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I have said that the time-table of the Canadian Pacific Railway is so arranged that the finest scenery is pa.s.sed in daylight, in both directions; but of course there must be exceptions, and, as a matter of fact, as long as the road crosses the three great mountain ranges of the Cascades, Selkirks, and Rockies, there is hardly a mile that does not offer something worth seeing. Consequently, as darkness again closes in soon after leaving Golden, east-bound pa.s.sengers must resign themselves to lose sight of the Kicking Horse Canon, the Beaverfoot and Ottertail Mountains, the large glacier on Mount Stephen, etc.,--which is all the more provoking as they have to sit up anyway till midnight, when Banff is reached; for, of course, every tourist who is in his right senses and not a slave to duty gets off here to spend a few days in the Canadian National Park.
[The description of this park we can give only in summary.]
Summing up on the Canadian National Park, we may say it has not so many natural wonders as the Yellowstone Park,--no geysers, steam-holes, gold-bottomed rivulets, paint-pots, nor anything to place beside the Yellowstone Canon and Falls. But the Minnewonka Lake may fairly challenge comparison with the Yellowstone Lake, and the mountain scenery is grander in the Canadian Park, and the snow and glaciers are nearer, though not so near as at the Glacier House, where the air is in consequence cooler and more bracing in summer than even at Banff. As the Canadian Park is only twenty-six miles long and ten wide, while the Yellowstone Park is about sixty-two by fifty-four miles, the former can be seen in much less time than it takes to do justice to the latter.
When we get ready to leave Banff we have to take the midnight train, so there is no chance to say good-by to the mountains. But we have seen so much of them since leaving Vancouver, that we have felt almost tempted to cry out to Nature, "Hold, enough; less would be more!" Now we get ample opportunity to ruminate in peace over our crowded impressions.
When we get up we are on the prairie; we go to bed on the prairie, after traversing a territory larger than a European kingdom; again we rise on the prairie, and again go to bed on it; and not till Lake Superior is approached does the scenery once more become interesting....
As a general thing, it is no doubt wiser to take the Canadian Pacific Railway westward than eastward, as the scenic climax is on the western side. However, it is quite possible to avoid the feeling of anti-climax on going east, if we conclude the trip with the Thousand Islands and the Rapids of the St. Lawrence, together with Montreal; or with Niagara Falls and the Hudson River. The Pacific slope, no doubt, is scenically far more attractive than the Atlantic; still, there are some things in the East which even California would be proud to add to her attractions.
SOUTH Pa.s.s AND FREMONT'S PEAK.
JOHN C. FREMONT.
[Captain John Charles Fremont, one of the earliest government explorers of the Rocky Mountain region and the Pacific slope, was born at Savannah, Georgia, in 1813. Becoming a civil engineer in the government service, in 1842 he explored the South Pa.s.s of the Rocky Mountains, ascending in August the highest peak in the Wind River range. This has since been known as Fremont's Peak. In the following year he explored Great Salt Lake. In 1845 he led a third expedition to the Pacific, and during the Mexican war was instrumental in securing California for the United States. He led subsequent expeditions westward, was Republican candidate for the Presidency in 1856, served during the war, and in 1878-82 was governor of Arizona. He died in 1890. We subjoin his account of the crossing of the South Pa.s.s and discovery and ascent of Fremont's Peak.]
The view [of the Wind River Mountains] dissipated in a moment the pictures which had been created in our minds by many travellers who have compared these mountains with the Alps in Switzerland, and speak of the glittering peaks which rise in icy majesty amidst the eternal glaciers nine or ten thousand feet into the region of eternal snows.
[Continuing their course, they encamped on August 7 near the South Pa.s.s, and the next morning set out for the dividing ridge.]
About six miles from our encampment brought us to the summit. The ascent had been so gradual that, with all the intimate knowledge possessed by Carson, who had made the country his home for seventeen years, we were obliged to watch very closely to find the place at which we reached the culminating point. This was between two low hills, rising on either hand fifty or sixty feet. When I looked back at them, from the foot of the immediate slope on the western plain, their summits appeared to be about one hundred and twenty feet above. From the impression on my mind at this time, and subsequently on our return, I should compare the elevation which we mounted immediately at the Pa.s.s to the ascent of the Capitol hill from the avenue at Was.h.i.+ngton. It is difficult for me to fix positively the breadth of this pa.s.s. From the broken ground where it commences, at the foot of the White River chain, the view to the southeast is over a champaign country, broken, at the distance of nineteen miles, by the Table Rock, which, with the other isolated hills in its vicinity, seem to stand in a comparative plain. This I judged to be its termination, the ridge recovering its rugged character with the Table Rock.
It will be seen that it in no manner resembles the places to which the term is commonly applied,--nothing of the gorge-like character and winding ascents of the Alleghany pa.s.ses in America; nothing of the Great St. Bernard and Simplon pa.s.ses in Europe. Approaching it from the mouth of the Sweet Water, a sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles long, conducts, by a gradual and regular ascent, to the summit, about seven thousand feet above the sea; and the traveller, without being reminded of any change by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds himself on the waters which flow to the Pacific Ocean. By the route we had travelled, the distance from Fort Laramie is three hundred and twenty miles, or nine hundred and fifty from the mouth of the Kansas.
[They continued their course westward, crossing several tributaries of the Colorado River, and on the 10th reached unexpectedly a beautiful lake.]
Here a view of the intensest magnificence and grandeur burst upon our eyes. With nothing between us and their feet to lessen the effect of the whole height, a grand bed of snow-capped mountains rose before us, pile upon pile, glowing in the bright light of an August day. Immediately below them lay the lake, between two ridges, covered with dark pines, which swept down from the main chain to the spot where we stood. "Never before," said Mr. Preuss, "in this country or in Europe, have I seen such grand, magnificent rocks." I was so much pleased with the beauty of the place that I determined to make the main camp here, where our animals would find good pasturage, and explore the mountains with a small party of men.
[On the 12th this party set out, crossing intervening hills, and ascending through dense forests to the summit of the ridge.]
We had reached a very elevated point, and in the valley below, and among the hills, were a number of lakes of different levels, some two or three hundred feet above others, with which they communicated by foaming torrents. Even to our great height the roar of the cataracts came up, and we could see them leaping down in lines of snowy foam. From this scene of busy waters we turned abruptly into the stillness of a forest, where we rode among the open bolls of the pines, over a lawn of verdant gra.s.s, having strikingly the air of cultivated grounds. This led us, after a time, among ma.s.ses of rock, which had no vegetable earth but in hollows and crevices, though still the pine-forest continued. Towards evening we reached a defile, or rather a hole in the mountains, entirely shut in by dark pine-covered rocks.
[In the morning they ascended a mountain stream, to its source in a small lake surrounded by a lawn-like expanse.]
Here I determined to leave our animals, and make the rest of our way on foot. The peak appeared so near that there was no doubt of our returning before night; and a few men were left in charge of the mules, with our provisions and blankets. We took with us nothing but our arms and instruments, and, as the day had become warm, the greater part left our coats. Having made an early dinner, we started again. We were soon involved in the most rugged precipices, nearing the central chain very slowly, and rising but little. The first ridge hid a succession of others; and when, with great fatigue and difficulty, we had climbed up five hundred feet, it was but to make an equal descent on the other side; all these intervening places were filled with small deep lakes, which met the eye in every direction, descending from one level to another, sometimes under bridges formed by huge fragments of granite, beneath which was heard the roar of the water. These constantly obstructed our path, forcing us to make long _detours_; frequently obliged to retrace our steps, and frequently falling among the rocks.
Maxwell was precipitated towards the face of a precipice, and saved himself from going over by throwing himself flat on the ground. We clambered on, always expecting, with every ridge that we crossed, to reach the foot of the peaks, and always disappointed, until about four o'clock, when, pretty well worn out, we reached the sh.o.r.e of a little lake, in which was a rocky island.
By the time we had reached the farther side of the lake we found ourselves all exceedingly fatigued, and, much to the satisfaction of the whole party, we encamped. The spot we had chosen was a broad, flat rock, in some measure protected from the winds by the surrounding crags, and the trunks of fallen pines afforded us bright fires. Near by was a foaming torrent, which tumbled into the little lake about one hundred and fifty feet below us, and which, by way of distinction, we have called Island Lake. We had reached the upper limit of the piney region; as, above this point, no tree was to be seen, and patches of snow lay everywhere around us, on the cold sides of the rock. From barometrical observations made during our three days' sojourn at this place, its elevation above the Gulf of Mexico is ten thousand feet....
[They set out early the next morning.]
On every side, as we advanced, was heard the roar of waters, and of a torrent, which we followed up a short distance, until it expanded into a lake about one mile in length. On the northern side of the lake was a bank of ice, or rather of snow covered with a crust of ice. Carson had been our guide into the mountains, and, agreeably to his advice, we left this little valley and took to the ridges again, which we found extremely broken, and where we were again involved among precipices.
Here were ice-fields, among which we were all dispersed, seeking each the best way to ascend the peak. Mr. Preuss attempted to walk along the upper edge of one of these fields, which sloped away at an angle of about twenty degrees; but his feet slipped from under him, and he went plunging down the plain. A few hundred feet below, at the bottom, were some fragments of sharp rock, on which he landed; and, though he turned a couple of somersets, fortunately received no injury beyond a few bruises.
[That day's work failed, and they returned at evening to the camp. The next day they ascended a long defile on mule-back, and soon had the satisfaction to find that they had taken the right course. Finally, leaving their mules, they continued on foot, eventually reaching a point near the summit. Here was an overhanging b.u.t.tress of rock, which could be surmounted only by pa.s.sing around one side of it, which was the face of a precipice several hundred feet in depth.]
Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded in getting over it, and when I reached the top, found my companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field five hundred feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest, about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20 north, 51 east.
As soon as I had gratified the first feeling of curiosity I descended, and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would precipitate into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze where never flag waved before.
During our morning's ascent we had met no sign of animal life, except a small sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most profound and a terrible solitude forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was absolute, unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought ourselves beyond the region of animated life; but while we were sitting on the rock, a solitary bee (_Bombus, the b.u.mble-bee_) came winging his flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.
It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky Mountains, for a lover of warm suns.h.i.+ne and flowers; and we pleased ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross the mountain barrier,--a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this country, where all animated nature seems at war; and seizing him immediately, put him in at least a fit place,--in the leaves of a large book, among the flowers we had collected on our way. The barometer stood at 18.293, the attached thermometer 44; giving for the elevation of this summit thirteen thousand five hundred and seventy feet above the Gulf of Mexico, which may be called the highest flight of the bee. It is certainly the highest known flight of that insect.
From the description given by Mackenzie of the mountains where he crossed them, with that of the French officer still farther to the north, and Colonel Long's measurements to the south, joined to the opinion of the oldest traders of the country, it is presumed that this is the highest peak in the Rocky Mountains. [Fremont's Peak is now estimated at thirteen thousand seven hundred and ninety feet. There are many peaks now known over fourteen thousand feet. The highest point is Blanca Peak, fourteen thousand four hundred and sixty-three feet high.]
The day was sunny and bright, but a slight s.h.i.+ning mist hung over the lower plains, which interfered with our view of the surrounding country.
On one side we overlooked innumerable lakes and streams, the spring of the Colorado of the Gulf of California; and on the other was the Wind River Valley, where were the heads of the Yellowstone branch of the Missouri; far to the north we could just discover the snowy heads of the _Trois Tetons_, where were the sources of the Missouri and Columbia Rivers; and at the southern extremity of the ridge the peaks were plainly visible among which were some of the springs of the Nebraska or Platte River. Around us the whole scene had one main, striking feature, which was that of terrible convulsion. Parallel to its length, the ridge was split into chasms and fissures; between which rose the thin lofty walls, terminated with slender minarets and columns.
[The party reached camp the next day, and on the 17th turned their faces homeward, the purpose of the expedition having been accomplished.]
IN THE YELLOWSTONE PARK.
FERDINAND V. HAYDEN.
[About the middle of this century reports began to be heard of a veritable wonderland in the far West, as yet seen only by trappers and other adventurers, whose stories of the marvels they had beheld whetted the appet.i.te of scientific explorers.
The first attempt to reach the region of the Yellowstone was made in 1856, but failed, and it was not until 1869 that an exploring party entered this marvellous valley. A second party reached the Yellowstone region in 1870, and Mr. N. P. Langford wrote a glowing account of the wonders observed. The first detailed description of the locality was made by Dr. Hayden, chief of the Geological Survey of the Territories, in 1871.
From this extended and highly interesting account we can only quote a few pa.s.sages, selecting those which relate to the hot springs and geysers of the wonderful Fire-Hole River region.]
Early in the morning of August 30 the valley was literally filled with columns of steam, ascending from more than a thousand vents. I can compare the view to nothing but that of some manufacturing city like Pittsburg, as seen from a high point, except that instead of the black coal smoke there are here the white delicate clouds of steam. Small groups or solitary springs that are scattered everywhere in the woods upon the mountain-sides, and which would otherwise have escaped observation, are detected by the columns of steam. It is evident that some of these groups of springs have changed their base of operations within a comparatively recent period; for about midway on the east side of the lower basin there is a large area covered with a thick, apparently modern, deposit of the silica, as white as snow, while standing quite thickly all around are the dead pines, which appear to have been destroyed by the excessive overflow of the water and the increased deposition. These dry trees have a most desolate look; many of them have fallen down and are incrusted with the silica, while portions that have fallen into the boiling springs have been reduced to a pulp.
This seems to be one of the conditions of silicification, for when these pulpy ma.s.ses of wood are permitted to dry by the cessation of the springs, the most perfect specimens of petrified wood are the result. In one instance a green pine-tree had fallen so as to immerse its thick top in a large hot basin, and leaves, twigs, and cones had become completely incrusted with the white silica, and a portion had entered into the cellular structure, so that when removed from the water and dried in the sun, very fair specimens were obtained. Members of my party obtained specimens of pine-cones that were sufficiently silicified to be packed away among the collections.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE UPPER YELLOWSTONE FALLS FROM A PAINTING BY THOMAS MORAN]
In order that we might get a complete view of the Lower Geyser Basin from some high point, we made a trip to the summit of Twin b.u.t.tes, on the west side of the basin. From the top of one of these b.u.t.tes, which is six hundred and thirty feet above the Fire-Hole River, we obtained a bird's-eye view of the entire lower portion of the valley, which was estimated to be about twenty miles long and five miles wide. To the westward, among the mountains, were a number of little lakes, which were covered with a huge species of water-lily, _Nuphar advena_. The little streams precipitated their waters in the most picturesque cascades or falls. One of them was named by Colonel Barlow the "Fairy Fall," from the graceful beauty with which the little stream dropped down a clear descent of two hundred and fifty feet. It is only from a high point that it can be seen, for the water falls gently down from the lofty overhanging cliff into a basin at the foot, which is surrounded by a line of tall pines one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet in height.
The continual flow of the waters of this little fountain has worn a deep channel or furrow into the vertical sides of the mountain. As far as the eye can reach can be seen the peculiar plateau mountain ranges, black with the dense forests of pine, averaging from nine thousand to ten thousand feet above sea-level....
A spring on a level with the river has an enormous square basin thirty feet across, of unknown depth. We called this the "Bath Spring." A little below is another singular form of wonderful beauty. The water issues from beneath the crust near the margin of the river from several apertures. The basin itself is fifteen by twenty feet and twenty feet deep. It seemed to me that nothing could exceed the transparent clearness of the water. The slightest object was reflected in its clear depths, and the bright blue tints were indescribable. We called this the "Cavern." The mud springs are also numerous and important in this group.
As usual, they are of all sizes, from an inch or two to twenty or thirty feet in diameter, with contents varying from mere turbid water to stiff mud. They seldom have any visible outlet, but are in a constant state of agitation, with a sound that varies with the consistency of the contents. There are several of the mud-pots that give off a suppressed thud as the gases burst their way through the stiff mortar. Sometimes the mortar is as white as snow, or brown, or tinged with a variety of vivid colors....
On the west side of the Fire-Hole, and along the little branch that flows into it from the west, are numbers of springs of all grades, and the broad bottom is covered with a snow-white silicious crust. Near the base of the mountains there is a ma.s.sive first-cla.s.s boiling spring, in a constant state of violent agitation, sending forth great columns of steam, with a singular toadstool rim.... About three miles up the Fire-Hole we meet with a small but quite interesting group of springs on both sides of the stream. There is a vast acc.u.mulation of silica, forming a hill fifty feet along the level of the river; upon the summit one of the largest springs yet seen, nearly circular, one hundred and fifty feet in diameter, boils up in the centre, but overflows with such uniformity on all sides as to admit of the formation of no real rim, but forming a succession of little ornamental steps, from one to three inches in height, just as water would congeal from cold in flowing down a gentle declivity. There was the same transparent clearness, the same brilliancy of coloring to the waters, but the hot steam and the thinness of the rim prevented me from approaching it near enough to ascertain its temperature or observe its depth. It is certainly one of the grandest hot springs ever seen by human eye.
But the most formidable one of all is near the margin of the river. It seems to have broken out close by the river, and to have continually enlarged its orifice by the breaking down of its sides. It evidently commenced on the east side, and the continual wear of the under side of the crust on the west side has caused the margin to fall in, until an aperture at least two hundred and fifty feet in diameter has been formed, with walls or sides twenty to thirty feet high, showing the laminae of deposition perfectly. The water is intensely agitated all the time, boiling like a caldron, from which a vast column of steam is ever rising, filling the orifice. As the pa.s.sing breeze sweeps it away for a moment, one looks down into this terrible seething pit with terror. All around the sides are large ma.s.ses of the silicious crust that have fallen from the rim. An immense column of water flows out of this caldron into the river. As it pours over the marginal slope it descends by numerous small channels, with a large number of smaller ones spreading over a broad surface, and the marvellous beauty of the strikingly vivid coloring far surpa.s.ses anything of the kind we have seen in this land of wondrous beauty,--every possible shade of color, from vivid scarlet to a bright rose, and every shade of yellow to a delicate cream, mingled with vivid green from minute vegetation. Some of the channels were lined with a very fine, delicate yellow, silky material, which vibrates at every movement of the waters. There was one most beautiful funnel-shaped spring, twenty feet in diameter at the top, but tapering down, lined inside and outside with the most delicate decorations. Indeed, to one looking down into its clear depths, it seemed like a fairy palace. The same jelly-like substance or pulp to which I have before alluded covers a large area with the various shades of light red and green. The surface yields to the tread like a cus.h.i.+on.
It is about two inches in thickness, and although seldom so tenacious as to hold together, yet it may be taken up in quite large ma.s.ses, and when it becomes dry it is blown about by the wind, like fragments of variegated lichens.
[From this description of the hot springs of the region we proceed to an account of its marvellous geyser phenomena.]
We camped the evening of August 5 in the middle of the Upper Geyser Basin, in the midst of some of the grandest geysers in the world.
Colonel Barlow and Captain Heap, of the United States Engineers, were camped on the opposite side of the Fire-Hole. Soon after reaching camp a tremendous rumbling was heard, shaking the ground in every direction, and soon a column of steam burst forth from a crater near the edge of the east side of the river. Following the steam, arose, by a succession of impulses, a volume of water, apparently six feet in diameter, to the height of two hundred feet, while the steam ascended a thousand feet or more. It would be difficult to describe the excitement which attended such a display. It is probable that if we could have remained in the valley several days, and become accustomed to all the preliminary warnings, the excitement would have ceased, and we could have admired calmly the marvellous ease and beauty with which this column of hot water was held up to that great height for the s.p.a.ce of twenty minutes.
After the display is over the water settles down in the basin several inches, and the temperature slowly falls to 150. We called this the "Grand Geyser," for its power seemed greater than any other of which we obtained any knowledge in the valley.