- The source of this uncorrected OCR text may be viewed as a digital facsimile at: http://fax.libs.uga.edu/ THE WEITINGS OF JOHN MUIE ££anu£cript «Edition VOLUME II -* **'•: . ** ï| I . .. " -• *"; '•*;.•'" /I - The Yosemite Falls, Yosemite National Park MY FIEST SUMMEE THE SIEEEA BY JOHN MUIK BOSTON AND NEW TOEK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY MDCCCCXVI COPYRIGHT, ICH, BY JOHN MUIR COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY HOUGHTON MXFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO THE SIEERA CLUB OF CALIFORNIA FAITHFUL DEFENDER OF THE PEOPLE'S PLAYGROUNDS EDITION LIMITED TO SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES THIS IS NUMBEK %,•$ I CONTENTS I. THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS WITH A FLOCK OF SHEEP ......... 3 II. IN CAMP ON THE NORTH FOBK OF THE MERCED 32 III. A BREAD FAMINE ....... 75 IV. To THE HIGH MOUNTAINS ..... 86 V. THE YOSEMITE ....... 115 VI. MOUNT HUFFMAN AND LAKE TENATA . . 149 VII. A STRANGE EXPERIENCE ..... 178 VIII. THE MONO TRAIL ....... 195 I.. BLOODY CANON AND MONO LAKE . . . 214 X. THE TUOLÜMNE CAMP ...... 232 XI. BACK TO THE LOWLANDS ..... 254 INDEX .......... 265 ILLUSTRATIONS THE YOSEMITE FALLS, YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK Frontispiece The total height of the three falls is 2600 feet. The upper fall is about 1600 feet, and the lower about 400 feet. Mr. Muir was probably the only man who ever looked down into the heart of the fall from the narrow ledge of rocks near the top. From a photograph by Charles S. Olcott SHEEP IN THE MOUNTAINS ...... 8 Since the establishment of the Yosemite Na tional Park the pasturing of sheep has not been allowed within its boundaries, and as a result the grasses and wild flowers have recovered very much of their former luxuriance. The flock of sheep here photographed were feeding near Al ger Lake on the slope -of Blacktop Mountain, at an altitude of about 10,000 feet and just beyond the eastern boundary of the Park. From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason A SILVEE FIE, OE RED FIE (Abies magnified). . 90 This tree was found in an extensive forest of red fir above the Middle Fork of King's River. It was estimated to be about 250 feet high. Mr. Muir, on being shown the photograph, remarked that it was one of the finest and most mature speci mens of the red fir that he had ever seen. From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason THE NOETH AND SOUTH DOMES ..... 122 The great rock on the right is the South Dome, commonly called the Half-Dome, according to Mr. Muir "the most beautiful and most sublime ix ILLUSTRATIONS of all the Yosemite rocks." The one on the left is the North Dome, while in the center is the Wash ington Column. From a photograph by Charles S. Olcott THE VERNAL FALLS, YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK. 182 From a photograph by Charles S. Olcott THE HAPPY ISLES, YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK . 190 This is the main stream of the Merced River after passing over the Nevada and Vernal Falls and receiving the Illilouette tributary. From a photograph by Charles S. Olcott CATHEDRAL PEAK ........ 154 This view was taken from a point on the Sunrise Trail just south of the Peak, on a day when the "cloud mountains" so inspiring to Mr. Muir were much in evidence. From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason THE THREE BROTHERS, YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK 208 The highest rock, called Eagle Point, is 7900 feet above the sea, and 3900 feet above the floor of the valley. From a photograph by Charles S. Olcott MAP OF THE YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK . From the United States Geological Survey 264 FROM SKETCHES MADE BY THE AUTHOR IN 1869 HORSESHOE BEND, MERCED RIVER 14 ON SECOND BENCH. EDGE OF THE MAIN FOREST BELT, ABOVE COULTERVILLE, NEAR GHEELEY'S MILL ........... 14 CAMP, NORTH FORK OF THE MERCED 38 MOUNTAIN LIVE OAK (Quercus chrysdepis), EIGHT FEET IN DIAMETER . . . . . , 38 ILLUSTRATIONS SUGAR PINE .......... 60 DOUGLAS SQUIRREL OBSERVING BROTHER MAN . 68 DIVIDE BETWEEN THE TUOLUMNE AND THE MERCED, BELOW HAZEL GREEN ....... 86 TRACK OF SINGING DANCING GRASSHOPPER IN THE AIR OVER NORTH DOME ...... 140 ABIES MAGNIFICA (MOUNT GLARE, TOP OF SOUTH DOME, MOUNT STAER KING) ..... 142 ILLUSTRATING GROWTH OF NEW PINE FROM BRANCH BELOW THE BREAK OF AXIS OF SNOW-CRUSHED TREE ........... 144 APPROACH OF DOME CREEK TO YOSEMITE . . 150 JUNIPERS IN TENATA CANON ...... 164 VIEW OF TENATA LAKE SHOWING CATHEDRAL PEAK 196 ONE OF THE TRIBUTARY FOUNTAINS OF THE TUO LUMNE CANON WATERS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF THE HOFFMAN RANGE ....... 196 GLACIER MEADOW, ON THE HEADWATERS OF THE TUOLUMNE, 9500 FEET ABOVE THE SEA . . . 204 MONO LAKE AND VOLCANIC CONES, LOOKING SOUTH 228 HIGHEST MONO VOLCANIC CONES (NEAR VIEW) . 228 ONE OF THE HIGHEST MOUNT RITTER FOUNTAINS . 240 GLACIER MEADOW STREWN WITH MORAINE BOUL DERS, 10,000 FEET ABOVE THE SEA (NEAR MOUNT DANA) ........... 248 FRONT OF CATHEDRAL PEAK . VIEW OF UPPER TUOLUMNE VALLEY . 248 . 252 MY HEST SUMMEE IN THE SIEEEA MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA CHAPTER I THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS WITH A FLOCK OF SHEEP IN the great Central Valley of California there are only two seasons — spring and sum mer. The spring begins with the first rain storm, which usually falls in November. In a few months the wonderful flowery vegetation is in full bloom, and by the end of May it is dead and dry and crisp, as if every plant had \ been roasted in an oven. * Then the lolling, panting flocks and herds are driven to the high, cool, green pastures of the Sierra. I was longing for the mountains about this time, but money was scarce and I could n't see how a bread supply was to be kept up. While I was anxiously brooding on the bread problem, so troublesome to wanderers, and trying to believe that I might learn to live like the wild animals, gleaning nourishment here and there from seeds, berries, etc., saun tering and climbing in joyful independence 3 v MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA 'l of money or baggage, Mr. Delaney, a sheep- owner, for whom I had worked a few weeks, called on me, and offered to engage me to go with his shepherd and flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuolumne Rivers — the very region I had most in mind. I was in the mood to accept work of any kind that would take me into the mountains whose treasures I had tasted last summer in the Yosemite region. The flock, he explained, would be moved grad ually higher through the successive forest belts as the snow melted, stopping for a few weeks at the best places we came to. These I thought would be good centers of observation from which I might be able to make many telling excursions within a radius of eight or ten miles of the camps to learn something of the plants, animals, and rocks; for he assured me that I should be left perfectly free to follow my studies. I judged, however, that I was in no way the right man for the place, and freely explained my shortcomings, confessing that I was wholly unacquainted with the topography of the upper mountains, the streams that would have to be crossed, and the wild sheep-eating animals, etc.; in short that, what with bears, coyotes, rivers, canons, and thorny, bewildering chap arral, I feared that half or more of his flock would be lost. Fortunately these shortcom- THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS ings seemed insignificant to Mr. Delaney. The main thing, he said, was to have a man about the camp whom he could trust to see that the shepherd did his duty, and he assured me that the difficulties that seemed so formidable at a distance would vanish as we went on; encourag ing me further by saying that the shepherd would do all the herding, that I could study plants and rocks and scenery as much as I liked, and that he would himself accompany us to the first main camp and make occasional visits to our higher ones to replenish our store of pro visions and see how we prospered. Therefore I concluded to go, though still fearing, when I saw the silly sheep bouncing one by one through the narrow gate of the home corral to be counted, that of the two thousand and fifty many would never return. I was fortunate in getting a fine St. Bernard dog for a companion. His master, a hunter with whom I was slightly acquainted, came to me as soon as he heard that I was going to spend the summer in the Sierra and begged me to take his favorite dog, Carlo, with me, for he feared that if he were compelled to stay all summer on the plains the fierce heat might be the death of him. "I think I can trust you to be kind to him," he said, "and I am sure he will be good to you. He knows all about the moun- MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA tain animals, will guard the camp, assist in managing the sheep, and in every way be found able and faithful." Carlo knew we were talk ing about him, watched our faces, and listened so attentively that I fancied he understood us. Calling him by name, I asked him if he was willing to go with me. He looked me in the face with eyes expressing wonderful intelligence, then turned to his master, and after permis sion was given by a wave of the hand toward me and a farewell patting caress, he quietly followed me as if he perfectly understood all that had been said and had known me always. June 3,1869. This morning provisions, camp- kettles, blankets, plant-press, etc., were packed on two horses, the flock headed for the tawny foothills, and away we sauntered in a cloud of dust: Mr. Delaney, bony and tall, with sharply hacked profile like Don Quixote, leading the pack-horses, Billy, the proud shepherd, a Chi naman and a Digger Indian to assist in driving for the first few days in the brushy foothills, and myself with notebook tied to my belt. The home ranch from which we set out is on the south side of the Tuolumne River near French Bar, where the foothills of metamorphic gold-bearing slates dip below the stratified de posits of the Central Valley. We had not gone 6 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS more than a mile before some of the old lead ers of the flock showed by the eager, inquiring way they ran and looked ahead that they were thinking of the high pastures they had enjoyed last summer. Soon the whole flock seemed to be hopefully excited, the mothers calling their lambs, the lambs replying in tones wonderfully human, their fondly quavering calls interrupted now and then by hastily snatched mouthfuls of withered grass. Amid all this seeming babel of baas as they streamed over the hills every mother and child recognized each other's voice* In case a tired lamb, half asleep in the smother ing dust, should fail to answer, its mother would come running back through the flock toward the spot whence its last response was heard, and refused to be comforted until she found it, the one of a thousand, though to our eyes and ears all seemed alike. The flock traveled at the rate of about a mile an hour, outspread in the form of an ir regular triangle, about a hundred yards wide at the base, and a hundred and fifty yards long, with a crooked, ever-changing point made up of the strongest foragers, called the "leaders," which, with the most active of those scattered along the ragged sides of the "main body," hastily explored nooks in the rocks and bushes for grass and leaves; the lambs and feeble old 7 MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA mothers dawdling in the rear were called the "tail end." About noon the heat was hard to bear; the poor sheep panted pitifully and tried to stop in the shade of every tree they came to, while we gazed with eager longing through the dim burn ing glare toward the snowy mountains and streams, though not one was in sight. The landscape is only wavering foothills roughened here and there with bushes and trees and out cropping masses of slate. The trees, mostly the blue oak (Quercus Douglasif), are about thirty to forty feet high, with pale blue-green leaves and white bark, sparsely planted on the thinnest soil or in crevices of rocks beyond the reach of grass fires. The slates in many places rise abruptly through the tawny grass in sharp lichen-covered slabs like tombstones in deserted burying-grounds. With the exception of the oak and four or five species of manzanita and ceanothus, the vegetation of the foothills is mostly the same as that of the plains. I saw this region in the early spring, when it was a charming landscape garden full of birds and bees and flowers. Now the scorching weather makes everything dreary. The ground is full of cracks, lizards glide about on the rocks, and ants in amazing numbers, whose tiny sparks of life only burn the brighter with the heat, 8 Sheep in the Mountains ; '< J • -1: THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS fairly quiver with unquenchable energy as they run in long lines to fight and gather food. How it comes that they do not dry to a crisp in a few seconds' exposure to such sun-fire is marvelous. A few rattlesnakes lie coiled in out-of-the-way places, but are seldom seen. Magpies and crows, usually so noisy, are silent now, stand ing in mixed flocks on the ground beneath the best shade trees, with bills wide open and wings drooped, too breathless to speak; the quails also are trying to keep in the shade about the few tepid alkaline water-holes; cottontail rabbits are running from shade to shade among the ceanothus brush, and occasionally the long- eared hare is seen cantering gracefully across the wider openings. After a short noon rest in a grove, the poor dust-choked flock was again driven ahead over the brushy hills, but the dim roadway we had been following faded away just where it was most needed, compelling us to stop to look about us and get our bearings. The Chinaman seemed to think we were lost, and chattered in pidgin English concerning the abundance of "litty stick" (chaparral), while the Indian si lently scanned the billowy ridges and gulches for openings. Pushing through the thorny jungle, we at length discovered a road trending toward Coulterville, which we followed until 9 MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA an hour before sunset, when we reached a dry ranch and camped for the night. Camping in the foothills with a flock of sheep is simple and easy, but far from pleasant. The sheep were allowed to pick what they could find in the neighborhood until after sun set, watched by the shepherd, while the others gathered wood, made a fire, cooked, unpacked and fed the horses, etc. About dusk the weary sheep were gathered on the highest open spot near camp, where they willingly bunched close together, and after each mother had found her lamb and suckled it, all lay down and required no attention until morning. Supper was announced by the call, "Grub!" Each with a tin plate helped himself direct from the pots and pans while chatting about such camp studies as sheep-feed, mines, coyo tes, bears, or adventures during the memorable gold days of pay dirt. The Indian kept in the background, saying never a word, as if he be longed, to another species. The meal finished, the dogs were fed, the smokers smoked by the fire, and under the influences of fullness and tobacco the calm that settled on their faces seemed almost divine, something like the mel low meditative glow portrayed on the counte nances of saints. Then suddenly, as if awaken ing from a dream, each with a sigh or a grunt 10 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS knocked the ashes out of his pipe, yawned, gazed at the fire a few moments, said, "Well, I believe I'll turn in," and straightway van ished beneath his blankets. The fire smoul dered and flickered an hour or two longer; the stars shone brighter; coons, coyotes, and owls stirred the silence here and there, while crickets and hylas made a cheerful, continuous music, so fitting and full that it seemed a part of the very body of the night. The only discordance came from a snoring sleeper, and the coughing sheep with dust in their throats. In the star light the flock looked like a big gray blanket. June 4. The camp was astir at daybreak; coffee, bacon, and beans formed the breakfast, followed by quick dish-washing and packing. A general bleating began about sunrise. As soon as a mother ewe arose, her lamb came bounding and bunting for its breakfast, and after the thousand youngsters had been suckled the flock began to nibble and spread. The restless wethers with ravenous appetites were the first to move, but dared not go far from the main body. Billy and the Indian and the China man kept them headed along the weary road, and allowed them to pick up what little they could find on a breadth of about a quarter of a mile. But as several flocks had already gone ahead of us, scarce a leaf, green or dry, was ll MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA left; therefore the starving flock had to be hur ried on over the bare, hot hills to the nearest of the green pastures, about twenty or thirty miles from here. The pack-animals were led by Don Quix ote, a heavy rifle over his shoulder intended for bears and wolves. This day has been as hot and dusty as the first, leading over gently sloping brown hills, with mostly the same vegetation, excepting the strange-looking Sa bine pine (Firms Sabiniana), which here forms small groves or is scattered among the blue oaks. The trunk divides at a height of fifteen or twenty feet into two or more stems, out- leaning or nearly upright, with many strag gling branches and long gray needles, casting but little shade. In general appearance this tree looks more like a palm than a pine. The cones are about six or seven inches long, about five in diameter, very heavy, and last long after they fall, so that the ground beneath the trees is covered with them. They make fine resiny, light-giving camp-fires, next to ears of Indian corn the most beautiful fuel I've ever seen. The nuts, the Don tells me, are gathered in large quantities by the Digger Indians for food. They are about as large and hard-shelled as hazelnuts — food and fire fit for the gods from the same fruit. 12 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS June 5. This morning a few hours after setting out with the crawling sheep-cloud, we gained the summit of the first well-defined bench on the mountain-flank at Pino Blanco. The Sabine pines interest me greatly. They are so airy and strangely palm-like I was eager to sketch them, and was in a fever of excitement without accomplishing much. I managed to halt long enough, however, to make a tolerably fair sketch of Pino Blanco peak from the southwest side, where there is a small field and vineyard irrigated by a stream that makes a pretty fall on its way down a gorge by the roadside. After gaining the open summit of this first bench, feeling the natural exhilaration due to the slight elevation of a thousand feet or so, and the hopes excited concerning the out look to be obtained, a magnificent section of the Merced Valley at what is called Horse shoe Bend came full in sight — a glorious wilderness that seemed to be calling with a thousand songful voices. Bold, down-sweep ing slopes, feathered with pines and clumps of manzanita with sunny, open spaces be tween them, make up most of the foreground; the middle and background present fold be yond fold of finely modeled hills and ridges rising into mountain-like masses in the dis- 13 MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA tance, all covered with a shaggy growth of chaparral, mostly adenostoma, planted so marvelously close and even that it looks like soft, rich plush without a single tree or bare spot. As far as the eye can reach it extends, a heaving, swelling sea of green as regular and continuous as that produced by the heaths of Scotland. The sculpture of the landscape is as striking in its main lines as in its lavish rich ness of detail; a grand congregation of mas sive heights with the river shining between, each carved into smooth, graceful folds with out leaving a single rocky angle exposed, as if the delicate fluting and ridging fashioned out of metamorphic slates had been carefully sandpapered. The whole landscape showed design, like man's noblest sculptures. How wonderful the power of its beauty ! Gazing awe- stricken, I might have left everything for it. Glad, endless work would then be mine tracing the forces that have brought forth its features, its rocks and plants and animals and glorious weather. Beauty beyond thought everywhere, beneath, above, made and being made for ever. I gazed and gazed and longed and ad mired until the dusty sheep and packs were far out of sight, made hurried notes and a sketch, though there was no need of either, for the colors and lines and expression of this di- 14 --r '•Sr HORSESHOE ISEXD, MEKCKI) 1ÎIVEU ON SECOND BENCH. EDGE OF TUB MAIN FOKEST KELT ABOVE COULTETCVILLE, NEAR GÏÎEET,EY'S MILL THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS vine landscape-countenance are so burned into mind and heart they surely can never grow dim. The evening of this charmed day is cool, calm, cloudless, and full of a kind of light ning I have never seen before — white glow ing cloud-shaped masses down among the trees and bushes, like quick-throbbing fire flies in the Wisconsin meadows rather than the so-called "wild fire." The spreading hairs of the horses' tails and sparks from our blan kets show how highly charged the air is. June 6. We are now on what may be called the second bench or plateau of the Range, after making many small ups and downs over belts of hill-waves, with, of course, correspond ing changes in the vegetation. In open spots many of the lowland compositse are still to be found, and some of the Mariposa tulips and other conspicuous members of the lily family; but the characteristic blue oak of the foothills is left below, and its place is taken by a fine large species (Quercus Calif arnica) with deeply lobed deciduous leaves, picturesquely divided trunk, and broad, massy, finely lobed and modeled head. Here also at a height of about twenty-five hundred feet we come to the edge of the great coniferous forest, made up mostly of yellow pine with just a few sugar pines. We 15 r MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it,, thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun, — a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal. Just now I can hardly conceive of any bodily con dition dependent on food or breath any more than the ground or the sky. How glorious a conversion, so complete and wholesome it is, scarce memory enough of old bondage days left as a standpoint to view it from! In this new ness of life we seem to have been so always. Through a meadow opening in the pine woods I see snowy peaks about the head waters of the Merced above Yosemite. How near they seem and how clear their outlines on the blue air, or rather in the blue air; for they seem to be saturated with it. How con suming strong the invitation they extend! Shall I be allowed to go to them? Night and day I '11 pray that I may, but it seems too good to be true. Some one worthy will go, able for the Godful work, yet as far as I can I must drift about these love-monument mountains, glad to be a servant of servants in so holy a wilderness. 16 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS Found a lovely lily (Calochortus albus) in a shady adenostoma thicket near Coulter- ville, in company with Adiantum Chilense. It is white with a faint purplish tinge inside at the base of the petals, a most impressive plant, pure as a snow crystal, one of the plant saints that all must love and be made so much the purer by it every time it is seen. It puts the roughest mountaineer on his good be havior. With this plant the whole world would seem rich though none other existed. It is not easy to keep on with the camp cloud while such plant people are standing preach ing by the wayside. During the afternoon we passed a fine meadow bounded by stately pines, mostly the arrowy yellow pine, with here and there a noble sugar pine, its feathery arms outspread above the spires of its companion species in marked contrast; a glorious tree, its cones fifteen to twenty inches long, swinging like tassels at the ends of the branches with su perb ornamental effect. Saw some logs of this species at the Greeley Mill. They are round and regular as if turned in a lathe, excepting the butt cuts, which have a few buttressing projections. The fragrance of the sugary sap is delicious and scents the mill and lumber yard. How beautiful the ground be- 17 MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA neath this pine thickly strewn with slender needles and grand cones, and the piles of cone- scales, seed-wings and shells around the in step of each tree where the squirrels have been feasting! They get the seeds by cutting off the scales at the base in regular order, follow ing their spiral arrangement, and the two seeds at the base of each scale, a hundred or two in a cone, must make a good meal. The yellow pine cones and those of most other species and genera are held upside down on the ground by the Douglas squirrel, and turned around gradually until stripped, while he sits usually with his back to a tree, prob ably for safety. Strange to say, he never seems to get himself smeared with gum, not even his paws or whiskers — and how cleanly and beautiful in color the cone-litter kitchen- middens he makes. We are now approaching the region of clouds and cool streams. Magnificent white cumuli appeared about noon above the Yo- semite region, — floating fountains refresh ing the glorious wilderness, — sky moun tains in whose pearly hills and dales the streams take their rise, — blessing with cool ing shadows and rain. No rock landscape is more varied in sculpture, none more delicately modeled than these landscapes of the sky; 18 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS domes and peaks rising, swelling, white as finest marble and firmly outlined, a most im pressive manifestation of world building. Every rain-cloud, however fleeting, leaves its mark, not only on trees and flowers whose pulses are quickened, and on the replenished streams and lakes, but also on the rocks are its marks engraved whether we can see them or not. I have been examining the curious and in fluential shrub Adenostoma fasciculata, first noticed about Horseshoe Bend. It is very abundant on the lower slopes of the second plateau near Coulterville, forming a dense, almost impenetrable growth that looks dark in the distance. It belongs to the rose family, is about six or eight feet high, has small white flowers in racemes eight to twelve inches long, round needle-like leaves, and reddish bark that becomes shreddy when old. It grows on sun-beaten slopes, and like grass is often swept away by running fires, but is quickly renewed from the roots. Any trees that may have established themselves in its midst are at length killed by these fires, and this no doubt is the secret of the unbroken character of its broad belts. A few manzanitas, which also rise again from the root after consuming fires, make out to dwell with it, also a few 19 Î ll l MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA bush composite— baccharis and linosyris, and some liliaceous plants, mostly calochor- tus and brodisea, with deepset bulbs safe from fire. A multitude of birds and "wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beasties" find good homes in its deepest thickets, and the open bays and lanes that fringe the margins of its main belts offer shelter and food to the deer when winter storms drive them down from their high moun tain pastures. A most admirable plant! It is now in bloom, and I like to wear its pretty fragrant racemes in my buttonhole. Azalea occidentalis, another charming shrub, grows beside cool streams hereabouts and much higher in the Yosemite region. We found it this evening in bloom a few miles above Greeley's Mill, where we are camped for the night. It is closely related to the rhododendrons, is very showy and fragrant, and everybody must like it not only for itself but for the shady alders and willows, ferny meadows, and living water associated with it. Another conifer was met to-day — incense cedar (Libocedrus decurrens), a large tree with warm yellow-green foliage in flat plumes like those of arborvitge, bark cinnamon-colored, and as the boles of the old trees are without limbs they make striking pillars in the woods where the sun chances to shine on them — a 20 I a i THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS worthy companion of the kingly sugar and yellow pines. I feel strangely attracted to this tree. The brown close-grained wood, as well as the small scale-like leaves, is fragrant, and the flat over-lapping plumes make fine beds, and must shed the rain well. It would be de lightful to be storm-bound beneath one of these noble, hospitable, inviting old trees, its broad sheltering arms bent down like a tent, incense rising from the fire made from its dry fallen branches, and a hearty wind chanting overhead. But the weather is calm to-night, and our camp is only a sheep camp. We are near the North Fork of the Merced. The night wind is telling the wonders of the upper mountains, their snow fountains and gardens, forests and groves; even their topography is in its tones. And the stars, the everlasting sky lilies, how bright they are now that we have climbed above the lowland dust! The horizon is bounded and adorned by a spiry wall of pines, every tree harmoniously related to every other; definite symbols, divine hiero glyphics written with sunbeams. Would I could understand them! The stream flowing past the camp through ferns and lilies and alders makes sweet music to the ear, but the pines marshaled around the edge of the sky make a yet sweeter music to the eye. Divine 21 II '<'. ' 4 J", r l il" MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA beauty all. Here I could stay tethered for ever with just bread and water, nor would I be lonely; loved friends and neighbors, as love for everything increased, would seem all the nearer however many the miles and moun tains between us. June 7. The sheep were sick last night, and many of them are still far from well, hardly able to leave camp, coughing, groaning, look ing wretched and pitiful, all from eating the leaves of the blessed azalea. So at least say the shepherd and the Don. Having had but little grass since they left the plains, they are starving, and so eat anything green they can get. "Sheep-men" call azalea "sheep-poison," and wonder what the Creator was thinking about when he made it — so desperately does sheep business blind and degrade, though supposed to have a refining influence in the good old days we read of. The California sheep owner is hi haste to get rich, and often does, now that pasturage costs nothing, while the climate is so favorable that no winter food supply, shelter-pens, or barns are required. Therefore large flocks may be kept at slight expense, and large profits realized, the money invested doubling, it is claimed, every other year. This quickly acquired wealth usually creates desire for more. Then indeed the wool 22 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS is drawn close down over the poor fellow's eyes, dimming or shutting out almost every thing worth seeing. As for the shepherd, his case is still worse, «specially in winter when he lives alone in a cabin. For, though stimulated at times by hopes of one day owning a flock and getting rich like his boss, he at the same time is likely to be degraded by the life he leads, and seldom reaches the dignity or advantage — or disad vantage — of ownership. The degradation in his case has for cause one not far to seek. He is solitary most of the year, and solitude to most people seems hard to bear. He sel dom has much good mental work or recrea tion in the way of books. Coming into his dingy hovel-cabin at night, stupidly weary, he finds nothing to balance and level his life with the universe. No, after his dull drag all day after the sheep, he must get his supper; he is likely to slight this task and try to satisfy his hunger with whatever comes handy. Per haps no bread is baked; then he just makes a few grimy flapjacks in his unwashed frying- pan, boils a handful of tea, and perhaps fries a few strips of rusty bacon. Usually there are dried peaches or apples in the cabin, but he hates to be bothered with the cooking of them, just swallows the bacon and flapjacks, 23 r,- I . !rfi MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA and depends on the genial stupefaction of tobacco for the rest. Then to bed, often with out removing the clothing worn during the day. Of course his health suffers, reacting on his mind; and seeing nobody for weeks or months, he finally becomes semi-insane or wholly so. The shepherd in Scotland seldom thinks of being anything but a shepherd. He has prob ably descended from a race of shepherds and inherited a love and aptitude for the business almost as marked as that of his collie. He has but a small flock to look after, sees his family and neighbors, has time for reading in fine weather, and often carries books to the fields with which he may converse with kings. The oriental shepherd, we read, called his sheep by name; they knew his voice and followed him. The flocks must have been small and easily managed, allowing piping on the hills and ample leisure for reading and thinking. But whatever the blessings of sheep-culture in other times and countries, the California shep herd, as far as I've seen or heard, is never quite sane for any considerable time. Of all Nature's voices baa is about all he hears. Even the howls and ki-yis of coyotes might be blessings if well heard, but he hears them only through a blur of mutton and wool, and they do him no good. 24 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS The sick sheep are getting well, and the shepherd is discoursing on the various poisons lurking in these high pastures — azalea, kal- mia, alkali. After crossing the North Fork of the Merced we turned to the left toward Pilot Peak, and made a considerable ascent on a rocky, brush-covered ridge to Brown's Flat, where for the first time since leaving the plains the flock is enjoying plenty of green grass. Mr. Delaney intends to seek a perma nent camp somewhere in the neighborhood, to last several weeks. Before noon we passed Bower Cave, a de lightful marble palace, not dark and dripping, but filled with sunshine, which pours into it through its wide-open mouth facing the south. It has a fine, deep, clear little lake with mossy banks embowered with broad-leaved maples, all under ground, wholly unlike anything I have seen in the cave line even in Kentucky, where a large part of the State is honeycombed with caves. This curious specimen of sub terranean scenery is located on a belt of mar ble that is said to extend from the north end of the Range to the extreme south. Many other caves occur on the belt, but none like this, as far as I have learned, combining as it does sunny outdoor brightness and vegeta tion with the crystalline beauty of the under- 25 I,-»- ! I r, I'll > -I MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA world. It is claimed by a Frenchman, who has fenced and locked it, placed a boat on the lakelet and seats on the mossy bank under the maple trees, and charges a dollar admission fee. Being on one of the ways to the Yosemite Valley, a good many tourists visit it during the travel months of summer, regarding it as an interesting addition to their Yosemite wonders. Poison oak or poison ivy (Rhus diversiloba), both as a bush and a scrambler up trees and rocks, is common throughout the foothill re gion up to a height of at least three thousand feet above the sea. It is somewhat trouble some to most travelers, inflaming the skin and eyes, but blends harmoniously with its com panion plants, and many a charming flower leans confidingly upon it for protection and shade. I have oftentimes found the curious twining lily (Stropholirion Californicum) climb ing its branches, showing no fear but rather congenial companionship. Sheep eat it with out apparent ill effects; so do horses to some extent, though not fond of it, and to many persons it is harmless. Like most other things not apparently useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, "Why was it made?" goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself. 26 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS Brown's Flat is a shallow fertile valley on the top of the divide between the North Fork of the Merced and Bull Creek, commanding magnificent views in every direction. Here the adventurous pioneer David Brown made his headquarters for many years, dividing his time between gold-hunting and bear-hunting. Where could lonely hunter find a better soli tude? Game in the woods, gold in the rocks, health and exhilaration in the air, while the colors and cloud furniture of the sky are ever inspiring through all sorts of weather. Though sternly practical, like most pioneers, old David seems to have been uncommonly fond of scen ery. Mr. Delaney, who knew him well, tells me that he dearly loved to climb to the sum mit of a commanding ridge to gaze abroad over the forest to the snow-clad peaks and sources of the rivers, and over the foreground valleys and gulches to note where miners were at work or claims were abandoned, judging by smoke from cabins and camp-fires, the sounds of axes, etc.; and when a rifle-shot was heard, to guess who was the hunter, whether Indian or some poacher on his wide domain. His dog Sandy accompanied him everywhere, and well the little hairy mountaineer knew and loved his master and his master's aims. In deer-hunting he had but little to do, trot- 27 18 I •V .1' i t it,, MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA ting behind his master as he slowly made his way through the wood, careful not to step heavily on dry twigs, scanning open spots in the chaparral, where the game loves to feed in the early morning and towards sunset; peer ing cautiously over ridges as new outlooks were reached, and along the meadowy borders of streams. But when bears were hunted, little Sandy became more important, and it was as a bear-hunter that Brown became famous. His hunting method, as described by Mr. De- laney, who had passed many a night with him in his lonely cabin and learned his stories, was simply to go slowly and silently through the best bear pastures, with his dog and rifle and a few pounds of flour, until he found a fresh track and then follow it to the death, paying no heed to the time required. Wherever the bear went he followed, led by little Sandy, who had a keen nose and never lost the track, however rocky the ground. When high open points were reached, the likeliest places were carefully scanned. The time of year enabled the hunter to determine approximately where the bear would be found, — in the spring and early summer on open spots about the banks of streams and springy places eating grass and clover and lupines, or in dry meadows feasting on strawberries; toward the end of summer, on 28 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS dry ridges, feasting on manzanita berries, sit ting on his haunches, pulling down the laden branches with his paws, and pressing them together so as to get good compact mouthfuls however much mixed with twigs and leaves; in the Indian summer, beneath the pines, chewing the cones cut off by the squirrels, or occasion ally climbing a tree to gnaw and break off the fruitful branches. In late autumn, when acorns are ripe, Bruin's favorite feeding-grounds are groves of the California oak in park-like canon flats. Always the cunning hunter knew where to look, and seldom came upon Bruin una wares. When the hot scent showed the dan gerous game was nigh, a long halt was made, and the intricacies of the topography and veg etation leisurely scanned to catch a glimpse of the shaggy wanderer, or to at least determine where he was most likely to be. "Whenever," said the hunter, "I saw a bear before it saw me I had no trouble in kill ing it. I just studied the lay of the land and got to leeward of it no matter how far around I had to go, and then worked up to within a few hundred yards or so, at the foot of a tree that I could easily climb, but too small for the bear to climb. Then I looked well to the condition of my rifle, took off my boots so as to climb well if necessary, and waited until 29 T i •T. Il III ' MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA the bear turned its side in clear view when I could make a sure or at least a good shot. In case it showed fight I climbed out of reach. But bears are slow and awkward with their eyes, and being to leeward of them they could not scent me, and I often got in a second shot before they noticed the smoke. Usually, how ever, they run when wounded and hide in the brush. I let them run a good safe time before I ventured to follow them, and Sandy was pretty sure to find them dead. If not, he barked and drew their attention, and occa sionally rushed in for a distracting bite, so that I was able to get to a safe distance for a final shot. Oh, yes, bear-hunting is safe enough when followed in a safe way, though like every other business it has its accidents, and little doggie and I have had some close calls. Bears like to keep out of the way of men as a general thing, but if an old, lean, hungry mother with cubs met a man on her own ground she would, in my opinion, try to catch and eat him. This would be only fair play anyhow, for we eat them, but nobody hereabout has been used for bear grub that I know of." Brown had left his mountain home ere we arrived, but a considerable number of Digger Indians still linger in their cedar-bark huts on the edge of the flat. They were attracted 30 THROUGH THE FOOTHILLS in the first place by the white hunter whom they had learned to respect, and to whom they looked for guidance and protection against their enemies the Pah Utes, who some times made raids across from the east side of the Range to plunder the stores of the com paratively feeble Diggers and steal their wives. NORTH FORK OF THE MERCED .¥ CHAPTER II IN CAMP ON THE NORTH FORK OP THE MERCED June 8. The sheep, now grassy and good- natured, slowly nibbled their way down into the valley of the North Fork of the Merced at the foot of Pilot Peak Ridge to the place selected by the Don for our first central camp, a picturesque hopper-shaped hollow formed by converging hill slopes at a bend of the river. Here racks for dishes and provisions were made in the shade of the river-bank trees, and beds of fern fronds, cedar plumes, and various flowers, each to the taste of its owner, and a corral back on the open flat for the wool. June 9. How deep our sleep last night in the mountain's heart, beneath the trees and stars, hushed by solemn-sounding waterfalls and many small soothing voices in sweet ac cord whispering peace! And our first pure mountain day, warm, calm, cloudless, —how immeasurable it seems, how serenely wild! I can scarcely remember its beginning. Along the river, over the hills, in the ground, in the sky, spring work is going on with joyful en thusiasm, new life, new beauty, unfolding, unrolling in glorious exuberant extravagance, 32 — new birds in their nests, new winged créa* tures in the air, and new leaves, new flowers, spreading, shining, rejoicing everywhere. The trees about the camp stand close, giving ample shade for ferns and lilies, while back from the bank most of the sunshine reaches the ground, calling up the grasses and flowers in glorious array, tall bromus waving like bamboos, starry compositse, monardella, Mari- posa tulips, lupines, gilias, violets, glad chil dren of light. Soon every fern frond will be unrolled, great beds of common pteris and woodwardia along the river, wreaths and ro settes of pellsea and cheilanthes on sunny rocks. Some of the woodwardia fronds are already six feet high. A handsome little shrub, Chamœbatia fo- liolosa, belonging to the rose family, spreads a yellow-green mantle beneath the sugar pines for miles without a break, not mixed or rough ened with other plants. Only here and there a Washington lily may be seen nodding above its even surface, or a bunch or two of tall bro mus as if for ornament. This fine carpet shrub begins to appear at, say, twenty-five hundred or three thousand feet above sea level, is about knee high or less, has brown branches, and the largest stems are only about half an inch in diameter. The leaves, light yellow green, 33 MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA thrice pinnate and finely cut, give them a rich ferny appearance, and they are dotted with minute glands that secrete wax with a pecu liar pleasant odor that blends finely with the spicy fragrance of the pines. The flowers are white, five eighths of an inch in diameter, and look like those of the strawberry. Am de lighted with this little bush. It is the only true carpet shrub of this part of the Sierra. The manzanita, rhamnus, and most of the species of ceanothus make shaggy rugs and border fringes rather than carpets or mantles. The sheep do not take kindly to their new pastures, perhaps from being too closely hemmed in by the hills. They are never fully at rest. Last night they were frightened, probably by bears or coyotes prowling and planning for a share of the grand mass of mutton. June 10. Very warm. We get water for the camp from a rock basin at the foot of a pictur esque cascading reach of the river where it is well stirred and made lively without being beaten into dusty foam. The rock here is black metamorphic slate, worn into smooth knobs in the stream channels, contrasting with the fine gray and white cascading water as it glides and glances and falls in lace-like sheets and braided overfolding currents. Tufts of sedge growing 34 1 NORTH FORK OF THE MERCED on the rock knobs that rise above the surface produce a charming effect, the long elastic leaves arching over in every direction, the tips of the longest drooping into the current, which dividing against the projecting rocks makes still finer lines, uniting with the sedges to see how beautiful the happy stream can be made. Nor is this all, for the giant saxifrage also is growing on some of the knob rock islets, firmly anchored and displaying their broad, round, umbrella-like leaves in showy groups by them selves, or above the sedge tufts. The flowers of this species (Saxifraga peltata) are purple, and form tall glandular racemes that are in bloom before the appearance of the leaves. The fleshy root-stocks grip the rock in cracks and hollows, and thus enable the plant to hold on against occasional floods, — a marked species employed by Nature to make yet more beauti ful the most interesting portions of these cool clear streams. Near camp the trees arch over from bank to bank/making a leafy tunnel full of soft subdued light, through which the young river sings and shines like a happy living crea ture. Heard a few peals of thunder from the upper Sierra, and saw firm white bossy cumuli rising back of the pines. This was about noon. June 11. On one of the eastern branches of 35 ' ! "I : I I f" I* i) MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE SIERRA probably slowly acquired in hard hunting and fighting lessons while trying to approach game, take enemies by surprise, or get safely away when compelled to retreat. And this experi ence transmitted through many generations seems at length to have become what is vaguely called instinct. How smooth and changeless seems the surface of the mountains about us! Scarce a track is to be found beyond the range of the sheep except on small open spots on the sides of the streams, or where the forest carpets are thin or wanting. On the smoothest of these open strips and patches deer tracks may be seen, and the great suggestive footprints of bears, which, with those of the many small animals, are scarce enough to answer as a kind of light ornamental stitching or embroidery. Along the main ridges and larger branches of the river Indian trails may be traced, but they are not nearly as dis tinct as one would expect to find them. How many centuries Indians have roamed these woods nobody knows, probably a great many, extending far beyond the time that Columbus touched our shores, and it seems strange that heavier marks have not been made. Indians walk softly and hurt the landscape hardly more than the birds and squirrels, and their brush and bark huts last hardly longer than those of 54 NORTH FORK OF THE MERCED wood rats, while their more enduring monu ments, excepting those wrought on the forests by the fires they made to improve their hunting grounds, vanish in a few centuries. How different are most of those of the white man, especially on the lower gold region — roads blasted in the solid rock, wild streams dammed and tamed and turned out of their channels and led along the sides of canons and valleys to work in mines like slaves. Crossing from ridge to ridge, high in the air, on long straddling trestles as if flowing on stilts, or down and up across valleys and hills, impris oned in iron pipes to strike and wash away hills and miles of the skin of the mountain's face, riddling, stripping every gold gully and flat. These are the white man's marks-made in a few feverish years, to say nothing of mills, fields, villages, scattered hundreds of miles along the flank of the Range. Long will it be ere these marks are effaced, though Nature is doing what she can, replanting, gardening, sweeping away old dams and flumes, leveling gravel and boulder piles, patiently trying to heal every raw scar. The main gold storm is over. Calm enough are the gray old miners scratching a bare living in waste diggings here and there. Thundering underground blasting is still going on to feed the pounding quartz 55 M fl - I', ! '