The Lake of the Sky Part 33

The other division of the party did not come in to-night, but camped in the upper meadow, and arrived the next morning. They had not succeeded in getting the howitzer beyond the place mentioned, and where it had been left by Mr. Preuss, in obedience to my orders; and, in antic.i.p.ation of the snow-banks and snow-fields ahead, foreseeing the inevitable detention to which it would subject us, I reluctantly determined to leave it there for a time. It was of the kind invented by the French for the mountain part of their war in Algiers; and the distance it had come with us proved how well it was adapted to its purpose. We left it, to the great sorrow of the whole party, who were grieved to part with a companion which had made the whole distance from St. Louis, and commanded respect for us on some critical occasions, and which might be needed for the same purpose again.

[It is the impression of those of the old settlers on Walker River, of whom we have inquired regarding the subject, that the cannon was found early in the 60's near the head of Lost Canyon. This canyon comes into Little Antelope Valley--a branch of Antelope Valley--from the south. This impression evidently was accepted by the government geological surveyors, for they twisted the name of the creek coming down this canyon to "Lost Cannon Creek", and called a peak, which looks down into this canyon, Lost Cannon Peak. The origin of the name of this canyon lies in the fact that an emigrant party, on its way to the Sonora Pa.s.s, and in an endeavor probably to avoid the rough river canyon down which Fremont came, essayed this pa.s.s instead of the meadows above. It is a canyon which, at first, promises an easy pa.s.s but finally becomes almost impa.s.sable. The party in question found it necessary to abandon several of their wagons before they could get over.

They, or another party, buried one of their men there, also some blacksmith tools. My endeavors to ascertain what party this was have thus far not been successful. Mr. Timothy B.

Smith, who went to Walker River in 1859, says that the wagons were there at that time. The cannon is supposed to have been found with or near these wagons. Mr. Richard Watkins, of Coleville, who went into that section in 1861, or soon after, informs me that wagons were also found in one of the canyons leading to the Sonora Pa.s.s from Pickle Meadow. The cannon, according to Mr. Watkins, was found with these wagons. At any rate, it seems likely that the cannon was not found at the place where Fremont left it, but had been picked up by some emigrant party, who, in turn, were compelled to abandon it with several of their wagons.]

For several years the cannon remained where its emigrant finders removed it, then at the breaking out of the Civil War, "Dan de Quille," William Wright, the author of _The Big Bonanza_, the fellow reporter of Mark Twain on one of the Virginia City newspapers, called the attention of certain belligerent adherents of the south to it, and they determined to secure it. But the loyal sons of the Union were also alert and Captain A.W. Pray, who was then in the Nevada mining metropolis, succeeded in getting and maintaining possession of it. As he moved to Glenbrook, on Lake Tahoe, that year, he took the cannon with him. Being mounted on a carriage with fairly high wheels, these latter were taken and converted into a hay-wagon, with which, for several years, he hauled hay from the Glenbrook meadows to his barn in town. The cannon itself was mounted on a heavy wooden block to which it was affixed with iron bands, securely held in place by bolts and nuts. For years it was used at Glenbrook on all patriotic and special occasions. Fremont never came back to claim it. The government made no claim upon it. So while Captain Pray regarded it as his own it was commonly understood and generally accepted that it was town property, to be used by all alike on occasions of public rejoicing.

After Captain Fray's death, however, the cannon was sold by his widow to the Native Sons of Nevada, and the news of the sale soon spread abroad and caused no little commotion. To say that the people were astonished is to put it mildly. They were in a state of consternation.

Fremont's cannon sold and going to be removed? Impossible! No! it was so! The purchasers were coming to remove it the next day.

Were they? That remained to be seen!

That night in the darkness, three or four determined men quietly and stealthily removed the nuts from the bolts, and, leaving the block of wood, quietly carried the cannon and hid it in a car of sc.r.a.p-iron that was to be transported the next day from Glenbrook to Tahoe City.

When the day dawned and the purchasers arrived, the cannon was not to be found, and no one, apparently, knew what had become of it.

Solicitations, arguments, threats had no effect. The cannon was gone.

That was all there was to it, and Mrs. Pray and the Nevada purchasers had to accept that--to them--disagreeable fact.

But the cannon was not lost. It was only gone on before. For several years it remained hidden under the blacksmith shop at Tahoe City, its presence known only to the few conspirators--one of whom was my informant. About five years ago it was resurrected and ever since then its brazen throat has bellowed the salutation of the Fourth of July to the loyal inhabitants of Tahoe. It now stands on the slight hill overlooking the Lake at Tahoe City, a short distance east of the hotel.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

THE MOUNT ROSE OBSERVATORY

While Californians rightly and justly claim Tahoe as their own, it must not be forgotten that Nevadans have an equal claim. In the Nevada State University, situated at Reno, there is a magnificent band of young men, working and teaching as professors, who regard all opportunities as sacred trusts, and who are making for their university a wonderful record of scientific achievement for universal benefit.

Located on the Nevada side of the Tahoe region line, at the northeast end of the Lake, is Mount Rose. It is one of the most salient and important of the peaks that surround Tahoe, its elevation being 10,800 feet. The professor of Latin in the Nevada University, James E.

Church, Jr., a strenuous nature-lover, a mountain-climber, gifted with robust physical and mental health, making the ascent of Mt. Whitney in March, 1905, was suddenly seized with the idea that a meteorological observatory could be established on Mt. Rose, and records of temperature, wind, snow or rain-fall taken throughout the winter months. The summit of Mt. Rose by road is approximately twenty miles in a southwesterly direction from Reno, and Professor Church and his a.s.sociates deemed it near enough for week-end visits. The courage, energy and robust manliness required to carry the work along can be appreciated only by those who have gone over the ground in winter, and forms another chapter of quiet and unknown heroism in the interest of science written by so many of our younger western professors who are not content with mere academic attainment and distinction.

The idea of obtaining winter temperatures on the mountains of the Pacific Coast was first suggested by Professor McAdie, head of the Weather Bureau in San Francisco.[1] He responded to the request for instruments, and through his recommendation, thermometers, rain-gauge, etc., were speedily forthcoming from the Weather Bureau. On June 24, 1905, with "Billy" and "Randy," family ponies, loaded with a newly designed thermometer-shelter, constructed so as to withstand winter gales and yet allow the easy exit of snow, the first advance on Mt.

Rose was made.

From that day the work has been carried on with a vigor and enthusiasm that are thrilling in their inspiration. An improved instrument was added that recorded temperatures on a self-registering roll, all fluctuations, and the highest and lowest temperatures, wind-pressures, all variations in humidity, temperature, and air pressure as well as the directions and the velocity of the wind for periods of seventy days and more. This instrument was the achievement of Professor S.P.

Fergusson, for many years a pioneer worker in mountain meteorology at Blue Hill Observatory and an a.s.sociate of Professor Church at the Mount Rose Observatory, which has now become a part of the University of Nevada.

After two winters' work it was discovered, on making comparisons with the records at the Central Weather Station at Reno, 6268 feet below, that frost forecast could probably be made on Mt. Rose from twenty-four to forty-eight hours in advance of the appearance of the frost in the lower levels, provided the weather current was traveling in its normal course eastward from the coast.

[Footnote 1: Since this was written Professor McAdie has been appointed to the chair of Meteorology at Harvard University.]

Second only in importance was the discovery and photographic recording of evidence of the value of timber high up on mountains, and especially on the lips of canyons, for holding the snow until late in the season.

This latter phase of the Observatory's work has developed into a most novel and valuable contribution to practical forestry and conservation of water, under Dr. Church's clear and logical direction. At Contact Pa.s.s, 9000 feet elevation, and at the base of the mountain, supplementary stations have been established, where measurements of snow depth and density, the evaporation of snow, and temperatures within the snow have been taken. Lake Tahoe, with its seventy miles of coast line also affords ready access throughout the winter, by means of motor boat, snow-shoes and explorer's camp, to forests of various types and densities where snow measurements of the highest importance have been made.

Delicate instruments of measurement and weight, etc., have been invented by Dr. Church and his a.s.sociates to meet the needs as they have arisen, and continuous observations for several years seem to justify the following general conclusions. These are quoted from a bulletin by Dr. Church, issued by the International Irrigation Congress.

The conservation of snow is dependent on mountains and forests and is most complete where these two factors are combined. The mountain range is not only the recipient of more snow than the plain or the valley at its base, but in consequence of the lower temperature prevailing on its slopes the snow there melts more slowly.

However, mountains, because of their elevation, are exposed to the sweep of violent winds which not only blow the snow in considerable quant.i.ties to lower levels, where the temperature is higher, but also dissipate and evaporate the snow to a wasteful degree. The southern slopes, also, are so tilted as to be more completely exposed to the direct rays of the sun, and in the Sierra Nevada and probably elsewhere are subjected to the persistent action of the prevailing southwest wind.

On the other hand, the mountain ma.s.s, by breaking the force of the wind, causes much of the drifting snow to pile up on its lee slope and at the base of its cliffs, where it finds comparative shelter from the wind and sun.

Forests, also, conserve the snow. In wind-swept regions, they break the force of the wind, catching the snow and holding it in position even on the windward slopes of the mountains. On the lower slopes, where the wind is less violent, the forests catch the falling snow directly in proportion to their openness, but conserve it after it has fallen directly in proportion to their density. This phenomenon is due to the crowns of the trees, which catch the falling snow and expose it to rapid evaporation in the open air but likewise shut out the sun and wind from the snow that has succeeded in pa.s.sing through the forest crowns to the ground. Both mountains and forests, therefore, are to a certain extent wasters of snow--the mountains because they are partially exposed to sun and wind; the trees, because they catch a portion of the falling snow on their branches and expose it to rapid disintegration. However, the mountains by their ma.s.s and elevation conserve immeasurably more snow than they waste, and forested areas conserve far more snow than unforested. If the unforested mountain slopes can be covered with timber, much of the waste now occurring on them can be prevented, and by thinning the denser forests the source of waste in them also can be checked.

The experiences met with by the voluntary band of observers to secure the data needed in their work are romantic in the extreme. An average winter trip requires from a day and a half to two days and a half from Reno. From the base of the mountain the ascent must be made on snow-shoes. When work first began there was no building on the summit, and no shelter station on the way. Imagine these brave fellows, daring the storms and blizzards and fierce temperatures of winter calmly ascending these rugged and steep slopes, in the face of every kind of winter threat, merely to make scientific observations. In March, 1906, Professor Johnson and Dr. Rudolph spent the night at timber-line in a pit dug in the snow to obtain protection from a gale, at the temperature of 5 Fahr. _below_ zero, and fought their way to the summit. But so withering was the gale at that alt.i.tude even at mid-day, that a precipitate retreat was made to avoid freezing. The faces of the climbers showed plainly the punishment received. Three days later Dr. Church attempted to rescue the record just as the storm was pa.s.sing. He made his way in an impenetrable fog to 10,000 feet, when the snow and ice-crystals deposited by the storm in a state of unstable equilibrium on crust and trees were hurled by a sudden gale high into the air in a blinding blizzard. During his retreat he wandered into the wildest part of the mountain before he escaped from the skirts of the storm.

Other experiences read like chapters from Peary's or Nansen's records in the Frozen North, and they are just as heroic and thrilling. Yet in face of all these physical difficulties, which only the most superb courage and enthusiasm could overcome, Dr. Church writes that, to the spirit, the mountain reveals itself, at midnight and at noon, at twilight and at dawn, in storm and in calm, in frost-plume and in verdure, as a wonderland so remote from the ordinary experiences of life that the traveler unconsciously deems that he is entering another world.

In the last days of October, 1913, I was privileged to make the trip from Reno in the company of Dr. Church, and two others. We were just ahead of winter's storms, however, though Old Boreas raved somewhat wildly on the summit and covered it with snow a few hours after our descent. The experience was one long to be remembered, and the personal touch of the heroic spirit afforded by the trip will be a permanent inspiration.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

LAKE TAHOE IN WINTER[1]

BY DR. J.E. CHURCH, JR., OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NEVADA

[Footnote 1: By courtesy of _Sunset_ magazine.]

Lake Tahoe is an ideal winter resort for the red-blooded. For the Viking and the near Viking; for the man and the woman who, for the very exhilaration of it, seek the bracing air and the snow-clad forests, Lake Tahoe is as charming in winter as in summer, and far grander. There is the same water--in morning placid, in afternoon foam-flecked, on days of storm tempestuous. The Lake never freezes; not even a film of ice fringes its edge. Sunny skies and warm noons and the Lake's own restlessness prevent. Emerald Bay alone is sometimes closed with ice, but more often it is as open as the outer Lake. Even the pebbles glisten on the beach as far back as the wash of the waves extends.

But beyond the reach of the waves a deep mantle of white clads the forests and caps the distant peaks. The refuse of the forests, the dusty roads, and the inequalities of the ground are all buried deep.

A smooth, gently undulating surface of dazzling white has taken their place.

The forest trees are laden with snow--each frond bears its pyramid and each needle its plume of white. The fresh green of the foliage and the ruddy brown of the bark are accentuated rather than subdued by their white setting. But as the eye travels the long vista of ascending and retreating forest, the green and the brown of the near-by trees fade gradually away until the forest becomes a fluffy mantle of white upon the distant mountain side. Above and beyond the forest's utmost reaches rise the mountain crags and peaks, every angle rounded into gentle contours beneath its burden of snow.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Fergusson Metrograph on the summit of Mt. Rose, wrecked by snow "feathers," some of which were six feet long.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Refuge Hut and Headquarters for Snow Studies on Mt. Rose, 9000 Feet]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Skiing from Tallac to Fallen Leaf Lodge]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Snow Surveyor on the Mountains Above Glen Alpine in Winter]

Along the margin of the Lake appear the habitations and works of men deeply buried and snow-hooded until they recall the scenes in Whittier's _Snow Bound_.

The lover of the Lake and its bird life will miss the gulls but will find compensation in the presence of the wild fowl--the ducks and the geese--that have returned to their winter haunts.

Lake Tahoe is remarkably adapted as a winter resort for three prime reasons: first, it is easily accessible; second, no place in the Sierra Nevada, excepting not even Yosemite, offers so many attractions; third, it is the natural and easy gateway in winter to the remote fastnesses of the northern Sierra.

Among the attractions preeminently a.s.sociated with Lake Tahoe in winter are boating and cruising, snow-shoeing and exploring, camping for those whose souls are of sterner stuff, hunting, mountain climbing, photography, and the enjoyment of winter landscape. Fis.h.i.+ng during the winter months is prohibited by law.