Above the rapids we had a lovely reach of river, from a quarter to half
a mile wide, with no perceptible current. Impelled by our united
efforts, our light cedar canoe shot over the water as lightly and almost
as swiftly as the gulls above us sped through the air. I took one of the
poles and used it while the Indians plied their paddles, and for a
distance of nearly two miles the depth of water did not vary two inches
from four and a half feet. The bottom was composed of a hard, white
sand, into which the pole, with my weight on it, sunk less than an inch;
in fact, the current is so slight, the width of the river so great, and
the general character of the water such, that it might all be termed a
lake above the falls; though the foot of the lake, as designated on the
map, has a still greater widening five miles above the head of the
falls.
Abrupt basaltic walls, 500 to 1,000 feet high and nearly perpendicular,
rise from the water's edge on either side. On the more sloping faces of
these, vegetation has obtained root-room, little bunches of soil have
formed, and various evergreens, alders, water hazels, etc., grow
vigorously. Half a foot of snow had lately fallen on the tops of these
mountains, and a warm, southwest wind and the bright sun were now
sending it down into the river in numerous plunging streams of crystal
fluid. For thousands of years these miniature torrents have, at frequent
intervals, tumbled down here, and in all that time have worn but slight
notches in the rocky walls.
[Illustration: A TRIBUTARY OF THE HARRISON.]
Shrubs have grown up along and over these small waterways, and as the
little rivulets come coursing down, dodging hither and thither under
overhanging clumps of green foliage, leaping from crag to crag and
curving from right to left and from left to right, around and among
frowning projections of invulnerable rock, glinting and sparkling in the
sunlight, they remind one of silvery satin ribbons, tossed by a summer
breeze, among the brown tresses of some winsome maiden. I took several
views of these little waterfalls, but their transcendent beauty can not
be intelligently expressed on a little four-by-five silver print.
Several larger streams also put into the Harrison, that come from remote
fastnesses, and seem to carve their way through great mountains of
granite. Their shores are lined with dense growths of conifers, and
afford choice retreats for deer, bears, and other wild animals.
At three o'clock in the afternoon we rounded a high point of rocks that
jutted out into the river, and another beautiful picture--another
surprise, in this land of surprises--lay before us. Harrison Lake,
nestling among snowy peaks and dotted with basaltic islands, reflected
in its peaceful depths the surrounding mountains as clearly as though
its placid surface had been covered with quicksilver. This lake is about
forty miles long, is fed by the Lillooet river and numerous smaller
streams. Silver creek, which comes in on the west side, twenty miles
north of the hot springs, is a beautiful mountain stream of considerable
size. A quarter of a mile above its mouth, it makes a perpendicular fall
of over sixty feet. It is one of the most beautiful falls in the
country. Near the head of the lake, and in full view from the springs,
old Mount Douglass, clad in perpetual snow and glacial ice, towers into
the blue sky until its brilliancy almost dazzles one's eyes. Though
forty miles away, one who did not know would estimate the distance at
not more than five, so clearly are all the details of the grand picture
shown. It is said that from the glaciers on this peak come the streams
whose waters give their peculiar milky cast to Harrison Lake and
Harrison river. Near the base of Mount Douglass is an Indian village of
the same name, and the Hudson Bay Fur Company formerly had a trading
post in the neighborhood, which they called Fort Douglass. This Indian
village is the home of my prospective guide, and from it he has adopted
his unpoetic cognomen.
Half a mile to the right of where we entered the lake, the famous hot
springs, already mentioned, boil out from under the foot of a mountain,
and discharge their steaming fluid into the lake. The curative power of
these waters has been known to the natives for ages past, and the sick
have come from all directions, and from villages many miles away, to
bathe in the waters and be healed. All about the place are remains of
Indian encampments, medicine lodges, etc. The tribes in this vicinity
are greatly exercised over the fact of the white man having lately
asserted ownership of their great sanitarium, and having assumed its
control. Mr. J. R. Brown has erected over the springs a large
bath-house, and near that a commodious hotel. He has cut a road through
a pass in the mountains to Agassiz station, on the Canadian Pacific
Railway, five miles distant, so that the springs may now be easily
reached by invalids wishing to test their curative properties. Soon
after my arrival at the springs, I climbed the mountain to the east of
the hotel, and passed the time pleasantly, until sunset, viewing the
beautiful scenery in the neighborhood.
On the following morning I took a boat and rowed up the east shore of
the lake, in hope of getting a shot at a deer, but though I saw plenty
of fresh signs all along the shore no game was visible. I spent the
afternoon looking anxiously for my promised guide, but he came not. I
again amused myself, however, taking views of the scenery, but found on
developing the negatives that I had not been eminently successful with
either Mount Douglass or Mount Chiam. Snowy mountains are about the most
difficult objects in all nature to photograph, especially if you attempt
to include anything beside the snowy peaks in the picture; for they are
so intensely white, and the sky or even clouds that form the background
are so light and afford so slight contrast, that it is next to
impossible to get good sharp pictures of them. The landscape about the
mountains is sure to offer some dark objects, perhaps deep shadows, and
even the mountain itself nearly always has bare rocks and dark, gloomy
canyons, and to get these and the dazzling whiteness of the snow and ice
on the same plate is decidedly difficult. Of course we see many fine
photographs of snow-covered mountains, but if taken with a clear sky or
with light clouds for background, there is generally more or less
retouching necessary, and more or less doctoring in printing, with
tissue paper, glass screens, etc., in order to obtain the results we see
in the prints. I made some fair views of both these peaks, but not such
as an enthusiastic amateur might wish. Of the lower mountains, where at
that time there was no snow, of the lake, the islands, etc., I got very
satisfactory pictures. I went up the road, toward the railway station, a
mile or more, where it passes through one of those grand forests for
which this country is so famous, where--
"Those green-robed senators of mighty woods
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir."
There I made views of some of the giant cedars, the dense moss-hung
jungles, the great fir trees, etc. In these dark, densely-shaded woods I
had to take off the flying shutter and make time exposures. I gave three
to five seconds to each plate. In the prints the trees and other objects
nearest to the lens are of course over-exposed, but the details in the
shadows and objects in the extreme distance are clearly and beautifully
brought out. For these time exposures I placed the camera on some
convenient log, stump, or stone, in lieu of a tripod. In two instances I
seated the rear end of the instrument on the ground, with the lens
bearing up through the tops of the trees. The whitened trunk and broken,
straggling arms of one great old dead fir--one that has flourished in
this rich soil and drawn sustenance from the moist, ozone-laden
atmosphere of these mountains for hundreds of years, but has lived out
his time and is now going the way of all things earthly--forms the
subject of one of the best and most interesting pictures of the whole
series. The tops of several other trees--birch, maple, etc., that stood
near the fir--are also shown in the picture. It can best be seen and
appreciated by holding it above your head, looking up at it, and
imagining yourself there in the forest, looking up through the tops of
the giant trees into the blue ethereal dome of heaven.