OVER MOUNT WASHBURN TO THE FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE.
The Upper or Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone extends from the mouth
of Tower Creek to the foot of the Great Fall, a distance of twenty
miles. It is impassable throughout its entire length, and accessible
to the water's edge only at few points and by dint of severe labor.
The trail ascends the divide between Tower Creek and the Yellowstone,
skirting for six or eight miles the cañon of Tower Creek. The ground
rises rapidly and is much broken by creek-beds running parallel with
the river. Following the highest ridges, the first explorers reached
at last a point whence they could overlook the Grand Cañon cleaving
the slopes and breaking through the lofty mountain ranges in front.
Here they caught their first glimpse of a phenomenon afterwards to
become a familiar sight to them. Through the mountain gap formed by the
cañon, and on the interior slopes some twenty miles distant, an object
appeared which drew a simultaneous expression of wonder from every one
in the party. It was a column of steam, rising from the dense woods to
the height of several hundred feet. They had all heard fabulous stories
of this region, and were somewhat skeptical of appearances. At first it
was pronounced a fire in the woods, but presently some one noticed that
the vapor rose in regular puffs, as if expelled with a great force.
Then conviction was forced upon them. It was, indeed, a great column of
steam, puffing away on the lofty mountain side, with a roaring sound,
audible at a long distance, even through the heavy forest. A hearty
cheer rang out at this discovery, and they pressed onward with renewed
enthusiasm.
The highest peak of this ridge was named by the first company who
climbed it--Mount Washburn--in honor of their leader. The view from
its summit is "grand beyond description;" yet some conception of its
grandeur can be formed, let us hope, from the graphic review of its
more striking features by Lieutenant Doane.
"Looking northward, the great plateau stretches away from the base
of the mountain to the front and left with its innumerable groves
and sparkling waters, a variegated landscape of surpassing beauty,
bounded on its extreme verge by the cañons of the Yellowstone. The pure
atmosphere of this lofty region causes every outline of tree, rock, or
lakelet to be visible with wonderful distinctness, and objects twenty
miles away appear as if very near at hand. Still further to the left
the snowy ranges on the headwaters of Gardiner's River stretch away to
the westward, joining those on the head of the Gallatin, and forming,
with the Elephant's Back, a continuous chain, bending constantly to
the south, the rim of the Yellowstone Basin. On the verge of the
horizon appear, like mole-hills in the distance, and far below, the
white summits above the Gallatin Valley. These never thaw during the
summer months, though several thousand feet lower than where we now
stand upon the bare granite, and no snow visible near, save in the
depths of shaded ravines. Beyond the plateau to the right front is the
deep valley of the East Fork bearing away eastward, and still beyond,
ragged volcanic peaks, heaped in inextricable confusion, as far as the
limit of vision extends. On the east, close beneath our feet, yawns
the immense gulf of the Grand Cañon, cutting away the bases of two
mountains in forcing a passage through the range. Its yellow walls
divide the landscape nearly in a straight line to the junction of Warm
Spring (Tower) Creek below. The ragged edges of the chasm are from two
hundred to five hundred yards apart, its depth so profound that the
river bed is nowhere visible. No sound reaches the ear from the bottom
of the abyss; the sun's rays are reflected on the farther wall and then
lost in the darkness below. The mind struggles and then falls back upon
itself, despairing in the efforts to grasp by a single thought the idea
of its immensity. Beyond, a gentle declivity, sloping from the summit
of the broken range, extends to the limit of vision, a wilderness of
unbroken pine forest.
"Turning southward, a new and strange scene bursts upon the view.
Filling the whole field of vision, and with its boundaries in
the verge of the horizon, lies the great volcanic basin of the
Yellowstone--nearly circular in form, from fifty to seventy-five
miles in diameter; and with a general depression of about 2,000 feet
below the summits of the great ranges which form its outer rim. Mount
Washburn lies in the point of the circumference, northeast from the
centre of the basin; far away in the southwest, the three great Tetons
on Snake River fill another space in the circle; connecting these two
highest are crescent ranges, one westward and south, past Gardiner's
River and the Gallatin, bounding the lower Madison, thence to the
Jefferson and by the Snake River range to the Tetons; another eastward
and south, a continuous range by the head of Rose Bud, inclosing the
sources of the Snake, and joining the Tetons beyond. Between the south
and west points, this vast circle is broken through in many places
for the passage of the rivers; but a single glance at the interior
slopes of the ranges shows that a former complete connection existed,
and that the great basin has been one vast crater of a now extinct
volcano. The nature of the rocks, the steepness and outline of the
interior walls, together with other peculiarities to be mentioned
hereafter, render this conclusion a certainty. The lowest point in
this great amphitheatre lies directly in front of us, and about eight
miles distant: a grassy valley, branching between low ridges, running
from the river toward the centre of the basin. A small stream rises in
this valley, breaking through the ridges to the west in a deep cañon,
and falling into the channel of the Yellowstone, which here bears in a
northeast course, flowing in view as far as the confluence of the small
stream, thence plunged into the Grand Cañon, and hidden from sight. No
falls can be seen, but their location is readily detected by the sudden
disappearance of the river; beyond this open valley the basin appears
to be filled with a succession of low, converging ridges, heavily
timbered, and all of about an equal altitude.
"To the south appears a broad sheet of water--the Yellowstone Lake.
Across the Grand Cañon, on the slope of the great mountain wall, is the
steam jet seen this morning; and in the next ravine beyond it are six
more of inferior volume. Still farther south are others, to the number
of perhaps twenty, and to the southwest more of them, scattered over
the vast expanse of the basin, rising from behind the wooded hills in
every direction. The view in this respect strongly resembles that from
the Alleghanies, where they overlook iron and coal districts, with all
their furnaces in active operation, save that one looks in vain here
for the thrifty towns, country villas, steamboats, and railroad depots."
Does this picture seem overdrawn? The briefer and less enthusiastic
description of Dr. Hayden confirms its truth, though he does not accept
in full Lieutenant Doane's interpretation of it. He says, in his
official report:
"The view from the summit of Mount Washburn is one of the finest I have
ever seen, and although the atmosphere was somewhat obscured by smoke,
yet an area of fifty to one hundred miles radius in every direction
could be seen more or less distinctly. We caught the first glimpse
of the great basin of the Yellowstone, with the lake, which reminded
one much, from its bays, indentations, and surrounding mountains, of
Great Salt Lake. To the south are the Tetons, rising high above all the
rest, the monarchs of all they survey, with their summits covered with
perpetual snow. To the southwest an immense area of dense pine forests
extends for one hundred miles without a peak rising above the black,
level mass. A little farther to the southwest and west are the Madison
Mountains, a lofty, grand, snow-capped range, extending far to the
northward. Nearer and in full view, to the west commence the bold peaks
of the Gallatin Range, extending northward as far as the eye can reach.
To the north we get a full view of the valley of the Yellowstone, with
the lofty ranges that wall it in. Emigrant Peak, and the splendid group
of mountains of which it is a part, can be clearly seen, and lose none
of their marvellous beauty of outline, view them from what point we
may. To the north and east the eye scans the most remarkable chaotic
mass of peaks of the most rugged character, apparently without system,
yet sending their jagged summits high up among the clouds. Farther
distant are somewhat more regular ranges, snow-covered, probably the
Big Horn. But with all this magnificent scenery around us from every
side, the greatest beauty was the lake, in full view to the southeast,
set like a gem amid the high mountains, which are literally bristling
with peaks, many of them capped with snow. These are all of volcanic
origin, and the fantastic shapes which many of them have assumed under
the hand of time, called forth a variety of names from my party. There
were two of them that represented the human profile so well that we
called them the "Giant's Face "and "Old Man of the Mountain." These
formed good landmarks for the topographer, for they were visible from
every point of the basin."
As regards the geological character of the country seen from Mount
Washburn, Dr. Hayden observes, in discussing the geology of the region:
"We may say, in brief, that the entire basin of the Yellowstone is
volcanic. I am not prepared to pronounce it a crater, with a lake
occupying the inner portion, while the mountains that surround the
basin are the ruins of this great crater; but, at a period not very
remote in the geological past, this whole country was a scene of
wonderful volcanic activity. I regard the hot springs so abundant all
over the valley as the last stages of this grand scene. Hot springs,
geysers, etc., are so intimately connected with what we usually term
volcanoes that their origin and action admit of the same explanation.
Both undoubtedly form safety-valves or vents for the escape of the
powerful forces that have been generated in the interior of the earth
since the commencement of our present period; the true volcanic action
has ceased, but the safety-valves are the thousands of hot springs all
over this great area. I believe that the time of the greatest volcanic
activity occurred during the Pliocene period--smoke, ashes, fragments
of rock, and lava poured forth from thousands of orifices into the
surrounding waters. Hundreds of cones were built up, fragments of which
still remain; and around them were arranged by the water the dust and
fragments of rock, the _ejectamenta_ of these volcanoes, in the form of
the conglomerate or breccia as we find it now. These orifices may have
been of every possible form--rounded or oblong, mere fissures, perhaps,
extending for miles, and building up their own crater rims as the hot
springs build up their rounded, conical peaks or oblong mounds at the
present time."
Leaving Mount Washburn, with its summit piles of basalt, and its
precipitous slope scattered with agates and beautiful fragments of
sardonyx, chalcedony, and malachite, let us descend to the valley.
The trail pursues a tortuous way to avoid the fallen timber and the
dense groves of pine, descending the almost vertical inner sides of the
rim of the Yellowstone Basin, to the valley of a small creek. Two or
three miles down this stream is a hideous glen, filled with sulphurous
vapor emitted from six or eight boiling springs of great size and
activity. Mr. Langford says of this unsavory place:
"It looked like nothing earthly we had ever seen, and the pungent fumes
which filled the atmosphere were not unaccompanied by a disagreeable
sense of possible suffocation. Entering the basin cautiously, we found
the entire surface of the earth covered with the incrusted sinter
thrown from the springs. Jets of hot vapor were expelled through
a hundred natural orifices with which it was pierced, and through
every fracture made by passing over it. The springs themselves were
as diabolical in appearance as the witches' caldron in Macbeth, and
needed but the presence of Hecate and her weird band to realize that
horrible creation of poetic fancy. They were all in a state of violent
ebullition, throwing their liquid contents to the height of three or
four feet. The largest had a basin twenty by forty feet in diameter.
Its greenish-yellow water was covered with bubbles, which were
constantly rising, bursting, and emitting sulphurous gas from various
parts of its surface. The central spring seethed and bubbled like a
boiling caldron. Fearful volumes of vapor were constantly escaping it.
Near it was another, not so large, but more infernal in appearance.
Its contents, of the consistency of paint, were in constant, noisy
ebullition. A stick thrust into it, on being withdrawn, was coated
with lead-colored slime a quarter of an inch in thickness. Nothing
flows from this spring. Seemingly, it is boiling down. A fourth spring,
which exhibited the same physical features, was partly covered by an
overhanging ledge of rock. We tried to fathom it, but the bottom was
beyond the reach of the longest pole we could find. Rocks cast into it
increased the agitation of its waters. There were several other springs
in the group, smaller in size, but presenting the same characteristics.
"The approach to them was unsafe, the incrustation surrounding them
bending in many places beneath our weight,--and from the fractures thus
created would ooze a sulphury slime of the consistency of mucilage.
It was with great difficulty that we obtained specimens from the
natural apertures with which the crust is filled,--a feat which was
accomplished by one only of our party, who extended himself at full
length upon that portion of the incrustation which yielded the least,
but which was not sufficiently strong to bear his weight while in an
upright position, and at imminent risk of sinking into the infernal
mixture, rolled over and over to the edge of the opening, and with the
crust slowly bending and sinking beneath him, hurriedly secured the
coveted prize."
[Illustration: GETTING A SPECIMEN.]
"There was something so revolting in the general appearance of the
springs and their surroundings--the foulness of the vapors, the
infernal contents, the treacherous incrustation, the noisy ebullition,
the general appearance of desolation, and the seclusion and wildness
of the location--that, though awestruck, we were not unreluctant to
continue our journey without making them a second visit."
Once more our amateur explorers had recourse to their western
vocabulary, and bestowed on this unhappy locality the title,
"Hell-broth Springs"--which, says the historian of the expedition,
"fully expressed our appreciation of their character."
The following season this remarkable group of springs was thoroughly
examined by the party under Dr. Hayden. That careful observer says:
"They are evidently diminishing in power, but the rims all around
reveal the most powerful manifestations far back in the past. Sulphur,
copper, alum, and soda cover the surface. There is also precipitated
around the borders of some of the mud springs a white efflorescence,
probably nitrate of potash. These springs are located on the side of
the mountain, nearly 1,000 feet above the margin of the cañon, but
extend along into the level portions below.... One of these springs was
bubbling quite briskly, but had a temperature of only 100°. Near it is
a turbid spring of 170°. In the valley are a large number of turbid,
mud, and boiling springs, with temperatures from 175° to 185°. There
are a number of springs that issue from the side of the mountain, and
the waters, gathering into one channel, flow into the Yellowstone, The
number of frying or simmering springs is great. The ground in many
places, for several yards in every direction, is perforated like a
sieve, and the water bubbles by with a simmering noise. There is one
huge boiling spring which deposits fine black mud all around the sides.
The depth of the crater of this spring, its dark, gloomy appearance,
and the tremendous force which it manifested in its operations, led
us to name it the "Devil's Caldron." There are a large number of
springs here, but no true geysers. It is plainly the last stages of
what was once a most remarkable group. Extending across the cañon on
the opposite side of the Yellowstone, interrupted here and there, this
group of springs extends for several miles, forming one of the largest
deposits of silica, but only here and there are there signs of life.
Many of the dead springs are mere basins, with a thick deposit of iron
on the sides, lining the channel of the water that flows from them.
These vary in temperature from 98° to 120°. The highest temperature
was 192°. The steam-vents are very numerous, and the chimneys are
lined with sulphur. Where the crust can be removed, we find the under
side lined with the most delicate crystals of sulphur, which disappear
like frost-work at the touch. Still there is a considerable amount of
solid amorphous sulphur. The sulphur and the iron, with the vegetable
matter which is always very abundant about the springs, give, through
the almost infinite variety of shades, a most pleasing and striking
picture. One of the mud springs, with a basin twenty by twenty-five
feet, and six feet deep, is covered with large bubbles or puffs
constantly bursting with a thud. There are a number of high hills in
this vicinity entirely composed of the hot-spring deposits, at least
nine-tenths silica, appearing snowy-white in the distance; one of
the walls is 175 feet high, and another about 70 feet. They are now
covered to a greater or less extent with pines. Steam is constantly
issuing from vents around the base and from the sides of these hills.
There is one lake 100 by 300 yards, with a number of bubbling and
boiling springs rising to the surface. Near the shore is one of the
sieve-springs, with a great number of small perforations, from which
the water bubbles up with a simmering noise; temperature, 188°. This
group really forms one of the great ruins."
A short day's march from Hell-broth Spring brings the traveller to a
little stream flowing into the Yellowstone, between the upper and the
lower fall. From its rapid and tumultuous flow, the first explorers
called it Cascade Creek. Just before its union with the Yellowstone it
traverses a gloomy gorge cut through a kind of volcanic sandstone,
largely made up of fragments of obsidian and other igneous rocks
cemented with volcanic ash. This rock is worn by the water into so many
fantastic shapes and cavernous recesses, that--with their usual poverty
of invention and tartarean taste--the first observers straightway gave
the uncanny channel over to the Prince of Darkness, and dubbed it the
Devil's Den. A mile below this gorge the stream flows over a series
of ledges, making a cascade as beautiful as its previous course has
been weird and ugly. There is first a fall of five feet, which is
immediately succeeded by another of fifteen, into a pool as clear as
amber, nestled beneath overarching rocks. Here the stream lingers as if
half reluctant to continue its course, then gracefully emerges from the
grotto, and, veiling the rocks down an abrupt descent of eighty-four
feet, passes rapidly on to the Yellowstone. For a wonder, this charming
fall has received a corresponding name--Crystal Cascade. An infinite
variety of volcanic specimens, quartz, feldspar, mica, granites, lavas,
basalts, composite crystals--in fact, everything, from asbestos to
obsidian, is represented by fragments in the bed of this stream.
[Illustration: THE DEVIL'S DEN.]
At the foot of the gorge and on the margin of the Yellowstone stands a
high promontory of concretionary lava, literally filled with volcanic
butternuts. Many of these are loose, and can be taken out of the rock
with the hand; broken open, they are invariably hollow, and lined with
minute quartz crystals of various tints. This rare formation occurs
frequently in the great basin.