SECTION 1. The officers of the Club shall be a President, four Vice

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[Illustration:

C. F. ADAMS.

O. C. YOCUM.

J. M. KEENE.

C. H. GOVE.

N. W. DURHAM.

W. G. STEEL.

J. M. BRECK, Jr. ]

THE

MOUNTAINS

OF OREGON

BY

W. G. STEEL,

Fellow of the American Geographical Society.

PORTLAND, OREGON:

DAVID STEEL, SUCCESSOR TO HIMES THE PRINTER,

169-1/2 Second Street.

1890.

COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY W. G. STEEL.

PREFACE.

This little volume has not been written with the expectation of

accomplishing a mission, or even attracting general attention, but

simply to put into permanent form a small portion of information that is

constantly appearing in newspaper articles. Such information usually

comes from abler pens than mine, but it is all the more pity that it is

not in proper shape for future use. If it amuses, entertains or

instructs those who peruse it, its aim will be accomplished, and its

author satisfied.

There is, however, a word of explanation due for the manner in which it

is arranged. It was not begun with the intention of publishing a book,

but in response to numerous requests received for descriptions of Crater

Lake and Mt. Hood. As it was impossible at the time to answer them

satisfactorily, it was decided to print a letter on each subject, and

issue as a small pamphlet. Before this was accomplished the discovery

was made that the space allotted was entirely inadequate, so, acting on

the advice of friends, this form was adopted; too late, however, to

prevent the present arrangement.

W. G. S.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Crater Lake 12

Exploration Department, Oregon Alpine Club 73

Game Protective Department, Oregon Alpine Club 77

Illumination of Mount Hood 3

Josephine County Caves 34

Mount Rainier 55

Night on the Summit of Mount Rainier 43

Oregon Alpine Club 67

Oregon Alpine Club, Constitution 69

Oregon Bibliography 85

Our Mountains in War 40

Photographic Department, Oregon Alpine Club 79

Preface 1

Presidents of the Oregon Alpine Club 82

Statement of Rev. Peter Stanup 57

Thoughts on the name Tacoma 59

Topical Index 109

What They Signify 52

ILLUMINATION OF MOUNT HOOD.

Mount Hood is located in the Cascade range in Oregon, twenty-five miles

south of the Columbia river. It is about twelve thousand feet high, and

is visible over a large part of the State. Above an elevation of five

thousand feet it is covered with perpetual snow. It stands sixty miles

east of Portland, a monument of beauty, and the pride of Oregon. In the

spring of 1885 the idea originated of illuminating it with red fire. An

effort was made to carry this into effect on the following 4th of July,

but failed for the reason that, instead of staying with it over night, a

system of clock work and acids was devised, which was perfectly willing

to do the work assigned, but an ugly avalanche came along at four

o'clock in the afternoon, broke the bottles of acid and set the whole

thing ablaze. In 1887, the Celebration Committee of Portland, decided to

make the trial, and placed the matter in charge of the writer, who was

accompanied by N. W. Durham, correspondent of the _Oregonian_, O. C.

Yocum, photographer, Dr. J. M. Keene, J. M. Breck, Jr., C. H. Gove and

Chas. F. Adams. More agreeable, determined and competent associates I

never met. Breck was a cripple, finding it necessary at all times to

walk with a crutch, yet, a better mountain climber is hard to find.

Everything being placed in readiness, we left Portland at 6 o'clock A.M.,

Friday July 1st, and reached Government Camp at 5 o'clock in the

afternoon of the second. From this point, the mountain rises to the

north in all its beauty and grandeur, with timber line apparently within

a few rods, instead of four miles, the actual distance. Here the wagons

were left, and two horses were packed with blankets and provisions, and

our journey was resumed as soon as possible. It was necessary to cross

two small streams, over both of which the bridges had fallen, so we were

compelled to carry logs and fill in until it was possible to get the

horses over. About nine o'clock, finding that we could not reach timber

line, it was decided to camp on some friendly rocks near at hand. Here

we found the trees thickly covered with a long, dry moss, which afforded

excitement for the evening, for, no sooner had the inner man's longings

been supplied, than lighted matches were applied to the moss, which

blazed furiously until it died out in the distance, simply for the want

of material. The scene, while it lasted, was indeed brilliant, and

accompanied by a roar that seemed but the echo of thunder. Already

exhausted, after three hours plodding through snow knee deep, we sank to

rest and slept soundly until four o'clock. At five we were on our way,

somewhat surprised to see that the snow remained as soft as on the

evening before. In addition to the difficulty of sinking each step

nearly to our knees, each man was loaded with fifty pounds of blankets,

provisions or red fire, while three tugged savagely at a heavily loaded

toboggan. At noon we lunched at timber line. It was hardly a sumptuous

repast, but answered every requirement, there being canned Boston brown

bread and beef tea, mixed with snow and seasoned with smoke. Not a

dainty dish, to be sure, but "the best the market afforded." After lunch

we dragged our weary way along, among other difficulties encountering a

bitter cold wind, blowing directly from the summit with fearful

velocity. Slower and slower we moved, until three o'clock, when two men

fell in their tracks utterly exhausted. Here was a "pretty kettle of

fish." Barely seven thousand feet up, with five thousand feet more

above, and only one day in which to climb. It was finally decided to

make camp on the nearest rocks, abandon all idea of reaching the summit,

then, on the day following, find the best place possible for the

illumination. Two thousand feet above timber line we camped on rocks,

over which the cold wind swept, penetrating to the very marrow. Of

course it was impossible to have a fire, and at night it was necessary

to pile large stones on our blankets to keep them from sailing down the

mountain. Hats and a few other things were anchored in like manner.

The "Glorious Fourth" was ushered in, clear and cold, while a patriot in

the party, not to be outdone by Uncle Sam, saluted the rising sun with a

deafening round of fire cracker artillery. At five o'clock we started on

our upward march. Every thing was left behind except one hundred pounds

of red fire, three overcoats and a few crackers. At 11:30 A.M., bare

rocks were found to the west of the summit, in what was considered a

good location, and at an altitude of about ten thousand feet. Here our

burdens were cast at the foot of the cliff, and all hands, except Keene

and myself, returned to Government Camp. By noon the wind had died down

entirely, and the day became very pleasant. While waiting at this lonely

station for the appointed hour of illumination, a panorama was spread

before us, of a scope and magnificence that cannot be appropriately

described, but must be seen to be appreciated. Yes, and it remains for

those who love the beautiful and grand sufficiently to scale mountains,

to toil on day after day, patiently waiting for the time that is sure to

come, when the glorious pages of Nature will be unrolled before them.

Then,

"It seems by the pain of ascending the height,

We had conquered a claim to that wonderful sight."

The scene embraces millions of acres of land in Eastern Oregon,

extending from the Cascades to the Blue mountains, a distance of over

one hundred and fifty miles. The entire range of the Cascades lies

before us, showing the foothills of both Eastern and Western Oregon, and

the increase in height toward the center. For miles upon miles to the

south, cross ranges, running from east to west seem piled one upon the

other, and to their tops is added a covering of snow, changing the

solemn, otherwise unbroken, dark green, to a variegated picture, not

only of grandeur, but beauty. To the left of the centre stands

Jefferson, similar to Hood as seen from Portland. Next come the Three

Sisters to the left of Jefferson, while still further stands Snow Butte.

Almost in front of Jefferson is Washington, while to the right

McLaughlin looms up in southern Oregon, two hundred and fifty miles

distant. Changing the view to western Oregon, we see Mary's Peak over

one hundred miles southwest. The Willamette valley can be seen through

its entire extent of many miles, while here and there we catch glimpses

of the river flowing on to the lordly Columbia. Along the western

horizon extends the Coast Range, while in one little spot the mountains

break way and give us a vista of the ocean. In the immediate foreground

lies the base of old Hood, white with snow for five thousand feet below

us. To witness a scene like this many a man would circle the globe;--and

yet, imagine a sunset upon it. At 5:30 P.M. clouds drifted from the

north and hung on the points of the range a mile below. Slowly the sun

sank to rest, while the clouds hovering over the western horizon became

brighter and brighter, until it seemed that the very gates of heaven

were thrown wide open, and over a scene of unrivaled grandeur was spread

another of marvelous magnificence. As if Nature was not even yet

satisfied with such dazzling beauty, suddenly the smoke that had

gathered far below us, shutting out the great Columbia, was drawn aside

and the waters of that river seemed, through the thin smoke remaining,

like a stream of molten gold, visible in an unbroken line, winding from

the mountain to the sea a distance of one hundred and fifty miles.

Then, too, as we looked, just beneath the setting sun, the Pacific ocean

came to view, while the sun was setting in the mouth of the Columbia,

reflecting its ruddy glare in the ocean and river at one and the same

time. To the right could be seen Cape Disappointment, while to the left

Point Adams showed with equal clearness. So closed the day and the night

came on.

Far above the few clouds that lurked beneath us, threatening the success

of our experiment, the atmosphere was so perfectly clear that we thought

its equal had never been seen. Promptly with the departing day the full

moon arose in all its beauty, changing the day's brilliance to a subdued

halo of glory. About seven o'clock the wind blew furiously, almost

carrying us from the rocks to the snow beneath. Although clad for a land

of wintry blasts, it was necessary to pace back and forth, swinging our

arms and jumping to keep warm. At eight o'clock the wind died down, and

we became comfortable without exercise. Our spirits were low, however,

for it seemed that the entire country was covered with a thick veil of

smoke, and our labor was to be in vain. Suddenly at 9:30 we saw a red

light in the direction of Portland. It was the signal for a complete

revolution in our feelings. We danced for joy. Yes, we screamed and

halloed until we were hoarse. Did all sorts of silly things, for now we

_knew_ our fire would be seen. Following the first light came another,

and still others, and in our mad excitement we took a handful of red

fire and burned it on a rock. "Thereby hangs a tale."

The members of our party at Government camp were gathered around a

cheerful fire telling bear stories and waiting patiently for the

appointed time, when they were startled by a brilliant light from the

mountain, showing through the trees in front of them. Instantly they

scattered, every member forgetting his companions in a wild scramble for

a good view. In this sudden stampede, one member, who is hard of

hearing, climbed a tree, where he remained until the others began to

assemble. As one of the drivers, a hardy son of Erin, passed the tree

and heard a rustling in the branches, he glanced up, saw a large, dark

object, took it for a bear and gave the alarm. Instantly all hands

gathered around the tree, every one armed with a club, which he swung

like the arms of a windmill, at the same time shouting for some one else

to get a gun. The man up a tree, not understanding why the commotion

should extend so long after the burning of red fire, started to go down,

but, was met with such a lively rain of clubs that he beat a precipitate

retreat. At this point, a gun arrived and every fellow wanted to shoot

the bear. Bruin, at last comprehending the situation, chimed in with:

"You fellows let up with your durned foolishness, will you."

Soon after the red fire and rockets at Portland were noticed, others

were seen at Prineville, seventy-five miles to the southeast, and also

at Vancouver, W. T. These were watched with the most intense interest,

until the time arrived to make our own novel show. The red fire was

placed in a narrow ridge about ten feet long, and at right angles with

Portland. Holding my watch before me, promptly at 11:30 we applied the

match with the result as shown by the following account in the

_Oregonian_ of the next day:

"The celebration closed with the illumination of Mount Hood, the

grandest and most unique event of the day. Precisely at 11:30, the time

appointed, just as the fireworks display was over, a bright red light

shone away up in the clouds above the eastern horizon, which was greeted

with cheers from the thousands congregated on the bridge, wharves,

roofs, boats on the river and on the hills back of town, and with

vigorous and long-continued whistling from every steamboat on the river.

"The mountain had been plainly visible all day, but toward evening a

curtain of mist and smoke shut off the view at the base, and as twilight

fell, the curtain rose higher till at last only the very peak could be

seen, and as night came on, even that disappeared from view. Many gave

up all hope of seeing any sign from the mountain. But many thought that

the obstructions to a view of the summit were very slight, and if the

party had reached the peak, the light from one hundred pounds of red

fire would be able to pierce through them, and so it proved. It lasted

exactly fifty-eight seconds. This was the most novel and the highest

illumination ever made, and was seen the farthest and formed a fitting

close to the celebration of 1887."

Immediately after the illumination we started down the mountain,

following our previous trail in the snow. Just after midnight, while

lunging through the snow, we suddenly lost our footing and were no

little astonished to find that we had fallen into a crevasse. It proved

narrow and shallow, however, and all things considered, we extricated

ourselves with remarkable celerity and passed on down the mountain side,

only to get lost in the timber below, and wander around until daylight,

when we found camp and soon after were homeward bound.

CRATER LAKE.

ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREAT NATURAL WONDERS.

A trip to Crater Lake is, to a lover of the grand and beautiful in

nature, an important event, around which will ever cluster memories of

unalloyed happiness, thoughts of little adventures and weird experiences

that go to make life worth living. It is situated in the northwest

portion of Klamath county, Oregon, twenty-two miles west of north of

Fort Klamath, and about eighty miles northeast of Medford, which is the

best point to leave the Oregon & California railroad. The Jacksonville

and Fort Klamath military road passes the lake within three miles, and

the road to the very walls of it is an exceptionally good one for a

mountainous country, while in near proximity may be found remarkably

fine camping grounds.

The Indians of Southern Oregon have known of it for ages, but until

recently none have seen it, for the reason that a tradition, handed down

from generation to generation, described it as the home of myriads of

sea-devils, or, as they were called, Llaos; and it was considered

certain death for any brave even to look upon it. This superstition

still haunts the Klamaths. While a few of the tribe have visited it,

they do so with a sort of mysterious dread of the consequences. It was

discovered by a party of twelve prospectors on June 12th, 1853, among

whom were J. W. Hillman, George Ross, James Louden, Pat McManus, Isaac

Skeeters and a Mr. Dodd. These had left the main party, and were not

looking for gold, but having run short of provisions, were seeking

wherewithal to stay the gnawing sensations that had seized upon their

stomachs. For a time hunger forsook them, as they stood in silent

amazement upon the cliffs, and drank in the awe of the scene stretched

before them. After partaking of the inspiration fostered by such weird

grandeur, they decided to call it Mysterious, or Deep Blue Lake. It was

subsequently called Lake Majesty, and by being constantly referred to as

a crater lake, it gradually assumed that name, which is within itself so

descriptive.

At times when gazing from the surrounding wall, the skies and cliffs are

seen perfectly mirrored in the smooth and glassy surface over which the

mountain breeze creates scarce a ripple, and it is with great difficulty

the eye can distinguish the line dividing the cliffs from their

reflected counterfeits. The lake is almost egg-shaped, ranging northeast

by southwest and is seven miles long by six in width. The water's

surface is six thousand two hundred and fifty-one feet above sea level,

and is completely surrounded by cliffs, or walls, from one thousand to

over two thousand feet high, which are scantily covered with coniferous

trees. To the southwest is Wizard Island, eight hundred and forty-five

feet high, circular in shape, and slightly covered with timber. In the

top is a depression, or crater--the Witches' Cauldron--one hundred feet

deep and four hundred and seventy-five feet in diameter. This was

evidently the last smoking chimney of a once mighty volcano. The base of

the island is covered with very heavy and hard rocks, with sharp and

unworn edges, over which scarcely a score of human feet have trod.

Farther up are deep beds of ashes, and light, spongy rocks and cinders,

giving evidence of intense heat. Within the crater, as without, the

surface is entirely covered with volcanic rocks, but here it forms one

of the hottest places on a clear day in August, it has ever been my lot

to witness. Not a breath of air seems to enter, and the hot sun pours

down upon thousands of rocks and stones that reflect his rays with an

intensity that seems to multiply beyond conception. Here, however, we

determined to lunch--and did--but one such experience will last a long

time. Directly north of the island is Llao Rock, a grand old sentinel,

standing boldly out on the west side of the lake and reaching up over

two thousand feet perpendicular. From the top of it you can drop a stone

and it will pass down and grow smaller and smaller, until your head

begins to swim and you see the stone become a mere speck, and fade

entirely from view; and at last, nearly half a mile below, it strikes

the unruffled surface of the water and sinks forever from sight in the

depth of a bottomless lake.

There is probably no point of interest in America that so completely

overcomes the ordinary Indian with fear as Crater Lake. From time

immemorial, no power has been strong enough to induce him to approach

within sight of it. For a paltry sum he will engage to guide you

thither, but, before you reach the mountain top, will leave you to

proceed alone. To the savage mind it is clothed with a deep veil of

mystery, and is the abode of all manner of demons and unshapely

monsters. Once inhabited by the Great Spirit, it has now become the

sheol of modern times, and it is certain death for any proud savage to

behold it. This feeling has, to a certain extent, instilled itself in

the mind of such whites as have made it their Mecca, until every stray

log that floats upon the water is imagined to possess life, and may

possibly be a monster. Exaggerated accounts of different points have

been given and implicitly believed without a question or reflection. It

has been claimed that the crater was eight hundred feet deep, while by

actual measurement we found it to be scarcely a hundred. The island was

said to be fifteen hundred feet high, but an accurate measurement placed

it at just eight hundred and forty-five feet.

From Allen Davey, Chief of the Klamath tribe, I gleaned the following in

reference to the discovery of Crater Lake:

A long time ago, long before the white man appeared in this region

to vex and drive the proud native out, a band of Klamaths, while

out hunting, came suddenly upon the lake and were startled by its

remarkable walls and awed by its majestic proportions. With

spirits subdued and trembling with fear, they silently approached

and gazed upon its face; something within told them the Great

Spirit dwelt there, and they dared not remain, but passed silently

down the side of the mountain and camped far away. By some

unaccountable influence, however, one brave was induced to return.

He went up to the very brink of the precipice and started his camp

fire. Here he laid down to rest; here he slept till morn--slept

till the sun was high in air, then arose and joined his tribe far

down the mountain. At night he came again; again he slept till

morn. Each visit bore a charm that drew him back again. Each night

found him sleeping above the rocks; each night strange voices

arose from the waters; mysterious noises filled the air. At last,

after a great many moons, he climbed down to the lake and there he

bathed and spent the night. Often he climbed down in like manner,

and frequently saw wonderful animals, similar in all respects to a

Klamath Indian, except that they seemed to exist entirely in the

water. He suddenly became hardier and stronger than any Indian of

his tribe because of his many visits to the mysterious waters.

Others then began to seek its influence. Old warriors sent their

sons for strength and courage to meet the conflicts awaiting them.

First, they slept on the rocks above, then ventured to the water's

edge, but last of all they plunged beneath the flood and the

coveted strength was theirs. On one occasion, the brave who first

visited the lake, killed a monster, or fish, and was at once set

upon by untold numbers of excited Llaos (for such they were

called), who carried him to the top of the cliffs, cut his throat

with a stone knife, then tore his body in small pieces, which were

thrown down to the waters far beneath, where he was devoured by

the angry Llaos--and such shall be the fate of every Klamath

brave, who, from that day to this, dares to look upon the lake.

My first visit to Crater Lake was in 1885, at which time the thought was

suggested by Capt. C. E. Dutton, of having the lake and environs drawn

from the market. Promptly acting on the suggestion, my friend, Hon.

Binger Hermann, was sought and a movement started looking to the

formation of a National Park. In response to a petition forwarded to

Washington and ably advocated by Congressman Hermann, the United States

Geological Survey, under Capt. Dutton, was ordered to examine the lake

and surroundings during the summer of 1886. In this expedition it was my

good fortune to have charge of the sounding, which afforded me a

pleasure unsurpassed in all my mountain experience.

That an idea may be had of the difficulties to be overcome, suffice it

to say, boats had to be built for the purpose in Portland, transported

to Ashland, three hundred and forty-one miles by rail, and carried from

there to the lake on wagons, one hundred miles into the mountains,

where they were launched over cliffs one thousand feet high.

On the first day of July, I boarded the train for Ashland, where I met

Capt. Dutton, and we were joined immediately afterward by Capt. Geo. W.

Davis, one of the most eminent engineers of America, and ten soldiers.

On the 7th, we started for the lake, preceded by Capts. Dutton and

Davis, who were followed by a four mule team, bearing a first-class lap

streak boat, which in turn was followed by three double teams, horsemen

and pack train. Of our largest boat, the Cleetwood, we all felt justly

proud, as it was certainly a beautiful model, four-oared, twenty-six

feet long and competent to ride almost any sea.

When passing through Phoenix, the typical and irrepressible critic

came to the surface, in the shape of a lean, lank, awkward, ignorant

country boy of, say, eighteen summers. With hands in his pockets, he

aided the single suspender delegated to hold his breeches in place, and

when shifting a monstrous chew of tobacco over his tongue, informed his

audience (of half a dozen small urchins) that "That 'ere boat won't live

in Crater Lake half an hour if a storm comes up. It ain't shaped right.

Jist see for yourself how sway-backed it is. It must have been made by

some feller as never seed a boat afore." This brings to mind the fact

that a critic is a person who finds fault with something of which he is

densely ignorant.

The entire distance from Ashland--ninety-seven miles--was accomplished

by slow, easy marches, every precaution being taken to provide against

a mishap, and no incident occurred of special importance. Soon after

reaching the foothills, we encountered sliding places and short turns in

the road. As the wagon containing the Cleetwood was top heavy and

coupled twenty feet long, it was impossible to turn on an ordinary

curve, hence it became necessary at times to drive as far as possible,

then let ten or fifteen men lift the hind end of the wagon around by

main strength. When a sliding place was reached, the men would hang on

the upper side, or attach ropes to the top and hold it, thus preventing

an upset. On Tuesday we succeeded in reaching the foot of the last

grade, and on Wednesday morning began the ascent. Here was the rub. The

hill is about a mile and a half long, very steep, sliding, rocky, and

filled with roots and stones, added to which were great banks of snow,

packed solid by constant thawing. Progress was slow and tedious, a

roadway having to be cut in places, while men with picks, axes and

shovels dug up rocks, cut down trees and shoveled snow, besides building

up or cutting down one side of the roadway. At 10 o'clock on Wednesday

the 14th, the boats were landed on the walls of the lake, having

traveled four hundred and forty miles from Portland, with scarcely a

scratch to mar the paint.

Thursday morning the work of launching was commenced by covering the

bottom of each skiff with inch boards, firmly secured, as also a shield

in front of the bow. They were carried to the lowest place to be found

in the cliffs, probably about nine hundred feet, vertical measurement,

where a canyon descends at an angle of thirty-five or forty degrees,

when a three-quarter inch rope was attached and in turn passed around a

tree on the summit, where a man was stationed to manage it, directed by

signals below. One was lowered at a time, accompanied by four men to

guide and handle it. Besides this, men were stationed at different

points to signal to the top, and thus regulate the paying out of rope.

Every effort was made to send all loose stones on ahead, to prevent

accident from above, yet, before the first boat had proceeded three

hundred feet in its descent, a boulder came rolling from near the summit

with increasing velocity, and before any one realized the danger, had

struck a rock in near proximity and bounded over the skiff, passed

between the men and within an inch of one fellow's head. Before the

descent was completed, the boards were torn from the first boat; but

extra precaution was taken with the second one. About two-thirds of the

way down a perfect shower of rocks came tumbling from a cliff to the

left, but, strange as it may seem, they either bounded over or around

the men and boat, so that no damage resulted. At three o'clock the first

skiff reached bottom somewhat scratched, but not injured in any manner.

The second one was placed in the lake entirely uninjured at six o'clock

P.M.

Our tents were pitched in a beautiful spot. In the immediate foreground

to the north lies the lake with its twenty odd miles of rugged cliffs

standing abruptly from the water's edge. To the left is Wizard Island,

on the top of which rests the Witch's Cauldron, or crater, like a great

flat top; beyond stands Llao Rock, solemn, grim and grand, over two

thousand feet perpendicular, while still beyond stands Mt. Thielsen, the

lightning rod of the Cascades. Just to the east of the lake is Mt.

Scott, partly covered with snow, while close to the camp on the east, is

a high cliff known as Cathedral Rock, running far down to the right and

at last disappearing below the tree tops. To the south the scene was

varied by a wide range of mountain tops, stretching far away to

California, chief among which is snow-capped and beautiful Pitt. Just to

the left the rough mountain view is changed to a charming plain, in the

midst of which is a broad expanse of water, which proves to be Klamath

Lake, about thirty miles distant. Thursday evening, dark and threatening

clouds were suddenly seen to approach from this point, accompanied by

vivid flashes of lightning and loud peals of thunder. A few large drops

of rain had fallen, when there was a sudden outburst of joy in camp, as

every one glanced at the sides of Cathedral Rock, which were suddenly

illuminated by a light of deep orange. To the west, the sun was slowly

sinking to rest, when a glowing light spread itself over the dark

clouds, which became brighter and still brighter. Looking beyond a scene

of unparalleled magnificence was spread before us. Through the center

hung long fleecy clouds lighted to a deep orange, while above, like a

great curtain, was spread a belt of olive green. Here and there were

tints of crimson, the delicacy of which no artist could approach. Above

and parallel with the horizon stretched a long rift, in clouds rendered

marvelously rich in gold and garnet, through which the blue sky beyond

was visible, slightly obscured by light, fleecy clouds of silver. During

all this magnificent sight the electric storm raged in the south with

unabated fury, flashes of lightning and peals of thunder adding

solemnity to a scene of wonderful brilliance.

The 16th was spent in preparing the Cleetwood for her final plunge over

the cliffs in search of water. A sled was made of very heavy timbers, on

which she was placed, keel up, then lashed and braced in every

conceivable manner until, in fact, she seemed a part of the sled itself.

Guy ropes were placed on each corner to guide it, in connection with a

heavy handspike. Saturday morning the actual work of launching began, by

sliding the boat over a snowdrift in a canyon that slopes to the lake at

about an angle of fifty degrees. The cliff is probably one thousand feet

high at this point. The sled was attached by block and tackle to a tree

on the summit and lowered nearly half way, when the bearing was shifted

as far down as possible and a new start taken. Leaving the summit at

7:30 A.M., it required the most persistent work and constant care of

fifteen men eight hours to reach the lake. In the bottom of the canyon

flows a stream of water that contributes very materially to the danger

of such an undertaking, as constant slides of rocks are thus caused.

When the bottom seemed to be reached it was found that there still

remained a sort of jump-off, or slide, into the water, perpendicular and

about fifteen feet high. The water, at this point is very deep, and the

question arose, "How shall we launch the boat now that we have got it

here?" It was simply turned right side up again, lashed to the sled and

let partially down with the bow thrown out as far as possible. It was

held securely in this position while one of the men climbed aboard, cut

the lines and she shot forward in fine style, not shipping a gallon of

water, although the bow was almost submerged to start with. The moment

the launching was complete there was a cry of unrestrained joy sent up

from all present, and our shouts were answered from the cliffs by waving

of hats and blowing of fog horns. With one impulse the cry was raised,

"Now for the island!" and in an incredibly short space of time both

skiffs and the Cleetwood were headed that way. With four men at the oars

we soon reached our destination, and then returned to camp, where a

bountiful repast awaited us.

Every precaution was taken to clear the canyon of loose rocks,

nevertheless a few rolled down, but were successfully dodged until the

boat was actually in the water, immediately after which a small bowlder

came down with terrific force. Capt. Davis stood directly in its course,

and not seeing it the other members of the party shouted to him to

"lookout." It being impossible for him to run, he jumped under the

framework, or sled, hanging where the boat left it, and laid flat on the

ground, just as the stone struck a rock and the upper end of the frame.

It then struck Capt. Davis in the back, but its force had been so broken

that it did no harm further than to make the spot feel sore.

The day after launching the Cleetwood, nine members of our party made

the circuit of the lake on a sort of casual observation, or tour of

inspection. The scenery was grand to a degree far beyond our most

sanguine expectations. Four strong oarsmen soon brought us to Llao Rock,

and as we gazed in silent wonder at its rugged sides, reaching nearly

half a mile above us, for the first time did we realize the immensity of

such a spectacle. Never before did I fully understand the meaning of

figures when they run up into the thousands of feet, vertical

measurement. Beyond Llao rock we found a beautiful little bay, and

beyond it a larger one, probably one mile long by a quarter of a mile

deep. Here we stopped for lunch, and when landing were surprised to find

a long line of dead moths, of large variety, washed up by the waves, and

in such numbers that the air was laden with an unpleasant odor,

apparently about a first cousin to a slaughter house. We also found here

a narrow beach of small gravel running almost the entire length of the

bay, while further out in the lake, the bottom is composed of sand. As

this point had not only never been named, but probably was never before

visited by human beings, we decided to christen it Cleetwood Cove.

Passing on our journey, it was soon seen that the cliffs on the north

side are not so high as those to the south. In several places it

appeared that good trails could easily be made to the water's edge, over

which a person might almost ride horseback, and in one place, without

any grading whatever, a good pack train could descend with comparative

ease. About 2 o'clock a thunder shower came suddenly upon us just as two

beautiful grottos appeared in view. Into one of these the boat was run,

where we were entirely beyond the reach of rain. It proved to be about

thirty feet deep and twenty wide, with an arched roof probably eight

feet above the water, while the rocky bottom could be distinctly seen

ten feet below the surface. So perfect was its form that it almost

seemed the hand of man had hewn it from the solid rock. Beyond it

towered an immense cliff, very high, with broken, rugged sides,

picturesque and sublime, which I insist on naming Dutton Cliff, in honor

of Capt. Dutton, who has done and is doing so much to make Crater Lake

justly famous. This point may be known from the fact that it lies

directly opposite Llao Rock, and between the two lowest places in the

lake's walls. Immediately north of Dutton Cliff, the elements have worn

the sides of the mountain, leaving a harder substance, alternately

colored red and yellow, resembling the mansard roof of a cottage, while

in one place, tall red chimneys stand aloft, making, all in all, such a

scene that Cottage Rock could scarcely be improved on for a name. Lying

between the two points above referred to, a break in the wall was

found, that is almost perpendicular, but certainly does not exceed five

hundred feet in height. This is by far the lowest point in the walls.

No time was lost in getting our soundings under way. The first was made

about one hundred yards from shore. It was supposed that we might

possibly find as much as one hundred feet of water, but, as the lead ran

out, our excitement grew with each succeeding hundred feet, until over

one thousand two hundred feet were out. At one thousand two hundred feet

the machine stopped, and our pent-up feelings exploded in one wild yell

of delight. For a number of days the soundings were continued. The

greatest depth recorded was one thousand nine hundred and ninety-six

feet, which, making allowance for stretch of wire, would give two

thousand and eight feet. Of the whole number made, eighteen are over one

thousand nine hundred, thirteen over one thousand eight hundred, eleven

over one thousand seven hundred, fifteen over one thousand six hundred,

and nineteen over one thousand five hundred. It was found that at the

bottom of the northeastern end lies a plain of several square miles,

almost perfectly level, while south of the center is a cliff about nine

hundred feet high, and west of the center seems to be cinder cone,

nearly one thousand two hundred feet in height, with a crater in the

center two hundred and fifty feet deep. Its summit is six hundred feet

below the surface of the water.

On one occasion our party took five pounds of red fire, which we

intended to burn on the summit of Wizard Island, but owing to the fact

that the air was so filled with smoke as to destroy the effect, our plan

was changed, and we took it to Rogue River Falls on our return. Here we

met quite a number of hardy mountaineers, and at 9 o'clock left camp for

the falls, about one mile distant. The night was very dark, and a weird

sort of a scene it was as we climbed over logs and rocks, lighting our

way by tallow candles and a lantern that flickered dimly. At last the

bank of the stream was reached, and while the noise of the rushing

waters was intense, nothing could be seen but the dim outline of

something white far down below us. At this point, the walls are

perpendicular, and one hundred and eighty feet high. They are also solid

rock from top to bottom. Directly opposite where we stood, Mill Creek

falls into Rogue River (one hundred and eighty feet), and this is what

we came to see. In order to get the benefit of the red light, it was

necessary for some one to climb down to the water. This duty fell to a

stranger in the party, who made the descent during the day, and myself.

He led the way carrying a dim lantern, and I followed as best I could.

The rocks are covered with a remarkably thick layer of moss, which is

kept very wet by the rising mist. The path, if such it might be termed,

led along the sides of the cliff at an angle of about 45 degrees. As we

cautiously climbed from rock to rock, it was a sort of feeling of

intensified interest that overcame us, when we realized that a single

misstep would precipitate us to the rocks below--and, worst of all,

possibly we "never would be missed." The bed of the stream was reached

at last, and the fire ignited close to the falls. Ye gods! What a

transformation! Suddenly, the canyon, which could not be seen before,

was as bright as day, lighted by a fire so brilliant that we could not

look upon it. Crimson air and crimson water, crimson walls and crimson

everywhere. No magician of the Arabians ever conjured up by a stroke of

his wand a spectacle more sublime. It was one of transcendent beauty,

upon which the human eye seldom rests, and when it does its possessor is

spellbound by the bewildering vision. One almost loses the power of

speech in the desperate struggle to see and comprehend the scene, and

before it is realized the light dies away and darkness reigns supreme,

rendered ten-fold more dense by the splendor of so magnificent a

tableau.

Near the base of Dutton Cliff stands a solitary rock, probably one

hundred feet high, by two hundred in length and nearly the same breadth,

that, while not seen by the present generation of Indians, is

nevertheless known to them, and is a special object of superstitious

dread. They consider it as a peculiarly ferocious monster, but are

unable to describe its characteristics. It stands in the lake entirely

alone and about fifty yards from shore. Standing on the cliffs, five

miles to the west and looking across the lake, this strange rock is

plainly visible in the sunlight its rugged peaks reaching aloft, giving

it the appearance of a full rigged ship at anchor. Should a cloud pass

before the sun, as the shadow strikes the rock it will pass from view as

effectually as though it had ceased to exist. While sounding the lake in

1886, I caused a party of topographical engineers to be landed here for

observations, but it was so rugged that the most diligent search failed

to reveal a level place large enough to accommodate the tripod attached

to their instruments, and we were compelled to resort to a point on

shore for the purpose. I have never learned its Indian name, but among

the whites it is known as the Phantom Ship.

To those who enjoy the noble sport of hunting, the vicinity of Crater

Lake is especially attractive. Great numbers of deer, bear and panther

roam through the timber in fancied security, inviting the keen eye and

steady nerve of the sportsman. Although passionately fond of such sport

myself, the grandeur and sublimity of the surroundings so overcame me

with desire to see and prosecute our explorations, that I forgot my love

for a running shot, in an inordinate desire to climb over the cliffs and

view the wonderful place from every conceivable point. My companions

were no less affected, and the result was that we ran out of meat and

applied to a native sheep herder for mutton chops. He scowled upon us

for a moment, then informed our spokesman that "when he butchered he

never saved the heads."

While running a line of soundings from Llao rock to Vidae cliff across

the lake one day, a strong wind sprung up from the south accompanied by

black clouds and a storm seemed imminent. We had proceeded about three

miles across, when we were suddenly startled by a loud noise, as though

a multitude of men were savagely beating tin pans. In a very few minutes

the southwestern cliffs became white and we could plainly see the "color

line" advancing to the north, until all the cliffs to the west seemed

covered with snow. To add to so strange a sight, a good-sized water-fall

began pouring over Llao rock, and falling to the lake two thousand feet

below. Within half an hour from the beginning of the storm, the

water-fall ceased, the cliffs became dark again, the wind shifted to the

northwest and drove millions of hailstones upon us, sufficiently large

to make us wince when struck--especially when struck all over with no

possible means of escape.

The only accident to any of our party during the sojourn, befel a highly

respected mule attached to the Topographical Engineers Corps. One day as

the party passed along the east side of Dutton Cliff, progress seemed

almost blocked by high precipices. A point was found overlooking a

yawning chasm, where a large tree had fallen and lodged. By throwing in

stones and brush, a sort of trail was made to terra firma beyond the

backbone of the mountain. Over this the pack train was passed safely,

except a mule that was blind in one eye. He bore a reputation for

dignity and sobriety that any well-to-do mule might envy. However, when

just at the point which, above all others, should have received his

undivided attention, he became gay and festive, and as a consequence,

fell part way over the precipice. By dint of hard labor, he was drawn

back, but little the worse for wear, his pack was removed and he again

started across. Again, however, he became frisky, and pitched head-long

over a rocky precipice five hundred feet high. As his limbs mixed with

those of the trees below, the thoughts of the spectators above were:

"There goes all that is mortal of Croppy, who climbed to the top of Mt.

Shasta, but died in a lonely canyon, by his own hand in a fit of

temporary insanity. Let him R.I.P."

One day while at work on the lake, my attention was called to what

seemed to be a tall, full-bearded man standing on the southern portion

of Llao Rock's summit. One foot was placed a little forward of the other

and the knee bent slightly but naturally, while before him stood a gun.

His hands were clasped over the muzzle as he gazed intently to the

north. Just behind him stood a boy, apparently about fifteen years of

age. They seemed entirely too natural not to be flesh and blood, and

yet, persons at that distance would not be visible to the naked eye, as

we were two miles out on the lake. Day after day, as our work

progressed, their position remained the same, and, in the absence of a

better explanation, we decided them to be trees.

Crater Lake is but a striking memento of a dread past. Imagine a vast

mountain, six by seven miles through, at an elevation of eight thousand

feet, with the top removed and the inside hollowed out, then filled with

the clearest water in the world, to within two thousand feet of the top,

then place a round island in one end eight hundred and forty-five feet

high, then dig a circular hole tapering to the center, like a funnel,

one hundred feet deep and four hundred and seventy-five feet in

diameter, and you have a perfect representation of Crater Lake.

It is hard to comprehend what an immense affair it is. To those living

in New York City, I would say, Crater Lake is large enough to have

Manhattan, Randall's, Ward's and Blackwell's Islands dropped into it,

side by side without touching the walls, or, Chicago or Washington City

might do the same. Our own fair city of Portland with all her suburbs,

from the City Park to Mount Tabor, and from Albina to Sellwood

inclusive, could find ample room on the bottom of the lake. On the other

hand, if it were possible to place the lake, at its present elevation,

above either of these cities, it would be over a mile up to the surface

of the water, and a mile and three-quarters to the top of Llao Rock. Of

this distance, the ascent would be through water for two thousand feet.

To those living in New Hampshire, it might be said, the surface of the

water is twenty-three feet higher than the summit of Mt. Washington.

[Illustration:

_1. Rogue River Falls, 180 feet high._

_2. Vidae Cliff, Crater Lake, over 2,000 feet high._

_3. A point on Vidae Cliff._]

What an immense affair it must have been, ages upon ages ago, when, long

before the hot breath of a volcano soiled its hoary head, standing as a

proud monarch, with its feet upon earth and its head in the heavens,

it towered far, far above the mountain ranges, aye, looked far down upon

the snowy peaks of Hood and Shasta, and snuffed the air beyond the reach

of Everest. Then streams of fire began to shoot forth, great seas of

lava were hurled upon the earth beneath. The elements seemed bent upon

establishing hell upon earth and fixing its throne upon this great

mountain. At last its foundation gave way and it sank forever from

sight. Down, down, down deep into the bowels of the earth, leaving a

great, black, smoking chasm, which succeeding ages filled with pure,

fresh water, giving to our day and generation one of the most beautiful

lakes within the vision of man.

In conclusion I will say, Crater Lake is one of the grandest points of

interest on earth. Here all the ingenuity of nature seems to have been

exerted to the fullest capacity, to build one grand, awe-inspiring

temple, within which to live and from which to gaze upon the surrounding

world and say: "Here would I dwell and live forever. Here would I make

my home from choice; the universe is my kingdom, and this my throne."

JOSEPHINE COUNTY CAVES.

On Friday evening, August 24, 1888, S. S. Nicolini of Ragusa, Austria,

E. D. Dewert of Portland, and the writer boarded the south-bound train

for Grant's Pass, intent on a few days' outing. This town of Grant's

Pass was so named for a pass in the mountains several miles south,

where, in early days, the silent hero camped for the night.

Early Saturday morning my head was banged up against one end of our

sleeping car, an instant after hearing the shrill whistle sounding down

brakes. As soon as possible I got on the outside and found the engines

standing within a few feet of a yawning chasm where a bridge had been.

Now, however, seven bents had been burned away and a terrible railroad

accident was averted by the quick eye of Engineer Elliott, who saw the

fire as we turned the curve and stopped the train almost instantly.

At Grant's Pass, H. D., M. M. and F. M. Harkness joined us, and we

started for the Josephine County Caves, about thirty miles due south, in

the Siskiyou mountains. For twenty miles the trip was made over a very

good road by wagon. At this point it became necessary to pack our things

on two horses and walk over a trail into the mountains. On a hot day,

this portion of the trip is very laborious, owing to the fact that it

is up the steep mountain side about two-thirds of the way, and down an

equally steep incline the remainder. We arrived at our destination a

little before noon on the 27th, and found two openings, one above the

other, and about one hundred yards apart, on the south side of a deep

canyon. When out hunting a few years since, Elijah Davidson, of Williams

Creek, found a bear and chased it into the lower entrance, thus

discovering the caves.

Each entrance is high enough to admit a person without stooping, and is

probably about eight feet wide. At noon we entered the upper cave. For a

few feet the floor inclined inward; we then descended a ladder for about

six feet, and found ourselves in a passage way eight feet wide by an

equal height, which changed, however, at every step. Now it would be

wider, and now narrower, now higher, and now lower. Walls, ceiling and

floor were composed of solid rock. To describe them, appropriately would

simply be to use a gift made divine by inspiration. No man can behold

them, then impart to others an accurate idea of their appearance. Soon

after entering we were compelled to progress on hands and knees, then

stood upright in chambers ten feet high, the walls of which were white.

Stalactites were first seen here, and involuntarily we cast sly glances

around to discover the bodies of kings preserved beneath such droppings

in "King Solomon's Mines." We wandered from place to place, from chamber

to chamber, dragging ourselves through passage ways barely large enough

to admit a human body, while with toes and fingers we worked along, or

stood in the midst of rooms that reached far above us. Now we see a

beautiful pool of clearest water, surrounded by a delicate crystal

formation in the shape of a bowl. In color it is as white as the driven

snow, while each crystal is oblong, projecting at right angles with the

main portion for about an eighth of an inch. One peculiarity of these

crystals that disappointed us was the fact that they change from white

to a dull, yellowish color, immediately after being removed from the

caves.

We were extremely anxious to try a new process for taking photographs in

the dark, so Dewert took his camera and acted as photographer for the

party. Owing to the limited space at times and cramped manner of

locomotion it required the services of four men to carry the camera and

accompanying necessities. Having reached a suitable place for a picture,

the camera was first put in position, a board was laid on the top of it

on which a tin reflector was placed, and a little powder called the

lightning flash was then poured on the board in front of the reflector.

At this point the order was given, "Douse the glim," and all lights were

extinguished. The plate was exposed in perfect darkness, the powder was

ignited, and instantly there was a flash of the most intense light. This

light was so brilliant that, for several minutes, it caused in the eyes

a glimmering sensation of light. Several photographs were taken in this

way, which will doubtless prove excellent examples of what ingenuity

can do in the dark.

It would require days of constant work to explore all the passages we

found, whereas our time was limited to that portion of one day after 12

o'clock noon. For this reason we remained in the caves from noon to

midnight, first examining the upper, then the lower one. This difference

exists between them: The one above is possessed of fine stalactite

formations, while below none appear. Instead, however, immense rocks are

piled indiscriminately one upon the other, with great cracks between.

Long ladders were used to climb to the top of the rocks, over the sides

of which yawning pits could be seen that seemed to possess no bottom.

Lack of time alone prevented us from making a thorough investigation,

but I could not resist the temptation to climb over the side of one

friendly rock for a few feet to see how it looked. Down for twenty feet

the space remained unchanged, so that I could easily reach from rock to

rock. It then widened out and I could proceed no farther without ropes,

so I returned to the party. A fine stream of clear cold water flows from

this cave and a strong breeze of cool air rushed forth also. At times in

both upper and lower cave, the wind blew toward the entrance so that it

was impossible to keep the lights burning. No traces of foul air have

been found in either cave.

Before our visit, visions of square chambers filled my mind, only to be

dashed aside when real ones presented themselves, the irregular shape of

which could not well be surpassed. There are no parallel walls, few

straight ones, but corners everywhere. The floor will pitch in all

directions, likewise ceiling and walls. Beautiful views of stalactites

and stalagmites stand out in bold relief against snow white walls. At

the farthest extremity of the upper cave in one direction an immense

chamber presents itself, and should be known as the devil's banquet

hall. It is probably 75 x 150 feet and sixty in height. Great blocks of

rock hang as by a thread from the ceiling, while on every side rocks of

equal size lie in all conceivable shapes. Standing at the point of entry

one looks at the opposite side and sees great cracks, yawning cavities

with open mouths of blackness, dismal shadows, to which flickering

lights give a ghoulish, dance-like appearance. Yes, the devil seems to

be holding high carnival, while his imps would dance the night away.

They bob up and down and swing their arms in fiendish glee, while the

dance goes on forever. None can look therein without seeing these imps

and their antics. The floor recedes rapidly from the entrance, and is

composed of great rocks scattered in confusion. We placed a number of

lighted candles in different places, then climbed to the opposite side

to view them. The shadows had partially disappeared, crevices and holes

in the walls not before seen became suddenly black and excited our

curiosity, so we climbed over high rocks into unknown passages. In a

small chamber on one side we found a beautiful stream of water, falling

several feet into a crystal basin. The walls of the chamber are white,

and the effect by candle-light is very fine.

Midnight found us still employed, but we reluctantly ceased our labors

and withdrew. Without unnecessary ceremony we wrapped our blankets about

us, laid down beneath the stars, and slept the sleep of the just until 3

o'clock, when the dulcet notes of a coyote called us to the business of

the day. Preparations were quickly made for the journey, and at daylight

we were on our way to Grant's Pass, where we arrived at 9 o'clock P.M.

OUR MOUNTAINS IN WAR.

It is a curious fact that the home of Liberty has always been in the

mountains. The reason for this is, that Nature intervenes every barrier

to prevent conquests, and shields the native mountaineer from onslaughts

of a foreign foe. The ringing words, "Make way for Liberty," could never

have become immortal had it not been for a mountain pass. The memory of

William Tell would not now be cherished by liberty-loving Swiss, were it

not for the friendly crags of the Alps that sheltered him. Here in the

Northwest we are blessed with a wonderful mountain range, extending from

California through Oregon and Washington to British Columbia.

For beauty, grandeur and extent it has no superior; while as a field of

defense, it simply stands unparalleled, and is rich in minerals,

agriculture and commerce. Located at from forty to a hundred miles apart

are the following mountain peaks, covered with perpetual snow: Baker,

Rainier, Adams, St. Helens, Hood, Jefferson, Three Sisters, Pitt and

Shasta. From each of these, convenient points of prominence are visible

in the Coast Range, one or more of which in turn are visible from every

harbor and city as far south as San Francisco. In case of a foreign war

it is one of the possibilities of the Oregon Alpine Club to organize a

sort of Signal Corps, say five hundred men, each of whom would be

thoroughly familiar with every pass, crevasse and crag in the mountains

where detailed for service. With a liberal supply of provisions and

ammunition on each peak, scarcely anything short of a pestilence could

dislodge them. What could a foreign army do around Mt. Hood, for

instance, with fifty resolute men well armed and equipped on the summit.

It has been but a few years since the entire force of the United States

Army was successfully defied by Captain Jack and a dozen Indians in the

Lava Beds; and yet we have here every advantage of the Lava Beds, to

which is added precipices to the north, east and west, while to the

south a narrow passage would permit men to ascend, but it is necessary

to cut every step in the ice; while directly across the base of this

precipitous glacier, a crevasse extends, of unknown depth, which varies

in width from three to forty feet, according to the season. It is

needless to say that every wounded member of the assaulting party would

pay the penalty with his life, for the slightest misstep would hurl him

into the crevasse where "moth doth not corrupt and where thieves do not

break through and steal." Now for the point of this article. Give to the

corps a liberal supply of heliographs and instruct the men how to use

them. In this way a perfect system of communication can be established

by which messages can be sent from point to point in an instant. Say,

for instance, that a hostile fleet was lying at Victoria and a descent

on San Francisco was planned. From a spy within the enemy's lines, the

party on Mt. Baker gathers full particulars, and immediately informs San

Francisco of the contemplated attack, giving full particulars, including

number of ships, men and guns.

NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT RAINIER.

Monday, August 14, 1889, Mr. J. Nichols, of Tacoma, and the writer, left

Tacoma for Mt. Rainier, determined, if possible, to reach its highest

point.

The provisions, blankets, alpine stocks (a hickory staff seven feet long

with a steel point at one end), alpine ax and all that was necessary in

making the ascent easy, were taken from Tacoma, while pack horses were

procured at Yelm, a station twenty-five miles south of Tacoma, and from

which the trail leads eastwardly to Mount Rainier. It first follows

river bottoms, then mountains, ridges and river bottoms again, while an

occasional fording of the glacial stream, lends interest to the

ever-changing scenes. We aimed at the end of each day to camp where feed

could be obtained for hard working horses. Darkness coming on as we

reached the first ford, left in some doubt the exact location of the

crossing, so camp was made on the bank of the river with nothing but

oats for our tired horses. Daylight found us fording the river, which

had risen during the night about ten inches, making it quite exciting as

the foaming water splashed the horses' sides, and wet our feet and

ankles.

Stopping at the first place where hay could be had, a stay of nearly two

hours was made for breakfast for ourselves and horses.

From our last night's experience, we decided to carry hay with us and

camp wherever night should overtake us, which was at the foot of a high

mountain our trail led over, and on the bank of the river as before. The

day was uneventful, if we omit mention of the many hornets' nests we

passed through and the four pheasants which fell before the unerring aim

of Nichol's rifle. The pheasants led us to a fitting close of the day in

the shape of pheasants and dumplings, prepared by the writer and

pronounced by Nichols (who, by the way, is an epicure) to be simply _par

excellence_. And here I might add that the writer is a single man.

The end of the third day found us at the Hotel Longmire at Hot Springs,

located on the southwest slope of Mt. Rainier, at an altitude of three

thousand feet, and some five miles from the perpetual snow limit. And no

finer people ever lived than Mr. and Mrs. Longmire, who own and preside

over the hotel and springs. The hotel material was cut by hand out of

the finest grained cedar that ever grew--boards twelve inches wide and

fifteen feet long--as perfect as though sawed.

As a matter of information for those interested, it might be well to say

here that the waters of the springs are positively life-giving. The

writer has visited many mineral springs, and has never seen anything

that will compare with the stimulating and health-giving qualities of

these springs.

But, to resume: we left the springs next morning, with a single pack

horse, expecting to leave the horse at the top of the ridge (eight

thousand feet altitude) overlooking Paradise valley, and, with blankets

on our backs, to make our way to Ewing's camp, ten thousand five hundred

feet above sea level. We reached Paradise valley, and, finding the same

had been so well and truly named, decided to stop till next day and

enjoy some of its beauties. Accordingly, camp was pitched, fire-wood

gathered, and a camp fire built, and a pot of beans placed thereon.

After a light lunch we strolled, enjoying the alpine beauties of the

valley, well named Paradise.

During the afternoon the wind changed to the southwest, and clouds

gradually spread over the firmament. From our experience a year ago on

Mount Hood in a storm, at no higher altitude than we now were, no

thought was given to ascending higher till fair weather and a northwest

wind prevailed. Morning dawned and no indications of good weather. Our

spirits were accordingly depressed. Observing the barometer, we found it

moving quite rapidly in the direction of storm. By noon the sky was

heavily overcast, and an hour later undercast as well.

By 3 o'clock rain began to fall. The wind had already risen to quite a

gale. Re-staking our tent, digging a ditch around the head and sides,

and piling wood and rocks along the edges to keep out the wind and rain,

we crawled into our blankets and awaited developments. Soon the storm

broke upon us with all its alpine fury, and raged during the entire

night. By morning the rain had turned into sleet and snow, the

thermometer, at daylight registering 34 degrees. Shortly the storm

ceased. After some difficulty a fire was started and coffee made.

Sampling our pot of beans, which had boiled at least four hours, we

found them still hard; after an hour more boiling we emptied them on the

ground, having learned that beans are hard to cook at an eight thousand

foot altitude. Our barometer still indicating foul weather, we decided

to start at once for a more congenial climate. Accordingly our shivering

horses (which we had blanketed) were packed and four hours later we were

at the Springs hotel, in a rather moody frame of mind. Tuesday morning

all was clear, the barometer indicated fair weather, and we started

early, reaching the 8500-foot ridge at 1 P.M. Turning our horses loose

to feed upon the succulent grass, we bound our blankets upon our backs

and started for Ewing's camp, altitude 11,000 feet. Evening coming on,

we made camp at 10,500. Clearing away the rocks, leaving a sandy bottom,

we stretched our light, small tent, banking wet sand around the edges to

keep out the piercing wind, which almost invariably blows at high

altitudes. Placing our oilcloth over the damp, cool sand, we soon had a

comfortable bed. For tent poles we used our alpine stocks, one of which

was seven and one-half feet long. Our bed being satisfactorily arranged,

we took notes on the scenery, temperature, etc. A haze hung over the

valleys; in fact, it rose to a height of nine thousand feet. The

rosy-tinted summits of Hood, Adams and St. Helens towered away above it,

however, reflecting the rays of the declining sun.

The chilliness of the temperature, 28 degrees, prevented us from

remaining long outside our tent. Crawling in, we tightly fastened the

flaps and really passed a comfortable night. Twenty minutes after 4 A.M.

found us astir, and at five o'clock we were under way.

We had scarcely as yet taken time to admire the beauties of the scene,

so intent had we been on getting an early start so as to be able to

return before sundown to our blankets and provisions.

We soon had an opportunity to admire the beauties around and below us,

as climbing above eleven thousand feet altitude is productive of sudden

stops for rest and breath.

We expected to reach the summit by noon, at latest; but on account of

the icy condition of portions of the mountain side, it was necessary to

cut steps over quite long stretches. This delayed us more than two

hours. Twelve o'clock came and went and we were not quite to the top of

the "big rock"--a large rock on the south side, the top of which is

about two thousand feet below the summit.

By 1 o'clock we were past the rock several hundred yards. From here to

the summit we crossed eight or nine crevasses. The snow or ice stood in

pinnacles often six and seven feet high.

Three o'clock came and the top was still beyond us. Having no blankets

or provisions, the question now presented itself: Could we make the

summit and back over the dangerous points before dark. Not much talking

was done, however, as breath was too precious; but we still pushed on.

At 4 o'clock we held a council of war and decided that since it was

already so late we could not return before dark, and we would make for

the summit, where steam caverns were said to exist, and where Messrs.

Longmire and Van Trump stayed over night in '83. They found themselves

in the same predicament we were now in, by their determination to reach

the summit. This being settled, we pushed on, turned out of our way by

first one and then another obstacle, until we found ourselves about one

hundred feet, not more, below the summit of the highest western bump or

dome. From this we descended about a hundred feet, and thence across a

level piece of snow about one-third of a mile, to the foot of the main

pinnacle, in which is located the crater.

Some three hundred feet (in altitude) more climbing, over ashes and fine

pumice stone of the outside walls of the crater, and we stood on the

apex of one of the highest mountains in the United States. Mr. Nichols

claims the honor of being the first and only Tacomaite who has reached

the summit.

[Illustration: _1. Snowballing on Mt. St. Helens, July 22d, 1889._

_2. Summit of Mt. Hood, looking West._

_3. Illumination Rock on Mt. Hood._]

It was now 5:10 P.M., the thermometer registering 23 deg. above zero; and

having no blankets, our first business was to find a warm place in

the steam to pass the night. Steam could be seen issuing from a dozen

different places on the inside rim of the crater, say sixty to seventy

feet below the crest.

Writing our names on a card, with a short account of the climb, we

placed it inside of a small box, on which was inscribed, "Oregon Alpine

Club, Portland." This was left on the top of the ridge. We heaped rocks

around it to prevent the wind from blowing it away. We soon found a sort

of semi-spherical opening in the rocks, from which the warm steam poured

forth. Clearing away the rocks, leaving a sandy bottom, we built a wall

of rocks two feet in height to break the wind, and then turned our

attention to looking for canned corned beef.

We were told a can had been left there by Prof. Ingram's party ten days

before. This was soon found, together with a package of French

chocolate, a box of sardines and some cheese. We were already the

possessors of one lemon. As nothing more was needed we got into our den.

Taking a cup found lashed to a rock on the crest of the crater and

filling it with snow we placed it in our oven and soon had plenty of

water.

We ate some lunch, but fourteen and fifteen thousand foot altitudes are

not productive of strong appetites, so we ate sparingly, and being so

completely exhausted soon fell asleep.

About 8 o'clock P.M., we were rudely awakened by what appeared to be a

dash of ice water in our faces and down our necks. The sky being clear

the ice water was explained a few moments later. The wind had arisen and

was drifting dry snow--(eight inches of which had fallen Sunday)--from a

bank about fifteen feet distant, against the sloping roof and walls of

our warm den; thus the snow was turned to water by the time it reached

our faces. To prevent being so rudely drenched again we removed our

coats, which were then wrapped around our heads.

The wind having veered to the west, some anxiety was felt that a storm

might arise before we could return. However, fortune smiled upon us in

our dizzy resting place so far above the clouds, and morning dawned

clear, cold and beautiful.

Upon the first gleams of the sun we made for the ridge for our dry

clothes, which were placed there before retiring to our den the night

before. We had fortunately worn two suits of heavy underclothes, two

pairs of pants and two coats, so we now had dry clothes, and well it was

we took the precaution of removing a suit and placing it out of the way

of the wet steam. Before we could return to our den every vestige of

clothing, including a soft hat, was frozen stiff. The cold seemed to

strike at once clear through. The agility with which we got into our

steam chest would have been amusing to an uninitiated observer. We were

soon warm again, and by slight assistance from each other, our dripping

clothes were soon changed for dry ones. Mounting the ridge of the crater

on the highest side, sunrise observations were taken. The sun appearing

above the eastern horizon tinted Rainier's top with molten silver, while

the country beneath was still wrapped in shade. Not many moments elapsed

till the adjacent mountains, Hood, Adams and St. Helens, one by one in

order named, donned their silvery shields like mighty giants in battle

attitude, defending themselves against the sun, their common enemy. The

effect at this time was grand, indeed, the heavy rains of two days

previous having entirely dissipated the smoke.

Eastward all was clear, while westward, nearly fifteen thousand feet

below, the valleys and lowlands were hidden beneath billowy clouds,

which, like the mountain tops, soon turned from gray to shining silver.

Soon Sol's rays had reached the western horizon. Mountain shadows now

appeared reaching westward to the limit of our vision; the jagged edges

resting on hills and plains and valleys contributed to a changing scene,

the memory of which will last so long as life is given.

Our selfish aim more than attained, we were satisfied and determined at

once to descend to earth, from whence we came. Our determination being

carried out, we reached Hot Springs at 8 P.M., and Tacoma three days

later.

CHAS. H. GOVE,

Of Oregon Alpine Club.

What they Signify.

ADAMS, MT.--Called by Winthrop, Tacoma the Second (1853). Named for

President Adams.

Indian name Pat-to, signifying high. This name was applied to snow caps

generally by the Indians.

BAKER, MT.--Named for Lieut. Baker by Vancouver, when discovered April

30, 1792.

Called by Winthrop (1853), Kulshan; possibly the Indian name.

Referred to by the Spanish as Montana del Carmelo.

Called Mt. Polk by the Americans (1846).

BITTER ROOT RANGE.--Same as the Coeur d'Alene mountains.

COFFIN, MT.--Originally used as an Indian burying ground and named by

Lieut. Broughton (1792).

CASTLE ROCK.--Referred to by Lewis and Clark as Beacon Rock (1805).

Subsequently called Castle Rock, because of its appearance.

CASCADES.--Known as President's Range (1846). The mountains were named

for the cascades of the Columbia river.

CAPE HORN.--So named because of the difficulty experienced in doubling

it (1812.)

GOAT MOUNTAIN.--Called Plas (long sound of a) by the Indians, meaning

white. So called because of the white rocks. Mountain goats formerly

abounded in that vicinity, hence the present name.

HOOD, MT.--Discovered by Broughton, October 29, 1792, and named for Lord

Hood of England. General Indian name, Pat-to. An active volcano in 1846.

Same as Mt. Washington of the Americans (1846).

JEFFERSON, MT.--Discovered by Lewis and Clark and named for President

Jefferson, 1806. Same as Mt. Vancouver of the British (1846).

MCLAUGHLIN, MT.--Lat. 43 deg. 30'. Named for John McLaughlin who established

Vancouver, introduced live stock, fruit, vegetables and grain. Same as

Mt. Madison of the Americans (1846). Sometimes called Diamond Peak.

OREGON.--First used by Capt. Jonathan Carver in a book published in

London (1774). The name appeared in the following statement: "The river

Bourbon empties itself into Hudson's Bay; the waters of St. Lawrence;

the Mississippi and the river Oregon, or the River of the West, that

falls into the Pacific ocean at the straits of Anian." Numerous theories

are advanced as to the origin of the name with Carver, but nothing

conclusive is shown on the subject. The original Oregon embraced an

uncertain portion of the entire Northwest (1578), called by the British

New Albion. One portion of it was called New Georgia (1792), and another

(1806), New Caledonia by British traders. The Spanish government

designated the entire country (1790), as "The Coast of California, in

the South Sea."

OLYMPUS, MT.--Was discovered by Juan Perez, a Spanish pilot, and called

El Cero de la Santa Rosalia. Named Olympus by Capt. Mears, July 4, 1788.

Same as Mt. Van Buren (1846).

PUGET SOUND.--Named by Vancouver for his lieutenant, Peter Puget, the

discoverer, May 19th, 1792. Known among the Indians as Whulge, also as

K' uk' lults.

RAINIER, MT.--Discovered by Vancouver in May, 1792, and named for Rear

Admiral Rainier of the English navy. Sometimes called Mt. Tacoma. Called

Mt. Harrison by the Americans (1846). See pages 55, 57 and 59.

ROCKY MOUNTAINS.--Named by the Verendrye brothers (1742). First called

Stony Mountains.

SADDLE MT.--Called by the Indians, "Swallalahoost." Named by Wilkes,

Saddle Mountain (1842), on account of its shape.

ST. HELENS, MT.--Discovered by Broughton of Vancouver's party, October

20, 1792, and named in honor of His Majesty's ambassador at Madrid.

Known among Americans as Mt. Washington (1846), as also Mt. John Adams.

Called by the Indians Lou-wala-clough, meaning smoking mountain.

TILLAMOOK HEAD.--(1806), originally spelled Killamook. Lewis and Clark

refer to it as "Clark's Point of View."

TACOMA, MT.--See Rainier, also pages 55, 57 and 59.

MOUNT RAINIER.

U. S. INDIAN SERVICE.

NISQUALLY AND SKOKOMISH AGENCY, }

TACOMA, W. T., Dec. 8, 1886. }

W. G. STEEL, _Portland, Oregon_:

DEAR SIR:--I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of

Sept. 21st, making certain inquiries about the change of the name of Mt.

Rainier to that of Tacoma. Upon careful and diligent inquiry among the

Puyallup Indians, I find the following to be the true condition of

things:

There is a general impression that the name Tacoma was the original name

of the mountain among Indians, and that it signified "nourishing

mother," and was so named on account of its being the source of a number

of rivers which head there and flow into the waters of Puget Sound.

This, I find to be entirely erroneous. The Indian word is _Ta-ko-bet_ or

_Ta-ke-man_, the first being the most general pronunciation used among

these Indians, but both words are used, being the different

pronunciation used by the dialects. It means a white mountain, and is a

general name for any high, snow-covered, or white, treeless peak. It is

applied to this mountain by the Indians of this vicinity, because it is

the only, or most prominent one of the kind in the vicinity. They use

the word as we would speak of "The White Mountain," there being but one

near us. In the Skadgit language, the word is a little different, and is

there called _Ko-ma_, and is applied by these Indians to Mt. Baker, it

being the mountain in that vicinity of the kind. The word _Squa-tach_,

or _Squat-letsh_, is a general name for a range of mountains, while

_Ta-ko-bet_ or _Ta-ko-man_ or _Ko-ma_ is the name of the snow covered or

white peaks in the range.

This information I have gained from inquiry of the Indians with whom I

have come in contact and who live near here. I inclose a statement

written out by Rev. Peter Stanup, an educated Indian of the Puyallup

tribe, and who is unusually well informed on such matters.

As to when it was first applied and by whom I am not so well advised;

but from what I do know, I understand that it was first applied to the

mountains by the whites about twelve years ago, and at the same time

that the town of Tacoma was laid out and located by the Northern Pacific

Railroad Company, or some of its attaches. I understand that the attempt

was made by the N. P. R. R. Co. to have the name changed, and that it

still makes strenuous efforts to do so. The people of the town of

Tacoma, and the members of the Tacoma Land Company as well as the R. R.

Co., above named, all try hard to have the mountain called by that name;

while the residents of the other part of the Territory, west of the

Cascade mountains and especially of Seattle, are very much opposed to

the change, and continue to call it by its first name. I think that the

facts are that the name Tacoma is an attempted imitation of an Indian

term applied to any high, snow-covered peak, but which was supposed to

be the special name of this peak, because generally used by the Indians

of this vicinity, and that it was applied to this mountain at the time

the town of Tacoma was located and named by the N. P. R. R. Co., for the

purpose of bringing into note its western terminus.

Yours Respectfully,

EDWIN EELLS,

U. S. Indian Agent.

* * * * *

Statement of Rev. Peter Stanup.

_Ta-ko-man_ is a name used by many different Indian tribes of this

Territory, with the same meaning and a slight variation of pronunciation

by each different tribe. It is the name or word from which Tacoma was

derived. It originated among the inland Indians. The meaning of

_Ta-ko-man_ is a high, treeless, white or light colored peak or mound.

The name is applicable to any peak or mound as described, but is

generally used for one that is distinguished, or highly honored. And

_Squa-tach_, to climb, and _Sba-date_ mountain, are mostly used for all

mountains and peaks. The individual name of Mt. Tacoma is _Twhauk_,

which was derived from _Twheque_, snow, and _Swheque ad_. Bright,

clear, cloudless sky. _Ta-ko-man_ is mostly used for the Mt. Tacoma, as

it is held with much respect and esteemed by nearly all the Indians of

the Northwest. The reason for conferring the great honor upon _Twhauk_,

is that the second syllable _ko_, means water, corresponding with the

water, or little lake on top of the mountain, and also in that lake is a

great abundance of valuable shells, from which the Indians made their

nose and ear-rings, and other valuable jewelry.

THOUGHTS ON THE NAME "TACOMA."

This beautiful name of the city whose rapid and marvellous growth and

development have been unparalleled even in our Western civilization, is

a pure invention. Its very euphony divests it of all claim as the Indian

nomination of Old Mount Rainier, the name conferred by the illustrious

circumnavigator, George Vancouver, borne for a century upon the map of

the world.

Tacoma is a word of extremely modern origin, invented, or used first by

Lieut. Theodore Winthrop, U. S. Army, in his readable book--"Canoe and

Saddle." The writer of these thoughts first heard it late in the

"sixties," when Capt. D. B. Finch, among the pioneers of steam

navigation on Puget Sound, presented a building in Olympia to the Good

Templars, and his gift was christened "Tacoma Hall." Contemporaneously

Tacoma City, now the first ward of Tacoma, was thus named by some

Portland town-builders--Gen. McCarver, Lewis M. Starr and James Steel.

The then leading hotel of Olympia, about the same time, assumed that

title and wore it for several years; but a whole decade passed before

the attempt was made to obliterate the time-honored name of the great

mountain peak of Northwest America, conferred at the first visit of

white men to Commencement Bay in 1792. Late in 1878, a lithograph map

and bird's-eye view of the embryo city of New Tacoma was published under

the patronage of the Tacoma Land Company, entitled--"New Tacoma and

Mount Rainier"--issued in 1880. At that date the name "Tacoma" existed,

but it was not applied to the mountain; nor was it even dreamed that the

town was named from the Indian name of the mountain. The fact is that

the name, "Mount Tacoma," has been recently conferred on the mountain by

white men. A decade back, the name will not be found on the maps of

Washington Territory, and it is to be hoped that the attempt to

obliterate from the map of the world the name conferred by that

illustrious contributor to geographic science, Captain George Vancouver,

R. N., will prove unsuccessful.

When Gen. Hazard Stevens, and that splendid scholar and writer, P. B.

Van Trump, Esq., ascended the grand old mountain, the pronunciation and

spelling of the name which Gen. Stevens, in his narrative, ascribed to

the mountain, was still unsettled. He spelt the word Te-ho-ma. The "h"

being aspirated really represents an Indian guttural grunt without

beauty or even resolving itself into a well-defined consonant.

In the year 1882, the writer was invited to perform the role of orator

on Independence Day at the beautiful settlement called Puyallup. The

committee coupled with the invitation the expressed desire that the

theme should be Puget Sound reminiscences--the early settlement of

Pierce county. He adopted as a starting theme the thoughts suggested by

the words "Tacoma" and "Puyallup," or their origin thus euphonized into

household words of significance and anglicised beauty, bearing but

little resemblance in sound to the half-uttered nasal grunts of the

fish-eating natives of Puget Sound, whose syllables are "without form

and void;" their language, if such it be considered, acquiring meaning

or intensity of signification when accompanied by pantomimic motion,

speaking far more than all their syllabic combinations. Through the

valued assistance of that veteran Indian student and interlocutor, John

Flett, some twenty aged, prominent Indians, who would not deign to talk

other than their own dialect, who despised even the Chinook Jargon, but

adhered to the grunts and syllabic utterances and the pantomime of their

race for the ages before the advent of the Hudson's Bay Company or

American settlers, gathered in the writer's office in New Tacoma, as the

city of Tacoma was then called, and seated on the floor for hours

discussed what they called the mountains and mountain range, its

surrounding and attributes. About half were of the White river bands,

those who originally lived on the sources of the streams issuing from

Mount Rainier. The remainder were Puyallups and 'Squallys, whose

original haunts were near the Sound. The form was to put the writer's

question or wish for information into Chinook Jargon, which was then

translated into the Indian dialect. The old men expressed themselves in

their native utterances. It would be the grossest perversion to call

their answers "words." They were not so couched--at best, strong

syllabic utterances--mere grunts, at times which, with eloquent

pantomime, assumed grand and eloquent thought and meaning, when

translated, to give just expression arising to poetry of ideas, but as a

language, technically so considered, poverty-stricken to the greatest

degree, and without its accompanied earnestness of movement, without a

single attribute of beauty or euphonism.

That interesting study and those comparative views, by old men of the

mountain and the sea, extended through hours; and the writer will never

forget the eloquence of action required and used by those aged natives,

which more than compensated that paucity of syllables or words, which we

call language. No such word of beauty as "Tacoma" could possibly be

coined by them, nor result from any combination of their uttered but

significant grunts, their attempted vocalization of thoughts or ideas.

True, there were syllabic emissions of sound which might be resolved

into words by toning down grunts and inharmonious belchings of thoughts

rather than their legitimate utterances. The manner of conducting that

"interview" was the assumption that the word "Tacoma," or some kindred

appropriate word identified the grand old mountain in their language; in

other words, their attention was invited to the fact, that our people

had been told that "Tacoma" was the native name of the mountain. Then

began the expression by all, in turn, as to the Indian method of

referring to great landmarks, mountains individual and in range, rivers,

etc., when talking with each other. Their views on the information

communicated found expression in several varied, combined characteristic

grunts and shrugs, which were interspersed with some analogous syllables

or utterances from which Indian philologists have resolved words, some

of which have more or less resemblance to some of the syllables embraced

in the word Tacoma, or that word as spelled by different writers. They

then detailed their reasons for so speaking of the mountain or any of

its natural surroundings or physical features. In that colloquy, no two

of those Indians pronounced the same word or used that same guttural

utterance or combination of syllables. All were especially interrogated

as to the snow-capped mountain. All gave the meaning or idea that they

knew as to the cause for a name, by which any other could identify it,

and the significance of the utterances by each adopted in referring to

it.

Each band, not to say each individual, had a peculiar reason for his

name of it, contingent upon color, shape or function. In that interview,

the literal translations of their syllabic combinations appertaining

more or less in sound to the syllables constituting the name

Tacoma--Te-ho-ma, Ta-ko-ber, Tak-o-man, etc., as rendered by the

venerable John Flett, a truthful, skillful and reliable Indian authority

was--"A woman's breast that feeds," a "nourishing breast." To one band,

the shape of the cone suggested the breast shape for a name; to another,

the milky whiteness was a reminder of the source of nourishment; to

another, the color of the streams which flow down from the mountain in

the annual freshets, gave origin to the idea of the generous fountain of

the great milk-white breast-shaped sentinel for ages; while the

Puyallups and 'Squallys, more practical in view, associated the fact

that from the mountain rushed the torrents of white water, resembling

milk, which fertilized the valleys of Puget Sound. While such was the

conversation and speech of those old patriarchs, several of whom had

lived to become octogenarians, communicated as above stated, the writer

is well aware that across the mountain chain, residing in the vicinity

of the mountain, that several bands of the Klickitat nation attach

different meanings for synonymous syllabic combinations approximating in

sound to the combinations referred to used by Western Washington bands,

with shades of meaning more practical, less figurative, less Indian; but

the writer has been content to accept as authority, at all events so far

as the Aborigines of Western Washington are concerned, the result of the

conference of Indian patriarchs convened at his instance in 1882. While

that conference failed to establish that there was such an Indian word

as "Tacoma," or that these Indians had any distinctive Indian names for

"Mount Rainier," or that there was any recognized Indian name known to

the several tribes; yet, the different bands did use such syllabic

utterances, by which they referred to the mountain chain, to the leading

mountain of the chain. That color, shape, and attributed function,

suggested such expression, and that the combination of syllables which

have been so euphoniously metamorphosed into the beautiful word

"Tacoma," when pronounced by them in its native utterances, meant as

herein expressed. The writer, however, finds no warrant for adopting

Tacoma as an Indian word, nor does he believe that such word, or its

approximate, was a name conferred by Indians upon the mountain, or

exclusively recognized as the name of the mountain by the original

natives of this region.

ELWOOD EVANS.

[Illustration: PRESIDENTS OF THE OREGON ALPINE CLUB.]

OREGON ALPINE CLUB.

[Illustration]

The Oregon Alpine Club was organized in 1887, and incorporated October

7th of that year. It was originally intended merely as an organization

among half a dozen friends who were in the habit of seeking adventure

and recreation in the mountains.

After considering the matter for a time a meeting, was called, and more

persons attended than were expected. A committee was appointed on rules,

the adoption of which required several meetings, so that when the

organization was completed there were over seventy charter members on

the roll.

The institution grew and its objects increased until a Scientific Staff

was formed and a public museum became an important object. Hon. H. W.

Corbett was elected President, and served until October, 1888, when Hon.

D. P. Thompson was chosen. Mr. Thompson served until the close of 1889,

when a re-organization was effected, as outlined by the subjoined

constitutions. Mr. Geo. B. Markle was at this time elected, and is now

the very efficient President of the Club. The Alpine Club is a public

institution and is deserving of the liberal support of the city and

State. The following is a list of officials, as also the Constitutions

of the Club and its various Departments:

CONSTITUTION.

OFFICERS.

_President_, GEO. B. MARKLE

{W. G. STEEL

_Vice Presidents_, {W. W. BRETHERTON

{JOHN GILL

_Secretary_, GEO. H. HIMES

_Treasurer_, C. M. IDLEMAN

ARTICLE I.

NAME.

This Association shall be known as the OREGON ALPINE CLUB, and its

subdivisions as the Departments of the same.

ARTICLE II.

OBJECT.

The object shall be the foundation and maintenance of a Public Museum,

and advancement and encouragement of Amateur Photography, Alpine and

Aquatic exploration, and the protection of our game, fish, birds and

animals.

ARTICLE III.

SECTIONS.

There shall be Four Departments, namely, (1) Exploration Department;

(2) Photographic Department; (3) Game Protective Department; and (4)

Museum Department.

ARTICLE IV.

OFFICERS.

SECTION 1. The officers of the Club shall be a President, four Vice

Presidents, Secretary and Treasurer.

SEC. 2. The Presidents of the various Departments shall be _ex-officio_

Vice-Presidents of the Club.

ARTICLE V.

ELECTIONS.