MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS
The distance from Grand Canyon Camp to Mammoth Hot Springs, near Fort
Yellowstone, was made in about three and one-half hours, with only the
one stop at Tower Fall, and the few minutes that we halted at Camp
Roosevelt, and the Cold Spring. But there was not one moment of
monotony. The harmonious blending of colors, the distant mountain
peaks and ranges, the soft-tinted sky, the trees, the water, in fact,
all of Nature's best, in a milder form than we had seen about the
Grand Canyon at the Upper and Lower Yellowstone Falls, was constantly
presented in shifting scenes before our vision, relieving, in a
measure, the tension we had been under since arriving in the vicinity
of the Grand Canyon.
One place, in particular, that attracted my attention, was a beaver
dam and hut that had been constructed by an order of masons whose
operations are conducted exclusively upon the principles of home
protection, and whose chief aim is to protect the fur trade of which
they are the producers. In order to do this and to keep from being
stranded, it is often necessary for the beavers to dam up the waters
and build a house in which to live.
When they cut down trees, they have the faculty of felling them where
they want to build, so as to save as much labor as possible. At our
left was a creek and a dam they had built and a house they had
constructed, independent of the laws controlling the builders'
association or that of the labor unions.
Their tools are very simple, as they use their teeth for saws, their
tails for trowels, etc. In the midst of the dam was the hut, built of
unplaned logs, with a well-constructed roof.
Under less favorable circumstances than is found for animal life in
the Park, these little workers with their soft, silken fur would have
been hunted down and captured before they could have brought the work
to completion. Again, I could not help but exclaim, What a blessing
are the laws governing the Yellowstone Park!
[Illustration: BEAVER DAM © _Haynes, St. Paul_]
The rangers, with stations interspersed throughout the vast area of
more than 3,000 square miles, are employed by the government for the
protection of life and property, and arrests are quickly made and
penalties fixed when there is any violation of the law. These men are
not soldiers, but patrolmen on horseback, dressed in cowboy's uniform.
An ordinary soldier would be unfitted for such work. Men in leather
shaps are needed who can break and ride bronchos, throw the lariat,
and round up the herds; those who are used to the mountain fastnesses
and the buffalo path, the haunts of black, brown, and grizzly bears,
and are acquainted with the habits of the elk, moose, mountain sheep,
the antelope, the deer, etc.; those who know the habits and lurking
places of the unscrupulous hunters and poachers who defy the laws and
by any or all means seek to evade punishment. No one is better fitted
than the western ranger to track them down and see that they are
brought to justice.
When we arrived at the MAMMOTH SPRINGS, we found a welcome at the camp
and soon felt very much at home. It was cool enough for a fire, and
many of the tourists gathered around the stove in the office and
chatted with one another until the evening meal, which proved to be a
plentiful repast and well served.
Our tents were furnished after the same pattern as those of the Grand
Canyon Camp, with the exception that these were lighted with
electricity.
The MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS and the beautiful terraces, in attempting
description of which all language has been exhausted, were only a
short distance from the camp; without waiting for a guide, we were
soon winding our way up the side of the hill and around the road where
we could find an entrance to the plateau. I had seen pictures of the
many springs and terraces in colors, and had supposed they were
overdrawn, but I found myself in the same bewildered state as when I
first saw the Grand Canyon. Before I was aware, my tears were flowing
freely at the thought of how impossible it would be to describe these
springs to my friends and others who, perhaps, would never have the
opportunity of seeing them. The blending of colors cannot be
reproduced by the brush of the most gifted artist. I was thankful that
God had permitted me to see the work of His hands that I might help
others in the battle for eternal life.
Some of our party were looking for the DEVIL'S KITCHEN, but in the
absence of a guide were having difficulty in finding it; I had no
inclination to participate in the search. I had been in the
ante-chamber of heaven and at the gates of perdition, and this was
sufficient for one day, so I started back toward the camp, with a lady
who seemed to be satisfied to stay by my side, even though she missed
seeing many of the places of interest.
I knew she was tired, and hoped that she might ride the remainder of
the way. Soon an automobile came along and took her in. By this time
my brother and sister and other members of the party had given up the
search for the Devil's Kitchen and overtaken us. Later I was told that
it is in the crater of an extinct boiling spring, not far from some of
the terraces.
After reaching the camp, I was about to retire, when I decided to go
to the office and see what was going on. A number of persons were
preparing a program for an entertainment, and asked me to make an
address, but I felt that enough had been crowded into one day, and
declined.
Before morning, the weather became very chilly, and I had to use both
the heavy comforters that had been provided for my bed. My circulation
was not good, and my rest was more or less disturbed. I feared a
greater change might come in the weather, and decided to get over the
ground as quickly as possible even though we should have to miss many
of the details of the place.
We had breakfast with Mr. Hayes, president of the Yellowstone Camp
Company, who officially, or otherwise, has been connected with
operations in the Yellowstone for the past twenty-five years. Mr.
Hayes was able to give us some valuable information, which we greatly
appreciated.
MAMMOTH CAMP is situated at the foot of Jupiter Terrace. A short
distance away is Fort Yellowstone, where the administration
headquarters of the Park is located.
I should have enjoyed seeing more of the springs, with their gorgeous
hues and combinations, but with the hope that we should have the
opportunity of visiting the Park again in the near future, our party
took the morning stage to Old Faithful Camp, at the Upper Geyser
Basin.
[Illustration: FORT YELLOWSTONE © _Haynes, St. Paul_]
Before leaving, I got a glimpse of the buffalo herd on the horizon in
the distance, and was surprised to hear how rapidly these animals are
becoming extinct in the Park, where they are so well protected. It
seems that the buffalo and the Indian go together, and thrive only
where civilization has not yet come.
The weather was cold, and having to travel in an open car made it very
uncomfortable until the sun had time to rise above the tall trees and
the mountain peaks. A brisk wind was blowing, and most of the time I
had to keep my face heavily veiled. This hindered me from getting the
full benefit of the scenery on the way to the Norris Geyser Basin.
Here, however, there was so much steam and boiling water I had no
difficulty in getting warm.
We had a skilful driver, who called out the names of the places in a
clear voice. This kept the passengers from being under a strain of
uncertainty and tense listening.
OBSIDIAN CLIFF, formed as the result of volcanic action in ages past,
is twelve miles south of Mammoth Hot Springs. It rises two hundred
fifty feet above the road and is composed of jet-black, volcanic
glass, usually opaque, streaked with red, yellow, and green. When the
roadway was constructed, great fires were built around blocks of this
glass, which, when heated, were cooled by dashing water upon them
resulting in their being shattered into fragments. This is said to be
the only stretch of glass road in existence.
The cliff was "neutral ground" to the different tribes of Indians.
Chips of obsidian and partly finished obsidian arrow-heads are found
throughout the Park, usually at places where the Indians had their
camps. When the cliff is illuminated by the rays of the sun, it has
the appearance of a glistening mirror, and is of much interest to the
tourists.
Four and one-half miles from Norris is ROARING MOUNTAIN with steam
escaping through countless apertures from its rugged side. The sound
of the steam struggling to escape is not so audible now as in the
past, but the whole picture reminds one of the inferno about ready to
blow off its cap.
[Illustration: OBSIDIAN CLIFF © _Haynes, St. Paul_]
In close proximity to the mountain are greenish, milky pools fed by
rivers of sulphur water from the springs. It was not our privilege to
tarry here, from the fact that the weather was uncomfortably cold, but
the mountain stands out before me as one of the most interesting
places to be seen on the tour.
The wind was blowing fiercely when we came to TWIN LAKES, four miles
from Norris Geyser Basin, but I removed my heavy veil in order to get
a better glimpse of them. They are beautiful, and although in such
close proximity, their hues are entirely different.
How often two objects are found so closely allied to each other as to
be inseparable, each one depending upon the other for its existence!
This cannot be a freak of nature or the result of chance. The only
sensible conclusion is that it was so designed by the Creator to teach
a most important spiritual lesson,--that of the two works of grace,
which constitute the panoply of the soul. There is no way to discard
either without serious results.
There is something about clear, pure water, whether it is seen in the
placid lake or the gushing, mountain torrent, that inspires and lifts
a person above the toils and cares of this life, where he is able to
breathe a pure and holy atmosphere. Hence we see why, as shown in the
Scriptures, Jesus so often used water to illustrate the plan of
salvation. Water is the symbol of life, and in the boiling springs,
the pools, the lakes, the chasms, and the great, spouting geysers, a
book is written in the Yellowstone that every one should learn to
read.
Our attention was next called to the FRYING PAN, a basin fifteen feet
across, with numerous boiling jets in constant and violent agitation.
I regretted that circumstances were not more favorable so that I could
have a longer period of time to spend at these places, where Nature is
so full of life and interest.
[Illustrated: ROARING MOUNTAIN © _Haynes, St. Paul_]