File:Breeder and sportsman (1893) (20222714329).jpg

Title: Breeder and sportsman
Identifier: breedersportsma231893sanf (find matches)
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors:
Subjects: Horses
Publisher: San Francisco, Calif. : (s. n. )
Contributing Library: San Francisco Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: California State Library Califa/LSTA Grant

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152 ©tye fjJrwfcw mtir gftwrtemott* (August 12,1893 Evening on Mt. Whitney. (By Chaeles Wesley Eyi.e) Upon this mountain king the evening son Had placed a coronet of gold. The day Had ceased from toil; a-down the western way His gorgeous cohorts paused as if to view The matchless scene and throw a fond farewell To snow-crowned peak and verdure-painted vale. Swiftly the passing moments flew between The golden warp unrolling from the sun; Weaving into the woof of day bright threads To lorm the mantle which the Present gives, Has ever given, nor will cease to give Unto the Past 'til Time shall still his loom And sink into oblivion. Silence, Deep, soulful and profound with clearer sense Gives loftier meaning now than words couvey, For here the soul is charmad by thoughts half-formed To which a spoken word would be a sword, Or, like the steel-clad hoDf of trooper's horse To newly-fallen snows or blooming flowers. Invading cloal-land here I stood and gazed Upon the Alpine billows far and wide- Snow-capped, sky-mantled and cloud-swept they seemed, Flashing resplendent 'neath the setting light, Revealing by their silent forms of power Sach vastne33 as to ciuse my trembling soul To sink into itself, nor dare to stand Upon the awful brink lest its hould fall And lose its every sense of being thus , In contemplation of its nothingness. nary, and some providing for the extraordinary ills which might possibly befall one during a month's journey to the wildest region of the Sierras. As the sable-hued porter of the "Salinas" deposited our various traps in a heap on the platform he said : " I guess you won't move fur )til you get another cawr, will you, boss ? " Without awaiting for a reply, he swung onto the steps of the moving train, and we were soon left alone in the grayish light of the early morning. A poor, half starved and ill-natured looking cur came up as if to inquire as to the intrusion which our advent had made in this altogether lonely and desolately appearing station. The train wound around the horseshoe bend in the railroad, and then went puffing on its way over the Tehachipe Pass to Los Angeles, some 160 miles further on. Under a clump of cottonwoods, some distance away, stood a two-story frame house, which in years gone by had been new and white, but that must have been some time ago. A little further on were a number of rough, unpainted one- story buildings, formed of the lumber as it came fresh from the rotary saw of the mountain mills, the walls of which re- tained their virginity unstained by paint or even that more primitive step in the line of civilzation, the trace of the white- wash brush. The large barn-shaped structure which served as a station house was opened, and we gave our "traps" to the obliging station agent and made our way to the house in the shade of the cottonwoods, where we found a half-awake occupant who furnished us with an " eye-opener," and after sauntering about a bit we went in and partook of a breakfast of bacon and eegs, which was served by a dirty almond-eyed heathen, the rib-fortifying dish being washed down by a mis- erable bitter-tasting decoction called coffee, but the good Lord and praise. Were we not well under way to the highest mountain in the Union ? Had we not the thrilling emotions which were induced by the well-grounded faith that we should enjoy some of the finesh fly fishing to be found in the world ? And we had a good cook ! The world owes much to its good cooks and to George Kolb, the band cook at Angel's Island, who accompanied the Colonel's party in the capacity of First Officer of the Grub, we shall ever be in- debted for a world of real substantial satisfaction. Shortly after dinner each one of the party rolled himself in his blankets, and laying down on the sweet, fresh grass and was soon lulled to sleep by the music of the brook which holds not its peace by night or day. An early start first led us across the meadows for some two miles and then into the winding road which penetrated the hills beyond. After a short morning's drive we found ourselves on the crest of an elevated divide looking over into the beautiful valley of Hot Springs, first having passed through the old winding town of Havalah, now giving unmistakable signs of age and neglect. Hot Springs valley presents one of the more noticeable at- tractions to the eye of the trip when viewed from the crest of the divide from whence the first view of it is ob- tained. Here we turned aside and dined with the pleasant and most obliging family of Mr. Robert Palmer, whose ranch is one of the most noticeable in this region. This valley is probably five or six miles in length, lying along the east bank of Kern river and^is, perhaps, from two to three miles in width. Passing on up to the junction of (he north and south forks of the Kern we turn from a northerly to an easterly course and pursue our way along the southerly border of one of the loveliest valleys upon which the sun ever shone. The mountain? hem it in completely save at the entrance at Hot Springs valley, which in reality is but an extension of this beautiful winding piece of verdure.
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MT. WHITNEY FROM THE WEST. Thousands of peaks and domes below appeared. And folded in between, the lovely vales A thousand flashing streams, like silver trails, Wound gracefully from paerian-folded brow To verdure-sandled foot of Grandeur's forms, A multitude of lakes beset the scene, Befitting jeweU for these mighty kings; Pearls, emeralds and rubies each in turn More beautiful appeared, as light and shade Gave to them each a glory all its own. The sun sank slowly to his wonted rest, But ere he sat his flashing swords of flame Leaped forth and stabbed the bosom of the day 'Til sky and cloud and lofty peaks of snow Were bathed in crimson from the fatal wound. The soft wind slowly winged the vales below. Chanting, in solemn notes, a requiem. Night softly drew her mantle o'er the scene And golden stars kept watch until the dawn. A Trip to Mt. "Whitney. A trip to the mountains is always pleasurable, but it is an unusual event for the writer to take so extended a journey as a trip to Mt. Whitney includes. It was on the 16th ef July that we boarded the southbound train, which rolls out of Oak- land mole each evening at 6 o'clock. Early morning found us on the platform at Caliente, some three hundred and twenty miles from the city. Rods, guns and camera were piled about with a good roll of bedding, fish basket and large valise, which contained, beside wearing apparel, a small med- icine case filled with numerous remedies for all of the ordi- and that heathen only knows just how far it was removed from the genuine article of which it was purported to be a sample. The day wore on until nearly noon, when a light two-horse spring wagon was driven up, in which were Col. W. R. Shafter, of Angel's Island, and Mr. W. H. McKittr- ick, of Bakersfield, with whom we had been invited to take the journey into the deepest vales and onto the highest peak of the Sierras, and as to the latter, the highest mountain in the United States. With them came also a four-horse team, drawing a heavy freight wagon which contained camp equip- age and supplies, and some four saddle horses being added for extra use. In a short time the final arrangements were made in the adjustment of the load, much baggage being found not avail- able for the trip, and after dinner we set out on the journey, our first objective point being Weldon, about fifth miles dis- tant on the south fork of the Kern river. The weather was excessively hot and as we wound up the narrowing defile of the bronzed mountains we realized this fact as the sun beat down upon us in all the fierceness of its mid-July ardor. We were not long, however, in reaching a point of ascent which wound about through the trees, the cooling shade of which broke pleasingly the sun's brazen glare. Evening found us some fourteen miles on our journey at the foot of Walker's Basin, the first of a succession of lovely verdant vales which the surrounding mountains cradle and guard with an apparent miser's care, and well they may, for these valleys are verita- ble oases io the wilderness of rugged mountains which lie in successive folded steeps on and up through the farther snow- crowned kings to the crest of Mt. Whitney, the majestic lord of the mountains of the United States. Here by a little stream we lit our first camp fire and tasted the flavor of our first of many meals just as the stars began to twinkle through the soft drapery which folds the earth at twilight's witching hour. We had cause for thanksgiving Splendid ranches occupy the greater portion of the valley, sown mostly to that wonderfully productive feed grass, al- falfa, Weldon was reached as the sun approached the first quar- ter-post of the day, and after some refreshments and a chat with the obliging Postmaster, Storekeeper, Justice of the Peace and modern Poo Bah of the valley, we resumed our journey to "Schotie's." In one corner of Schotie's general t-tore is the Post Office of Onyx. Scbotie is a typical " '49 er" kind, gruff, obliging and blunt, a singular combination of con- tradictions for which bis class are noted. Mr. M. Harman, who has charge of the business of the place, we found to be intelligent and obliging, furnishing us with all of the neces* sary information as to securing reliable guides. During the afternoon the Colonel and Mr. McKettrick took a flying trip"for a few miles up the valley, returning in the earlv evening with the welcome information that an excellent guide had been secured and that on the morrow we would move to a point higher up the "valley and complete our prepa- rations for " packing " into the Wonderland which lay on and up in the distant mountains to the east and north. The nert morning we moved on up the valley to Smith's Ranch, where we were met;by Mr. T. S. Smitb, who had undertaken to pilot us over the winding trails which most conviently passed by the homes of the gamey trout. " After the first night out you will have the best fishing in the world " said our guide, and after some days consideration over the trip after our return, we are not disposed to dispute, in any sense, this broad assertion. On the morning of the 21st we started, as a mounted party on what we had been repeatedly warned before leaving the city, was one of the most arduous mountain journeys that could be taken. We did not so find it. In fact, the trails with but little exception, were remarkably even and easy of travel.

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