Nature in Poetic Moods.—Is there Lurking Danger?—A Sanitarium.—The
Liberty Cap.—The Giant’s Thumb.—Singular Caves.—Falls of the Gardiner
River.—In the Saddle.—Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone.—Far-Reaching
Antiquity. Obsidian Cliffs.—A Road of Glass.—Beaver Lake.—Animal
Builders.—Aborigines of the Park.—The Sheep-Eaters.—The Shoshones and
other Tribes.
How unapproachable is Nature in her poetic moods! how opulent in
measure! how subtle in delicacy! No structure of truest proportions
reared by man could equal the beauty of this lovely, parti-colored
terrace. It recalled—being of kindred charm—that perfection of
Mohammedan architecture the Taj-Mahal at Agra, as seen under the deep
blue sky and blazing sun of India. Since the late sweeping destruction
by earthquake and volcanic outburst of the similarly formed pink and
white terraces in the Hot Lake district of New Zealand, at Tarawera,
these of the Yellowstone Park have no longer a known rival. We may
therefore congratulate ourselves in possessing a natural formation which
is both grand and unique. In the far-away southern country referred to,
there were no more symptoms foretelling the awful convulsion of nature
which buried a broad, deep lake, together with an entire valley and
native village, beneath lava and volcanic ashes, than there is exhibited
in our own reservation at this writing. What signifies it that the
Yellowstone Park has probably remained in its present comparatively
quiet condition for many, many ages? The liability to a grand volcanic
outburst at any moment is none the less imminent. History repeats
itself. It has ever been the same with all great throes of Nature.
Centuries of comparative quiet elapse, and then occurs, without any
obvious predisposing cause, a great and awful explosion. The catastrophe
of Pompeii is familiar to us all, which, in its turn, repeated the story
of Herculaneum.
The Mammoth Hot Springs of the Yellowstone Park are not only beautiful
in the tangible forms which they present, and the kaleidoscopic
combinations of color which they produce, though their seeming crystal
clearness is indescribable, but they have also remarkable medicinal
virtues which enhance their interest and practical value. It is on this
account that the place is gradually becoming a popular sanitarium,
drawing patients from long distances at suitable seasons, especially
those who suffer from rheumatic affections and skin diseases. Persistent
bathing in the waters accomplishes many remarkable cures, if current
statements can be credited, and there is ample reason for such a result.
The pure air of this altitude must also be of great benefit to invalids
generally, but more especially to those suffering from malarial poison
and nervous prostration. The chemical properties of each spring are
distinctive, most of them having been carefully analyzed, and the
invalid is thus enabled to choose the one which is presumably best
adapted to his special ailment.
Groups of pines, or single trees, find sufficient nutriment in the
calcareous deposit to support life, and thus a certain barrenness is
robbed of its depressing effect, while the whole is partially framed by
densely wooded hills which serve to throw the terraces strongly into the
foreground. When we last looked upon the scene the sun was setting amid
a canopy of gold and orange hues, as the evening gun of the military
encampment in the valley echoed again and again in sonorous tones among
the everlasting hills, and died away in the distant gorges of the
Yellowstone.
A lady visitor who entered the Park at the same time with the author, on
the first day of her arrival placed a pine cone in one of the springs
near to the hotel. So rapid is the action of the mineral deposit which
is constantly going on that at the close of the eighth day the cone was
taken from the spring crystallized, as it were, being encrusted with a
silicious deposit nearly the sixteenth of an inch in thickness. Branches
of fern, acorns, and other objects are treated in a similar manner,
often producing very charming and peculiar ornaments which serve as
pleasing souvenirs of the traveler’s visit.
In sight of the hotel piazza there is a curious and interesting object,
built up by a spouting spring long since extinct, and which has been
named the Liberty Cap. It is a little on one side but yet in front of
the terraces, and appears to be composed entirely of carbonate of lime.
With a diameter of about fifteen feet at the base, it gradually tapers
to its apex forty feet from the ground. This prominent formation, though
remarkable, is yet no mystery. It was produced by the waters of a
spring, probably forced up by hydrostatic pressure, overflowing and
precipitating its sediment around the vent, until finally, the cause
ceasing, the pressure become exhausted and the cone was thus formed. It
may have required ages of activity in the spring thus to erect its own
mausoleum,—no one can safely conjecture how long. Still nearer to the
terraces is a similar formation called the Giant’s Thumb. Both are
slowly becoming disintegrated by atmospheric influences; we say slowly,
since they may still exist, slightly diminished in size, a hundred years
hence. There is manifestly a tendency in the springs which are now
active in other parts of the neighborhood to build just such tall
cylinders of sinter about their vents. Some of the partially formed
cones in the vicinity are perfect, as far as they have accumulated,
while others present a broken appearance, as if shattered by a sudden
explosion.
There are several caves in the neighborhood of the terraces daintily
ornamented with stalactites of snowy whiteness, where springs which have
long since become exhausted were once as active as those which now
render this place so interesting. From one of these caves there issues a
peculiar gas, believed to be fatal to animal life. A bird, it is said,
flying across the entrance close enough to inhale the vapor will drop
lifeless to the ground. We are not prepared to vouch for this,—indeed we
very much doubt the guide’s story,—but it naturally recalled the Grotto
del Cane, near Naples, where it will be remembered the guides are only
too ready to sacrifice a dog for such visitors as are cruel enough to
permit it, by causing the animal to inhale the poisonous gas which
settles to the lower part of the cave so named.
There is another cave not far from the hotel very seldom resorted to,
and which appears to have once been the operating sphere of a large
geyser, but which is now only a dark hole. Into this one descends by a
ladder. It is a weird, uncanny place, requiring torches in order to see
after entering its precincts. Aroused by the artificial light, myriads
of bats drop from the ceiling, until the place seems alive with them.
Now and then in their gyrations one touches the visitor’s hand or cheek
with its cold, damp body, causing an involuntary shudder. Verily, the
Bats’ Cave is not an inviting place to visit.
One of the first places which the stranger seeks after enjoying the
attractions of the terraces and a few curiosities near to the hotel is
the Middle Falls of the Gardiner River, situated three or four miles
away in a southerly direction. Here we look down into a broad, dark
cañon considerably over a thousand feet deep, and whose rough,
precipitous sides are nearly five hundred feet apart at the summit,
gradually narrowing towards the bottom. The Gardiner River flows through
the gorge, having at one place an unbroken fall of a hundred feet; also
presenting a mad, roaring, rushing series of cascades of three hundred
feet descent. The aspect and general characteristics of this turmoil of
waters recalled the famous Falls of Trolhätta, in Sweden. The hoarse
music of the waters, rising through the branches of the pines which line
the gorge, pierce the ear with a thrilling cadence all their own, while
the dark cañon stretches away for many miles in its wild and sombre
grandeur. It is well to visit this spot before going to greater
distances from the hotel. Impressive as it is sure to prove, there is
yet a much superior feature of the Park, of similar character, which
remains to be seen. We refer to the Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone
River, where an immense cataract is formed by the surging waters near
the head of the gorge, which here narrows to about one hundred feet. The
volume of water is very great at the point where it rushes over a ledge
nearly four hundred feet in height, at one bold leap. This is known as
the Lower Fall, there being another half a mile above it, called the
Upper Fall, which is one hundred and fifty feet high. These falls are
more picturesque, but less grand than the Lower. They are presented to
our view higher up among the green trees, where lovely wild flowers and
waving ferns cling to the rocks, and under the inspiring rays of the
sunlight add to their brightness and crystal beauty. A waterfall, like
an oil-painting, may be hung in a good or a disadvantageous position as
to light, and both are largely dependent upon this contingency for their
inspiring charm.
The Great or Lower Fall of the Yellowstone Cañon is twice as high as
Niagara, while the beautiful blazonry on the walls of the deep gorge,
like some huge mosaic, all aglow with matchless color, marvelous in
opulence, adds a fascinating charm unknown to the mammoth fall just
named. These varied hues have been produced by the snow and frost, vapor
and sunshine, the lightning and the rain of ages, acting upon certain
chemical constituents of the native rock. This is said to be the most
wonderful mountain gorge, when all of its belongings are taken into
consideration, yet discovered. It is over twenty miles long, and is in
many places from twelve to fifteen hundred feet deep. The author has
visited the imposing cañons of Colorado, the thrilling gorges of the
Yosemite, and some of still greater magnitude in the Himalayan range of
northern India, but never has he seen the equal of this Grand Cañon of
the Yellowstone, or beheld so high a waterfall of equal volume.
A safe platform has been erected at the edge of the fall, where one can
stand and witness its amazing plunge of over three hundred and fifty
feet. The stranger instinctively holds his breath while watching the
irresistible volume of water as it advances, and follows it with the eye
into the profound depth of the cañon. The best view of the gorge,
however, is that obtained from Lookout Point, situated about a mile
south of the Lower Fall. A half mile farther in the same direction, and
at the same elevation, lies Inspiration Point, from whence a more
comprehensive outlook may be enjoyed. The grouping of crags, pinnacles,
and inaccessible points is grand and inexpressibly beautiful. Eagles’
nests with their young are visible at eyries quite out of reach, save to
the monarch bird itself. On other isolated points, far below us, are
seen the nests of fish-hawks, whose builders look like swallows in size
as they float upon the air, or dart for their prey into the swift,
tumultuous stream that threads the valley. Gazing upon the scene, the
vastness of which is bewildering, a sense of reverence creeps over us,—
reverence for that Almighty hand whose power is here recorded in such
unequaled splendor. At last it is a relief to turn away from looking
into the sheer depth and reach a securer basis for the feet. Still we
linger until the sunset shadows lengthen and pass away, followed by the
silvery moonlight. Every hour of the day has its peculiar charm of light
and shade as seen upon the cañon and its churning waters.
The excursion out and back from the hotel to view the principal points
of interest in the neighborhood covers a distance of about seven miles
through the woods and along the threatening brink of the gorge. A rude
Indian trail affords the only means of reaching the several outlooks.
Saddle-horses are supplied for the excursion by the hotel proprietor,
and visitors generally avail themselves of this mode of transportation.
The horses employed for the service are remarkably sagacious and
sure-footed. Understanding exactly what is required of them, they
overcome the deep pitches and abrupt rises of the narrow, tortuous way
with great ingenuity and caution. At times one is borne so near the
brink of the awful chasm as to make the passage rather exciting. It must
be admitted that a single misstep on the part of the animal which bears
him would hurl horse and rider two thousand feet down the cañon to
instant destruction. There is no barrier between the cliff and the few
inches of earth forming the path. Visitors are cautioned at starting to
give the horses their heads, and not attempt to guide them as they would
do under ordinary circumstances. The intelligent animals fully
comprehend the exigencies of the situation. On the occasion of the
writer’s visit the equestrian party consisted of nine persons, including
the guide; of these, two ladies and one gentleman abandoned the saddles
after the first mile, finding the seeming danger too much for their
nerves, and completed the long tramp on foot.
“What wonderful majesty and beauty are hidden here from an unconscious
world,” said an experienced member of our little party whom chance had
brought together at the brink of the gorge. “Everybody visits Niagara,”
he continued, “but few, comparatively, participate in the glory and
loveliness of this place, and yet how superior in attraction it is to
those lines of summer travel, the Natural Bridge of Virginia, the
Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, or even the justly famed Yosemite Valley;”—a
sentiment which all heartily indorsed.
In these pages we pass rapidly from one great attraction to another,
because we have only a limited space in which to speak of them, but the
intelligent and appreciative visitor will be more leisurely in his
examination. Hours may be profitably occupied in the careful observation
and thorough enjoyment of each locality, the interest growing by what it
feeds upon. One hardly realizes the passage of time when occupied in the
contemplation of such strange and absorbing objects, and is apt to
linger thoughtfully until he is warned by the business-like suggestion
of the guide.
Another interesting spot which the stranger will hasten to visit is the
Obsidian Cliffs, situated about a dozen miles from the hotel. These
singular and, so far as we know, unique cliffs are formed of volcanic
glass, and measure a thousand feet in length by nearly two hundred in
height, recalling in general effect the Giant’s Causeway in the north of
Ireland. They rise in almost vertical columns from the eastern shore of
Beaver Lake. The color of the glass is dark green, like that of which
cheap quart bottles are made, and though the glass glistens like jet it
is opaque. A carriage road has been provided,—a glass road,—a quarter of
a mile long, running by the base of the cliffs. To construct this road
large fires were built upon the obsidian mass, which, when thoroughly
heated, was dashed with cold water, causing it to crack and crumble to
pieces. It was a tedious undertaking, but an available roadway was at
last the result.
Close at hand is Beaver Lake, of artificial origin, having been created
by the industrious animal after which it is named. A colony have here
built a series of thirty dams, thus forming a sheet of water of
considerable depth, half a mile in width, and two miles long, framed by
tall, straight pines, and covered near the shore with aquatic flowers.
As we passed the lake, in its shady corners were seen flocks of ducks in
gaudy colors and of many different species, while on the far side
representatives of the beaver tribe were kind enough to exhibit
themselves for our amusement. The series of dams which these little
creatures have constructed hereabouts have falls of from three to six
feet each, extending for a distance of nearly two miles. The lily plants
which bordered Beaver Lake were of a curious amber color, growing here
and there in groups of great density. At a snap of the driver’s whip a
bevy of wild ducks rose, but lazily settled again upon the water close
at hand. “They have read the printed regulations of the Park,” said the
driver, “and know that no one will attempt to shoot them.” Beyond the
lake are broad patches of level meads, sprinkled with lovely wild
flowers, in which yellow, purple, and white prevailed. The delicate
little phlox, modestly clinging to the ground, was fragrant above all
the rest. Occasional spots bordering the pine woods showed the exquisite
enamel of the blue violets, which emitted their familiar and welcome
fragrance. These were dominated by a tall, regal flower, clustering on
one stem, whose name we know not, but which formed great masses of
purple bloom.
Close to the curious and interesting Obsidian Cliffs is a pleasant
resort called Willow Park, a cool, shady spot, where a clear stream of
good water flows through a stretch of rich pasture land, forming a
delightful rural picture, full of peaceful and poetic suggestiveness.
This is a favorite camping ground for those who adapt that mode of
visiting the several sections of the Park.
The stranger looks about him in silent amazement, wondering how long
Nature has been displaying her erratic moods after the fashion exhibited
here, now smiling with winning tenderness, and now frowning with
implacable sternness. He sees everywhere evidences of great antiquity,
and beholds objects which must date from time incalculably remote, but
there is no recorded history extant of this strange region. The original
Indian inhabitants of the Park were a very peculiar people,—a sort of
gnome race,—a tribe individually of Liliputian size, who lived in
natural caves, of which there are many in the hills, where rude and
primitive implements of domestic use belonging to the aborigines have
been found. They do not seem to have possessed even the customary
legends of savage races concerning their surroundings and their origin.
This tribe, the former dwellers here, were called the Sheep-eating
Indians, because they lived almost solely upon the flesh, and clothed
themselves in the skins, of the big-horn sheep of these mountains,—an
animal which is found running wild in more or less abundance throughout
the whole northern range of the Rocky Mountains, even where it reaches
into Alaska. These natives are represented to have been a timid and
harmless people, without iron tools or weapons of any sort, except bows
and arrows, to which may be added hatchets and knives formed of the
flint-like volcanic glass indigenous to the Park. They were an isolated
people from the very nature of their country, which was nearly
inaccessible at all seasons, and entirely so during the long and severe
winters.
Other native tribes were debarred from this region through superstitious
fear, induced by the incomprehensible demonstrations of Nature exhibited
in boiling springs, spouting geysers, and the trembling earth,
accompanied by subterranean explosions. This seemed to them to be
evidence of the wrath of the Great Spirit, angered, perhaps, by their
unwelcome presence. The Sheep-eaters, born among these scenes, gave no
special heed to them, and rather fostered an idea which prevented others
from interfering with the surrounding game, and which also gave them
immunity from the otherwise inevitable oppression of a stronger and more
aggressive people than themselves. As civilization advanced westward, or
rather as the white man found his way thither, this Yellowstone tribe
gradually dwindled away or became united with the Shoshones of Iowa.
Their individuality seems now to have been entirely lost, not a trace of
them, even, being discernible, according to more than one intelligent
writer upon the subject.
No Indians of any tribe are now permitted in the reservation, otherwise,
lazy as these aborigines are, they would soon make reckless havoc among
the fine collection of wild animals which is gathered here. The Indians
are all in the annual receipt of money and ample food supplies from the
government; and the killing of extra game and selling the hides would
furnish them with only so many more dollars to be expended for whiskey
and tobacco. These tribes have no idea of economy, or care for the
future. The reliance they place upon government supplies promotes a
spirit of recklessness and extravagance. If their potato crop fails, or
partial famine sets in from some extraordinary cause, it finds them
utterly unprepared to meet the exigency. Oftentimes it is found that the
government rations and supplies have been sold, and the money received
therefor lavishly squandered.
------------------------------------------------------------------------