ACROSS THE CACTUS DESERT INTO CALIFORNIA’S GOLDEN LAND.
[Illustration: NAVAJO CHURCH, NEAR FORT WINGATE.]
Leaving Santa Fe, we continued our journey westward over the Atchison,
Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad, and striking the Rio Grande a short
distance south of White Rock Cañon, followed the bank of that stream
through some very handsome scenery until we reached Atlantic and Pacific
Junction. Thence for a while the route was through an arid section,
where alkali and musquite abounded; an unchangeable waste of black
sterility; a country so level that the laying of a railroad track was
attended by no difficulties, but keeping it clear of sand is a work of
great perverseness. We were now on the line of the Atlantic and Pacific,
which crosses a branch of the Rio Grande at Rio Puerco, and soon after
follows the valley of that stream for about sixty miles. Laguna is on
the way, and north and south are mesas, dry lakes and lava beds, but
there is no picturesqueness of landscape. South of Fort Wingate, just
east of the Arizona border, is the Zuni Plateau, in which several old
ruins are still to be seen; but if we except the Indians, who exist in
the most miserable condition, and old ruins and craters of extinct
volcanoes, the region is without interest, and has few features worthy
of the photographer’s art.
After reaching Arizona, the road passes through a corner of the Perco
and Zuni reservations, and follows the old trail leading to Prescott.
Immediately south of Flagstaff, and in sight of that place, are more
ruins of cliff dwellings, built in the banks of Walnut Creek, but so
faded as to be scarcely distinguishable now. We are now in the Cactus
plain, where immense stalks of that curious vegetable growth rise to the
dignity of branchless trees, prickly and often grotesque.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE NEEDLES ALONG THE RIO GRANDE.—The Needles are a part of the Rocky
Mountain chain, and they derive the name from their sharp-pointed
and splintered pinnacles, in which respect they differ from all
other mountains in America. Their peaks tower into the regions of
perpetual snow, which cools and tempers what would otherwise be an
almost intolerable climate. The Needles first come into view after
emerging from the western extremity of Animas Cañon, and their white
turrets are then visible for many leagues as the train glides along
parallel with them.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE OLD SPANISH PALACE, SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO.]
[Illustration: OLD CHURCH OF SAN MIGUEL, SANTA FE, N. M., BUILT OF ADOBE
IN 1550.]
These are two interesting buildings photographed on this page. The
Palace, so called, has no very palatial appearance, but it has a record
as a government building which many a palace might well be proud of. It
has domiciled a long line of governors, both under Spanish and American
rule, and is still occupied for this purpose. It fronts the plaza or
public park, a portion of which is shown in the picture, and a brilliant
scene is witnessed here on a summer’s afternoon when the officers of the
garrison stationed here, with their families and visiting friends,
gather under the shade of the trees to listen to the excellent music of
the military band. The old adobe church is probably older by at least
two centuries than any other church house in America, and a few years
ago, when the writer was there, it was still used for religious
purposes.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE, NEAR MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA.]
At a little station called Peach Springs, the road draws very near the
Hualpai reservation, and is within less than a score of miles of the
Grand Cañon of the Colorado; but, though short, the way is a difficult
one, over parched sands and an eye-wearying desolation, until within
four or five miles of the cañon, when the approach to water is indicated
by a gradual increase of vegetation, which, however, never becomes rank,
even along the river-shore. A stage-line is now running from Flagstaff,
which, though not so near as Peach Springs, offers a much easier route
to the cañon. The trip from Flagstaff is made in twelve hours, and, by
comfortable stages, the traveler is taken to one of the most imposing
points in the cañon (Marble Cañon), where the descent is sheer 6,000
feet, and a panorama is afforded of frightful chasm, curiously chaotic
walls, strange formations, and mountains breaking one behind the other,
like waves on the ocean, until sight fades into the perspective of
distance. Here terror and sublimity, in a marvel of natural extremes,
have formed perpetual alliance to excite amazement in the mind of every
visitor.
We cross the Colorado at Powell, where, to the south, are Red Rock
buttes, and to the north are the Needles, the latter being hills that
run up into sharp peaks, and then fall away to join a long stretch of
plain. Black Mountains run parallel with the river on the north, near
the foot of which, but on the river-shore, is a Mohave village, a
settlement of that miserable remnant, who from a powerful people have
degenerated, through oppression and decimation, until they are scarcely
a degree removed from the Digger Indians. The reservation proper of this
tribe is, however, near the Navajoes, in the northeastern part of the
territory.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A CENTURY PLANT IN BLOOM, CALIFORNIA.]
[Illustration: A CACTUS FENCE IN ARIZONA.]
Immediately before blooming, the century plant puts out a long stem or
shoot, as seen in the photograph, upon which the flowers appear in due
course of time. The event is such a rare one as to be quite a curiosity,
and as comparatively few of the readers of this book will probably ever
be so fortunate as to see the real plant in bloom, they will all the
more appreciate this beautiful photograph.—In many parts of Arizona, New
Mexico and Mexico the cactus plant is made to do service as a fence
around gardens and small fields. The variety generally used for this
purpose has a broad, thin blade, resembling an ancient broadsword, and
these grow so close together, with sharp needle-pointed thorns shooting
out in every direction, that no living thing can pass through or between
them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE GREAT TELESCOPE, IN LICK OBSERVATORY.]
Crossing the Colorado, we strike the desert district of California,
which extends through the counties of San Bernardino and Kern, a
distance of nearly three hundred miles. Adjoining these two counties on
the north is Inyo county, into which the Carson and Colorado Railroad
extends southward as far as Owen’s Lake. This county is remarkable for
embracing a region of extraordinary wonders, greater, indeed, in several
respects, than any other district in the world. In the northern part is
a marvelous depression, 159 feet below sea level, and nearly 150 miles
in circumference, known as Death Valley. It is distinctly a volcanic
region, in which, however, the fires are long since burned out, leaving
the desert a vast field of cinders, so parched that no drop of water
exists within its borders, though rivers of lava ramify it in every
direction. Many have perished in an effort to cross this fiery plain;
and looking across it from the margin, the observer sees a shimmer in
the air, as if a furnace were in active blast beneath. Here the
temperature rises to 122 degrees, and the air hangs in a hot envelope,
lazily swinging to and fro, rising and falling in waves of heat, and
making the sands blaze with an almost blinding light. Scorched, burned-
out and furnace-like though the region be, it is, nevertheless, the
abode of life, but no less curious than is the valley itself. The
centipede, scorpion and horned-toad find here a congenial habitation;
and, strange to say, a species of kangaroo-rat is peculiar to this
cursed spot, burrowing in the hot sand and feeding on insects.
Thunder-storms beat around the valley, but no drop of rain ever moistens
its burning lips. The dryness of the air is such a preserver of dead
bodies that decay is impossible, and the animals that die within its
borders are mummified until they become like parchment. This cursed
spot, sown as it is with dragon’s teeth, is not entirely without its
attractions, though they are as dangerous as were the soft, lute-like
voices of the Sirens. It is the field of wonderful illusion, from which
spring into the quivering air the most astounding and alluring mirages:
rippling brooks, waving palms, floral meadows, ships under sail, banks
of thyme, and travelers moving in procession across a landscape more
beautiful than an oriental vision.
Continuing our journey westward, we passed through a large arid
district, in which dry lakes with beds white with soda, and shining in
the blazing sun, were plentiful on both sides, but seeing no more
interesting features until we arrived at Los Angeles. Here we found much
to amuse, and often to instruct. It is an old town, settled by the
Spaniards, in 1780, and although now a beautiful city, it has not
entirely put aside the garments of antiquity with which the ancient
church fathers invested it. Many old adobe buildings still remain, and
there are not wanting the ruins of quaint and curious monasteries, moss-
covered, and with broken walls and dilapidated belfries, in which the
ghosts of long ago seem to have their haunt.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
WITHIN THE JAWS OF GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—The Grand Cañon of the
Colorado is such a stupendous wonder that we never grow tired of
contemplating it. From every point of view we see some new marvel to
admire. The variegated and many-hued cliffs are as remarkable for
their bewildering beauty as for the grandeur of their lofty heights.
Everything is on the most colossal scale, except the little river
itself, which goes dashing along in playfulness and glee with no
intimation that it is the master workman by whose hands this
stupendous wonder was wrought.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: OUR STAGE-COACH CROSSING THE SANTA INEZ.]
The river, which washes the eastern limits of the city, is a sluggish
stream, but it imparts refreshment to one of the most fertile valleys to
be found anywhere in California. Here we find a succession of orange-
groves and vineyards, bending low with golden and purple fruitage, while
beyond the city’s skirts are orchards of walnut, olive and almond, from
which profitable crops are annually gathered.
San Diego, 147 miles south of Los Angeles, is another beautiful place,
the center of a delightful region, but its interest lies very largely in
the fact that it was at this place the first white settler in California
pitched his tent, as early as 1769. This great Spanish pioneer, Father
Junipero Serra by name, became the founder of twenty-one missions in
California, some of which still remain in a fair state of preservation,
but a majority exist as mere reminders of the olden time when the
Franciscan friars dominated that portion of the Spanish territory. In
this southern region the landscape is monotonous, and the air is usually
hot, from which fact, no doubt, came the name “California,” which, in
the Spanish, signifies “hot furnace,” and was bestowed by the
discoverer, in 1534.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
MAGNOLIA AVENUE, RIVERSIDE, CAL.—The climate in Southern California is
almost tropical, and the fruits, flowers and general vegetation are
similar to those found in equatorial regions. In the Spanish
language “California” signifies “hot furnace,” and this name was
bestowed upon that country by the discoverer in 1534. It is
therefore no matter of surprise that we should see reproduced in
this photograph a scene that carries us in imagination to the
central regions of Florida. Here the palm and the magnolia, the
orange and the lemon, grow and bloom side by side.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE GRIZZLY GIANT, MARIPOSA GROVE OF BIG TREES.]
Proceeding northward, the scenery becomes more varied and pleasing, for
above Los Angeles a mountainous district is passed, with the San
Bernardino and Sierra de San Rafael ranges on the right, and the Monica
and Santa Inez ranges on the left. Still further north are the San
Benito Mountains, paralleling the San Juan River, along whose
magnificent valley the railroad runs until it reaches Castroville on the
coast, just above Monterey. This latter place is one of very great
attractiveness, not only for its historical associations, as the seat of
Spanish Government in California until 1847, but also because it is the
best specimen of the old-time adobe cities which now remains, as well as
the location of one of the most exquisite gardens and charming hotels
that is to be found either in or out of America. The Hotel del Monte is
a building of much beauty in itself, but the very large grounds which
surround it have been cultivated until they are a veritable paradise of
noble oaks, rich green lawns, and bewildering flower-beds, dimpled with
every hue that nature is capable of painting. The old town is a ghost of
antiquity, the skeleton of a remote past, whose bony fingers point
backward, as if beckoning beseechingly to the long ago. There is the
mission house, rickety and tattered, raising its palsied head barely
above the adobe walls which once served so well to defend it against
enemies. But the wall, very thick though it was, has been badly breached
by the catapults of time, and having done faithful guard-duty in the
early days, it is now like the grave of a hero, which has become a
shrine, to which many are drawn by curiosity as well as by respect.
From Monterey northward the road runs through the incomparably beautiful
and fertile Santa Clara Valley, a region where nature is always in good
humor, and so fat that every time she laughs she shakes out a harvest.
Towards the left spreads away a waving plain in richest cultivation,
while on the right towers the Coast range of mountains, whose summits,
bathed perpetually in a clear atmosphere, look in the distance like a
vast ridge of sapphires supporting the sky.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AN OLD MISSION HOUSE IN CALIFORNIA.—The great Spanish pioneer and
priest, Father Junipero Serra, went to California in 1769, and
pitched his tent near the modern city of San Diego. He was the first
white man to settle within the limits of the territory now embraced
by the great State of the Pacific coast. His object in going there
was to serve as a missionary among the Indians, and so earnest and
faithful was he that he lived to become the founder of twenty-one
missions. Some of these still remain in a fair state of
preservation, like the one photographed on this page, but most of
them have fallen into decay.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALL, YOSEMITE.]
At San Jose, a lovely city embowered with oaks, vines, roses and palms,
the stage is taken for Mount Hamilton, upon the peak of which is located
the Lick Observatory, enclosing the great Lick telescope. The road cost
$80,000 to make; and though the ascent, which is begun fifteen miles
from San Jose, is great, yet so admirably constructed is the way that
two horses easily drag the stage to the summit. I never had a more
delightful ride than this trip afforded, for while the air was bracing,
the view was at all times indescribably picturesque. At places where
sharp turns are made, passengers can look out of the coach windows down
into abysses which seem to be bottomless, and which never fail to elicit
the question: “If a wheel should run off the edge, where would the
passengers land?”
The altitude of the observatory is 4,250 feet above the valley, and from
this lofty point, it is claimed, with an appearance of truth, that a
greater area is visible than from any other in the world. Not only is
the whole of Santa Clara Valley viewable, but on very clear days the
highest peaks of the Yosemite are discernible, and even Mount Shasta,
200 miles distant, can be distinguished. The telescope is a 36-inch
reflector, the largest ever made, and so massive that it is controlled
by hydraulic power, which is most ingeniously applied, the adjustment
being so perfect that its many tons of weight can be moved by a single
finger. The public have free access to the observatory, but
unfortunately, and very unwisely, visitors are not permitted to use the
telescope except on Saturday nights. As favorable evenings are
comparatively few, this rule prevents a very great majority of persons
from realizing what they have traveled thousands of miles to see, and
much complaint against the astronomers in charge is accordingly made.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
LICK OBSERVATORY, ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT HAMILTON, CAL.—The
observatory buildings occupy the summit of the mountains, at an
altitude of 4250 feet above the valley. The place is reached by
stage from San Jose, over a road which is said to have cost $80,000
in its construction. The scenery along the road is wonderfully
picturesque and beautiful, embracing a number and variety of views
that are unsurpassed anywhere in the world. From the observatory
nearly the whole of Santa Clara Valley can be seen, and on clear
days the peaks of Yosemite, and even the hoary head of Mount Shasta,
200 miles distant, are discernible.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: EL CAPITAN, 3,300 FEET HIGH, YOSEMITE.]
From San Jose to San Francisco the distance is about fifty miles,
through forests of redwood, past charming villas skirting San Francisco
Bay, and many beauties peculiar to this perpetual summer land. The city
is one of exceedingly great interest, possessing as it does features of
a unique as well as of a magnificent character. Some of its best streets
are reclamations from the bay, where, in 1849, the largest ships rode at
anchor; and what were once bare mountains of sand were made accessible
by the adoption of a cable system of street railroads, and on these
peaks are now several of the finest residences in America.
The Palace Hotel is the largest in the world, nine stories high,
occupying 275 by 350 feet of ground, and cost, with furnishings, the
enormous sum of $7,000,000. The public buildings, and many of the
business blocks as well, attest the great wealth of the place, which
flowed in with the gold discoveries. Lone Mountain, distinguished by a
large wooden cross on its summit, affords a view which embraces not only
the entire city and bay, but likewise of the ocean, Mount Diabolo and
the long Coast Range that shimmers in the sun like polished metal.
But the most delightful point of interest is the Cliff House, near the
entrance to the Golden Gate, reached by a beautiful drive through Golden
Gate Park, and also by cable and steam cars. The prospect from the hotel
piazza, reaching far above and over the ocean, is both grand and
charming. Immediately in front, and only three or four hundred yards
away, three rocks rise out of the sea to a height of one hundred feet,
and on these hundreds of sea-lions gather of sunny days to bask and
display themselves before amused spectators. At times, their barking is
almost distracting, especially when some ugly-dispositioned pater
familias of the great herd sets about clearing the rocks, when there
follows a noise like ten thousand big dogs in conflict, and a
scrambling, sprawling and tumbling that is wonderful as well as amusing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
GARDEN OF PALMS AT INDIO, NEAR SAN DIEGO, CAL.—No wonder the people of
California love their State and its “glorious climate” when they are
able to produce such ideal homes as the one reproduced in this
superb photograph. It is one of many others like it in the same
region, and shows what may be accomplished in a short time with a
combination of natural advantages and industry. The picture is so
perfect that we can almost imagine we see the waving of the palm
leaves and smell the perfume of the flowers.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: VERNAL FALLS AND LADY FRANKLIN ROCK, YOSEMITE.]
San Francisco is a center from which many interesting itineraries may be
conveniently made, several of which we performed, with the particular
view of photographing the most attractive features. Chief of these
excursions is to the Yosemite Valley, which is 267 miles from San
Francisco, the last sixty-seven miles being journeyed by stage. Leaving
that city at 4 P. M., we reached Raymond at 6 A. M. the following day,
at which point the stage is taken to Wawona, which is only six miles
from the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. These giants of the primeval
forest are in a Government reservation two miles square, and compose two
distinct groves some half a mile apart. In the upper grove there are
365—one for each day in the year—trees, 154 of which exceed fifteen feet
in diameter, and several are more than 300 feet in height. The largest,
known as the Grizzly Giant, in the lower grove, is thirty-one feet in
diameter, and the first limb which makes out from the trunk, 200 feet
above the earth, is six feet in diameter. There is a prostrate tree in
this grove which originally measured forty feet in diameter, and was 400
feet in height. The body is hollow, and is large enough to admit three
horsemen abreast a distance of seventy feet.
A few miles beyond Wawona is a stage-station called Fresno, which is
within the limits of another grove of mammoth trees, the largest of
which is thirty-two feet in diameter at the butt, and there are probably
100 or more that measure as much as twenty feet through. Just beyond
Fresno, we enter the far-famed and truly marvelous region of the
Yosemite (which, in the Indian tongue, signifies a “grizzly bear”), that
great heart of the Sierras which beats in mountain and breaks in
waterfall. This wondrous valley, running along the western base of the
Sierra Nevada range, is a comparatively level area, but it lies fully
4,000 feet above sea level, and is nine miles long, by an average of one
mile wide. The remarkable feature of this valley, aside from its special
curiosities and mammoth configurations, is the fact that it is enclosed
by granite walls of almost unbroken continuity, which present
perpendicular faces ranging from 3,000 to 6,000 feet in height. The
valley was discovered May 6, 1851, by the Mariposa battalion, in command
of Major James D. Savage, which had been sent against the Yosemite
Indians, to punish them for outrages perpetrated against the miners in
the counties of Mariposa, Fresno, Tuolumne and Inyo. Up to this time the
valley was known to whites only through Indian traditions, which
represented the region as one of great beauty, but the abode of witches
and evil spirits. Upon the discovery, however, it was found to be a
place of refuge for the Indians; and within its boundaries, therefore,
some desperate fighting took place between the California rangers and
the Yosemite Indian marauders, in which there were heavy losses on both
sides, and many acts of shocking cruelty.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
SEAL ROCKS AND CLIFF HOUSE AT THE GOLDEN GATE, SAN FRANCISCO.—This is
one of the many popular resorts near the city of San Francisco. It
affords a fine view of the Golden Gate entrance to the harbor, and
the coming and going of the ships. The rocks in front of the hotel
are nearly always covered with seals, or sea-lions, whose barking
and plunging in the water add variety and interest to the scene.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: GLACIER POINT, YOSEMITE.]
The stage-road leading from Wawona is particularly romantic and
delightfully picturesque, with views of mountains, laughing streams and
beflowered valleys, that break in pleasing variety upon the expectant
vision of the visitor, and give intimation of the grander glories that
lie beyond. After crossing Alder Creek, a beautiful stream that washes a
pebbled bed, the route mounts Alder Hill, and rises rapidly until from
its apex there is afforded an amazing sight, which never fails to throw
the beholder into raptures. Northward, like a thread of silver running
through a labyrinth of mountains, is the South Fork, while southward the
same stream speeds away to join the Merced River, which dashes through a
stupendous gorge aflame with colors. Descending Alder Hill on the east,
by way of a tortuous route, we at last reach Merced Valley, beautiful as
a poet’s inspiration, and crossing this low-lying strip of meadow land,
climb another hill, where wonder compels us to pause upon its crest.
Away yonder in the misty west, where the horizon drops down like a
curtain on the world to hide the mysteries behind, are the dim outlines
of the Coast Range, nearly 200 miles distant. But more bewildering
sights are near at hand, for there to the left a little way are noisy
cascades playing leap-frog over giant stones; Table Rock is close by,
and El Capitan, that grizzled old captain of the Yosemite, exposes his
shoulder, which seems to be a prop for the clouds. A few miles further
and we reach Inspiration Point, where a glorious vision of Yosemite
Valley and its Titanic walls break upon us with a startling suddenness,
revealing a section of nature that is incomparably grand and awesomely
magnificent. El Capitan forges upward 3,300 feet; the Three Brothers
keep him company to a yet greater altitude, while in the background,
frowzled, yet sublime, loom up against the cerulean sky the gray
Cathedral Rocks, lying within the deep shadows of Sentinel Rock. Look
around, for on every side appear evidences of mightiness, the awfulness
of those powers which sometimes escape from internal reservoirs, or
break away from the fastnesses where they were born; the bursting of
lava beds, the tearing down of glacier, the down-sweeping of avalanche,
and the steady flow of gnawing waters.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
BIG TREES IN MARIPOSA FOREST, CAL.—The big trees of California are
celebrated all over the world, and visitors to the World’s Fair at
Chicago had the pleasure of beholding a number of very fine samples,
the largest having been exhibited in the Government department. In
this photograph the picturesque cabin, standing near the roots of
the gigantic tree, affords a good object of comparison, by which one
may readily determine the enormous size of the forest giant.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: VERNAL FALLS, YOSEMITE.]
A trip through the Yosemite Valley is one of profound amazement, a
succession of astounding surprises, where the most amazing prodigies of
nature stand before you in review. Why, throw a glance up yonder, so far
that though the atmosphere is wondrously clear, yet the trees on the
crest are not distinguishable, only a white ribbon that appears to have
been flung down over the narrow edge of that appalling summit to attract
attention. What we see is the first leap of Yosemite Falls, dashing
through a notch that is nearly half a mile wide, and which has a fall
from three ledges of 2,548 feet, or sixteen times greater than that of
Niagara. There, not far away, is Glacier Point, which is 3,000 feet
high, and from which a view of the entire valley can be had. Standing on
that pinnacle, we gather in a glorious panorama of extraordinary
splendor. The great domes of the Yosemite are plainly discernible; so is
Liberty Cap, Clouds’ Rest, Vernal Falls, Nevada Falls, placid lakes, and
the swift-rolling Merced River, that collects and bears away the waters
that plunge down from a dozen dizzy heights.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
MIRROR LAKE, REFLECTING EL CAPITAN, IN YOSEMITE PARK, CAL.—Among the
myriad attractions of Yosemite Park, none are more popular than
Mirror Lake. The water is so transparent as to give a perfect and
beautiful reflection of all surrounding objects. The photograph on
this page is a fine example of this attractive feature, the
reflection being so perfect that it is difficult to determine which
is the right side of the picture. If this lake had been located in
the Garden of Eden, we could not blame our grandmother Eve for
admiring her counterpart in its pellucid depths.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: ILLILLOUETTE FALLS AND SOUTH DOME.]
But besides these, as we turn to sweep the other points, we catch views
no less grand, of Ribbon Fall, with its leap of 3,350 feet, Indian
Cañon, Royal Arches, Bridal Veil Fall, Washington’s Tower, Columbia
Rock, and pearl-gray granite walls that rise in places to a vertical
height of 6,000 feet. More beautiful, in some respects, than any of
these, as many believe, are Mirror Lake, which seems to reflect nearly
the whole valley, and Cascade Falls, which are indescribably lovely. The
meadows draw our admiration likewise, for they are so covered with
flowers as to appear like a carpet of the most gorgeous patterns, done
in the liveliest combination of brilliant colors. Other points of great
interest are the Giant’s Thumb, Eagle Peak, Valley Ford, the Gnome of
the Yosemite, Mount Watkins, 4,000 feet high, and Tis-sa-ack (Half
Dome), 5,000 feet in height, which was regarded by the Indians as the
Guardian Angel of the valley, for upon the south side of it are the
distinct outlines of a human face, declared in a legend to be those of
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah, ancient father of the Yosemites. And there are the
Three Brothers, called by the Indians Pom-pom-pa-sa, which signifies
“three mountains playing leap-frog,” a name no doubt bestowed because of
the popularity of that game with the original natives, and also because
the mountains, from a distance, bear a strong resemblance to three giant
frogs sitting side by side, upon the point of leaping into the valley,
nearly 4,000 feet below.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: UPPER CASCADE OF BRIDAL VEIL FALLS IN WINTER.]
[Illustration: SENTINEL ROCK WRAPPED IN A CLOUD.]
Both of the illustrations on this page belong to Yosemite Park scenery.
The one on the right, representing Sentinel Rock wrapped in a cloud, is
specially beautiful and interesting. Our photographers were fortunate in
having so good an opportunity for reproducing a scene that occurs only
at rare intervals, and they have done the work so well that every one
will be delighted with the results.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE TURN, IN CHILNUALNU FALLS, YOSEMITE.]
There are several great falls in this wonderful reservation, which, in
point of beauty, exceed those in any other part of the world. Yosemite
Falls is incomparably the greatest in height, and in the months of May,
June and July, the volume of water which it pours down is second only to
Niagara and Shoshone. Its first vertical leap is 1,500 feet, where it
strikes a series of ledges which break the water into cascades for
another fall of 626 feet, after which it takes a sheer plunge of 400
feet, and flows away into the Merced, making a roaring noise in its
impetuous descent that can be heard for miles.
Bridal Veil Fall is the termination of a creek bearing the same name,
where it plunges over a precipice 900 feet high, and the stream is so
thin that it becomes a very mist before reaching the valley. Directly
opposite is Virgin Tears Creek, which likewise dashes over a lofty ledge
through a notch in El Capitan, 1,000 feet high, and falls in a spray,
though during a greater part of the year the creek is nearly dry.
The first fall reached in ascending the cañon of the Merced is Vernal
Fall, which has a vertical height of 400 feet and a very considerable
volume. But as we proceed further up the cañon, passing a number of
cascades, the eye suddenly catches what the ear has anticipated, and
rapture succeeds expectation, for there bursts into view Nevada Falls,
which, as Professor Whitney says, “is in every respect one of the
grandest waterfalls in the world, whether we consider its vertical
height, the purity and volume of the river which forms it, or the
stupendous scenery by which it is environed. The fall is not quite
perpendicular, as there is near the summit a ledge of rock which
receives a portion of the water and throws it off with a peculiar twist,
adding considerably to the general picturesque effect.”
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[Illustration:
YOSEMITE VALLEY AS SEEN FROM ARTIST’S POINT.—This is an exceedingly
fine view of Yosemite Valley with its surrounding mountains and a
glimpse of the falls on the right. The photograph was taken at
Artist’s Point, so named for its favorable location in viewing the
valley and the majestic scenery by which it is surrounded. No
painter could imagine a grander scene, and nothing but the camera
could transfer it so accurately to the printed page.
]
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[Illustration: INDIAN CAMP ON THE NEVADA PLAINS.]
The fall is about 600 feet, the stream being clearly defined throughout
its descent, and the volume of water is very great, giving to the falls
the very ideal of beauty, power and truly extraordinary grandeur. In the
Cañon of the South Fork, there is another fall of equal height, and it
is one, too, of much attractiveness, but brought into comparison with
that of Nevada, of which it is a close brother, though difficult to
reach, it appears so inconsequential as to scarcely deserve a name,
though it is occasionally known as Illillouette Falls.
But everywhere, up and down that magic valley, whether viewed from the
gorges that have their bottoms in dark and mystic abysses, or from
amazing heights of walls thrust far into the skies, there is wonder
piled upon wonder, grandeur overtopping rapture, dumfounded admiration
riding at furious pace in the lead of inspiration, glorious realization
gilding the visions of imagination. As the gifted Benjamin F. Taylor
wrote of his visit to this wonderland: “Yosemite awaited us without
warning. Spectral white in the glancing of the sun, the first thought
was that the granite ledges of all the mountains had come to
resurrection, and were standing pale and dumb before the Lord. I turned
to it again, and began to see the towers, the domes, the spires, the
battlements, the arches and the white clouds of solid granite, surging
up into the air and come to everlasting anchor until the mountains shall
be moved! You hasten on; you hear the winds intoning in the choral
galleries a mile above your head; you hear the crash of waters as of
cataracts in the sky; you trample upon broad shadows that have fallen
thousands of feet down, like the cast-off garments of descending night.”
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[Illustration:
HALF DOME AND CLOUD’S REST, YOSEMITE VALLEY.—This is equally as grand
a view of portions of the Yosemite scenery as the one given on page
177, though perhaps less beautiful from an artistic standard. The
half dome on the left is one of the most striking features of this
photograph. It is so smooth and regular in its outlines that we can
hardly regard it as an accident of nature, but rather a work of
design. But, after all, do we not find design, and law, and
regularity of purpose in all the works of nature?
]
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[Illustration: CAVE ROCK, LAKE TAHOE.]
Instead of returning direct to San Francisco, by way of the route we had
taken to the Yosemite, we went northward, over a very good road, through
Tuolumne and into Calaveras county, near the eastern edge of which is
the very celebrated grove of giant trees. The grove is confined within a
valley some 3,000 feet long by 800 feet wide, and embraces ninety-three
mammoth trees, some of which are prostrate. The tallest now standing is
325 feet high, and measures fifteen feet in diameter. There are others
which, though less lofty, exceed the tallest in girth measurement by as
much as twenty feet in circumference, while the thickness of the bark on
these grizzly giants is as much as eighteen inches. Five miles southeast
of the Calaveras forest is the Stanislaus Grove, of about 800 trees,
which in any other country than California would be considered as
veritable monsters for size; but they do not equal the better specimens
in either the Calaveras or Mariposa Groves, though several have a height
of 250 feet, and a trunk circumference of thirty feet.
Having inspected and photographed the groves, we proceeded to Murphy’s
Hotel, sixteen miles from the Calaveras Grove, thence twenty-five miles
by stage to Valley Springs, a station on a narrow-gauge railroad that
runs to Lodi, where connection is made for San Francisco.
It was not possible, without occupying years of time, to make trips over
all the picturesque rail-routes of America, and the transportation of
our material in a photograph car, which was in almost constant use, made
it necessary that our three photographers travel together, except when
it was desirable to cover in quick time short detours from main lines.
For this reason the overland trip from Denver was made by way of the
southern route, without dividing our party; but to provide against what
would otherwise have been a serious omission, the photographer of the
Southern Pacific Railroad was brought into service to supply views of
scenery along that road between Ogden and San Francisco, over which the
writer has traveled so frequently as to be thoroughly familiar with all
the points of interest. It was this route, formerly known as the Central
Pacific, joining the Union Pacific at Ogden, that constituted the first
all-rail overland road from Omaha to San Francisco, and it continues to
hold rank as the most picturesque, though the scenery alternates with
many dreary patches.
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[Illustration:
THE SENTINEL IN YOSEMITE PARK.—Every one who visits Yosemite is amazed
at the grandeur and magnitude of the scenery. In the language of the
author of this work, “Everywhere, up and down that magic valley,
whether viewed from the gorges that have their bottoms in dark and
mystic abysses, or from amazing heights of walls thrust far into the
skies, there is wonder piled upon wonder.” Each advancing step
brings a new revelation, until the vision is lost in a maze of
marvelous views. One of the most striking features of this
photograph is the outline of the falls in Merced River, as seen to
the right of the grizzly Sentinel.
]
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[Illustration: CASCADE BRIDGE AND SNOW-SHEDS ON THE SIERRAS.]
After leaving Ogden, the Southern Pacific passes in a half-circle around
the northern shores of Salt Lake, and then darts into the Nevada, or
Great American Desert, a vast sea of alkali rippled with dry sage-brush;
a furnace in summer and a Siberian tundra in winter. Nature has denied
to this wretched region any compensation of flower, stream, bird, or
even curiosity. It is the very nakedness of bleak desolation, and
stretches its cursed length through a distance of 600 miles. The
Humboldt River has tried to force a way through this parched waste; but
however great its volume of water, gathered from the mountains in spring
freshets, the desert drinks it up at a place known as the Humboldt Sink,
where the thirst of the sands is so great that the river is arrested and
stands still in a shallow lake, the resort of myriads of water-fowls.
But though the land is a wind-swept waste of alkali, scorched, denuded
and cursed, yet men have planted their hopes even there, and are
wrestling with the harshest and most unpromising disadvantages. Indian
camps are frequent, and villages are occasional, where a few brave men,
inured to all difficulties, scratch the parched earth and seek a
precarious sustenance, though nearly all are traders, furnishing
supplies to miners in the mountains miles away.
The dreary, lifeless monotony is relieved, however, just before reaching
Humboldt Lake, by the bold but rugged contour of sky-piercing pinnacles,
which rise to the south of the road in curious forms and extraordinary
magnitude, marking the line of Humboldt River. These interesting
formations are known as the Humboldt Palisades, in which the Devil’s
Peak is conspicuous, viewed from the car window. After so many hours
passed in crossing a wretched desert, the scenery of meandering river
and lofty bluffs is extremely invigorating, and preparation to enjoy the
sight is complete. But the palisades are singularly beautiful, viewed
under any conditions, and situated near the edge of an alkali
wilderness, as they are, they break upon the vision of a west-bound
passenger with a delight that arouses rapture.
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[Illustration:
CATHEDRAL ROCKS, 2300 FEET HIGH, IN YOSEMITE PARK, CAL.—These majestic
and towering rocks are so striking a feature of Yosemite scenery
that they have attracted great attention from artists and
photographers, and many copies have been made both in paintings and
photographs. But we have seen none that are so beautiful or accurate
as the one on this page. It is a perfect picture in all respects,
even to the reflection in the lake.
]
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[Illustration: HEATHER LAKE AND MOUNTAIN SCENERY ABOUT LAKE TAHOE.]
At Wadsworth, Truckee Valley is entered, green with the joy of exuberant
nature, which we follow until Truckee City, a gem of the Sierras, is
gained, and realize that we have now to climb over the second ridge of
the continent, the ragged ribs that flank the great water-shed of the
three Americas. Truckee is not only a pretty village, nestling on the
snowy bosom of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but it is the center of a
lake region, wherein abound some of the most remarkable bodies of water
to be found on the globe. Fourteen miles towards the south is
California’s favorite resort, Lake Tahoe, a really marvelous sheet of
crystalline water that, from the mountain peaks which enclose it, looks
like a colossal beryl that through some disturbment has been rolled out
of the sky and found lodgment in the great lap of the Sierras. The
environs of the lake are wondrously grand, and the air a very
enchantment, so great is its exhilaration. The lake is twenty-two miles
long, ten miles wide, and 1,700 feet deep, while the surface is 6,247
feet above sea level, and it is, as Mark Twain eloquently describes it,
“a sea in the clouds; a sea that has character, and asserts it at times
in solemn calms, and again in savage storms; a sea whose royal seclusion
is guarded by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty fronts
9,000 feet above the level world; a sea whose every aspect is
impressive, whose belongings are beautiful, whose lonely majesty types
the Deity.” Tahoe’s waters abound with trout and other fish, whose
bodies flash the sunlight from a depth of thirty feet. The waters are so
cold that decomposition is arrested below the surface. Many persons have
been drowned in the lake, but not one has ever been recovered, when the
accident occurred in deep water. So pellucid are its waters that a boat
gliding along the surface appears to be passing through the air, and
from the prows of swift-moving crafts, sheets of clearest glass seem to
be rolling away. Many beautiful cottages are built along the shore, the
summer homes of wealthy Californians, and in season the lake is animate
with boats and the beach alive with pleasure parties.
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[Illustration:
THE BROW OF EL CAPITAN GIRDLED WITH CLOUDS.—This is one of the
grandest and most beautiful views of Yosemite scenery that we have
ever had the pleasure of beholding. El Capitan, or, as we should say
in plain English, and certainly much more expressively, “The
Captain,” lifts his haughty head 3300 feet above the valley, and
calmly surveys the surrounding landscape as if he had a right to
command it. Our photographers were fortunate in being able to
procure such a splendid representation of cloud effects as are shown
along the brow of the mountain in this picture.
]
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[Illustration:
CARRIAGE ROAD THROUGH THE HEART OF MARIPOSA’S BIG TREE.—This splendid
photograph will give a better idea of the immense size of
California’s big trees than any other comparison or illustration
could. After cutting a roadway through the tree large enough to
admit of the passage of a carriage or an omnibus, it still has left
sufficient strength of root to support its trunk and branches and
stand firm against the assaults of the storms and earthquakes which
frequently bring down other monarchs of the forest less firmly
anchored in the heart of the earth.
]
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[Illustration: ICE FORMATION AT FOOT OF BRIDAL VEIL FALLS.]
[Illustration: NEVADA FALLS, YOSEMITE.]
Yosemite is beautiful and grand in all seasons of the year, in winter as
well as in the summer-time. But it is not often visited by tourists
except in the balmy season of summer, and thus some of its greatest
wonders would go unobserved except for the efforts of the energetic
photographer. On this page we have a combination of winter and summer
views, and are thereby enabled to enjoy both seasons at the same time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: DONNER LAKE, NEAR TRUCKEE, CALIFORNIA.]
A little way west of Truckee, and three miles from the road, is Donner
Lake, a beautiful body, but chiefly famous for the tragic history which
is connected with it. The story, in brief, is this: In the winter of
1846-47, a party of eighty-two emigrants, while on their way to
California, were overtaken by a snow-storm while encamped on the shore
of the lake, and of the number thirty-six perished of starvation. A
ghastly tale of cannibalism is told of the survivors, and the whole
tragedy is embalmed in Bret Harte’s novel of “Gabriel Conroy.” Besides
these two more celebrated bodies of water near Truckee, there are
Pyramid, Angeline, Silver, and Palisade lakes, all near by, and are more
or less popular resorts, particularly with fishing parties.
As we proceed up the Sierras the cold increases, until when the town of
Summit is reached snow lies upon the ground throughout the year, and it
is perpetual winter there, 7,000 feet above the sea. The route is for
many miles enclosed by snow-sheds, but the snow-plow has plenty of work
to do in keeping the intervals clear. Formerly this work was performed
by three or four engines pushing a big machine, somewhat resembling a
shovel-board plow, through the heavy banks of snow, but it is now more
speedily and effectively accomplished by a rotary snow-plow, as shown in
one of our illustrations. The machine is, in fact, a giant auger, which
is run by steam supplied by the engines behind it, and being set in
motion, rapidly bores its way through the drifts, throwing the snow at
an angle of forty-five degrees, and with a force sufficient to deposit
it fifty feet from the track.
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[Illustration: AGASSIZ COLUMN, YOSEMITE.]
[Illustration: THE PASSAGE-WAY AROUND CAPE HORN.]
The cliffs at Cape Horn, so beautifully represented on this page, are
over 2000 feet high, and so precipitous that, when work was commenced in
making a bed for the railroad tracks, men had to be lowered by ropes
from the top and held in position until, with picks and crowbars, they
could cut for themselves a footing in the rock walls. As the cars roll
round the jagged point they are on a level with the clouds, while below
for nearly 2000 feet appear the forests of pine trees, so reduced in
size by distance that they appear like ordinary whisk brooms.—Agassiz
Column is one of the prominent features of Yosemite scenery, and it is
splendidly reproduced in the fine photograph on this page.
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[Illustration: SNOW SHOVELERS CUTTING A BLOCKADE ON THE SIERRA NEVADAS.]
The road begins to descend rapidly after leaving Summit, but the most
wonderful scenery in all California is passed in the next 150 miles.
Donner’s Peak comes into view as the first suggestion of a dreadfully
tumultuous condition of nature, wrought by the great glaciers that in
the early centuries came grinding their way over the mountains. There is
Emigrant Gap, through which the first gold-seekers found their way into
the Golden Valley, and American Cañon, along the dizzy edge of which the
train runs at a free and almost reckless pace. The way is broken with
quarreling cascades, fast-dashing creeks and beautiful blue cañons, in
which an autumn haze perpetually lingers. Giant’s Gap, in the American
Cañon, is a vast rent in an opposing mountain, that looks like it might
have been torn out by the hand of the Thunder God to make a way for the
trolls. Chasm after chasm comes into view with grandeur and awfulness as
a background until presently the train runs out on a ledge that appears
to passengers inside the coaches to have no more substantial support
than a bank of clouds. We are away up high on the breast of a mountain
that shoots upward 2,000 feet perpendicularly, and looking out of the
car windows there is nothing but clouds bowling along on the same level,
and below forests of pine, stunted by distance, until the trees are no
bigger than whisk-brooms, and American River is a white thread not too
large to run through the eye of a darning-needle. This is Cape Horn,
where the ledge is so precipitous that in making the road-bed it was
necessary to lower the first workmen by means of ropes, which were held
fast at the summit while the suspended men plied their picks and crow-
bars until a footing was made.
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[Illustration: “FLOWER BEDS IN FRONT OF HOTEL DEL MONTE, MONTEREY.”]
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[Illustration: UPPER YOSEMITE FALLS IN WINTER.]
[Illustration: VIEW OF AMERICAN RIVER CAÑON, IN THE SIERRAS.]
Yosemite Falls in winter, with the lace-like sheet of water gently
pouring down between the columns of ice on either side, present a scene
of indescribable loveliness. It is a scene, also, not often witnessed,
for Yosemite has a dearth of visitors during the winter.—The companion
photograph affords a fine view of scenery in the Sierra Nevada Mountains
of California, made famous by Mark Twain in one of his jokes, wherein he
stated that the changes of climate in that region were so sudden and
extreme that, while hunting in the mountains one day, his dog’s head was
sun-struck by the intense heat, while at the same time his tail was
frozen by the severe cold prevailing at his other extremity. The point
of the joke will be appreciated after reading the splendid description
of this locality by the author of GLIMPSES OF AMERICA on page 192.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A ROTARY SNOW PLOW CUTTING THROUGH A BLOCKADE ON THE
SIERRAS.]
After leaving Cape Horn, and passing many relics of early mining days:
holes in the ground, decaying sluice-boxes, long flumes, tumble-down
shanties, and a few hydraulic works, the road gains the Sacramento
Valley, where the passengers are met by a burst of sunshine that makes
the land laugh with plenty, and fills every heart with gladness. The air
is fragrant with the almond and orange, and where husbandry has not
covered the broad-spreading acres with grain or vineyards, there are
flowers of a thousand hues, and butterflies of corresponding colors. The
early emigrants from the East, who sought fortune on the Pacific slope
after the gold discoveries of 1848-49, found a paradise in the fragrant
and prolific valley of the Sacramento, which, beautiful at all times,
was to them, after a journey of almost unbearable hardships across the
burning sands of the American Desert, a region of incomparable delight.
There is, indeed, no contrast in all nature so sudden and so great as
that afforded between Nevada and California, the line of separation
being the Sierras. Out of the arid plains, a very ocean of verdureless
desolation, the road rises rapidly to altitudes of perpetual snow and
into forests of pine that cover the sides of fearful precipices, the
peaks of towering mountains and the jaws of yawning chasms; then it
swoops down again into a land of perennial bloom, the antithesis of that
of the eastern desert, where, instead of parching, the sun revivifies
and forces into fruitage orchards, vineyards, groves, gardens, and
fields, making the land one of teeming plenty, and joyful with song of
bird, flash of stream, gleam of golden grain, and resonant with the
laughing chorus of exuberant nature. More fortunes have been won by aid
of the hoe and sickle wielded in this charming valley than were ever
gained by means of pick, flame and rocker on the harsh mountain sides,
where the gold-seekers have toiled so hopefully for forty years, and in
a great majority of cases spent their strength without reward.
The first time that I crossed the Sierras was in early autumn, before
the crisp air had begun to clip the leaves, and when Nevada appeared to
be swept with a stifling atmosphere; hot, dusty and dreary was the pale
sands, and the gray sage-brush was withered as by a simoom’s breath; I
wondered why tourists, on pleasure bent, should make such a journey.
Then out of the plain of dearth, and up the mountains we sped; suddenly,
as it were, the atmosphere grew chill, flakes of snow began to descend;
the way led out of hot summer into severe winter, and the landscape
became a picture of tumult, mighty, wonderful and picturesque. Then we
rolled down the Sierras into a land of indescribable beauty, into a
garden as lovely as that of Hesperides—and the answer was plain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------