THE PARK IN WINTER.
From the end of September to the end of May the Park is closed to the
tourist; that is, the hotels do not receive guests, and camping is too
precarious to be attempted. It is generally possible, however, to get
into the Park as late as the middle or end of November, very rarely as
late as Christmas. In May, the snowfalls are light, but the
accumulations of the previous winter render traveling out of the
question. With great difficulty the hotel company reaches its nearest
hotels as early as May 16. Some of the roads remain impassable fully a
month later.
What the fall of snow is in the upper Park has never been determined;
but at Mammoth Hot Springs, altitude 6,200 feet, an average for six
years, from November to April inclusive, is ten feet per year, with a
maximum of fifteen feet and a minimum of five. But on the Park
Plateau, 1,000 to 1,500 feet higher, the fall is certainly much
greater. No doubt its light depth aggregates twenty feet. The weight
of this snow often destroys the railing of bridges and injures the
buildings of the Park.
The drifts accumulate in phenomenal magnitude. No matter how deep a
ravine may be, the wind will pile the snow up in it until it is level
with the surrounding country. Some of these drifts on the mountain
sides are hundreds of feet deep and never entirely melt away. Even on
the general plateau they last until the middle of July. The Cañon
Hotel is almost buried every winter. The snow actually reaches the
second story windows, and the drift behind the hotel would last
throughout the summer were its melting not facilitated by cutting it
in pieces with shovels. It verily seems that all the conditions of
climate here conspire to make this region one of the snowiest in the
world.
Of course, general access to the Park under such conditions is wholly
out of the question. Only on snow-shoes is it possible at all. The
hotel company has a watchman at each of its buildings, who drags out a
lonely existence through the two hundred days from November to May. He
can talk over the telephone line with Mammoth Hot Springs, and at long
intervals he receives a call, and perhaps mail, from "Telephone Pete,"
who travels the line to keep it in order. In some places, also, small
squads of soldiers are stationed for the winter.
The art of traveling by snow-shoe is a thoroughly interesting one,
notwithstanding the fact that it is about the most difficult method of
travel known and is rarely resorted to except from sheer necessity.
The instrument used in the Park for this purpose is called a _ski_
(pronounced skee). It is a long slender strip of wood--ash, Norway
pine, or hickory--some twelve feet long, four or five inches wide, and
just thick enough to give needed strength. About midway of its length
is a strap through which the toe is slipped and by which the foot
pulls the _ski_ along. The bearing surface of the two _skis_ is about
eight square feet, and holds the weight of the body even in soft snow
without sinking more than a few inches. The bottom surface is
polished smooth and then rubbed with a mixture of tallow and beeswax
to make it free from friction. A pole is an important accompaniment,
aiding to slide the traveler along and steady him on the _skis_. It
also serves as a brake in descending steep hills, the traveler sitting
astride it and bearing the rear end into the snow.
Down hill work is indeed glorious. No express train can rival the
_ski_ for speed. Its only drawback is danger of accident. On level
country _ski_ traveling is simply walking on a board walk, except that
the pedestrian carries the board with him, and makes and unmakes the
road as fast as he goes. This is hard enough, especially if the snow
is sticky, but when it comes to up hill traveling it is a truly
laborious matter. If the hill is steep, there is danger of losing
one's grip on the snow and sliding backward down the hill. Where the
ascent is too steep to work up by direct forward movement,
"corduroying" is resorted to. The traveler works up sidewise, stepping
up a foot or so with the upper _ski_ and following with the lower.
Generally this sidewise movement is combined with a slight forward
movement, the _skis_ being pointed up hill at as steep an inclination
as they will hold.
The dress and equipment of the snow-shoe traveler are reduced to a
minimum consistent with protection from the climate. This protection
is really needed only at camping places, for the extraordinary
exertion of traveling keeps the body in a continuous glow of warmth.
Generally, warm woolen underwear, with canvas surface garments to keep
out the wind and to shed snow, are the essential features of the
dress. No overcoat is worn, but a tightly drawn belt takes its place.
The feet are the weak point. "Natural wool socks, then a pair of
Indian moccasins, then a pair of heavy gray army socks, then Arctic
overshoes and leggings," is the description of an equipment actually
used. A broad hat is frequently worn to keep snow out of the neck, and
colored glasses are indispensable to prevent snow blindness.
Baggage is limited to the strictest necessities, and is so packed that
it will rest uniformly on the back from the shoulders to the hips.
No eating of snow or drinking of water can be safely indulged in while
_en route_. The traveler must go strictly "dry" between meals.
[Illustration:
_Terry Engr. Co._ _Haynes, Photo., St. Paul._
Geyser Basins in Winter.]
Of course traveling of this sort is attended with much peril. A man
must rely wholly on himself. No wagon or saddle is available if he is
injured or sick. Heavy storms may blind him and cause him to lose his
way. In short, a snow-shoe trip through the Park is an undertaking
which requires a vigorous physique, a determined will, and a good fund
of courage. Very few, except those whose duty has required it, have
ever made the attempt. But it is the unanimous verdict of those who
have, that, glorious as the Park is in summer, it is even more
glorious in winter. One can readily understand this to be so.
Evergreen forests never appear to better advantage than when
laden with snow. Ice formations always enhance the beauty of
water-falls.[AX] The rolling open valleys of the Park must be doubly
beautiful when robed in drifted snow. It is a pity that this silvery
landscape should forever remain excluded from the general view.
[AX] For picture of Grand Cañon in winter, see p. 257.