At 12 o’clock sharp, I came around another bend and there ahead, across
a valley stood a sharp precipice. They had told me that right behind
this precipice lay the Le Conte Lodge.
I stood a minute, and tried to judge how long it would take to get
there. Distances in the mountains are very deceptive. Out West you can
see a long way, hence an actual distance is much farther than it looks.
I remember once, in the high Rockies, figuring it would take an hour to
get to a certain ridge, but it actually took three hours.
So with this in mind, I estimated one hour to get to this precipice. And
shiver these old timbers, if I wasn’t there in 10 minutes. The climb was
over, and I hadn’t even eaten my sandwich.
Just as I topped the ridge, I turned around in the direction of Park
Headquarters, and looked far down toward where Ranger Edwards was
probably nestling behind his desk, and I puckered up my mouth and said,
“Five hours Pvvvvvvtt.”
* * * * * * * *
P. S.—And now that I’ve used up this whole column bragging on myself, I
suppose I’ll have to get to work tomorrow and tell you what I saw on the
trip. Hope I can think of something good.