OREGON COUNTY CAVES.
GREER SPRING.
Oregon County is also at the extreme southern limit of the State of
Missouri and was visited, not because its caves are supposed to be
either finer or more numerous than those of all the other Ozark
counties, but on account of remarkable attractions associated with them
that are not known to be equaled, or even subject to rivalry, by any
similar works of nature in any portion of the world.
The most convenient railway point is Thayer; the station hotel affords
comfortable accommodations for headquarters, and the last days of
September proved a charming time. The foliage was in full summer glory,
refreshed by a gentle and copious rain, and the insinuating tick had
already retired from active business until the following season.
The carriage having been ordered on condition of its being a clear day,
we left Thayer at eight o'clock on a perfect morning to visit Greer
Spring, and were soon in the depth of the beautiful Ozark forest, from
which we did not once emerge until Alton, the county seat, was reached,
the distance traveled being sixteen miles. Here we stopped for dinner at
the small hotel kept by one of the old-time early settlers who came to
the region before the war. The dinner was a surprise, and received the
highest commendation possible to a dinner, the hearty appreciation of a
boy. A young nephew, Arthur J. Owen, having been invited to act as
escort on the trip, found all the varied experience in cave hunting
fully equal to the pictured joys of anticipation. After a large bell
suspended somewhere outside had notified the business public that dinner
was ready to be served, we were invited to the dining-room, where on a
long table was the abundance of vegetables afforded by the season and
soil of an almost tropical state, and cooked as the white-capped chef of
the great hotel, where the warm weeks were spent, had not learned the
secret of; and the delicately fried chicken was not of that curious
variety, commonly encountered by travelers, in which the development of
legs robs the centiped of his only claim to distinction. As the dishes
cooled they were removed and fresh supplies brought in.
Our driver received directions about the road and we started on another
drive of seven miles. These directions were "to follow the main road to
the forks, and then keep to the Van Buren road and any one could tell
us where Captain Greer lives."
The road was, as before, through the park-like forest, and as before,
lay chiefly along the ridge, so that where clearings had been made for
farms there were fine views over the distant country, which everywhere
was forest-covered hills, of a rich green near at hand but changing with
the growth of distance, first to dark, and then to lighter blue.
In these forests were fine young cattle and horses, and uncounted
numbers of "razorbacks," or as they are otherwise called,
"wind-splitters." For the benefit of those who may not be familiar with
the names, it might be well to explain that they are the natural heirs
of the native wild hog of Missouri and Arkansas. The nephew was greatly
amused at seeing many of them with wooden yokes on their long necks, to
prevent an easy entrance into fields and gardens by squeezing through
the spaces between fence rails. These animals are such swift runners it
is said they can safely cross the railroad between trucks of the fast
express. Their snouts are so long and thin, it is also claimed that two
can drink from a jug at the same time; never having seen it done,
however, this is not vouched for, but merely repeated as hearsay.
[Illustration: Wilderness Pinery, Oregon Co. Page 84.]
After a time we stopped to inquire the way of an old man dipping water
from a pond by the roadside. He told us he was dipping water to wash
the wheat he was sowing in the field just over the fence, and that we
reach the forks, then to keep the Van Buren road, pass two houses on the
left, a white one on the right, another on the left and then inquire the
way--anyone could tell us, and Captain Greer would show us to the
Spring, "for he is a mighty accommodating man."
On we went to the forks where in the point of the Y stood a large tree
with a Van Buren sign-board on one side, and in the direction it
pointed, we turned, although rather reluctantly, for it looked little
used and rocky, while the other was in good condition; but we followed
the sign-board and had no misgivings until it began to be realized that
a great deal of time was being passed but no houses. The morning had
been very chilly, but now the atmosphere was just at that balmy point
between warm and cool that makes mere living an unqualified luxury; and
added to this we soon found ourselves in a deep cañon no less beautiful
than the justly celebrated North Cheyenne Cañon near Colorado Springs.
There was now no doubt that we were on the wrong road, but such
magnificence was unexpected and not to be turned from with indifference.
For some distance the road makes a gradual and rather perilous looking
descent along the steep and broken slope on the shady side of the
ancient river's great retaining-wall, while that opposite is glorified
by the brilliant glow of the afternoon sun, which adds an equal charm to
the rich, luxuriant foliage below and the tall stately pines that adorn,
without concealing, the grey rock they proudly cling to, or that rises
in a protecting rampart three hundred feet higher than the cañon bed,
with banners of the long-needled pine waving above to proclaim the
perfection of Nature's undisturbed freedom.
The road descending crosses the thread of water still flowing among the
great rounded bowlders left by the former torrent, and our view is
changed to one of dense, but by no means melancholy, shadows, with a
crown of golden sunlight; and presently the course of the cañon turns to
the east, and it is all filled with the yellow rays and we notice the
bright red hawthorn berries, and masses of hydrangea still showing
remnants of their late profusion of bloom. We Missourians have a great
love of fine scenery and generally take long journeys into other states
in order to gratify the taste, while quite unconscious of the wonderful
beauty and grandeur of the Ozarks.
Where the cañon begins to broaden into a small sheltered valley as it
approaches Eleven Points River, we turned and retraced our way to the
forks, and a short distance beyond to a house where we might again
inquire. A woman came to the open door as we stopped and in answer to a
question said: "You ought to have asked me when you passed here a while
ago."
Apologies for the seeming neglect were offered and accepted, then she
explained that both roads went to Van Buren but not to Greer Spring,
where in due time we at length arrived.
The house being in one corner of a "forty" and the spring in that
diagonally opposite, there was a walk of nearly that distance before
coming to an old road inclining steeply down into what looked to be a
narrow cañon. About midway of this sloping road, the space confined
between perpendicular walls, rising to heights above on one side and
descending to the stream on the other, widens suddenly and a picturesque
old mill comes into view, it having been wholly screened from the
approach by the rich growth of shrubs and trees. Chief in abundance
among this luxury of leaf was the hydrangea,--a favorite shrub largely
imported into this country from Japan before it was discovered as a
native. The mill site seems to have been selected for its beauty
although we were told that at this point the stream is seventy-two feet
wide, and two and one half feet deep, but could be raised thirty feet
with perfect safety by a dam, for which the rock is already on the
ground and much of it broken ready for use. The flow is said to be two
hundred and eighty yards per minute, with no appreciable variation, and
never freezes. The high walls of the Greer Spring gorge will, of course,
far more than double the value it would otherwise possess, when it
becomes desirable to control and turn to practical account the power now
going so cheerily to waste, but the artistic loss will be
proportionately severe.
The old mill was the scene of great activity in former times, but was
closed on account of an unfortunate accident and for years has had no
other duty than simply to serve as a portion of the landscape.
Just beyond, the cañon makes a curving bend, the road dwindles to a
narrow path and we behold the most beautiful scene imaginable.
The cañon has come to an end and is shut in by a graceful curve of the
high, perpendicular grey walls that are crowned with trees and shrubs,
and decked below with a thick carpet of bright green moss. In this
basin, which is nearly one hundred feet across, Greer Spring plunges up
from beneath through an opening nine feet in diameter, in the midst of a
pool of water six feet deep, and having an unvarying temperature of
forty-nine degrees throughout the year. This water is so perfectly clear
that not the least pebble is obscured from view, and the color scheme is
most marvelous.
[Illustration: Greer Spring. Page 88.]
Where the great spring forces its way to the surface, the water is a
deep, brilliant blue with white caps, and its falling weight keeps clear
of moss a large spot of fine, pure, white sandstone, while all the
balance appears a vivid green from the moss that thrives beneath the
moving water; and surrounding these are the handsome, foliage-decked
grey walls. The edges of the basin are thickly strewn with fallen rocks
deeply covered with moss, in which small ferns are growing, and on these
gay stepping stones we crossed to the head-wall of the cañon to find
ourselves at the open mouth of a cave from which flows a clear, shallow
stream to join the waters of the Spring in that wonderful basin. The
entrance to the cave is an arch about fifteen feet wide and twelve feet
high, with the clear, shallow stream spreading over the clean rock floor
from side to side. Here now was presented a difficulty. Truly the cave
was _not_ quite dry. The water was about ten inches deep, and my boots
in Thayer. Contrary to advice, however, my nephew had brought his, and
with a boy's kindness loaned them while he made the trip with bare feet
and rolled up trousers.
A short distance within, the cave widens and the floor of the extension
being somewhat higher, is dry, but the roof drops so low over it that
the water-course is an easier route of travel; and this soon widens
into a lake above which the ceiling rises in a broad dome less than
twenty feet in height, and hung with heavy masses of dripstone draperies
of varying length, from five to seven feet; and all the ceilings are
fringed at various heights with stalactites of every size and age, some
being a clear, colorless onyx, while others proclaim their great age in
the fact that they have so deteriorated that the onyx texture is either
partly or completely lost, and what was once a pure drip crystal has
returned to a common, porous, dull-colored limestone so soft that
portions can be rubbed to powder in the hand.
Picking the way carefully as the depth of the lovely lake increased, we
followed the sound of falling water and peered into the dark distance in
a vain effort to see it, yet expecting to reach that special object of
interest by keeping to the shallower parts of the lake. These
expectations were shattered suddenly when the boots filled with water,
and that called to mind the fact that twenty-three miles and a chilly
night lay between us and dry clothing; so we returned to the outside
world and rested on the rocks where Captain Greer and our young driver
waited for us. The cave has never been fully explored, and probably we
penetrated farther than others have ever done, as the owner knew
nothing of the falling water we so distinctly heard and were surely very
near.
The view from the rocks is wonderfully beautiful and includes both the
entrance to the cave, with its flowing stream, and the receiving basin
with its bounding stream. But it was growing late in the afternoon, and
there was another cave whose entrance was in the perpendicular wall
above the end of the path by which we had come. This entrance could be
reached by a dilapidated ladder; assisted by a forked pole and supplied
with candles and matches, my nephew and I achieved the ascent with not
much trouble. Here we found what is, no doubt, one of the oldest caves
known.
The original cavity is nearly filled up with masses of onyx--colorless
crystal and white striped with pale shades of grey. The cave is
perfectly dry and freshly broken surfaces in some places show signs of
deterioration, so how can we venture even a guess as to the time it has
required to first excavate the cave and then fill it with masses of rock
deposited by the slow drip process, and later, for that crystalline rock
in a now dry atmosphere to present a perceptible weakening? We went as
far as passages could be crawled into, which was no great distance, and
at once started on our uncertain descent of the ladder; but this was not
a matter of so much concern as the upward trip, for the success of
which some doubts were entertained; for going down is always naturally a
less certain matter, as one can fall if more desirable means are
unsuccessful, and I have unexpectedly reached many coveted points in
this simple manner.
Taking a last look at Greer Spring with its cave river, grey walls, gay
with foliage, and all the harmony of color and form combined in the
narrow cañon that was once the main body of a great cave, I recalled
views on the Hudson River and in the mountains of Maryland, Virginia and
Pennsylvania, and others out in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado and the
Wausatch in Utah, but amid all their wonderful grandeur and famous
beauty, could remember no spot superior to this masterpiece of the
Ozarks.
The proprietor of the Spring and a thousand acres of land adjacent, took
personal possession on the day of Lincoln's first election, to establish
a home.
The sun having failed to consider our wishes was now about to disappear
in a gleaming flood of gold, so the return to Thayer that night was out
of the question. Our host and his wife observed that fact and cordially
invited us to remain for the night and as much longer as we would like
to, but being unwilling to impose on kindness to such an extent, we
returned to the hotel in Alton, and now urgently advise that those who
ever have an opportunity to enjoy a moonlight drive through the Ozark
forests should not let it pass unimproved.
OTHER CAVES NEAR BY.
About twelve miles from Alton there are three other caves worthy of
attention. Two of these are known only as The Saltpetre Caves, and the
third as The Bat Cave.
Not many persons care to visit the Bat Cave, for although its
inhabitants are small, they have evidently decided to profit by the
experience of the Red Man and take no risks through hospitality. Their
warnings can be heard like distant thunder for some distance outside the
cave, and any unheeding intruder is set upon in fury by such vast
numbers of the little creatures that his only safety is in hasty
retreat.
During the war the two Saltpetre Caves were worked to a considerable
extent, and also served as safe retreats for the residents of the
region, as well as the visiting "Jonny," when the vicinity became
oppressively "blue."
Both of these caves are especially notable on account of the fine
stalactites with which they are abundantly supplied; most of them being
snow white and from fourteen to twenty feet in length.
Unfortunately, most of the caves in this region have been deprived of
great quantities of their beautiful adornments by visitors who are
allowed to choose the best and remove it in such quantities as may suit
their convenience and pleasure. Those who own the caves, and those who
visit them, would do well to remember that if all the natural adornment
should be allowed to remain in its original position, it would continue
to afford pleasure to many persons for an indefinite time; but if
broken, removed, and scattered the pleasure to a few will be
comparatively little and that short-lived. The gift of beauty should
always be honored and protected for the public good.
We were not so fortunate as to discover fossils of any kind in this
locality, although the search was by no means thorough; but even if it
had been the result might have been the same, since that county and
others adjoining have been mapped as Cambrian. The greater part of the
exposed rock is a fine sandstone almost as white as gypsum on a fresh
fracture, and much of it is ripple-marked so as to show a beautifully
fluted surface of remarkable regularity. These ripple flutings are
sometimes more than an inch in width, and often less, but the variations
never appear on the same level, the smallest being seen on the hill-tops
and the larger outcropping on the downward slopes.