There is a quaint Indian legend concerning the Cascades to the effect
that away back in the forgotten times there was a natural bridge across
the river--the water flowing under one arch. The Great Spirit had made
this bridge very beautiful for his red children; it was firm, solid
earth, and covered with trees and grass. The two great giants who sat
always glowering at each other from far away (Mount Adams and Mount
Hood) quarreled terribly once on a time, and the sky grew black with
their smoke and the earth trembled with their roaring. And in their
rage and fury they began to throw great stones and huge mountain
boulders at one another. This great battle lasted for days, and when
the smoke and the thunderings had passed away and the sun shone
peacefully again, the people came back once more. But there was no
bridge there. Pieces of rock made small islands above the lost bridge,
but below that the river fretted and shouted and plunged over jagged
and twisted boulders for miles down the stream, throwing the spray high
in air, madly spending its strength in treacherous whirlpools and deep
seductive currents--ever after to be wrathful, complaining, dangerous.
The stoutest warrior could not live in that terrible torrent. So the
beautiful bridge was lost, destroyed in this Titan battle, but far down
in the water could be seen many of the stately trees which the Great
Spirit caused to remain there as a token of the bridge. These he turned
to stone, and they are there even unto this day. The theory of the
scientists, of course, runs counter to the pretty legend. Science
usually does destroy poetry, and they tell us that a part of the
mountain slid into the river, thus accounting for the remnant of a
forest down in the deep water. Moreover, pieces which have been
recovered show the wood to be live timber, and not petrified, as the
poetic fiction has it. The Columbia has not changed in the centuries,
but flows in the same channel here as when in the remote ages the lava,
overflowing, cut out a course and left its pathway clear for all time.
Below the lower Cascades a sea-coral formation is found, grayish in
color and not very pretty, but showing conclusively its sea formation.
Sandstone is also at times uncovered, showing that this was made by sea
deposit before the lava flowed down upon it. This Oregon country is
said to be the largest lava district in the world. The basaltic
formations in the volcanic lands of Sicily and Italy are famous for
their richness, and Oregon holds out the same promise for agriculture.
The lava formation runs from Portland to Spokane Falls, as far north as
Tacoma, and south as far as Snake river--all basaltic formation
overlaid with an incomparably rich soil.
[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, COLUMBIA RIVER, ORE. On the Union
Pacific Ry.]
The trip from Portland by rail to "The Dalles," if the tourist should
chance not to arrive in Portland by the Union Pacific line from the
east, will be found charming. It is eighty-eight miles distant.
Multnomah Falls is reached in thirty-two miles; Bonneville, forty-one
miles, at the foot of the Cascades; five miles farther is the
stupendous government lock now in process of building around the
rapids; Hood river, sixty-six miles, where tourists leave for the
ascent of Mount Hood. It is about forty miles through a picturesque
region to the base of the mountain. Then from Hood river, an ice-cold
stream, twenty-two miles into "The Dalles," where the steamer may be
taken for the return trip. In this eighty-eight miles from Portland to
"The Dalles" there are twelve miles of trestles and bridges. The
railway follows the Columbia's brink the entire distance to within a
few miles of the city. The scenery is impressively grand; the bluffs,
if they may be so called, are bold promontories attaining majestic
heights. One timber shute, where the logs come whizzing into the river
with the velocity of a cannon-ball, is 3,328 feet long, and it is
claimed a log makes the trip in twenty seconds.