square miles are in
the counties of Washoe, Ormsby and Douglas, Nevada, the remaining 115
square miles being in Placer and El Dorado Counties, California.
Because of this fact, that nearly two-thirds of the superficial area
of the Lake is in California, the people of California claim that they
have the natural and inherent right to control, even to determining of
its disposal at least nearly two-thirds of the water of the Lake.
The situation, however, is further complicated by the fact that the
only outlet to the Lake is in California near Tahoe City, in Placer
County, into the Truckee River, which meanders for some miles in a
northeasterly course until it leaves California, enters Nevada, passes
through the important city of Reno, and finally empties into Pyramid
Lake, which practically has no outlet.
In response to the claim of California, the people of Nevada, in which
it appears they are backed up by the U.S. Reclamation Service, contend
that Nature has already determined whither the overflow waters of
Lake Tahoe shall go. That, while they do not wish in the slightest
to restrict the proper use of the waters of the Truckee River by the
dwellers upon that river, they insist that no one else is entitled
to their use, and that every drop of superfluous water, legally and
morally, belongs to them, to be used as they deem proper.
In accordance with this conception of their rights the Nevada
legislature passed the following act, which was approved, March 6,
1913:
That for the purpose of aiding the Truckee-Carson reclamation
project now being carried out by the Reclamation Service
of the United States of America, under the Act of Congress
approved June 17, 1902 (32 Stat. p. 384), known as the
Reclamation Act, and acts amendatory thereof or supplementary
thereto, consent is hereby given to the use by the United
States of America of Lake Tahoe, situated partly in the State
of California and partly in the State of Nevada, and the
waters, bed, shores and capability of use for reservoir
purposes thereof, in such manner and to such extent as the
United States of America through its lawful agencies shall
think proper for such purpose, and as fully as the State of
Nevada could use the same, provided, however, that the consent
hereby given is without prejudice to any existing rights that
persons or corporations may have in Lake Tahoe or the Truckee
River.
At the present time (winter of 1914-15) the matter is in the
courts awaiting adjudication, which it is to be hoped, while being
satisfactory to all parties to the suit, will fully conserve for the
scenic enjoyment of the world all the charms for which Tahoe has been
so long and so justly famous.
APPENDIX
CHAPTER A
MARK TWAIN AT LAKE TAHOE
Early in the 'sixties the immortal Mark made his mark at Lake Tahoe.
In his _Roughing It_, he devotes Chapters XXII and XXIII to the
subject. With the kind consent of his publishers, Harper Bros, of New
York, the following extracts are presented.
Later, when in Italy, he described Lake Como and compared it with
Tahoe in _Innocents Abroad_, and while his prejudices against the
Indians led him to belittle the Indian name--Tahoe--and in so doing to
make several errors of statement, the descriptions are excellent and
the interested reader is referred to them as being well worthy his
attention.
Chapter XXII, _Roughing It_.--We had heard a world of
talk about the marvelous beauty of Lake Tahoe, and finally
curiosity drove us thither to see it. Three or four members of
the Brigade[1] had been there and located some timber lands
on its shores and stored up a quantity of provisions in their
camp. We strapped a couple of blankets on our shoulders
and took an ax apiece and started--for we intended to
take up a wood ranch or so ourselves and become wealthy. We
were on foot. The reader will find it advantageous to go on
horseback. We were told that the distance was eleven miles.
We tramped a long time on level ground, and then toiled
laboriously up a mountain about a thousand miles high and
looked over. No lake there. We descended on the other side,
crossed the valley and toiled up another mountain three or
four thousand miles high, apparently, and looked over again.
No lake yet. We sat down tired and perspiring, and hired a
couple of Chinamen to curse those people who had beguiled us.
Thus refreshed, we presently resumed the march with renewed
vigor and determination. We plodded on, two or three hours
longer, and at last the Lake burst upon us--a noble sheet of
blue water lifted six thousand three hundred feet above the
level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snowclad mountain
peaks that towered aloft full three thousand feet higher
still! It was a vast oval, and one would have to use up eighty
or a hundred good miles in traveling around it. As it
lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly
photographed upon its still surface I thought it must surely
be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.
[Footnote 1: The "Brigade" to which the distinguished humorist here
refers was a company of fourteen camp-followers of the Governor
of Nevada, who boarded at the same house as Mark, that of Mrs.
O'Flannigan. They had joined the Governor's retinue "by their own
election at New York and San Francisco, and came along, feeling that
in the scuffle for little territorial crumbs and offices they could
not make their condition more precarious than it was, and might
reasonably expect to make it better. They were popularly known as the
'Irish Brigade,' though there were only four or five Irishmen among
them."]
... After supper as the darkness closed down and the stars
came out and spangled the great mirror with jewels, we smoked
meditatively in the solemn hush and forgot our troubles and
our pains. In due time we spread our blankets in the warm sand
between two large bowlders and soon fell asleep.... The wind
rose just as we were losing consciousness, and we were lulled
to sleep by the beating of the surf upon the shore.
It is always very cold on that Lake shore in the night, but we
had plenty of blankets and were warm enough. We never moved
a muscle all night, but waked at early dawn in the original
positions, and got up at once thoroughly refreshed, free from
soreness, and brim full of friskiness. There is no end of
wholesome medicine in such an experience. That morning
we could have whipped ten such people as we were the day
before--sick ones at any rate. But the world is slow, and
people will go to "water cures" and "movement cures" and to
foreign lands for health.
to Three months of camp life on Lake Tahoe would restore an
Egyptian mummy to his pristine vigor, and give him an appetite
like an alligator. I do not mean the oldest and driest
mummies, of course, but the fresher ones. The air up there in
the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And
why shouldn't it be?--It is the same the angels breathe.
I think that hardly any amount of fatigue can be gathered
together that a man cannot sleep off in one night on the sand
by its side. Not under a roof, but under the sky; it seldom or
never rains there in the summer time.
... Next morning while smoking the pipe of peace after
breakfast we watched the sentinel peaks put on the glory of
the sun, and followed the conquering light as it swept down
among the shadows, and set the captive crags and forests free.
We watched the tinted pictures grow and brighten upon the
water till every little detail of forest, precipice, and
pinnacle was wrought in and finished, and the miracle of the
enchanter complete. Then to "business."
That is, drifting around in the boat. We were on the north
shore. There, the rocks on the bottom are sometimes gray,
sometimes white. This gives the marvelous transparency of the
water a fuller advantage than it has elsewhere on the Lake. We
usually pushed out a hundred yards or so from the shore, and
then lay down on the thwarts in the sun, and let the boat
drift by the hour whither it would. We seldom talked. It
interrupted the Sabbath stillness, and marred the dreams the
luxurious rest and indolence brought. The shore all along was
indented with deep, curved bays and coves, bordered by
narrow sand-beaches; and where the sand ended, the steep
mountain-sides rose right up aloft into space--rose up like
a vast wall a little out of the perpendicular, and thickly
wooded with tall pines.
So singularly clear was the water, that where it was only
twenty or thirty feet deep the bottom was so perfectly
distinct that the boat seemed floating in the air! Yes, where
it was even _eighty_ feet deep. Every little pebble was
distinct, every speckled trout, every hand's-breadth of sand.
Often, as we lay on our faces, a granite bowlder, as large as
a village church, would start out of the bottom apparently,
and seem climbing up rapidly to the surface, till presently
it threatened to touch our faces, and we could not resist the
impulse to seize an oar and avert the danger. But the boat
would float on, and the bowlder descend again, and then we
could see that when we had been exactly above it, it must have
been twenty or thirty feet below the surface. Down through
the transparency of these great depths, the water was not
_merely_ transparent, but dazzlingly, brilliantly so. All
objects seen through it had a bright, strong vividness, not
only of outline, but of every minute detail, which they
would not have had when seen simply through the same depth of
atmosphere. So empty and airy did all spaces seem below
us, and so strong was the sense of floating high aloft
in mid-nothingness, that we called these boat-excursions
"balloon-voyages."
We fished a good deal, but we did not average one fish a
week. We could see trout by the thousand winging about in the
emptiness under us, or sleeping in shoals on the bottom, but
they would not bite--they could see the line too plainly,
perhaps. We frequently selected the trout we wanted, and
rested the bait patiently and persistently on the end of his
nose at a depth of eighty feet, but he would only shake it off
with an annoyed manner, and shift his position.[1]
[Footnote 1: These extracts are made from Mark Twain's copyrighted
works by especial arrangement with his publishers, Harper & Bros.,
New York.]
CHAPTER B
MARK TWAIN AND THE FOREST RANGERS
In a quarterly magazine published solely for the Rangers of the Tahoe
Reserve, one of the Rangers thus "newspaperizes" Mark's experiences
in two different sketches, one as it was in 1861 "before" the
establishment of the Reserve, and the other as it would be "now."
AS IT WAS IN 1861
_Extract from January Harper's_.--Mark Twain heard that
the timber around Lake Bigler (Tahoe) promised vast wealth
which could be had for the asking. He decided to locate a
timber claim on its shores. He went to the Lake with a young
Ohio lad, staked out a timber claim, and made a semblance of
fencing it and of building a habitation, to comply with the
law. They did not sleep in the house, of which Mark Twain
says: "It never occurred to us for one thing, and besides, it
was built to hold the ground, and that was enough. We did not
wish to strain it."
They lived by their camp-fire on the borders of the Lake and
one day--it was just at nightfall--it got away from them,
fired the Forest, and destroyed their fence and habitation.
His picture of the superb night spectacle--the mighty mountain
conflagration--is splendidly vivid.
"The level ranks of flame were relieved at intervals by the
standard-bearers, as we called the tall dead trees, wrapped in
fire, and waving their blazing banners a hundred feet in the
air. Then we could turn from the scene to the Lake and see
every branch and leaf, and cataract of flame upon its banks
perfectly reflected, as in a gleaming, fiery mirror. The
mighty roaring of the conflagration, together with our
solitary and somewhat unsafe position (for there was no one
within six miles of us), rendered the scene very impressive."
AS IT WOULD BE NOW
_Press Dispatch_,--_August_ 15, 1912.
MARK TWAIN FIRES FOREST! ! !
NOTED HUMORIST CHARGED BY FOREST OFFICERS WITH CRIMINAL
CARELESSNESS
Mark Twain and a friend from Ohio, who have been camping on
Lake Tahoe, are responsible for a Forest fire which burned
over about 200 acres before it was checked by Forest
officers. The fire was sighted at 6 o'clock P.M. by one of the
coöperative patrolmen of the Crown Columbia Paper Company, who
at once telephoned to the tender of the Launch 'Ranger' for
help. Within an hour the launch was on the scene with a dozen
men picked up at Tahoe City, and by 10 o'clock the fire was
practically under control.
Twain and his friend were found spell-bound by the Rangers, at
the impressiveness of the fire. After fighting it for several
hours, however, its grandeur palled upon them, and at the
present time they are considerably exercised inasmuch as
it was ascertained that the fire was a result of their
carelessness in leaving a camp-fire to burn unattended. It is
extremely likely that the well-known humorist will find the
penalty attendant to his carelessness, no "joking" matter.
To which I take the liberty of adding the following:
SUBSEQUENT PROCEEDINGS
From the _Nevada City Bulletin_, Sept. 6, 1912.
Samuel L. Clemens (popularly known as Mark Twain), together with
Silas Snozzlebottom, of Columbus, Ohio, was to-day arraigned
before Justice Brown, of the Superior Court, charged with having
caused a destructive fire by leaving his campfire unattended. The
eminent humorist and author was evidently unaware of the
seriousness of his offense for he positively refused to engage an
attorney to defend him. When called upon to plead he began to
explain that while he confessed to lighting the fire, and leaving
it unattended, he wished the Judge to realize that it was the act
of God in sending the wind that spread the flames that caused the
destructive fire which ensued. The Judge agreed with him, and
then grimly said it was a similar act of God which impelled him
to levy a fine of $500.00 and one month in jail for leaving his
campfire subject to the influence of the wind. The humorist began
to smile "on the left," and expressed an earnest desire to argue
the matter out with the Judge, but with a curt "Next Case!" Mark
was dismissed in charge of an officer and retired "smiling a
sickly smile," and though he did not "curl up on the floor," it
is evident that the subsequent proceedings interested him no
more.
CHAPTER C
THOMAS STARR KING AT LAKE TAHOE
In 1863 Thomas Starr King, perhaps the most noted and broadly honored
divine ever known on the Pacific Coast, visited Lake Tahoe, and on
his return to San Francisco preached a sermon, entitled: "Living
Water from Lake Tahoe." Its descriptions are so felicitous that I am
gratified to be able to quote them from Dr. King's volume of Sermons
_Christianity and Humanity_, with the kind permission of the
publishers, Houghton, Mifflin Company, Boston, Mass.
LIVING WATER FROM LAKE TAHOE
When one is climbing from the west, by the smooth and
excellent road, the last slope of the Sierra ridge, he
expects, from the summit of the pass, which is more than seven
thousand feet above the sea, higher than the famous pass of
the Splugen, or the little St. Bernard, to look off and down
upon an immense expanse. He expects, or, if he had not learned
beforehand, he would anticipate with eagerness, that he should
be able to see mountain summits beneath him, and beyond these,
valleys and ridges alternating till the hills subside into
the eastern plains. How different the facts that await the
eye from the western summit, and what a surprise! We find, on
gaining what seems to be the ridge, that the Sierra range
for more than a hundred miles has a double line of jagged
pinnacles, twelve or fifteen miles apart, with a trench or
trough between, along a portion of the way, that is nearly
fifteen hundred feet deep if we measure from the pass which
the stages traverse, which is nearly three thousand feet deep
if the plummet is dropped from the highest points of the snowy
spires.
Down into this trench we look, and opposite upon the eastern
wall and crests, as we ride out to the eastern edge of the
western summit. In a stretch of forty miles the chasm of it
bursts into view at once, half of which is a plain sprinkled
with groves of pine, and the other half an expanse of level
blue that mocks the azure into which its guardian towers
soar. This is Lake Tahoe, an Indian name which signifies "High
Water." We descend steadily by the winding mountain-road, more
than three miles to the plain, by which we drive to the shore
of the Lake; but it is truly Tahoe, "High Water." For we stand
more than a mile, I believe more than six thousand feet above
the sea, when we have gone down from the pass to its sparkling
beach. It has about the same altitude as the Lake of Mount
Cenis (6280 feet) in Switzerland, and there is only one sheet
of water in Europe that can claim a greater elevation (Lake
Po de Vanasque, 7271 feet). There are several, however, that
surpass it in the great mountain-chains of the Andes and of
Hindustan. The Andes support a lake at 12,000 feet above
the sea, and one of the slopes of the Himalaya, in Thibet,
encloses and upholds a cup of crystal water 15,600 feet above
the level of the Indian Ocean, covering an area, too, of 250
square miles. I had supposed, however, that within the
immense limits of the American Republic, or north of us on the
continent, there is no sheet of water that competes with Tahoe
in altitude and interest. But in Mariposa County of our State
there are two lakes, both small,--one 8300 feet, and the other
11,000 feet,--on the Sierra above the line of the sea.
To a wearied frame and tired mind what refreshment there is in
the neighborhood of this lake! The air is singularly searching
and strengthening. The noble pines, not obstructed by
underbrush, enrich the slightest breeze with aroma and music.
Grand peaks rise around, on which the eye can admire the
sternness of everlasting crags and the equal permanence
of delicate and feathery snow. Then there is the sense of
seclusion from the haunts and cares of men, of being upheld
on the immense billow of the Sierra, at an elevation near the
line of perpetual snow, yet finding the air genial, and the
loneliness clothed with the charm of feeling the sense of the
mystery of the mountain heights,
the part of a chain that link the two polar seas, and of the
mystery of the water poured into the granite bowl, whose rim
is chased with the splendor of perpetual frost, and whose
bounty, flowing into the Truckee stream, finds no outlet into
the ocean, but sinks again into the land.
Everything is charming in the surroundings of the mountain
Lake; but as soon as one walks to the beach of it, and surveys
its expanse, it is the color, or rather the colors, spread out
before the eye, which holds it with greatest fascination.
I was able to stay eight days in all, amidst that calm
and cheer, yet the hues of the water seemed to become more
surprising with each hour. The Lake, according to recent
measurement, is about twenty-one miles in length, by twelve or
thirteen in breadth. There is no island visible to break
its sweep, which seems to be much larger than the figures
indicate. And the whole of the vast surface, the boundaries of
which are taken in easily at once by the range of the eye, is
a mass of pure splendor. When the day is calm, there is a ring
of the Lake, extending more than a mile from shore, which is
brilliantly green. Within this ring the vast center of the
expanse is of a deep, yet soft and singularly tinted blue.
Hues cannot be more sharply contrasted than are these
permanent colors. They do not shade into each other; they lie
as clearly defined as the course of glowing gems in the wall
of the New Jerusalem. It is precisely as if we were looking
upon an immense floor of lapis lazuli set within a ring of
flaming emerald.
The cause of this contrast is the sudden change in the depth
of the water at a certain distance from shore. For a mile or
so the basin shelves gradually, and then suddenly plunges
off into unknown depths. The center of the Lake must be a
tremendous pit. A very short distance from where the water is
green and so transparent that the clean stones can be seen on
the bottom a hundred feet below, the blue water has been
found to be fourteen hundred feet deep; and in other portions
soundings cannot be obtained with a greater extent of line.
What a savage chasm the lake-bed must be! Empty the water from
it and it is pure and unrelieved desolation. And the sovereign
loveliness of the water that fills it is its color. The very
savageness of the rent and fissure is made the condition
of the purest charm. The Lake does not feed a permanent river.
We cannot trace any issue of it to the ocean. It is not, that
we know, a well-spring to supply any large district with
water for ordinary use. It seems to exist for beauty. And its
peculiar beauty has its root in the peculiar harshness and
wildness of the deeps it hides.
Brethren, this question of color in nature, broadly studied,
leads us quickly to contemplate and adore the love of God. If
God were the Almighty chiefly,--if he desired to impress us
most with his omnipotence and infinitude, and make us bow with
dread before him, how easily the world could have been made
more somber, how easily our senses could have been created to
receive impressions of the bleak vastness of space, how easily
the mountains might have been made to breathe terror from
their cliffs and walls, how easily the general effect of
extended landscapes might have been monotonous and gloomy! If
religion is, as it has so often been conceived to be,
hostile to the natural good and joy which the heart seeks
instinctively,--if sadness, if melancholy, be the soul of
its inspiration, and misery for myriads the burden of its
prophecy,--I do not believe that the vast deeps of space above
us would have been tinted with tender azure, hiding their
awfulness; I do not believe that storms would break away into
rainbows, and that the clouds of sunset would display the
whole gamut of sensuous splendor; I do not believe that the
ocean would wear such joy for the eye over its awful abysses;
I do not believe that the mountains would crown the complete,
the general loveliness of the globe.
The eloquent preacher then continues to draw other lessons from the
Lake, but, unfortunately, our space is too limited to allow quotation
in full. The following, however, are short excerpts which suggest the
richness of the fuller expression:
The color of the Lake is a word from this natural Gospel. It
covers the chasms and wounds of the earth with splendor. It is
what the name of the lovely New Hampshire lake, Winnepesaukee
indicates, "The Smile of the Great Spirit."
And this color is connected with purity. The green ring
of the Lake is so brilliant, the blue enclosed by it is so
deep and tender, because there is no foulness in the water.
The edge of the waves along all the beach is clean. The
granite sand, too, often dotted with smooth-washed jaspers and
garnets and opaline quartz, is especially bright and spotless.
In fact, the Lake seems to be conscious, and to have an
instinct against contamination. Several streams pour their
burden from the mountains into it; but the impurities which
they bring down seem to be thrown back from the lip of the
larger bowl, and form bars of sediment just before they can
reach its sacred hem. Dip from its white-edged ripples, or
from its calm heart, or from the foam that breaks over its
blue when the wind rouses it to frolic, and you dip what is
fit for a baptismal font,--you dip purity itself.
* * * * *
The purity of nature is the expression of joy, and it is a
revelation to us that the Creator's holiness is not repellent
and severe. God tries to win you by his Spirit, which clothes
the world with beauty, to trust him, to give up your evil that
you may find deeper communion with him, and to recognize the
charm of goodness which alone is harmony with the cheer and
the purity of the outward world.
I must speak of another lesson, connected with religion,
that was suggested to me on the borders of Lake Tahoe. It is
bordered by groves of noble pines. Two of the days that I was
permitted to enjoy there were Sundays. On one of them I passed
several hours of the afternoon in listening, alone, to the
murmur of the pines, while the waves were gently beating the
shore with their restlessness. If the beauty and purity of the
Lake were in harmony with the deepest religion of the Bible,
certainly the voice of the pines was also in chord with it.
* * * * *
I read under the pines of Lake Tahoe, on that Sunday
afternoon, some pages from a recent English work that raises
the question of inspiration. Is the Bible the word of God,
or the words of men? It is neither. It is the word of God
breathed through the words of men, inextricably intertwined
with them as the tone of the wind with the quality of the
tree. We must go to the Bible as to a grove of evergreens, not
asking for cold, clear truth, but for sacred influence, for
revival to the devout sentiment, for the
breath of the Holy Ghost, not as it wanders in pure space, but
as it sweeps through cedars and pines.
* * * * *
In my Sunday musing by the shore of our Lake, I raised the
question,--Who were looking upon the waters of Tahoe when
Jesus walked by the beach of Gennesareth? Did men look upon
it then? And if so were they above the savage level, and could
they appreciate its beauty? And before the time of Christ,
before the date of Adam, however far back we may be obliged
to place our ancestor, for what purpose was this luxuriance
of color, this pomp of garniture? How few human eyes have yet
rested upon it in calmness, to drink in its loveliness! There
are spots near the point of the shore where the hotel stands,
to which not more than a few score intelligent visitors
have yet been introduced. Such a nook I was taken to by a
cultivated friend. We sailed ten miles on the water to the
mouth of a mountain stream that pours foaming into its
green expanse. We left the boat, followed this stream by its
downward leaps through uninvaded nature for more than a mile,
and found that it flows from a smaller lake, not more than
three miles in circuit, which lies directly at the base of
two tremendous peaks of the Sierra, white with immense and
perpetual snow-fields. The same ring of vivid green, the same
center of soft deep blue, was visible in this smaller mountain
bowl, and it is fed by a glorious cataract, supported by
those snow-fields, which pours down in thundering foam, at one
point, in a leap of a hundred feet to die in that brilliant
color, guarded by those cold, dumb crags.
Never since the creation has a particle of that water turned a
wheel, or fed a fountain for human thirst, or served any form
of mortal use. Perhaps the eyes of not a hundred intelligent
spirits on the earth have yet looked upon that scene. Has
there been any waste of its wild and lonely beauty? Has Tahoe
been wasted because so few appreciative souls have studied
and enjoyed it? If not a human glance had yet fallen upon it,
would its charms of color and surroundings be wasted charms?
* * * * *
Where we discern beauty and yet seclusion, loveliness and yet
no human use, we can follow up the created charm to
yet the mind of the Creator, and think of it as realizing a
conception or a dream by him. He delights in his works. To the
bounds of space their glory is present as one vision to his
eye. And it is our sovereign privilege that we are called to
the possibility of sympathy with his joy. The universe is
the home of God. He has lined its walls with beauty. He has
invited us into his palace. He offers to us the glory of
sympathy with his mind. By love of nature, by joy in the
communion with its beauty, by growing insight into the wonders
of color, form, and purpose, we enter into fellowship with the
Creative art. We go into harmony with God. By dullness of eye
and deadness of heart to natural beauty, we keep away from
sympathy with God, who is the fountain of loveliness as well
as the fountain of love. But the inmost harmony with the
Infinite we find only through love, and the reception of his
love. Then we are prepared to see the world aright, to find
the deepest joy in its pure beauty, and to wait for the hour
of translation to the glories of the interior and deeper
world.
CHAPTER D
JOSEPH LECONTE AT LAKE TAHOE
Joseph LeConte, from whom LeConte Lake is named, the best-beloved
professor of the University of California, and its most noted
geologist, in the year 1870 started out with a group of students of
his geology classes, and made a series of _Ramblings in the High
Sierras_. These were privately printed in 1875, and from a copy
given to me many years ago by the distinguished author, I make the
following extracts on Lake Tahoe:
_August_ 20, (1870). I am cook to-day. I therefore got
up at daybreak and prepared breakfast while the rest enjoyed
their morning snooze. After breakfast we hired a sail-boat,
partly to fish, but mainly to enjoy a sail on this beautiful
Lake.
Oh! the exquisite beauty of this Lake--its clear waters,
emerald-green, and the deepest ultramarine blue; its pure
shores, rocky or cleanest gravel, so clean that the chafing of
the waves does not stain in the least the bright clearness of
the waters; the high granite mountains, with serried peaks,
which stand close around its very shore to guard its crystal
purity,--this Lake, not _among_, but _on_, the
mountains, lifted six thousand feet towards the deep-blue
overarching sky, whose image it reflects! We tried to fish for
trout, but partly because the speed of the sail-boat could
not be controlled, and partly because we enjoyed the scene far
more than the fishing, we were unsuccessful, and soon gave
it up. We sailed some six or eight miles, and landed in a
beautiful cove on the Nevada side. Shall we go in swimming?
Newspapers in San Francisco say there is something peculiar
in the waters of this high mountain Lake. It is so light, they
say, that logs of timber sink immediately, and bodies
of drowned animals never rise; that it is impossible to swim
in it; that, essaying to do so, many good swimmers have
been drowned. These facts are well attested by newspaper
scientists, and therefore not doubted by newspaper readers.
Since leaving Oakland, I have been often asked by the young
men the scientific explanation of so singular a fact. I have
uniformly answered, "We will try scientific experiments when
we arrive there." That time had come. "Now then, boys," I
cried, "for the scientific experiment I promised you!" I
immediately plunged in head-foremost and struck out boldly. I
then threw myself on my back, and lay on the surface with
ray limbs extended and motionless for ten minutes, breathing
quietly the while. All the good swimmers quickly followed. It
is as easy to swim and float in this as in any other water.
Lightness from diminished atmospheric pressure? Nonsense! In
an almost incompressible liquid like water, the diminished
density produced by diminished pressure would be more than
counterbalanced by increased density produced by cold.
After our swim, we again launched our boat, and sailed out
into the very middle of the Lake. The wind had become very
high, and the waves quite formidable. We shipped wave after
wave, so that those of us who were sitting in the bows got
drenched. It was very exciting. The wind became still
higher; several of the party got very sick, and two of them
_cascaded_. I was not in the least affected, but, on
the contrary, enjoyed the sail very much. About 2 P.M. we
concluded it was time to return, and therefore tacked about
for camp.
The wind was now dead ahead, and blowing very hard. The boat
was a very bad sailer, and so were _we_. We beat up
against the wind a long time, and made but little headway.
Finally, having concluded we would save time and patience by
doing so, we ran ashore on the beach about a mile from camp
and towed the boat home. The owner of the boat told us that
_he_ would not have risked the boat or his life in the
middle of the Lake on such a day. "Where ignorance is bliss,"
etc.
After a hearty supper we gathered around the fire, and the
young men sang in chorus until bedtime. "Now then, boys,"
cried I, "for a huge camp-fire, for it will be cold tonight!"
We all scattered in the woods, and every man returned with a
log, and soon the leaping blaze seemed to overtop the pines.
We all lay around, with our feet to the fire, and soon sank
into deep sleep.
_August 21_. Sunday at Tahoe! I wish I could spend it
in perfect quiet. But my underclothes must be changed.
Cleanliness is a Sunday duty. Some washing is necessary. Some
of the party went fishing to-day. The rest of us remained in
camp and mended or washed clothes.
At 12 M. I went out alone, and sat on the shore of the Lake,
with the waves breaking at my feet. How brightly emerald-green
the waters near the shore, and how deeply and purely blue
in the distance! The line of demarcation is very distinct,
showing that the bottom drops off suddenly. How distinct the
mountains and cliffs all around the Lake; only lightly tinged
with blue on the farther side, though more than twenty miles
distant!
How greatly is one's sense of beauty affected by association!
Lake Mono is surrounded by much grander and more varied
mountain scenery than this; its waters are also very clear,
and it has the advantage of several very picturesque islands;
but the dead volcanoes, the wastes of volcanic sand and ashes
covered only by interminable sagebrush, the bitter, alkaline,
dead, slimy waters, in which nothing but worms live; the
insects and flies which swarm on its surface, and which are
thrown upon its shore in such quantities as to infect the
air,--all these produce a sense of desolation and death
which is painful; it destroys entirely the beauty of the lake
itself; it unconsciously mingles with and alloys the pure
enjoyment of the incomparable mountain scenery in its
vicinity. On the contrary, the deep-blue, pure waters of Lake
Tahoe, rivaling in purity and blueness the sky itself; its
clear, bright emerald shore-waters, breaking snow-white on its
clean rock and gravel shores; the Lake basin, not on a plain,
with mountain scenery in the distance, but counter-sunk in
the mountain's top itself,--these produce a never-ceasing and
ever-increasing sense of joy, which naturally grows into love.
There would seem to be no beauty except as associated with
human life and connected with a sense of fitness for human
happiness. Natural beauty is but the type of spiritual beauty.
Enjoyed a very refreshing swim in the Lake this afternoon.
The water is much less cold than that of Lake Tenaya or the
Tuolumne River, or even the Nevada River.
The party which went out fishing returned with a very large
trout. It was delicious.
I observe on the Lake ducks, gulls, terns, etc., and about it
many sandhill cranes--the white species, the clanging cry of
these sounds pleasant to me by early association.
_August 22_. Nothing to do to-day. Would be glad to sail
on the Lake or fish, but too expensive hiring boats. Our funds
are nearly exhausted. Would be glad to start for home, but
one of our party--Pomroy--has gone to Carson City, and we must
wait for him.
I went down alone to the Lake, sat down on the shore and
enjoyed the scene. Nothing to do, my thoughts to-day naturally
went to the dear ones at home. Oh! how I wish they could be
here and enjoy with me this lovely Lake! I could dream away my
life here with those I love. How delicious a dream! Of all the
places I have yet seen, this is the one I could longest enjoy
and love the most. Reclining thus in the shade, on the clean
white sand, the waves rippling at my feet, with thoughts of
Lake Tahoe and of my loved ones mingling in my mind, I fell
into a delicious doze. After my doze I returned to camp, to
dinner.
About 5 P.M. took another and last swim in the Lake.
Pomroy, who went to Carson, returned 7 P.M. After supper,
again singing in chorus, and then the glorious campfire.
CHAPTER E
JOHN VANCE CHENEY AT LAKE TAHOE
One of America's poets who long lived in California, and then, after
an honorable and useful sojourn as Director of one of the important
libraries of the East, returned to spend the remainder of his
days--John Vance Cheney--in 1882, made the trip to Lake Tahoe by stage
from Truckee, and, among other fine pieces of description, wrote the
following which appeared in _Lippincott's_ for August, 1883:
One more ascent has been made, one more turn rounded, and
behold, from an open elevation, close upon its shore, Lake
Tahoe in all its calm beauty bursts suddenly upon the sight.
Nestled among the snowy summit-peaks of the Sierra Nevada,
more than six thousand feet above sea-level, it lies in
placid transparency. The surrounding heights are all the more
pleasing to the eye because of their lingering winter-cover;
and as we gaze upon the Lake, unruffled by the
gentlest breeze, we marvel at the quiet,--almost
supernatural,--radiancy of the scene. Lakes in other lands
may present greater beauty of artificial setting,--beauty
dependent largely upon picturesqueness, where vineyards and
ivied ruins heighten the effect of natural environment,--but
for nature pure and simple, for chaste beauty and native
grandeur, one will hesitate before naming the rival of Lake
Tahoe. This singularly impressive sheet of water, one of
the highest in the world, gains an indescribable but
easily-perceived charm by its remoteness, its high, serene,
crystal isolation. Its lights and shades, its moods and
passions, are changing, rapid, and free as the way of the
wind.
A true child of nature, it varies ever, from hour to hour
enchanting with new and strange fascination. The thousand
voices of the lofty Sierra call to it, and it answers; all the
colors of the rainbow gather upon it, receiving in their turn
affectionate recognition. Man has meddled with it little more
than with the sky; the primeval spell is upon it, the hush,
the solitude of the old gods. The breath of powers invisible,
awful, rouse it to the sublimity of untamable energy; again,
hush it into deepest slumber. Night and day it is guarded,
seemingly, by wonder-working forces known to man only through
the uncertain medium of the imagination. The traveler who
looks upon Lake Tahoe for a few hours only learns little of
its rich variety. Like all things wild and shy, it must be
approached slowly and with patience.
But our sketch must not include more than the hasty glimpses
of a day. The stage conveyed us directly to the wharf, which
we reached at ten o'clock, having accomplished our fourteen
mile ride up the valley in about two and a half hours. As we
boarded the little steamer awaiting us and looked over its
side into the water below, the immediate shock of surprise
cannot be well described. Every pebble at the bottom showed as
distinctly as if held in the open hand. We had all seen clear
water before, but, as a severe but unscholarly sufferer once
said of his rheumatism, "never such as _these_." The
day being perfect, no breeze stirring, and the Lake without
a ripple, the gravelly bottom continued visible when we had
steamed out to a point where the water reached a depth of
eighty feet. Two gentlemen on board who had made a leisurely
trip round the world and were now on their way home to
England, remarked that they had seen but one sheet of water
(a lake in Japan) of anything like equal transparency. It is
presumed that they had not visited Green Lake, Colorado.
Our course lay along the California shore, toward its southern
extremity, the steamer stopping at several points for exchange
of mail. These stopping places are all summer-resorts, where
the guests, snugly housed at the base of the mountain-range,
divide the time between lounging or rambling under the shadow
of the tall pines and angling for the famous Tahoe trout in
the brightness of the open Lake. All looked inviting, but we
were not wholly enchanted until,
gliding past many a snowy peak, we suddenly changed course
and put into Emerald Bay. This little bay, or rather lake in
itself, about three miles in length, is the gem of the Tahoe
scenery. Through its narrow entrance, formed by perpendicular
cliffs some two thousand feet high, we moved on toward an
island of rock and a succession of flashing waterfalls beyond.
* * * * *
For a time the dazzling mountain-crests and glistening gorges
absorbed attention. So high, white, silent! We longed to
be upon the loftiest one, from the top of which can be seen
thirteen charming little mountain-lakes, midair jewels,
varying in feature according to the situation. Two of these
lakes, widely dissimilar in character, are but two miles
distant from Tallac House, a comfortable resort at the base of
the noble peak from which it takes its name.
But not even the crystal summit ridges delighted us as did
the changing waters in the path of the steamer. Following
immediately upon the transparency preserved to a depth of some
eighty feet, a blur passed over the surface. This changed
by imperceptible degrees to a light green. The green, again,
speedily deepened, shading into a light blue; and finally,
in deepest water (where the Lake is all but fathomless), the
color becomes so densely blue that we could not believe our
eyes. Indigo itself was outdone. Description fails; the blue
deep of Tahoe must be seen to be appreciated.
* * * * *
The ride from Glenwood back to Tahoe City was not so calm. The
Lake was considerably agitated; less so, however, than on
the following day, when, as we learned afterward, our little
steamer lost its rudder. Owing to the gorges in the mountains
upon either side, through which winds rush unexpectedly, Tahoe
has her dangers. She is a wild, wayward child, but thoroughly
lovable throughout all her frowns as well as smiles, equally
captivating in her moments of unconquerable willfulness as in
her seasons of perfect submission. Reaching Tahoe City at four
o'clock, we found the stage standing in readiness, and, with
a last, hasty look at the Lake, we were soon on our way by the
banks of the Truckee, back to town.
CHAPTER F
THE RESORTS OF LAKE TAHOE
In the body of this book I have given full account of some of the
resorts of the Tahoe region, including Deer Park Springs, Tahoe
Tavern, Fallen Leaf Lodge, Cathedral Park, Glen Alpine Springs,
Al-Tahoe, Lakeside, Glenbrook and Carnelian Bay.
But these are by no means all the resorts of the Bay, and each year
sees additions and changes. Hence I have deemed it well briefly to
describe those resorts that are in operation at the time this volume
is issued.
It should be remembered that each resort issues its own descriptive
folder, copies of which may be obtained from the ticket offices of the
Southern Pacific Railway, the Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation
Company, or the Peck-Judah Information Bureau, as well as from its
own office. All the resorts not already described in their respective
chapters are reached by steamer on its circuit around the Lake, as
follows:
HOMEWOOD
The first place for the steamer after leaving the Tavern is Homewood,
a comparatively new resort, but already popular and successful,
conducted by Mr. and Mrs. A.W. Jost. This is six miles from Tahoe
City. The hotel was built in 1913 and has hot and cold water piped to
all rooms.
In addition there are cottages of two and three rooms, which, together
with single and double tents, provide for every taste and purse. The
tents are protected by flies, have solid boarded floors, are well
carpeted, and afford the fullest opportunity for out-door sleeping.
Homewood possesses a gently sloping and perfectly safe bathing
beach for adults and children. It also boasts a unique feature in
an open-air dancing platform, with old-fashioned music. It owns
its power-boat for excursions on the Lake, and its fleet of row-and
fishing-boats. A campfire is lighted nightly during the season, and
song and story cheer the merry hours along.
For circulars address A.W. Jost, Homewood, Lake Tahoe, Calif.
MCKINNEY'S
Three and a half to four miles beyond Homewood is McKinney's. This
is one of the oldest and best-established resorts on the Lake, having
been founded and long conducted by that pioneer of Lake Tahoe, J.W.
McKinney, as fully related elsewhere. It is now under the management
of Murphy Brothers and Morgan, and is essentially a place that is
popular with the crowd. The resort was built, as are all the
older places, to meet ever-increasing needs, the main hotel being
supplemented by numerous cottages and tents. McKinney's has a fine new
dancing-hall, dark-room for amateur photographers, iron and magnesia
springs, fleet of fishing- and motor-boats, free fishing-tackle, etc.,
and during the season its accommodation for two hundred guests is more
than taxed to the limit.
For circular address Murphy Brothers and Morgan, McKinney's, Lake
Tahoe, Calif.
MOANA VILLA
The next steamer stopping-place, about two hundred yards from
McKinney's is Moana Villa, the comfortable, unpretentious and homelike
resort conducted by Mr. and Mrs. R. Colwell, who are also the owners
of Rubicon Springs, reached by daily stage during the summer season,
nine miles from McKinney's.
Owning its own ranch in the mountains where milk, cream, butter, eggs,
poultry and game are plentiful, the table at Moana Villa is provided
with all the substantials and luxuries, cooked and served in home
style.
One great advantage is offered to guests at Moana Villa, viz.: they
may divide their time between it and Rubicon Springs, as both are
under the same ownership and management.
The new Scenic Automobile Boulevard passes through the 700 acres of
delightful surroundings which belong to the place. The best fishing
grounds on Lake Tahoe are close by and numerous smaller mountain lakes
and streams afford excellent fly fishing. Deer, bear, grouse, quail,
ducks, geese and other game abound in the locality.
Hunting, fishing, bathing, boating, dancing, launch trips, beautiful
walks and drives and numerous games give ample opportunity for
amusement and recreation. The assembly hall and office is of logs.
Sleeping accommodations in cottages and tents or out of doors if
desired. Water is piped from a clear mountain spring, and an equipment
of up-to-date sanitary plumbing, bath and toilet appliances has been
lately installed.
For circular address R. Colwell, Moana Villa, Lake Tahoe, Calif.
* * * * *
POMIN'S
A little beyond Moana Villa is Pomin's, the latest acquisition to
the resorts of the Lake, having been opened in 1914. The hotel is an
attractive, well-equipped, up-to-date structure, located on a knoll
150 feet from the Lake, and is surrounded by pines. Enclosed verandas,
open fires in lobby and dining-rooms, electric lights, hot and
cold water in all the rooms, tents and cottages are some of the
conveniences and luxuries.
There is an attractive club-house on the Lake Shore. For circular
address Frank J. Pomin, Pomin's, Lake Tahoe, Calif.
Emerald Bay Camp and Al-Tahoe have both been described in their
respective chapters.
* * * * *
TALLAC
As explained in Chapter XVIII, Tallac House was built by E.J. (Lucky)
Baldwin. For many years it was the principal hotel on the Lake, but
what was a fine and superior hotel 25 years ago did not satisfy the
demands of modern patrons. Hence some years ago Mr. Baldwin planned to
erect a new hotel near the site of the old one. Unfortunately the work
was not much more than begun when he died and nothing has been done to
it since.
The hotel is now under the management of a San Francisco firm.
* * * * *
PINE FOREST INN
Built, as its name implies, in a pine grove of trees, this is one
of the older resorts of the Lake. It is unique in that it keeps open
throughout the year. Like the rest of the resorts of its class it
has hotel and dining-room with cottages and tents. Under its new
management a new casino has been built, and every room and cottage,
etc., equipped with electric lights. Especial attention is given to
camping-, fishing-, and hunting-parties. It is on the State Highway
between Placerville and Carson City, Nevada, and therefore makes all
provision for automobilists.
For circular address Lawrence & Comstock, Pine Forest Inn, Tallac
P.O., Calif.
* * * * *
CAMP BELL
Located between Al Tahoe and Bijou is Camp Bell, conducted by Russell
W. Bell. The camp consists of tents and an open-air dining-room.
For circular address Russell W. Bell, 128 Edgewood Ave., San
Francisco, Calif.
* * * * *
BIJOU INN
This is another well-known Inn and Camp at the southeastern end of
the Lake. It is on the Lake Shore Drive near to the State Highway and
close to Freel's and the other mountain peaks of this group. The
beach in front of Bijou is of clean white sand, with a gentle slope,
offering excellent facilities for bathing.
For circular address W.F. Conolley, Bijou, Lake Tahoe, Calif.
* * * * *
Lakeside Park and Glenwood have each been described in their
respective chapters.
* * * * *
BROCKWAYS
This old-established and popular hot-springs resort is on the north
end of the Lake, beautifully situated on State-Line Point between
Crystal and Agate Bays. The hot springs and mineral swimming-pool here
have a tested quality which thousands of guests can testify to, and
they are annually patronized by a large number. The resort and springs
are under the management of the owner.
For circular, address F.B. Alverson, Brockways, Lake Tahoe, Calif.
* * * * *
TAHOE VISTA
On the shores of Agate Bay a new resort was started two years ago,
known as Tahoe Vista. It has a modern hotel, equipped for convenience
and comfort.
Bathing, boating and fishing in Agate Bay at Tahoe Vista is at its
best. The white sanded beach is broad and is safe to the smallest
child, the bay being shallow for a distance of five hundred feet
from its edge and affording a temperature to the water that is more
pleasant than to be found at any other part of the Lake.
The fame of Lake Tahoe's trout fishing is world renowned, and in
Agate Bay that sport is superior. One of the public fish hatcheries
is located near Tahoe Vista, insuring a constant supply of the most
favored varieties of game fish. Twenty-five thousand Eastern brook
trout were recently placed in Griff Creek, a lively little stream that
dances through the glens of Tahoe Vista.
To those who wish to own their own homes on the Lake Tahoe Vista
affords excellent opportunities in that lots are for sale at moderate
rates. A direct automobile road connects with Truckee, and also with
Tahoe Tavern.
For circular address Manager Hotel, Tahoe Vista, Calif.
* * * * *
Carnelian Bay and its attractions are fully described in its own
chapter.
* * * * *
TAHOE CITY
This is the starting and the ending point of the steamer trip around
the Lake. It is a historic place, the first town founded on Lake
Tahoe, and destined ultimately to come into large importance. There is
a small hotel, together with housekeeping cottages, and free camping
facilities.
For full particulars address Tahoe Development Co., Tahoe, Calif.
INDEX
Titles of Books are in _Italics_.
Book chapters are in SMALL CAPITALS.
(q)=quoted.
Agassiz Peak
Agate Bay
Alleghany
Alpha
Alpine Spruce
Alta
AL TAHOE
Alverson, F.B.
_American Journal of Science and Art_
River (see N. & S. Forks)
Anderson Peak
Angel, Myron
Angora Range
Lakes
ANIMALS AND BIRDS OF T. REGION
Antelope Valley
Armstrong, Mrs.
Auburn
Audrian Lake
AUTOMOBILE ROUTE, THE WISHBONE
Baldwin, E.J.
Bannister, L.H.
Barker's Peak, Pass., etc.
Basketry Indian
Bath
Bear
Bear Creek
Lake
River Divide
Valley
Bell, Camp
Bigelow, R.L.P.
Bigler, Lake Tahoe Named
Bijou
BIRDS AND ANIMALS OF T. REGION
Bixby Lake
Blackwood Creek
Bliss and Yerington
Bloody Canyon Glacier
Bloomfield, North
Blue Canyon
Blue Jays
Boating
Boca
Bonpland, Amadé
Bricknell & Kinger
Brockways
Brown, Sam
Browning, R. (q)
Buck Island Lake
Burton
Creek
California Ditch
Camino
Camping, Free
CAMPING OUT TRIPS IN T. REGION
Campoodie, Indians
CARNELIAN BAY AND T. COUNTRY CLUB
Carson City
Falls
Kit
Pass
River
Sink
Cascade Lake
Glacier
Castle Peak
Cathedral Peak
Park
Cave Rock
Cedar, Incense
Celios
Central Pacific Ry.
Chandler, Miss Katherine
CHAPARRAL OF T. REGION
Chase, Smeaton (q)
Cheney, John Vance (q)
Chipmunk
Chips Flat
Church, J.E., Jr., (q)
"Pap"
Cisco
Claraville
Clement, Ephraim
Coburn Station (see Truckee)
Cohn, A.
Cold Stream
Cole, D.W.
Coleman Valley
Colfax
Colgate
Columbia River
Colwell, R.
Comstock Lode
Conolley, W.F.
_Conroy, Gabriel_
Country Club, Tahoe
Crags, The
Creeks of Lake T.
Crystal Bay
Range
Dalles of Columbia River
Damascus
Dat-so-la-le
Deer Creek
PARK SPRINGS
Delano, L.P.
Desolation Valley
Devil's Playground
Pulpit
De Young, M.H.
Diamond Springs
Dick, Capt.
Digger Pine
Donner
Creek
George
Jacob
LAKE
Glacier
Road.
Downieville
Dubliss, Mt.
Dutch Flat
Swindle
Eagle Bird
Creek
Falls
Lake
Point
Echo
Lakes
Edgewoods
Edith Peak
Edmonds, Mark W.
El Dorado
Forest
Elevations
Ellis, Jock
Peak
Emerald Bay
AND CAMP
Freezes
Glacier
How Formed
Island
Legend of
Emigrant Gap
Road
Erosion, Glacial
Esmeralda Falls
Essex
Fallen Leaf Glacier
LAKE
Lodge
Fir, Red
Shasta
White
Fire, How Indians Got
Fish, Hatchery
FISHING IN TAHOE LAKES
Five Lakes
Creek
Floriston
Flower Display
FLOWERS OF TAHOE REGION
Folsom
Forest
_Conditions in Sierra Nevada_ (q)
Hill Divide
Rangers
TAHOE NATIONAL
Freel's Peak
Freeport
Freezing of Lake Tahoe
FRÉMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF TAHOE
Discovers Pyramid Lake
Truckee River
Explorations
HOWITZER AND LAKE T.
Fulda
Fulton, R.L.
Gardnerville, Legend of
General Creek
Electric Co.
Genoa Peak
GEOLOGY OF LAKE TAHOE
Georgetown Deltas
Divide
Junction
Ghirardelli's Chocolate
Gilmore Lake
Nathan
GLACIAL HISTORY OF T. REGION
Lake Valley
Glen Alpine Canyon
Falls
SPRINGS
GLENBROOK
Gold Run
Goodyear's Bar
Granite Chief Peak
Graniteville
Grant's Crackers
Grass Valley
Grecian Bay
Greek George
Grizzly Gulch
Peak
Grove, The
Hale, Fort
Hangtown
Harte, Bret
Hastings, Lansford W.
Hay Press Meadows
Hazlett, Mr.
Heather Lake
Hell Hole
Little
Hellman, I.
_Heroes of California_
Hickey, Frances A.
Highland Peak
HISTORIC TAHOE TOWNS
Hobart Mills
Holladay, Ben
Homewood
Honey Lake
Hope Valley
Hopkins, Sarah W.
Horlich's Tablets, &c.
HOWITZER, Frémont AND TAHOE
Humboldt River
Hunsaker Bros.
Hydraulic Mines
Illinoistown (see Colfax)
Incense Cedar
Incline
Independence
Indestructo Trunk
INDIANS OF LAKE TAHOE
How originated
LEGENDS OF T. REGION
_Innocents Abroad_ (q)
Iowa Hill
Jackson, An Indian
Jepson, W.L. (q)
Job's Peak
Sister Peak
Jost, A.W.
Juniper, Western
Kent Ranger Station
King, Killed
THOS. STARR AT L. TAHOE
Kingsbury Grade
King's Canyon
Klaraet Lake
Knight, Wm. H. (q)
Knox
Knoxville
Kohl, C.F.
Kyburgs
Lake, Hank Richards'
of the Sky, Why the
of the Woods
Pyramid (see Pyramid)
Spaulding
Tahoe (see Tahoe)
Origin of
Valley
Glacier
LAKES, LESSER OF T. REGION
LAKESIDE PARK
Lassen, Mt.
Last Chance
Latham, Capt. W.W.
Lavas
Lawrence & Comstock
LECONTE, JOHN, PHYSICAL STUDIES
JOSEPH AND GLACIAL STUDIES
AT TAHOE
Lake
LEGENDS, INDIAN, OF T. REGION
Leiberg, John B. (q)
Lemmon, J.G. (q)
Level of Tahoe, Variations in
Lewis River
Lick, James
Lily Lake
Lincoln, Mt.
Lindgren (q)
Lion Peak
_Lippincott's_ (q)
Logging
Lola, Mt.
Lonely Gulch
Loon Lake
Los Angeles
Lover's Leap
Lucile Lake
Lumbering
Lyell, Mt.
McConnell, Mary
McGlashan, C.F.
Nonette V.
McKinney
McKinstry Peak
Madden, Dick, Creek
Maggie's Peaks
Markleeville
Marlette, Lake
Peak
S.H.
Martis Valley
Mary's Lake
Marysville
Buttes
Meadow Lake Mines
Meek's Bay
Mer de Glace
Meteor
Michigan Bluff
Mildred, Mt.
Miller Creek
Joaquin (q)
Mineral Springs
MINING EXCITEMENT, SQUAW VALLEY
Moana Villa
Modjeska Falls
Mono Indians
Lake
Monona Flat
Monument Peak
Moody, Chas. A. (q)
Moraines
Mountains of Calif, (q)
of T. Region
Muir, John
Murphy Bros, and Morgan
Murphy, Virginia Reed
Myers' Station
NAMES, VARIOUS OF L. TAHOE
Napoleon's Hat
Nevada City
History of
Neve
Newcastle
North Bloomfield
Fork Am. River
OBSERVATORY, MT. ROSE
Point
Ogden
Omega
Overland Monthly (q)
Pacific Gas & Electric Co.
House
Painti Indians
Parsons, Miss
Phillips
Phipps Creek
Peak
PHYSICAL STUDIES OF L. TAHOE
Pine, Digger
Finger Cove
Forest Inn
Jeffrey
Sugar
White
Yellow
Pino Grande (see The Grove)
Placerville
Road
Pleasant Lake
Pluto, Mt.
Pomin, Capt.
Wm.
Pomin's
Pray, Capt. A.W.
Preuss, Companion of Frémont
Price, W.W.
Mrs. W.W.
Prosser Creek
Puberty Dance
PUBLIC USE OF WATERS OF L. TAHOE
Pyramid Lake
Discovered
Named
Peak
Quaker Hill
RAIL, TO LAKE TAHOE
Ramsay, Mrs. John. L.
Rangers Forest
Station, Kent
Raymond Peak
Reclamation Service, U.S.
Red Peak
Reed, James T.
Reid, W.T.
Reno
Water & Electric Co.
Richards', Hank, Lake
Richardson's Auto Stage
Richardson, Barton
Peak
Rivers of Tahoe
Riverton
Roads in Tahoe Forest
Robinson, L.L.
Rock Bound Lakes
Rose, Mt., Flowers of
OBSERVATORY
_Roughing It_ (q)
Round Mound
Top
Rowlands
Rubicon Park
Peaks
Point
River
SPRINGS
Road
Sacramento
River
Valley
Railroad
Salmon Trout River
Sallie, Princess
Salter, Nelson I.
San Buenaventura River
Sand Mtn.
San Francisco
Joaquin Valley
Scott Bros.
_Seiches_ on Lake Tahoe
Sequoia Gigantea
Shaffer's Mills
Shakspeare Rock,
Shank's Cove
Shasta Fir
Shasta Mtn.
Shingle Springs
Shooting the Chutes
Sierra Valley
_Silva of Calif_.
Silver Mtn.
Smith, J.W., on Frémont's Diary
Flat
Snow Shoe Thompson
Valley Peak
Snyder killed
Soda Spring
Southern Pacific Ry.
South Fork, American R.
Spaulding, Lake
Spider Lake
Sportsman's Hall
Spruce, Alpine
Squaw Peak
Valley
MINING EXCITEMENT
Stanford, Gov. (Steamer)
Starved Camp
State Line House
STEAMER AROUND L. TAHOE
Strawberry
Sugar Loaf
Pine Point
SUMMER RESIDENCE, L. TAHOE FOR
Summit
Valley
Sumpter, Fort
_Sunset Mag_.
Susan (Indian)
Susie Lake
Sutter's Fort
Swimming at Tahoe
Swinging Bridges
Tahoe City
Country Club
and S.F. Waterworks
TAHOE, LAKE, AND TRUCKEE RIVER
AUTOMOBILE ROUTE, WISHBONE
AS A SUMMER RESIDENCE
BIRDS AND ANIMALS OF
Boating at
Boulevard
BY STEAMER AROUND
CAMPING OUT TRIPS
CHAPARRAL OF T. REGION
CHENEY, J.V., AT
Climate of
Colors of
Depth of
Discovery of
Drowned do not rise at
Feeders of
FISHING AT
FLOWERS OF
FRÉMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF
GEOLOGY OF
GLACIAL HISTORY OF
How FORMED
HUNTING AT
INDIANS OF
INDIAN LEGENDS OF
KING, THOS. STARR, AT
LECONTE, JOSEPH, AT
LECONTE'S PHYSICAL STUDIES OF
Levels, Variations of
MARK TWAIN AT
Mountains of
Names
NATIONAL FOREST
Never freezes
Origin of
Peculiarities of
Physical Culture at
PUBLIC USE OF WATERS OF
RAIL TO
Railway and Transp. Co.
Restfulness of
Rivers of
Significance of name
Size of
Swimming in
Temperature of
Transparency of
Trees of
TRUCKEE RIVER AND
Variations of Level
VARIOUS NAMES OF
WHY "LAKE OF THE SKY"
WINTER AT
TAVERN
TOWNS, HISTORIC
Vista
Tallac
House
Mt.
Tevis, W.S.
Thompson Peak
Snow Shoe
Tinker Knob
Tlamath Lake (see Klamat)
Tobogganing
Todd's Valley
Towle
TOWNS, HISTORIC TAHOE
TRAIL TRIPS IN T. REGION
Hell Hole
Rubicon River
TREES OF T. REGION
Trolling
Trout, Varieties of
Truckee (Indian)
(Town)
Canyon Glacier
Little River
Twain, Mark
Twelve Mile Creek
Van Sickle
Velma Lakes
Verdi
Virginia City
Von Schmidt, A.W.
Wadsworth
Ward Creek
Peak
Valley
Washoe Indians
WATER, PUBLIC USES OF TAHOE
Watson Canyo
Lake
Mtn.
Robt., Dedication
Webber Lake
Whisky Creek
White Pine
Wigwam Inn
Winnemucca
Sarah
Wisconsin Hill
Woods, Lake of the
Wright, Wm.
Yankee Jim
Yanks
Yerington & Bliss
Yew
You Bet
Yuba
Forest Reserve
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Lake of the Sky - Lake Tahoe in the High Sierras of California and Nevada, its History, Indians, Discovery by Frémont, Legendary Lore, Various Namings, Physical Characteristics, Glacial Phenomena, Geology, Single Outlet, Automobile Routes, Historic Towns, Early Mining Excitements, Steamer Ride, Mineral Springs, Mountain and Lake Resorts, Trail and Camping Out Trips, Summer Residences, Fishing, Hunting, Flowers, Birds, Animals, Trees, and Chaparral, with a Full Account of the Tahoe National Forest, the Public Use of the Water of Lake Tahoe and Much Other Interesting Matter" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.