Transcriber Notes
Missing punctuation and obvious typos corrected, other inconsistencies
in spelling and hyphenation in the original retained.
Italics are represented by underscores surrounding the _italic text_.
Underlined text is represented by asterisks surrounding the *underlined
text*.
Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.
Descriptions have been added to illustrations with no captions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SHOSHONE TUNNEL, CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER.]
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*HISTORICAL FINE ART SERIES.*
“GLIMPSES OF AMERICA”
A PICTORIAL AND DESCRIPTIVE HISTORY OF
Our Country’s Scenic Marvels,
DELINEATED BY PEN AND CAMERA.
By J. W. BUEL,
Who, in a Special Photograph Car
and accompanied by a corps of accomplished Artists,
visited every part of the United States and Canada,
to picture and describe all the wonderful scenery found therein.
PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE PICTURESQUE WONDERLANDS OF NORTH AMERICA.
From Regions of Perpetual Ice to Lands of Perennial Sunshine.
PUBLISHED BY
HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,
PHILADELPHIA.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: train car]
The Engravings in this volume were made from original photographs, and
are specially protected by Copyright, and notice is hereby given, that
any person or persons guilty of reproducing or infringing the copyright
in any way will be dealt with according to law.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year
1894, by
H. S. SMITH,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
Washington, D. C.
All rights reserved.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE SUBLIMELY GRAND AND INCOMPARABLE SCENERY OF AMERICA.—
Picturesque lands and places of other countries—Engagement
of a corps of Photographers—Equipment of our Camera car—A
trip to the Rocky Mountains—Hasty resumé of the pictorial
districts visited—From summer climes to Alaska’s glacial
shores—Excursions by car, stage, donkey and foot—
Educational benefits of the tour—The work one of patriotic
incitement, 6-16
CHAPTER I.
AMONG THE WILD SCENES OF COLORADO.—Through the Gateway of
the Rockies—Wondrous visions—In the cañons of Bear Creek—
Colossal cleavage of Clear Creek—A submerged forest of
petrified trees—Among the clouds—Devil’s Gate to Bridal
Veil Falls—The Loop at Georgetown—Silver Flume—Cornucopias
of silver—Over the switchback to silver lands—Between
towering crags—Terrific convulsions of nature—Dome Rock—
Invocation of surging waters—The highest point ever
reached by rail—A marvelous tunnel—An astounding view—
Through Boulder Cañon and into North Park—A tour of Estes
Park—Visits to Long’s Peak and Bald Mountain—Wild game in
savage haunts—Climbing the American Matterhorn—Bewildering
prospect from the “key-hole”—A trip to Table Mountain and
examination of the glaciers—A journey through Middle Park—
A story of Grand Lake—Away up on a dizzy brink, 17-40
CHAPTER II.
MANITOU THE MIGHTY.—Twin cities that sit at the feet of
Pike’s Peak—A spell of wonderment wrought by the
eccentricities of nature—God’s acres of tumultuous stone—
The story of Major Pike’s discovery—The first ascent of
Pike’s Peak—The cog-wheel railroad to the summit—A trip to
cloud-land—The wonderful panorama to be surveyed from the
peak—A battalion of mountains in review—A storm on the
mountain—Ute Pass to Cascade Cañon—Rainbow Falls and Grand
Caverns—From the Cave-of-the-Winds down William’s Cañon—
Garden of the Gods—Nature in wild riot of gruesome forms
and sublime creations—Through Glen Eyrie and Monument
Park—Witcheries that confound imagination—A visit to
Cheyenne Cañon—Seven Falls—Entrancing hymns of nature—
Legends of the Manitou, 41-62
CHAPTER III.
GRAND CAÑONS OF WESTERN RIVERS.—A land of graceful, deep-
leaping waterfalls—A park of marvelous petrifactions—Buena
Vista, the beautiful view—Sportsmen’s Paradise—Through
Hagerman Tunnel to Mount of the Holy Cross—Grand River
Cañon—Sixteen miles of natural wonders—The Grand Cañon of
the Colorado—Major Powell’s Trip from Green River to Yuma—
A perilous journey richly recompensed—Flaming Gorge and
Horseshoe Cañons—Tossed by dangerous rapids into halls and
temples carved by Titans—In a chasm 7,000 feet deep—
Caverns of Enchantment and walls flecked with rainbow
colors—A borderland of phantasy—Cave habitations of an
extinct race—Story of the hunted refugees—Vermilion
Cliffs, Temples of the Virgin and Marble Cañon—Glories
that thrill the heart with ecstasy, and fill the soul with
reverence, 63-84
CHAPTER IV.
MARVELS OF THE GREAT DESERT.—Magnificence of the scenery
along Grand River—From mountain to plain—Beautiful Provo
Falls—Our great inland sea—Fruitfulness of Salt Lake
Valley—A wall of mountains around Salt Lake—Shores of
ancient Lake Bonneville, now America’s Dead Sea—Islands of
Salt Lake—The Mormon City and how it was founded—Red Butte
and Emigrant Cañons—Garfield Beach and Giant’s Cave—Echo
and Weber Cañons—Valleys of marvelous diversity—The
Devil’s Slide and the Witches’ Playground—Beaver River
Gulch and scenic wonders about Ogden—A trip across the
creviced lava fields of Idaho—The magnitude and awfulness
of Shoshone Falls—A second Niagara in the desert—Twin,
Cascade and Bridal Veil Falls—A realistic description of
this incomparable wonderland, 85-112
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: CURRECANTI NEEDLE, ON CURRECANTI RIVER, COLORADO.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER V.
PAGE
OVER THE HEIGHTS AND INTO THE DEEPS OF WONDERLAND.—Through
the portals of Black Cañon—Astounding views along Gunnison
River—Chippeta Falls and Currecanti Needle—A sight of
Fossil Ridge and the Cone of Ouray—The trip over Marshall
Pass—The terrible mightiness of the Royal Gorge—Hanging
Bridge—The tempestuously craggy route between Ironton and
Ouray—Marvelous engineering skill—Weirdly savage Animas
Cañon—A railroad balcony 1,500 feet above the river—A
flight high as the eagle’s—Kit Carson’s Exploits in Cañon
de Chelle—The awesomeness of Toltec Gorge—A parade-ground
of Nature’s Idols—Looking down upon the world—Blooming
flowerland of San Luis Park—Down through Comanche Cañon—A
side trip to ruined pueblos and cliff dwellings in New
Mexico—Something about an extinct race—The Grave of Kit
Carson—Some history of remarkable interest—The ancient
Pueblo Indians and their dwellings—Magnificent ruins of
the Casa Grandes—Montezuma’s Palace—Evidences of a walled
and towered city—Prehistoric man in New Mexico, 113-152
CHAPTER VI.
ACROSS THE CACTUS DESERT INTO CALIFORNIA’S GOLDEN LAND.—The
Zuni plateau—Approach to the Grand Cañon of the Colorado—A
scene of overpowering sublimity—A Mohave Village—Death
Valley—From sterility to fertility—Monterey and its
attractions—A visit to the Lick Observatory and the great
telescope—In and around San Francisco—The Seals’ Sporting
Grounds—The Mariposa grove of big trees—A trip through the
wondrous valley of the Yosemite—A stage journey through a
region of incomparable grandeur—Wonders and curiosities of
the Yosemite—Falls of extraordinary beauty and peaks of
amazing height—The Calaveras big trees—The journey from
Ogden to California—Across the great American desert—
Indian camps along the way—The Humboldt Palisades—Lake
Tahoe—The sad story of the Donner party—Along the lofty
crest of American Cañon—Giant’s Gap and Cape Horn—The
beautiful Sacramento Valley, 153-192
CHAPTER VII.
OUR JOURNEY THROUGH PICTURESQUE REGIONS OF THE NORTHWEST.—
Winter in vernal climes—A plunge into the Siskiyou Range—
the light that crowns Shasta’s head—Soda Springs that
titillate the palate like champagne—Exquisite Mossbrae
Falls—A glorious sight from Portland’s heights—Lofty peaks
of the Cascade Range—A trip up the Columbia—Pictorial
shores that lend charm to interest—Its dales, palisades
and waterfalls—A panorama of extraordinary grandeur—A side
trip to Crater Lake—Traditions of the Klamath Indians—The
most marvelous body of water on earth—Indian legend of
creation, the flood and repeopling of the world—Wondrous
visions on the lake—The core of a great volcano—A Siwash
legend of the Saviour—A voyage to Alaska—First sight of
the glaciers—In the land of icebergs—Description of Muir
Glacier—Birth of icebergs—History of the glacial epoch—
Facts and fancies about Alaskan natives—Their religion and
mortuary customs—Oh, glorious night of the North! 193-234
CHAPTER VIII.
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS TO YELLOWSTONE PARK.—A detour on the
Canadian Pacific Railroad—Magnificent scenery along Fraser
River—Green lakes on mountain brows—Canadian National
Park—A glimpse of the Sandwich Islands through other eyes
than ours—Down the Yakimer River—Spokane and Palouse
Falls—Sights along Snake River—Pinnacle Rocks—Lost Falls—
Lakes of marvelous beauty and rivers of torrential flow—A
trip to the 12 falls of the Missouri—Our visit to
Yellowstone Park—The wondrous gateway to Gardiner Cañon—
Nesting place of the sentinel eagle—Mammoth Hot Springs
Terraces—Remarkable formations more beautiful than the
Cave of Stalacta—Springs glowing with brilliant coloring—
Terraces of petrified rainbows—Through the Golden Gate, by
deep cañon, lofty waterfall and far-soaring cliffs—In
purgatorial regions—Growling caves and spouting Geysers—
The Devil’s Kitchen and his Majesty’s Mush-pot—Along
Firehole River and into the Lower Basin—The land of
fearful surprises and volcanic energy—Yellowstone Lake and
its game-abounding shores—Death Valley and Petrified
Forest—Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone and its flowing
beauties—Tower and Yellowstone Falls—A grave-yard of
mammoth quadrupeds, 235-288
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: CHIPPETA FALLS, IN BLACK CAÑON OF GUNNISON RIVER.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IX.
PAGE
AMONG THE WONDERS OF THE BLACK HILLS.—Beautiful Dells of the
St. Croix—Scenes of the last Indian uprising—The scenery
about Deadwood—Tumultuous wonders of Custer Park—Marvels
of Elk Creek Cañon—Harney’s Peak and Wedge Rock—Horseshoe
Curve—Keith’s Crystal Cave—A trip to the Belle Fourche—
Astounding wonder of the Devil’s Tower—A basaltic column
higher than the Eiffel Tower—Speculations concerning its
formation—Crow Butte and Signal Rock—A story of Indian
heroism—St. Anthony’s Falls—Charming beauty of Minnehaha—
Dells of the St. Croix—The Devil’s Fishing Place—Customs
of the Wisconsin Indians—Making a Medicine Man—Witchery of
the Wisconsin Dells—Cleavages of extraordinary curiosity—
Funeral ceremonies of the Ojibways—Wonders of Devil’s Lake
and Camp Douglas—Through the Straits of Mackinaw—
Picturesqueness of Superior’s Shores—Pictured palisades
and frozen waterfalls—Scenery along the north shore—A trip
down the Mississippi, 289-344
CHAPTER X.
SCENIC MARVELS OF THE GREAT NORTHEAST.—Mountain scenes in
the vicinity of Eureka Springs—Legend of the Starved Rock
in Illinois—Sublime glories and immensity of Niagara
Falls—Utilization of the waters—Some interesting
scientific facts—The Mohawk Valley and Leather Stocking
Stories—Magnificence of Watkin’s and Havana Glens—The
poetry of idyllic retreats—Down through the Thousand
Islands—Chateaugay Chasm—Cañons of the Ausable and
bewildering glories of the Adirondacks—Hunting grounds of
the great North wilderness—Scenes of incomparable
grandeur—Story of our tramp through the Catskills—A trip
down the Hudson—Places famous in American history—West
Point and its noted surroundings, 345-382
CHAPTER XI.
A PICTORIAL TOUR OF THE EASTERN STATES.—A trip through the
scenic regions of Canada—Torrential mightiness of
Chaudiere Falls—The falls of Montreal River—A trip through
Lachine Rapids—Something about the early history of
Quebec—Winter sports in Montreal—The home of Queen
Victoria’s father—Beautiful scenery in the vicinity of
Quebec—A journey through the New England States—The Green
Mountains of Vermont—Description of the White Mountains—
Singular examples of nature sculpturing—Ascension of the
highest peaks and bewildering views therefrom—The cog-
wheel railroad up Mount Washington—Sensations and charms
of the ascent—A typical village in a New Hampshire valley—
Vagaries and reveries of a poetaster—Wild grandeur of
Wild-Cat River—Afloat on the pretty lakes of New
Hampshire—From Maine to Boston—Historic places of
Massachusetts, and the stories connected with them—
Curiosities around Pittsfield and description of the
Shaker settlement, 383-414
CHAPTER XII.
ON HISTORIC FIELDS OF VIRGINIA AND PENNSYLVANIA.—From the
Blue Grass Regions to the Shenandoah—Scenery of the
Kanawha River and Blue Ridge Mountains—Marvelous Natural
Bridge of Virginia—Some remarkable scenes in East
Tennessee—Pen-pictures of some of the mountaineers—War
memories that are fast fading—The Great Smoky Mountains—
Portraitures of North Carolinians, and some typical farm
scenes—Scenery about Asheville—A tragic story of the
ascent of Mount Mitchell—A visit to Luray Caverns—Beauties
of the Under-world that dazzle with their splendor—
Descriptions of the subterranean chambers—Valley of the
Shenandoah—Memorable battle-fields—Down the Juniata—
Scenery of the Susquehanna—Visit to a land of waterfalls
beyond the Water Gap, 415-448
CHAPTER XIII.
THROUGH LANGUOROUS LANDS OF THE SUNNY SOUTH.—A visit to the
Gettysburg battle-field—Through the Wilderness of
Virginia—Scene of the closing event of the war—From
Fortress Monroe to the Dismal Swamp—Story of Nat Turner’s
Insurrection—A Dream of the Old Cabin Home—From Georgia to
the orange lands of Florida—Olden times in St. Augustine—A
boat journey down Indian River, into a land of perpetual
bloom—Visions of tropic beauty and luxuriance—A trip on
St. John’s River, and on the Ocklawaha—Alligators, snakes,
and other slimy things—Marvels of Silver Spring—’Way Down
Upon the Suwanee River—From Mobile to New Orleans—A trip
to Mammoth Cave—Descriptions of its subterranean wonders—A
tour of Wyandotte Cave—Magnificence of its halls, in which
the splendors of Aladdin’s Cavern are reproduced—
Conclusion, 449-503
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: BERYL SPRINGS AND CLEOPATRA TERRACE, YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL
PARK.]
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GLIMPSES OF AMERICA.
The most interesting, because most diversified, country in the world is
America, and the center of that unexampled interest belongs to the
territory comprised within the United States. The castles of England,
crushed by the hand of time; the lochs and friths of Scotland, that
murmur to the sea their wails of the Viking invaders; the lakes and
heaths of Ireland, around which old legends hold perpetual carnival; the
Rhine of Germany, whose banks are strewn with the relics of feudalism;
the Bernese Alps, that flaunt their whitened locks like aged giants
taunting the walled cities about which the sound of battle still seems
to linger; the red glare of Vesuvius, wrestling with fiery wrath in mad
ambition to overwhelm the cities built upon her ashes; the roar and
blaze of Ætna, that growls with the voice of Polyphemus thirsting for
the life of Ulysses; the hills of Greece, on which a thousand gods held
council; the welling breast of Mother Nile, carrying to the sea
remembrances of her ancient children; the Holy Land, blooming with
sacred memories that fill the human heart with fragrance; the mighty
peaks of Himalayas, piercing the heavens with frosted heads and draped
with the fogs of centuries; the plains of Asshur, where Babylon stood,
and the wrath of God was kindled. All these, and more, speak with siren
tongue to lure the traveler and give him appetite for history. But, if
we except the associations which make these places of the Old World
memorable, the student of nature will find a thousand greater charms in
the picturesque, grand, marvelous and sublime scenery that diversifies
our own country. No picture has ever equaled the real, and no book has
ever vividly described the wonders that God has scattered over the
American landscape. We have had glimpses of mountain, plain, lake, river
and cañon, but they have been little more than shadows of the reality,
an intimation of a grandeur almost too great to depict. But as great
telescopes have brought within our vision surprising views of other
worlds, the rings of Saturn, the seas of Mars, and the burnt-out craters
of the Moon, so has inventive genius been active in delineating the
physical features of the earth, and through the perfection of
photography we are now practically enabled to take the world in our hand
and examine it with the same convenience that we can an orange. Travel
is no longer necessary for the masses in order to behold the marvels of
American scenery, for the camera has gathered them all and lays every
inspiring scene upon even the poor man’s table, to minister to the
delight of his family circle. But photography likewise blesses the
traveler, for study of the picture establishes acquaintanceship with
that which is represented, while accompanying description quickens his
understanding and gives a more intelligent conception of the pictorial
subject.
It has been my good fortune to make many trips across the continent over
the various railway lines; and business and pleasure have taken me
during the past several years to nearly all the accessible parts of the
country, reached by rail, boat or stage-coach. Always an admirer of
nature, I have longed for the means to sketch or photograph the imposing
scenery which caught my enraptured eye as I hurried by. This ambition
prompted the really stupendous undertaking whose fruitage is now offered
to the public in all its delicious flavor, in the form of a book as
herewith submitted.
How the photographic views herein reproduced were obtained may be thus
briefly told, and is well worthy the relation: This book was conceived
more than half a dozen years ago, but a press of other engagements
caused a postponement of any effort at its preparation until the spring
of 1890, when the publishers engaged a corps of artists, consisting of
three of the best out-door photographers in the country. A passenger car
was next chartered, which was remodeled so as to provide comfortable
sleeping quarters for the men in one end, a kitchen in the other, while
the center was fitted up as an operating-room for taking, developing and
finishing pictures. Three cameras, of as many sizes, were also provided,
with three thousand prepared plates, and a great quantity of
paraphernalia which might be found useful for the expedition.
[Illustration: A FAMILY OF PUEBLO INDIANS, NEW MEXICO.]
Thus equipped, our photographic party left St. Louis early in May, going
directly west to Denver, from which point we made excursions to all the
near-lying parks, thence to Manitou, and by way of the Colorado Midland
to Salt Lake. Our work about Salt Lake occupied considerable time, and
after leaving there we proceeded to Weber Cañon and then by way of the
Union Pacific to Shoshone Falls. We next returned by way of the Denver
and Rio Grande Railroad, making a sweep southward, through Ouray and the
Valley of the Gunnison, over Marshall Pass and to Pueblo by way of the
Royal Gorge. Our party divided several times in order to cover the
territory more expeditiously, and in making the trip into New Mexico one
part entered by way of Trinidad from Pueblo and the other traveled
directly south through Antonito, forming a junction again at Santa Fe.
Some weeks were spent traveling off the line of road among the ruined
villages of the Cliff-Dwellers, and in photographing the more rugged
scenery of the Rio Grande River. Then we continued our journey westward
over the Atlantic and Pacific and the Southern Pacific Railroads to
California, where nearly three months were spent among the towns,
Yosemite Valley, Big Trees and mountains of that summer-land. On the
appearance of spring we traveled north by way of the California and
Oregon Railroad, still making side trips by stage-coach and wagon, to
Portland, from which point excursions were made up the Columbia and
Willamette Rivers. At Victoria, British Columbia, we took steamer for
Alaska, and returning we passed through the Cascade Range over the
Northern Pacific, working our way back east. But we continued to make
detours a long way off the main line of road, thus visiting the Falls of
the Missouri, the Black Hills, the Custer battle-field, Devil’s Tower,
and Yellowstone National Park, in which latter wonderland we spent two
weeks photographing its scenery and extraordinary formations.
[Illustration: “WHALE-BACK” BOAT of the NORTHERN LAKES.]
More than three-fourths of the grandest views were inaccessible by rail,
so other means of travel had to be adopted. Often it was by stage-coach,
but frequently donkeys were our sole reliance; and when these little
animals could not carry us to the most rugged points, we shouldered our
instruments and scrambled to the peaks and abysses of necessary
observation. The difficulties, dangers and hardships thus encountered
were both great and numerous, while the expense involved was so far
beyond our first calculations, that had it been anticipated in the
beginning the enterprise would certainly never have been undertaken.
[Illustration: GOVERNOR’S RESIDENCE, PUEBLO OF TESUQUE, NEW MEXICO.]
We resumed our eastward journey thence to Superior Lake, Dells of the
St. Croix, rapids of the Wisconsin, lakes and waterfalls of Minnesota,
the Upper Mississippi through Lake Pepin, and back to St. Louis, the
entire trip occupying more than eighteen months.
[Illustration: THE URNS, MANITOU PARK.]
Our camera car had served our purposes in a most gratifying manner while
making the long tour of the West, but in the eastern tour, which
remained to be performed, it was considered that the car would be of no
special advantage, since accommodations are so much more easily obtained
in the built-up sections of the East than in the thinly and sometimes
totally unsettled districts of the West, where in many cases our car was
our only shelter. The journey east was begun in October, from St. Louis
to Chicago, thence to Niagara Falls, and then up the St. Lawrence. Our
route next lay through the Green and White Mountains, and other famous
sections of the New England States; thence west into the Adirondacks,
Mohawk Valley and Lakes George and Champlain, then down the picturesque
Hudson into the Catskills. Continuing our journey southward, we visited
the points of grandest scenery in Virginia, North Carolina, and Eastern
Tennessee, and then proceeded on to Florida, where a part of the winter
was spent photographing everything worthy of a place in this volume. On
the return trip Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, and Wyandotte Cave, in
Indiana, received our attention, as well as other interesting places
along the way, and early in February our labors were ended by a return
to St. Louis to put the results in book form. Nearly all the descriptive
writing was done while our party was on the way, and while the
impressions produced by the glorious visions were fresh in the author’s
mind. This work, accordingly, is practically one of inspiration, the
whole constituting a story of extraordinary interest and a history of
incomparable value.
[Illustration: ON THE OCKLAWAHA RIVER, FLORIDA.]
Illustrations, however fine, whether of wood or steel, represent the
artist’s conceptions, dashed with an individual coloring that prevents a
natural reproduction. The painter sketches his landscape from a special
point of view, and working many days blends the sunrise with midday and
sunset, the mists of morning with the clouds of noon, thus striving to
please the eye rather than to truthfully present nature, without
artificial adornments.
Photography, on the other hand, is the mirror which reflects nature in
all her changeful moods; the absolutely faithful reproducer of her every
aspect, exhibiting her in her every-day garb, noting the disfigurements
with no less fidelity than the sublime graces which she exhibits and all
the widely diversified physical features which render her countenance so
variable that admirer and scoffer alike find reason for urging their
claims. No other attempt has ever been made to so perfectly picture the
wonders of America, and the work has been so thoroughly accomplished
that it is confidently believed no one, however great his ambition or
lavish his expense, will be able to add anything to the completeness of
our undertaking, as here submitted. Whatever may be the measure of
deserving of the descriptive part of this book, certainly the
photographic illustrations are worthy of all praise as fulfilling the
conditions of masterpieces of American scenery, while the publishers are
entitled to most generous public recognition for conceiving and so
liberally endowing an enterprise, which has flowered in the fragrance
and beauty of this exquisite work.
[Illustration: ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT TACOMA, WASHINGTON.]
It is seemly to add that our tour was made wholly at the expense of the
publishers. Free transportation was offered us over all the railroads on
which we traveled, but all such courtesies were uniformly refused,
because an acceptance would have placed us under obligations to manifest
some favoritism, and thus interfere with the declared purpose of the
publishers to issue a work on American scenery in which the views and
descriptions should be given truthfully, and without partiality. We
therefore selected the routes which promised most satisfactory results,
without regard to personal convenience, having in view the ambition to
present and describe the most interesting, if not always the most
famous, scenery of our country, and in so doing produce a work of which
all Americans, like the publishers, may be justly proud. In this our
celebrant year such a book is particularly appropriate, and the hope of
the publishers, as it is of the author, is that our ambitious and worthy
enterprise may find a warm welcome at the fireside of every American
family.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: VIEW OF FORT WRANGEL, ALASKA.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
AMONG THE WILD SCENES OF COLORADO.
“Go abroad
Upon the paths of Nature, and when all
Its voices whisper, and its silent things
Are breathing the deep mystery of the World,
Kneel at its ample altar.”
[Illustration: PIKE’S PEAK FROM COLORADO SPRINGS.]
Enthusiasm sometimes exaggerates the reality, just as colored glass
confuses the sight; but when it serves to please without doing harm, the
fault may be pardoned. To the enthusiasm of the occasion, and our great
and unique enterprise, may therefore be charged the burst of admiration
that manifested our feelings, when, rolling along the prairies on the
Union Pacific R. R., we saw, rising far to the southwest, nearly one
hundred miles away, the broad shoulders of Pike’s Peak, breaking into
russet above the clouds and showing a head of saffron, mellowed by the
soft rays of a sun just falling into the deep valleys of the Occident.
It was the chief object to chain our attention for the while, and this
first impression awakened most delightful anticipations of the work
which lay before us. A few hours later we were in Denver, making final
preparations for a photographing tour of the picturesque West.
Fortunately, our arrangements were so nearly complete upon leaving St.
Louis that only a short stay in Denver was necessary, and it was with
eager desire that we had our car attached to a Union Pacific train and
started for the heart of the Rockies. The long range of mountains,
rising into sharp peaks, and again spreading their tops into truncated
cones, elbowing and pushing each other like a brigade in too close
quarters at parade-rest, are only fifteen miles from Denver, forming a
grand background to an immense expanse of prairie landscape. Starting on
the Colorado Central Branch of the Union Pacific, we soon pass through
the gate-way of the Rockies; thence on to Golden, a beautiful mining
town that nestles in the bed of a dried-up lake, and looks up with
pleasing satisfaction to the guardian gods of North and South Table
Mountains. Here a stop is made for a trip up Bear Creek Cañon, which is
reached by stage, by which conveyance the traveler is trundled into a
gorge of surpassing beauty and noble grandeur. Through this great gash
the water dashes, swollen by melting snows, and fed by a thousand
sources. On either side the frowning and dusky walls, weaving a tortuous
way like the path of a drunken giant, rear up their castellated heads
until they remind us of the walled cities of Jericho, over which
Joshua’s spies were lowered by Rahab.
[Illustration: MARSHALL FALLS, CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]
Only a few miles from Golden is Clear Creek Cañon, another wondrous
cleavage wrought by water that goes tumbling through the passage with
rumble of breakers and roar of waterfall. The walls of the cañon rise
perpendicularly to varying heights of 500 to 1,500 feet, and at places
approach so near to each other that an observer looking upward from the
cavernous depths can see only a thin strip of blue sky. Away up on the
brows of the parallel cliffs are large trees that look like feather
dusters, and little streams of liquid silver appear in the distance to
be pouring their contributions from crevice and apex to swell the mad
creek that rushes with complaining voice down the age-swept gorge. Along
this water-bed was formerly the roadway, or trail, used by freight-
wagons and stage-coaches, but it is now become the exclusive
thoroughfare of the Central Branch, so that the magnificent view which
the cañon affords is before the eyes of railroad travelers.
Less than three miles from Georgetown is Green Lake, an exquisite body
of water which has been very appropriately called the Gem of the
Mountain. Its translucent depths are animated by myriads of trout that
are tinged by the green waters to the color of emeralds, while away down
in its profound recesses is distinguishable a forest of stately trees
which has been swept into the lake by some glacial avalanche. Not a
branch appears to have been broken or a position disturbed, for the
trees stand boldly upright in all their original gracefulness, but
through calcareous depositions, that are a peculiarity of this lake,
they have been converted into stone. Thus it is a submerged forest of
petrified trees.
Looking beyond the lake we perceive, some seven miles away, the famous
Argenta Pass, the summit of which is reached by the highest wagon-road
in the world, and from this elevation an almost boundless and
marvelously picturesque view may be had, stretching away to the west as
far as Holy Cross Mount, and eastward to the prairies of Kansas.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A VIEW OF PIKE’S PEAK.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
But we have now reached the backbone of the divide and our train starts
down the western grade, circling like a hawk out of the sky. Over
immense fills, through deep cuts, across bridges, following a swiftly-
flowing stream, until at length we gain the level valley and go dashing
away to Graymont, on the way to Idaho Springs and Georgetown. To avoid
tunneling in crossing the divide, the railroad winds around the mountain
elevations, up a steep grade, over a way that has been blasted out of
the eternal rocks, until from away up the lofty sides the traveler may
look upon a scene of marvelous beauty and ruggedness that fades into
indistinctness miles below. Leaning out of the car window we view a
wondrous panorama, and pause directly to bring our cameras into use,
that the scene may be caught and held on paper. There on one side of the
depths is Devil’s Gate, in close proximity, as it seems, to Bridal Veil
Falls, where the clear mountain stream plunges over a precipice of great
height to join the gamboling creek that rushes away on its errand
hundreds of feet below. There, too, is a spider’s web of steel, eighty-
six feet high, that has served as a passage-way for our train across a
chasm 300 feet wide, whose bottom can scarcely be distinguished from our
lofty eminence; but we see that the track makes a complete loop, and
that the road parallels itself, at a constantly increasing grade, no
less than three times. All the while that we are winding around and
crossing our own track, Georgetown continues visible, but it is dwarfed
by the distance to the appearance of a prairie-dog village.
[Illustration: CHALK CLIFFS, CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]
The picturesqueness of the route now changes from wild scenery of lofty
mountain and the dark awesomeness of deep cañon, to a park-like
landscape, through tillable lands, and on to Silver Plume, a great feat
of mining engineering, and beautiful beyond description. Gray’s Peak
rises like a giant phantom a few miles beyond, and becomes a charming
signet in the ring of park and town of Graymont that lies near its feet.
Returning east a distance of twenty miles, a junction is reached at
Fork’s Creek, where another branch of the Union Pacific leads to Central
City and Black Hawk. Here a marvelous thing is to be seen: The two towns
are only a mile apart, measured by a straight line, yet so fearfully
rugged is the territory to be traversed that the distance by rail
between the places is four miles, and this interval is covered by means
of a “Switch Back,” so called because of the tortuous route and the
extraordinary grades. All along this vicinity are famous mines, and a
wealth of mining machinery, that converts the country into a maze of
industry, and the mountains into smoking mills and cornucopias of
silver. In this mountainous region all roads seem to radiate from
Denver, and hence to reach other charming scenery by means of our camera
car, it was necessary to return again for a trip to Gunnison, which is
on the South Park Branch. But in order to facilitate our work it was
decided to divide our party, so that one photographer might proceed to
Gunnison, while the other two took the northwest route to Estes and
Middle Park, where a larger amount of work was to be done, and which
could be reached only by stage.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A VIEW OF PLATTE CAÑON.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: ARGENTA FALLS.]
Continuing our trip, therefore, towards the southwest, our first stop
was in Platte Cañon, which is twenty miles from Denver, and there many
exquisite views were taken. This cañon, formed by the Platte River,
resembles Clear Creek Cañon, but is longer and somewhat wilder. The
route is over Kenosha Hill, which is Alpine in its grandeur, and so
rugged that the road is as sinuous as the trail of a serpent. The cañon
spreads at places until it runs between gradually sloping steeps, but
again the walls draw closer, and rise perpendicularly to a sheer height
of a thousand feet, excluding the sunlight except as it is strained at
times through a narrow rift, until it looks like a pencil of light
cleaving the pall of night. What mighty forces were gathered here in the
age of the world’s infancy! what terrific convulsions and frenzied
spasms of nature that rent in twain the earth’s envelope and left cañons
and mountains where once were lake and plain!
Along the way rushes the impetuous Platte River, that has torn and
eroded a great fissure through the rocks, and in so doing has left many
wonderful incongruities to mark its eccentricity as well as power.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: ALONG THE BREAST OF THE CAÑON WALLS OF THE RIO DE LOS
ANIMAS, COLORADO.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, NEAR DEVIL’S GATE.]
Dome Rock is one of the conspicuous curiosities in the cañon, resembling
as it does, the top of a mosque that has sunk just behind the wall of
beetling cliff, leaving a graceful dome as its burial monument. But all
along, at frequent intervals, spires, with cathedral proportions, shoot
skyward, lending an appearance not unlike a vast row of churches, where
we may fancy nature worships, and the roar of waters is a perpetual
hymnal invocation. On the same route, fifty miles from Platte Cañon, is
the Alpine Tunnel, which is reached by the road winding about and upward
until a height of 11,600 feet is gained, when, suddenly, the train makes
an abrupt turn, and leaps into the very bowels of a mountain from which
it emerges after many minutes on the other side, and then descends
towards the Pacific. This tunnel is one of the most remarkable in all
the world. It is at the highest point ever reached by any railroad in
America, and in the center of its 1,773 feet of length is the dividing
line of altitude between the two oceans. The boring of this mighty
channel not only involved the naturally stupendous labor of digging
through a mountain, but the work was rendered a hundred fold more
difficult by reason of the rare atmosphere in which the workmen had to
labor. In addition to this, 70,000 linear feet of California redwood was
required for the inside bracing, and this had to be brought up the
mountain side on the backs of burros, the only animals of burden that
could make the ascent. It was a remarkable undertaking; its
accomplishment was very like a miracle.
As we emerge from the tunnel, and creep around the perpendicular side of
the mountain on a roadway barely wide enough to accommodate a single
train of cars, a bewilderingly magnificent panorama opens to us. Away
towards the southwest, one hundred and fifty miles, we observe the lofty
and regular heads of the San Juan range, while a little further west we
are able to distinguish Uncompaghre Peak, that looks down with benignant
aspect upon the town of Ouray. There, too, is the green and happy valley
of the Gunnison, towards the end of which we see Elk Mountains and their
chief peaks, Mount Gothic and Crested Butte.
At this great height the snow lies packed in the deep crevices all
summer through, while upon its borders may be seen beautiful flowers
nodding their bright heads in the delightful wind that plays about the
peak. Now we go down the mountain side with brakes set, marveling all
the way at the natural wonders which have been strewn by some Titanic
hand along the route. There, on the right, are the Palisades, which
might be called sculptured rocks, so graceful and artistic that they
appear to be the creation of the great Phidias, or pupils of his school.
Further on lies Quartz Valley, like a pearl nestling in depths far below
the angry waves of giant mountains. Now we cross Quartz Creek, where
nature laughs with blossoms and fruitage, through Uncompaghre, around
Hair-Pin Curve, with the Fossil range to our right, by Juniata Hot
Springs, and at length arrive at Gunnison. We are now in the midst of
the most magnificent mountain scenery, and in the heart of a great
mining country, where there is bustle above ground and activity and
visions of amazing wealth underneath. The town is at an elevation of
more than 7,000 feet, but many peaks rise high above it, from which
extensive views may be had of the Elk Mountain, San Juan and Uncompaghre
ranges, while to the southwest a beautiful valley stretches away to mark
the devious path of the Gunnison River.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: VALLEY OF THE GUNNISON, NEAR SAPINERO.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE LOOP NEAR GEORGETOWN.]
Having taken many views of this famous region, we turned back again to
Denver, and from that point of radiation started for North Park. Our
route was by way of Boulder, at which place we took the narrow-gauge
road for Fort Collins. A few miles from Boulder is Boulder Cañon, a
stupendous mountain gorge seventeen miles long, and in places the walls
rise to almost the incredible height of 3,000 feet. The falls of Boulder
Creek are not without interest, but the mightiness and awful grandeur of
the granite cañon weighs so heavily upon the startled perceptions of the
spectator, that even the roar of water-fall is scarcely heard, all the
five senses being concentrated in that of sight. The eye is set to
climbing these terrific precipices of stone; up, up, from niche to
niche, from wave upon wave of dizzy height, until it rests upon a world
on high that seems to lift its parapets to the sky and bathe its brow in
the azure of the heavens. Can it be that the little stream that runs
complaining along the ravine has eroded this mighty fissure? No, not
this alone, for water has been no more than a servant of other greater
forces that have torn the earth into clefts and upheavals. Bursting
volcano, denuding glacier, devastating deluge, and cooling fires of
internal furnaces that brought a collapse of the earth crust, have all
been agencies in this work of mighty disturbance.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: MARY LAKE AND LONG’S PEAK, ESTES PARK.]
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO ESTES PARK, FROM ROCKY POINT.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: HIGH LINE CANAL, SILVER FLUME AND PLATTE RIVER.]
The temptation is very great to step aside into Estes Park, and explore
Long’s Peak, which, though thirty-six miles distant, looms up in the
clear atmosphere like a frosty-crowned giant almost near enough to speak
to. But the rest of our party have preceded us and are no doubt in need
of photographic supplies, so we hurry on, pausing only long enough to
take a snap-shot at Boulder Falls. Reaching Fort Collins, we had the
good fortune to find the others of our party awaiting us. They had made
an extensive trip through Estes Park, and had a splendid lot of views as
a reward for their labors. It was fortunate, therefore, that we did not
stop, for we could have done no more than duplicate their work, and
repeated the experiences which they reported to me substantially as
follows:
After dividing our party, as already explained, two of our photographers
followed the Colorado Central Branch of the Union Pacific to Loveland,
at which place they side-tracked our camera car, and having made
preparations for the trip, started west to make a tour of Estes Park,
their principal objective point being Long’s Peak. The park is
conveniently reached by a daily stage-line, which travels over a good
road and, with the exception of a few miles of level plains, traverses a
picturesque region, with mountains sweeping every side, the monotony of
which is relieved by many lakes, thirty-five of which may be seen from a
single station, scattered over the plain and bathing the foot-hills. The
road leads up Bald Mountain and Pole Hill to an elevation that brings
into view the valleys of three rivers, and from Park Hill the whole
entrancing scenery of Estes Park, probably the finest in Colorado, is
spread out in one unbroken and bewildering panorama of astounding
beauty. It is not all a vision of primeval nature, for the vast table-
land is abloom with fields of husbandry, and immense herds of cattle
give animation to the seemingly boundless pasturage.
From Ferguson’s ranch there is a lovely prospect of Mummy range, with
its conspicuous peaks, aglow with the soft colors of sunset in the
evening, and mist-crowned in the early hours of the day. On the west are
the Front and Rabbit Ear ranges, whose inaccessible heights run up so
sharply to where storms have their breeding places, that they are
browned by exposure and look inexpressibly bleak. Here, on these wild
peaks, safe from human foes, bear and mountain sheep have their
habitations, and the caterwaul of the puma rings out upon the air of
lofty desolation as a warning to those who would attempt to gain their
savage haunts.
[Illustration: DOME ROCK, BOULDER CAÑON.]
Long’s Peak is hardly more than a half-dozen miles from Table Mountain,
measured by a straight line, but to pass from one to the other is very
difficult, except by a long detour, so that the open route is by way of
Loveland to Ferguson’s ranch, which is near the base of Long’s Peak, and
from which point the ascent is best made. The east side of the mountain
is precipitous and hence inaccessible; viewed from this side the peak
appears so lofty as to almost fade into the cerulean of sky depths, and
for this reason it has been not inaptly called the American Matterhorn.
Its apex, seen from below, bears a striking similitude to an impregnable
citadel surrounded by giant ramparts.
The road from Ferguson’s passes Mary’s Lake, a lovely body of water,
thence over a hill to a forest that is begirt by Lily Mountain with its
monster cliffs impending from a height of 11,500 feet above sea-level.
The ascent may be made by horses as far as what is known as “Boulder
Field,” but from that point foot climbing is necessary. To secure the
finest view, a place called the “Key-hole” must be gained, and it is not
reached without great exertion of muscle and careful equilibrium while
passing along the ledges, since a false step may be attended by serious
result. Having reached the Key-hole, the sight that rewards the climber
is sublimely grand, for he is brought to face a vertical wall of sheer
2,000 feet, extending up to within what appears to be one or two hundred
feet of the apex. The altitude is so great that a finer prospect,
perhaps, never greeted human vision, for the world seems to be spread
out for examination. A little higher up the scene changes, but is
scarcely so beautiful, for every additional foot taken upward increases
the indistinctness of the valley below and the mountain scenery in the
distance. But by the aid of a field-glass we make out Big Thompson
River, Boulder Cañon, and some remarkable columnar cliffs that exhibit
fantastic shapes, sculptured by the erratic hand of nature. Mountains
appear like legions to the right, to the left, upon all sides, but we
are now above them all, and towards the southeast, sixty miles away, we
see a smoke-cloud that has formed from the Denver Smelters. Still
further southward are visible the hazy heads of Pike’s Peak and its twin
brother, Cheyenne Mountain, while a hundred miles north are dimly
distinguishable the range of bluffs east of the city of Cheyenne.
After gaining the summit our party had a still better view, for a bright
sun had now come out from behind clouds that had before obscured his
rays, and so completely dissipated the misty atmosphere that the
panorama was greatly increased. They were lifted so far above the Front
range that beyond the divide there broke into view, in the far
southwest, the Mount of the Holy Cross, while beside it were the very
pale outlines of Jackson Peak, the two almost blending into one.
[Illustration: BOULDER FALLS.]
As they descended on the northeastern side, suddenly their sight was
arrested by a lake slumbering in a little basin that had been scooped
out of the granite sides of the mountain. It is almost immediately under
the vertical cliffs, and so clear that the observer seems to look
through it, as he would through a looking-glass, upon great walls which
appear below, but are in reality reflections of the precipice examined
when making the ascent. Lily Mountain was in bold outline on the right,
where reposed another lake of somewhat greater size, whose water
appeared to feed a stream that ran gamboling down a deep gorge into the
plain which it nourished.
On every side there were evidences of glacial erosion, not only in the
form of bowlders and debris, but in lateral moraines, where the glacier
had left deposits, and in gorges where great granite blocks had been
tumbled, over which in places the water cantered and fell in beautiful
sheets. In one place, towards the base, were found many small aspen
trees cut down, and most frequently the trunks were divested of their
bark, and the tender limbs were missing. Investigating the cause, it was
directly discovered to be the work of beavers, several of whose dams
were perceived in a creek that ran through a beautiful meadow land, but
no one of the party was able to catch sight of the wary animals.
Our party being satisfied with their trip in the park, and especially
with the ascent of Long’s Peak, where they had secured more than a score
of magnificent photographic views, returned to Loveland to be rejoined
by at Fort Collins, as will be presently described.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: MOUNTAIN OF THE HOLY CROSS, COLORADO.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: GRAYMONT MOUNTAIN, MIDDLE PARK.]
We tarried a short while at Fort Collins, then set off for Mason City,
eighty miles distant, the road to which leads through the world-famous
Cache La Poudre (Powder River) region. After leaving the south fork of
this stream we passed Monitor Peak, crossed the Big Laramie, and brought
up at Medicine Bow range. North Park proper lies west of the range, but
the physical features of the immediately eastern district are almost
identical, and to traverse the whole would have required more than a
month. The park is an elevated plain 9,000 feet above sea level, and
embraces an area of about 2,500 square miles. Properly speaking, it is a
fertile valley enclosed by spurs and branches of the Rocky Mountains,
and is so seldom visited that there are as yet no resorts for travelers,
and the stage is a poor reliance for reaching the most interesting
districts. We also experienced insurmountable obstacles, which compelled
us to abandon our purpose of making a tour of the park. The only
possible way of going through the district and to chief points of
photographic interest (pardon the expression) would have been by horses,
and these were not procurable because the country is devoid of
settlements; besides, we were unprovided with camp equipment. We saw the
mountains rising on every side into jagged spires, and occasional lakes
nestling on their bosoms, but they were inaccessible to us, and after
making so long a journey we were compelled to return without
accomplishing anything worthy to be narrated. Photographs of some
mineral springs bubbling up icy-cold in stony basins, wide stretches of
landscape, hemmed in by a wall of mountains, and some fine views of
scenery along the Cache La Poudre, was all the reward we had for days of
uncomfortable traveling, much of which was done on foot, and on horses
borrowed for short tours. We traversed enough of the district, however,
to satisfy us of its beauty and fertility, and that the region was a
vast game park, in which mountain sheep, bear, deer, pumas were
numerous, and ptarmigan abundant. We caught sight of several wild sheep
and had a far-away (not too far) look at a cinnamon, or grizzly bear, we
were not able to positively decide which, and not being equipped for
entertaining game of that character were indisposed to permit curiosity
to supersede judgment.
Returning to Fort Collins, we retraced our route to Longmount, from
which point we determined to visit Table Mountain, near by, and Mount
Hallett, a little further towards the west. To carry this decision into
effect it was necessary to make some provision for conveyance and
camping, as the mountain cannot be explored in a day, and a few evenings
must be spent in camp in order to do the work satisfactorily.
Fortunately, supplies are easy to procure, and being fully provided, we
set out a merry party on a pleasant errand. We reached the foot of Table
Mountain towards the close of the day, and went into camp beside a
beautiful little stream that had its source somewhere up the gorge that
cleft one side of the mountain. At this point we were also able to take
some pretty views of the imposing scenery by which we were surrounded.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SADDLE ROCK, AT THE SUMMIT OF THE PASS.]
[Illustration: WITHIN THE GATES, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Near noon of the following day we accomplished the ascent, and from that
vantage point surveyed a scene of bewildering grandeur. The wind,
however, blew a gale that made our position extremely uncomfortable, and
one of our party lost his hat, that was borne away and dropped into an
abyss of almost measureless depth. There were mountains to the west that
seemed to hang on the edge of the horizon, and down, far down, below us
was an immense expanse of bowlders that had evidently once been the
sport of a glacier. Indeed, the glacier was still there, a great solid
field of compacted snow that at midday hugged the shadow side of the
mountain, but was evidently moving gradually, imperceptibly, towards the
gorge. Water was pouring from the base and forming waterfalls, cascades
and swift streams, showing that heat radiation from the earth was
melting the glacier more rapidly than the sun’s rays. The effect was
extremely beautiful, for the afternoon sun was changing the edges of the
snow-pack into beautiful reflections of aqua-marine, and waves of light
shimmered above the glacier that made the ice coverlet scintillant with
color.
[Illustration: TORREY’S PEAK, MIDDLE PARK, COLORADO.]
Table Mountain is a truncated cone, from which fact it takes its name;
but it is deeply fissured on every side, and on the west side there is
an appalling gorge, over the edges of which, in places, colossal sheets
of ice impend, vast ledges they appear, threatening the vegetation far
down below, and rendering traveling along the slopes very dangerous.
Having photographed Table Mountain and the fine scenery that is
tributary, we descended and passed over to Mount Hallett, where we were
delighted to find views of yet greater grandeur. The way to this mount
is necessarily over Table Mountain and into Estes Park, the solid
ramparts of rocks which surround the park, as far as Willow Cañon,
preventing the access of pack animals.
Gaining the base of Table Mountain, we followed up Timber Creek over a
natural roadway until the foot of Hallett was reached. The way was easy
and pleasant, being level and almost floored with moss and flowers,
while many species of birds flitted across our path, and in and out
through the trees and bushes, with voices of tuneful glee.
As we ascended the mountain on the northeastern side, a magnificent view
was presented down a deep gorge. A little higher up, and as we veered
towards the west, we saw, a thousand feet below us, a deep, dark lake
whose sides were walled, giving to it the appearance of a crater that
had now become a lake basin. Still further up the steep, in a ravine,
was another lake, the edges of which served to mark both the timber and
snow line. Away off in the southeast was Long’s Peak, frowning in bleak
desolation above a lake that hugged its feet. On every side the scenery
was ruggedly sublime, while immediately at our right was a great chasm
with a vertical wall of stone fully one thousand feet high.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE GREAT WESTWARD FLOOD OF EMIGRATION—CROSSING THE
PLATTE RIVER IN 1868 (from a painting).]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The timber was now below us, and our horses picked their way over an
indistinct trail through patches of snow. Occasionally, there were
suspicious places, where the snow was deeply impacted, which might
conceal a treacherous way, a chasm bridged with nothing more substantial
than cakes of ice. Yet, on this lonesome mountain, chilled by
perpetually arctic winds, swathed by eternal snows, and covered by giant
bowlders that menaced everything by their apparent instability, there
was no scarcity of animal life. The mountain rat, chipmunk, woodchuck,
Rocky Mountain sheep and a few lions make this uninviting region their
haunt, while ptarmigan, or mountain grouse, are fairly plentiful. One
enthusiastic photographer who climbed Hallett some years before, claimed
to have found a herd of mountain sheep so tame that he was able to take
their pictures, but none of us had such good fortune.
[Illustration: FREMONT’S PASS, NORTH PARK.]
At one point of the elevation we had an enrapturing view of Middle Park
and Grand Lake, whose waters looked like a vast sea of quicksilver, on
which the sunlight danced in a glorious reflection. North Park might
have been also visible from this same lofty point of observation but for
the intervention of Mummy Mountain, the monumental mark of Medicine Bow
range, far to the northwest, too distant for our cameras to reproduce
the view with satisfaction.
Our visits to Table Mountain and Mount Hallett had proven so delightful
that our previously contemplated trip to Middle Park was now undertaken
with the most pleasant anticipations. Returning to Longmont, we
proceeded over the Union Pacific to Sunset, an arm of the road that
stretches out into the Front range until it fairly grasps the beautiful
scenery of that marvelously grand region. Georgetown would have been a
more convenient point of departure for Midland Park, but we chose to
avoid staging, and by means of pack animals to reach the park by the
quickest, even though it was a more troublesome, route. Middle Park is
separated from North Park by an east and west sweep of the great
Continental Divide, and like its northern sister is completely encircled
by lofty mountains, whose sentinels are Long’s Peak, Gray’s Peak and
Mount Lincoln, with elevations above sea level of respectively 14,500,
14,200 and 14,300 feet. The elevation of the park itself is about 7,500
feet, and its area some 3,000 square miles, or about one-third less than
the State of Connecticut. It is drained principally by the Blue and
Grand Rivers, whose waters flow generally through smiling meadows until
they escape from the park. We traveled by horse through Berthoud Pass to
Hot Sulphur Springs, which is on a small tributary of Grand River, and
only about twelve miles from the south boundary of the park. From this
point we went to Grand Lake, the beautiful body of water that we had
seen from the heights of Mount Hallett. If the scene was grand when
viewed from that distant elevation, it was sublimely picturesque when we
reached its shores. The western shore line of the lake washes the
vertical base of towering mountains, which enclose it on three sides,
and throw their giant shadows into its pellucid depths, where
reflections of brown peaks mingle with the beautiful green of tall
tufted pines. Its bed appears to be a glacier basin, for all about are
cliffs that bear distinct marks of an ice deluge that thousands of years
ago, perhaps, invaded this retreat of nature and tore asunder the earth,
ground its way through stone, scoured the face of the mountains, and
scooped a depression in the plain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: DODGE’S BLUFF, CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: GRAND LAKE, MIDDLE PARK.]
Strange it is that near the shores of this lake the water is singularly
crystalline, while towards the center it is dark as midnight. The lake
is also a treacherous body, subject to appalling disturbments from
inrushing storms that first gather on the surrounding peaks and then
swoop down to break with sudden and appalling force upon its expansive
bosom. No wonder that from time immemorial, the Ute Indians have
regarded the lake with superstitious fears, and tell ghostly stories of
its treachery. Upon one occasion, as an old Indian related, a band of
Utes were encamped upon its shores, pleasantly and profitably engaged in
trout fishing. They had their women and children with them, and having
prepared for a stay of some weeks, they had rafts made of pine logs, and
it was from these they did their fishing. While thus engaged they were
attacked by a war party of Arrapahoes, their implacable enemies. The
Utes committed their wives and children to the rafts, which they pushed
far out into the lake, and then engaged with their ferocious
adversaries, whom, after a desperate battle, they repulsed. During the
fight, however, a storm arose on the lake, which quickly lashed the
water into such fury that the piercing cries of the helpless women and
children were scarcely audible above the breaking waves and screech of
savage wind. When the Utes turned from pursuing their enemies, they saw
that a more dangerous foe had attacked their helpless ones. The rafts
were quickly broken up by wild surges of the infuriated lake, and every
woman and child was swallowed up. The Indians, whose minds are
peculiarly susceptible to impressions of a supernatural character, were
prompt to attribute the calamity to a manifestation of the Great
Spirit’s anger, and since that fatal event they have regarded the lake
as being the haunt of water demons, and no Indian has since that
calamitous incident dared to venture upon its bosom.
From Grand Lake we followed its outlet some twenty miles south, and
entered a beautiful valley of Grand River, where the grass was long and
green, the sky a beautiful indigo-blue, and the mountain scenery around
us was magnificent. A marvelously clear atmosphere made the distance
deceptive, so that peaks which were fifty miles away appeared to be
scarcely five. From one point of observation we swept the ragged horizon
with our enraptured eyes, and plainly perceived a battalion of well-
known mountains that locked their massive arms around Middle Park like
loving guardsmen. Roundtop lifted its head to gaze into the mysterious
depths of Grand Lake; and far beyond, Long’s Peak, the great gray
sentinel of Estes Park, loomed up like a cloud gathering inspiration
from the heavens. A little to the right, Elk Mountain projects its snowy
cap far into the sky and looks up into the face of its taller kinsmen.
Following the waving lines of peak upon peak, our eyes caught sight of a
pass through which a river had found its way, and behind the interval
were the faded fronts of Medicine Bow range. A little further to the
left there is another rent in the continuity of mountains, which closer
inspection discovers to us is Gore’s Cañon of Grand River, where it
leaves the park through a fissure made in the eruptive rocks quite three
miles long, and in places nearly 2,000 feet deep. So perpendicular are
these cliffs that a person standing upon the dizzy brink may drop a
stone into the rushing river below.
[Illustration: GORE’S CAÑON, MIDDLE PARK.]
If we look towards the southeast, across a stretch of sage-brush, we see
the peak of heroic Powell, the most majestic elevation in the Park
range, singular not only by reason of its cloud-piercing height, but
also because it looks through the hazy distance like a mountain of
sapphire, while behind it are lofty stretches of peaks with straggling
locks of white, where snow has gathered in the wrinkles of their cheeks.
Our rambles through Middle Park had been so pleasant that it was with
some reluctance we turned our steps eastward again, to pursue the work
of photographing scenery in more southerly fields. We reached Sunset
after an absence of twelve days, and were soon after switched on to the
North Branch of the Union Pacific for Denver. Thence, our route was
south to Colorado Springs and Manitou, where, as the following chapter
will show, we repeated our delightful experiences in Middle Park, and
saw even greater wonders.
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[Illustration: IN THE CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER, COLORADO.]
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