Further down we came suddenly upon a hawk who had just captured a grouse, and taken off his head. As the bird dropped his prey on our approach we took it as a gift of the gods, and next morning, with two or three quail, it made an excellent breakfast for us.

Nearing the descent into Hell Hole we gained striking glimpses of a great glacially-formed valley in the mountains on the farther side, while a ridge to our left revealed a cap of volcanic rock apparently of columnar structure and extending from the eastern end half way the length of the ridge.

Watson assured me that here he has found herds of sixteen and nineteen deer, on separate occasions. They seem to follow, in the early spring, the line of the melting snow. At this time they are tame and fearless, and will stand and look at you with surprise and impatience. They seldom run away. On one occasion he came upon a doe and two fawns not far from the brink or ridge of Hell Hole. He was close upon them before he was aware, but stopped suddenly. The doe saw him, but instead of turning to flee she stood and impatiently stamped her foot several times. Then as he seemed to pay no attention and to be harmless, she and her young began to graze again, and shortly disappeared.

Before long we arrived at what may be called the "jumping-off place." In reality it is a steep descent into the depths of a wide canyon, but earth has so lodged in the rocky slopes that they are covered with dense growths of trees and chaparral, so that it is impossible to see very far ahead. Down, down, down we went, winding and twisting, curving around and dodging, but getting deeper with every zig-zag until almost as suddenly as we began the steep descent we found ourselves on a fairly level platform. Hell Hole was reached.

The day spent here was a delightful one. While Watson fished I wrote, loafed, rambled about, studied the rock formations, and wished for a week or more instead of a day.

Next morning we struck into the canyon of the Rubicon River, for Soda Spring, half a mile away, where salt and soda exude in such quantities as to whiten the rocks. Here the deer, bear, grouse, quail, ground-hogs, and other creatures come for salt. Indeed, this is a natural "salt lick," and there are eight or ten piles of rock, behind which Indian and white hunters used to watch for the coming of the game they desired to kill. Twenty years ago one could get game here practically every day. The Washoes used to descend the western slope as far as this; the men for deer, the women for acorns, though they had to be on the alert as the Sierra Indians resented their intrusion.

Right and left as we rode on there were great "islands" of granite, fifty to one hundred feet high, masses that either had been hurled from the heights above in some cataclysm, or planed to their present shape by long-forgotten glaciers. These granite masses alternate with flower and shrub-bestrewed meadows that once were glacial lakes. At times we found ourselves in a dense forest where the trees were ancient monarchs, whose solitudes had never been disturbed by stroke of ax, or grate of saw. Clumps of dogwood and chaparral of a dozen kinds confuse the tyro, and he loses all sense of direction. Only the instinct that makes a real mountain and forest guide could enable one successfully to navigate these overgrown wilds, for we were now wandering up a region where trails had been abandoned for years. Here and there, when we came to the rocky slopes "ducks"[2] in confusing variety were found but scarce a sign of a trail, and the "blazes" on the trees were more confusing than if we had been left to our own devices.

Yellow jackets' nests hung from many branches, and we were now and then pestered by the flying creatures themselves. Then we had a good laugh. Our pack-horse, Shoshone, got between two trees. His head could pass but his pack couldn't, and there he stood struggling to pull through. He couldn't do it, but stupidly he would not back up. Talk about horse-sense! A burro would have backed up in a minute, but most horses would struggle in such a place until they died.

[Footnote 2: Ducks are small piles of stone so placed as to denote the course of the trail.]

Near here there came into sight a granite ridge between the Rubicon and Five Lake Creek. This grows higher until it becomes quite a mountain, between Five Lake Creek and Barker Creek. On the right McKinstry Peak (7918 feet) towered up, with its double top, leading the eye along a ridge of red granite rock to Red Peak.

About three miles up the canyon we found a number of rocky basins in the course of the Rubicon with water, eight, ten and more feet deep in them, temptingly suggesting a plunge. I didn't need much tempting, and as quickly as I could disrobe I had plunged in. What a cold, invigorating shock it was. There's nothing like such a plunge for thoroughly arousing one and sending the blood quickly coursing through his veins.

Nearby were great beds of brake-ferns, four and five feet high, groves of immense alders, sugar pines, some of which were fully eight feet through and the trunks of which were honeycombed with woodpecker holes. I saw and heard several woodpeckers at work. They had red top-knots, and the noise they made echoed through the woods more as if a sledge hammer had struck the tree than the bill of a bird. How they climb up the trunk of the trees, holding on in a mysterious fashion and moving head up or down, as they desire, with jerky little pulls, bobbing their heads as if emphasizing some remarks they were making to themselves.

And what ideal spots for camping-out we passed, shady trees, nearby meadows, to give abundant feed for the horses, the pure waters of the Rubicon close by, with scenery, trees, flowers, animals, birds—all the glory of nature—surrounding one with objects of delight, interest and study.

One large area was strewn with hundreds of thousands of the big long cones of the sugar pine. When one wishes to pack and ship home specimens of these and other cones, it is well to soak them in water. They then close up and carry safely, opening up as before, as they dry out.

Then we passed some giant "wind falls," mainly spruces. The roots of these monarchs of the forest had twined themselves around rocks of every size and shape, some of them massive bowlders, but when the storm came, the purchase, or leverage of the tall trees was so great that these heavy rock-masses were pulled out of place and lifted up as the trees crashed over to their fall.

Now we came to a stretch of perfect virgin forest. No ax, no saw, no log chutes, no wagons, no dragging of logs, no sign of the hand of man. Nature was the only woodsman, with her storms and winds, her snows and rains, to soften the soil and uproot her growing sons and daughters. There was confusion in places, even rude chaos, but in and through and above it all a cleanness, a sweetness, a purity, a grandeur, harmony, glory, beauty and majesty—all of which disappear when destroying man comes upon the scene.

About five miles up, we left the Rubicon and struck up toward Barker Creek. Here was another of the great, tempting granite basins, full of clear cool water. We also passed patches of belated scarlet larkspur, shooting stars, and glaring golden-rod.

Half a mile up we reached Barker Creek, now a bowlder-strewn arroyo which aroused my covetousness to high degree. How I would love to build, with my own hands, a cottage, bungalow or house of some kind with these great bowlders, of varied sizes and colors, shapes and material.

Just above the junction of Barker Creek and the Rubicon is "Little Hell Hole," a camping-place almost as famous as its larger namesake, and noted for the fact that half a mile away is a small canyon full of mineral springs—sulphur, iron, soda, magnesia, etc. Naturally it is a "deer-lick," which makes it a Mecca during the open season to hunters. The springs bubble up out of the bed of the stream, the water of which is stained with the coloring matter. When the stream runs low so that one can get to the springs he finds some of them as pleasant to the taste as those of Rubicon and Glen Alpine.

As we got higher we left the spruces behind, and the junipers, covered with berries, began to appear. Then we came to open spaces where the wind began to sing in the tops of the pines.

About a mile up Barker Creek, Watson showed me the course of one of his trails back to the Tavern. It ascends a formidable ridge and leads quickly to Idlewyld, but we were bound for Rubicon Springs. The old trail was inaccessible, but Mr. Colwell of the Springs had lately marked out a new trail, so we took our chances on finding our way somehow. Over windfalls, up and down and around rocky promontories, we came to West Meadow Creek Wash, its rude bowlder-strewn course striking directly across our path. Here we struck beds of brakes nestling in the shade of giant trees. On the left side of the creek where we were, we ran into dense clumps of wild-cherry which prevented further progress. Scouting found us an outlet on the other side of Barker Creek. The divide on the left towered up with rugged majesty, reddish in color, and split into gigantic irregular terraces, the taluses of which were all crowded with dense chaparral growths.

On this side the slopes were all more open, nothing but rugged bowlders clinging on the bare surfaces.

How enjoyable was this forcing our way along through these solitary wilderness places, so that I was really sorry when we finally dropped over a forested slope into the Rubicon Springs and McKinney's Road. A mile away we found the hotel, with Mr. and Mrs. Colwell. The buildings are old but all nature is gloriously grand and beautiful.

Though cordially invited to stay overnight, we pushed on over the Rubicon River, up the hill on part of the Georgetown road for a mile and a half,—from which we had a fine view of Buck Island Lake,—struck the trail for another mile and in the early afternoon made camp at Rock Bound Lake. Here we rowed and swam, studied the country from the nearby hills, and then slept the sleep of the healthfully weary under the blue vault of heaven.

Though Rubicon Springs was not far away there was such an air of quietude in this spot that we felt as if we were in one of Nature's choicest retreats.

Returning to Rubicon we followed the road back to where we had struck it the day before. The old trail from McKinney's used to come over the divide from the east and strike the Rubicon near where we then stood, pass by the Springs and then follow the river, but to avoid the steep grades the road had to be constructed around by Buck Island Lake.

Those who ride into Rubicon Springs from McKinney's, just as they make the last descent, have a wonderful view of Georgetown Mountain before them. Its sloping side is glacially planed off at a steep angle, and it reveals the vast extent the great ice field must have covered in the days of glacial activity. Many bowlders near the Springs are very strongly marked by glacial action.

About a mile from the Springs we came to a tree on which a "cut-off" sign was placed. When the road was being constructed the builders started a new grade at this point and after going for a mile or so found it was so steep that it had to be abandoned and a lesser grade found by going around.

From the summit we could clearly follow the course of the Little Rubicon, and also secured an excellent view of the sharp point of Rubicon Peak (9193 feet).

A stiff and cool breeze was blowing from the west so we were not sorry to find shelter from the wind as we entered a wooded park, where the song of the pines cheered us on our way. Soon we struck the road and followed it until we came to the headwaters of Miller's Creek on the right. Miller used to run sheep up in the meadows, which afford a smooth grade for the road for some distance. There are many alders here, which bear mute though powerful testimony, in the shape of their gnarled and bent over ground-groveling trunks, of the heavy winters' snows.

These meadows clearly were once glacial lakes, now filled up, and Miller's Creek was the instrument of their destruction. Crossing the last of the meadows we came to Burton's Pass, so called from H.D. Burton, another Placerville pioneer who used to cut hay here, pack it on mules to McKinney's, and then ship it across to Lakeside, where he sold it for $80 to $100 a ton. We then passed McKinney's old cabin, the place he built and occupied in 1863, before he went to live at the Lake. Only a few fragments now remain, time and storms having nearly completed the work of destruction.

Nearby was a beautiful lily pond, soon to be a meadow, and just beyond this we stood on the actual divide between the Great Basin and the Pacific. We were at the head of Phipps Creek, named on the map General Creek, from General Phipps. At the mouth of the creek this pioneer located on 160 acres, which, when he died about 1883, was sold to M.H. de Young, of the San Francisco Chronicle. After holding it for many years he sold it in turn to I. Hellman, the banker, who now uses it as his summer estate, having built a fine residence upon it.

Near here we lunched at a sheep-herder's camp and heard an interesting story of the relocation of an old mine that had helped create the Squaw Valley excitement forty years before. Owing to new and improved methods of extracting the precious metal it is now deemed that this may soon develop into a paying property.

Returning to the road we passed Jock Ellis's cabin, in a similar state of ruin to that of McKinney. Ellis Peak (8945 feet) is named after him. He was a Squaw Valley stampeder. Nearby we saw the largest tamarack I have yet found in the Sierras. It was fully five feet through and fluted in an interesting and peculiar fashion.

From here we made a mile detour to visit Hank Richards Lake, a beautiful crystal jewel in an incomparable wooded setting. Then back to Phipps Creek, over a perfect jumble of granite bowlders and tree-clad slopes until we finally struck the trail and followed it to the Lake, and thence home to the Tavern.

The reader should observe that in this, as in the chapter on "Trail Trips," only a sample is given of a score or more of similar trips. His host at any of the hotels can suggest others equally interesting.



CHAPTER XVII

HISTORIC TAHOE TOWNS

There have been only three towns on the immediate banks of Lake Tahoe, viz., Tahoe City, Glenbrook and Incline, though Knoxville was located on the Truckee River only six miles away.

Tahoe City. Tahoe City was founded in 1864 at the collapse of the Squaw Valley mining excitement, the story of which is fully related in another chapter. Practically all its first inhabitants were from the deserted town of Knoxville. They saw that the lumbering industry was active and its permanence fully assured so long as Virginia City, Gold Hill and other Nevada mining-camps remained profitable. The forests around the Lake seemed inexhaustible, and there was no need for them to go back to an uncertainty in the placer mines of El Dorado County, when they were pretty sure to be able to make a good living here. They, also, probably exercised a little imagination and saw the possibilities of Lake Tahoe as a health and pleasure resort. Its great beauty must have impressed them somewhat, and the exploitation of these features may have occurred to them.

Anyhow, in 1864, the Bailey Hotel was erected, and, later, a man named Hill erected the Grand Central. The Squaw Valley excitement had attracted a number from the Nevada camps, and when these men returned they took with them glowing accounts of the beauty of Lake Tahoe, and of the fishing and hunting to be enjoyed there. Thus the Lake received some of its earliest resort patronage. During lumbering days it was an active, bustling place, being the nearest town to which the loggers, drivers, tree-fellers, millmen and others could flee for their weekly recreation and periodic carouses. Yet it must not be thought that the town was wholly given over to roughness. Helen Hunt Jackson, a widely traveled and observant woman of finest susceptibilities, says of the Lake Tahoe House, which she visited in stage-coach days, that it was "one of the very best in all California." It was the stopping-place of the elite who came to see and enjoy Tahoe, and until later and more fashionable hotels were built around the Lake enjoyed great popularity.

As soon as the logging industry declined Tahoe City began to go down, and only the fishing and tourist interests kept it alive.

When the railway was moved over from Glenbrook and the shops and yard of the Transportation Company were established here it regained some of its former activity and life, and is now the chief business center on the Lake. It is the headquarters of the campers who come for pleasure each year, and its store does a very large and thriving business. New cottages are being erected and it is destined ere long to be a stirring pleasure resort town, for, as the delights of Tahoe become more widely known, every available piece of land will increase in value and where there is now one summer home there will be a hundred.

Glenbrook. On the Nevada side of the Lake, Glenbrook used to be one of the most active, busy, bustling towns in the west. It scarcely seems credible to one who visits the quiet, placid resort of to-day that when I first saw it, some thirty years ago, it had three or four large sawmills in constant operation, day and night. It was then regarded, and so designated in the History of Nevada, published in 1881, as "the great lumber manufacturing town of the state."

The town was begun in 1860, the land being squatted upon by G.W. Warren, N.E. Murdock, and R. Walton. In 1861 Captain A.W. Pray erected a saw-mill, run by water-power, but as water sometimes failed, when the demand for lumber increased, he changed to steam-power. He also secured a thousand acres, much of it the finest timber land, from the government, using in its purchase Sioux Scrip.

Up to 1862 the only way to travel from California to Carson and Virginia City, south of Lake Tahoe, was by the Placerville road which came by Bijou and Lakeside and then over the Kingsbury Grade, via Friday's Station, afterward called Small's, by which latter name it is still known on the maps of the U.S. Geological Survey. In 1862, however, a new road was projected, branching off to the northwest (the left) from Small's, and following the eastern shore of the Lake, passed Zephyr Cove and Cave Rock to Glenbrook, thence by Spooner's and down King's Canyon to Carson. This was called the Lake Bigler Toll Road (notice the fact that "Tahoe" was then officially designated in Nevada as "Bigler"), and was completed in 1863.

This demanded the opening of a better class of hotel for travelers and others in Glenbrook, and in the same year the road was finished Messrs. Winters and Colbath erected the "Glenbrook Hotel," which finally came into the hands of Messrs. Yerington and Bliss, who, later, were the builders of the railway, the owners of most of the surrounding timberlands, and who had practical control of the major portion of the lumber interests. But prior to this a lumber-mill was built by J.H.F. Goff and George Morrill in the northern part of the town. This did a good business, for even in those early days common lumber was worth $25.00 per thousand feet, and clear lumber, $45.00. The mill was soon destroyed by fire, but the site was bought by A.H. Davis and Son, who erected a new mill, which they operated for a while and then sold to Wells, Fargo & Co. It was not until 1873 that Yerington & Bliss came to Glenbrook. They revolutionized the lumber industry. While Captain Pray had long used a steam tug to raft logs across Lake Tahoe, the lumber itself was hauled down to Carson and Virginia City. Now, owning large areas of timberland, operating two and then three saw-mills in Glenbrook, and several others in the nearby mountains, Messrs. Yerington & Bliss sought easier means of transportation for their merchandisable product. They constructed dams and reservoirs, with V flumes in a number of places, making them converge as near as possible at the Summit, some six miles from Glenbrook. To this point they built a narrow gauge railway for the purpose of transporting the millions of feet of lumber sawn at their mills.

From Summit a large V flume was constructed down Clear Creek Canyon into Carson City, and into this flume a constant stream of water was poured from the reservoirs which carried upon its bosom another stream of boards, timber, studding, joists and sheathing, the two streams emptying simultaneously just outside of Carson City at a point on the Virginia & Truckee railway, where the lumber was loaded and thence shipped to its place of consumption.

That tremendous amounts of lumber were being manufactured is shown by the fact that the official records of Douglas County, Nevada, for 1875, give 21,700,000 feet as the product for that year.

One department of the lumber business should not be overlooked in this connection. As the timber disappeared from the mountain slopes nearest Glenbrook, the operators were compelled to go further afield for their logs. These were cut on the mountain slopes north, south, east and west, and sent down the "chutes" into the Lake. Where the ground was level great wagons, drawn by ten, sixteen, twenty oxen, hauled the logs to the shore, where they were dumped into the water. Here they were confined in "booms," consisting of a number of long, thin poles fastened together at the ends with chains, which completely encircled a "raft" of logs arranged in the form of a V. The raft was then attached, by strong cables, to a steamer and towed to Glenbrook, where the mills were so located that the logs were drawn up from the Lake directly upon the saw-carriages. The size of some of the rafts may be imagined when it is known that they yielded from 250,000 to 300,000 feet of lumber.

The principal vessel for this purpose at the time I first visited Lake Tahoe in 1881 was an iron tug, called the Meteor. It was built in 1876 at Wilmington, Delaware, by Harlan, Hollingsworth & Co., then taken apart, shipped by rail to Carson City and hauled by teams to Lake Tahoe. It was a propeller, eighty feet long and ten feet beam, and cost $18,000.

The first store erected in Glenbrook was placed on piles over the water. This was built in 1874, by J.A. Rigby and A. Childers. One morning the latter partner disappeared, and it was surmised that he had fallen into the water and was drowned. New partners were taken into the firm, but in January, 1877, the store was burned, and it was not re-erected on its original site.

When the lumber interests and the railway were removed Glenbrook declined, until it was the most deserted looking place possible. Then the sons of Mr. Bliss, one of whom was born there, cleared away all the evidences of its former lumbering activities, built a handsome and commodious modern hotel on the most scenic point, and re-established the place as a choice resort on the Nevada shore, as described elsewhere.

Incline. It will be a source of interest, even to many who know Lake Tahoe well, that there used to be a town named Incline on its shores. In the curve of Crystal Bay, a few miles from where the scars show where the water escaped from Marlette Lake flume, this town was located in 1882. It was the source of supplies for the lumbering interests of the Sierra Nevada Wood and Lumber Company, and received its name from a sixteen-hundred feet incline up which lumber was hauled. The incline was operated by an endless cable, somewhat after the style of Mount Lowe, in Southern California, the car on one side going up, and on the other coming down one trip, and vice versa the next. The lumber thus raised was thrown into the flume, carried therein around to Lake View, on the line of the Virginia and Truckee railway, there loaded on cars and shipped to Carson and Virginia, largely for use in the mines.

When the logging interests were active the place had quite a population, had its own post-office and was an election precinct. When the logging interests waned the town declined, and in 1898 the post office was discontinued. Now nothing remains but the old incline, grown up with weeds and chaparral. New towns are springing up at Al Tahoe, Lakeside and Carnelian Bay which will soon demand a revision of this chapter.



CHAPTER XVIII

BY STEAMER AROUND LAKE TAHOE

The ride around Lake Tahoe is one of varied delights, as the visitor sees not only the Lake itself from every possible angle, but gains an ever shifting panorama of country, and, more remarkable than all, he rides directly over that wonderful kaleidoscope of changing color that is a never-ceasing surprise and enchantment.

Tahoe Tavern is the starting point of the ride, the train conveying the passenger directly to the wharf from which he takes the steamer. Capt. Pomin is in control.

Not far from where this, the most beautiful and charming hotel of the Lake is erected, there used to be a logging camp, noted as the place from which the first ties were cut for that portion of the Central Pacific Railroad lying east of the summit of the Sierras. A number of beautiful private residences line the Lake for some distance, the area having been portioned out in acre and half-acre lots. Chief of these are the summer home of Professor W.T. Reid, for a time President of the State University of California, and Idlewyld, the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Kohl, of San Francisco.

One of the oldest villas of this portion of the Lake used to be owned by Thomas McConnell, of Galt, and it was his daughter, Mary, who first made the ascent of one of the peaks now known as Maggie's Peaks, as a marble tablet placed there testifies.

In the mountains beyond are Ward's Peak (8665 feet) to the right, and Twin Peak (8924) to the left, from the first of which heads Ward's Creek, and the second Blackwood Creek, both entering the Lake two miles or so apart. Just beyond Twin Peak are Barker's Peak (8000 feet), and nearer to the Lake, Ellis Peak (8745 feet), the waters from the former making the South Fork of Blackwood Creek. Ellis Peak, being easily reached by a good trail, is the common point of ascent from Homewood, McKinney's, Tahoe Tavern and other resorts.

Six miles out from the Tavern, the first stop is made at Homewood, one of the newer resorts.

Three and one-half to four miles further along is McKinney's, one of the oldest, best known and well established resorts on Lake Tahoe. It was founded by J.W. McKinney, who was first attracted to this region by the Squaw Valley excitement. (See special chapter.) For a time in 1862-3 he sold lots on the townsite of Knoxville, then when the bottom dropped out of the "boom" he returned to Georgetown, engaged in mining, but returned to Tahoe in or about 1867, located on 160 acres on the present site and in 1891-2, after having erected two or three cottages, embarked fairly and fully in the resort business. For several years his chief patronage came from the mining-camps, etc., of Nevada, Gold Hill, Virginia City, Dayton, Carson City, Genoa, etc. They came by stage to Glenbrook and thence across the Lake, on the small steamer that already was doing tourist business in summer and hauling logs to the lumber mills in winter and spring. Thus this resort gained its early renown.

The bottom of the Lake may be seen at a considerable depth near McKinney's, and looks like a piece of mosaic work. The low conical peak, back of McKinney's is about 1400 feet above the Lake and used to be called by McKinney, Napoleon's Hat.

The next stop of the steamer is quite close to McKinney's, viz., Moana Villa, and a mile or so further on at Pomin's, the former an old established resort, and the latter an entirely new one. After passing Sugar Pine Point, Meek's Bay and Grecian Bay are entered. These two shallow indentations along the shore line are places where the color effects are more beautiful than anywhere else in the Lake, and vie with the attractions of the shore in arresting the keen attention of the traveler. Meek's Bay is three miles long, and, immediately ahead, tower the five peaks of the Rubicon Range, some 3000 feet above the Lake. Beyond, a thousand feet higher, is snow-crowned Tallac,—the mountain—as the Washoe Indians called it, the dominating peak of the southwest end of the Lake.

Rubicon Point is the extension of the Rubicon Range and it falls off abruptly into the deepest portion of the Lake. The result is a marvelous shading off of the water from a rich sapphire to a deep purple, while the shore on either side varies from a bright sparkling blue to a blue so deep and rich as almost to be sombre. Well, indeed, might Lake Tahoe be named "the Lake of ineffable blue." Here are shades and gradations that to reproduce in textile fabrics would have pricked a king's ambition, and made the dyers of the Tyrian purple of old turn green with envy. Solomon in his wonderful temple never saw such blue as God here has spread out as His free gift to all the eyes, past, present and to come, and he who has not yet seen Tahoe has yet much to learn of color glories, mysteries, melodies, symphonies and harmonies.

Soon, Emerald Bay is entered. This is regarded by many as the rich jewel of Lake Tahoe. The main body of the Bay is of the deep blue our eyes have already become accustomed to, but the shore-line is a wonderful combination of jade and emerald, that dances and scintillates as the breeze plays with the surface of the waters. A landing is made at Emerald Bay Camp, one of the most popular resorts of the Lake, and while at the landing the curious traveler should take a good look at the steep bank of the opposite shore. This is a lateral moraine of two glaciers, one of which formed Emerald Bay, as is explained in Chapter VIII, and the other formed Cascade Lake, which nestles on the other side of the ridge.

At the head of Emerald Bay, also, is Eagle Falls, caused by the outflow of water from Eagle Lake, which is snugly ensconced at the base of the rugged granite cliffs some three miles inland.

Four miles beyond Emerald Bay is Tallac, one of the historic resorts on the Lake.

Tallac was originally Yanks. Yank was really Ephraim Clement, originally a Yankee from Maine, a stout, hearty, bluff man, who homesteaded his land, added to it until he owned about a thousand acres, and finally sold out to E.J. (Lucky) Baldwin. Baldwin had come over from Virginia City and seeing the great havoc made in the fine timber, of which he was very fond, exclaimed with an oath: "Someone will be cutting this (the timber of Yanks) next," and then and there he began to bargain for the place. In 1878 he bought, changed the name, and thenceforward Tallac became known. Little by little, as Yank had done, so Baldwin bought from sheep-men, squatters, and others until he had quite a holding.

The hotel was built and in 1879 Sharp Brothers ran it. In 1880 Capt. Gordon was manager for a year, and in 1881 Baldwin gave a lease to Messrs. Lawrence & Comstock who held it until 1914.

Baldwin was a great lover of trees, and when the present hotel and cottages were built, not a single tree was cut without his express permission. Yet he had no foolish sentiment about the matter as is proven by the fact that all the buildings were constructed from local lumber produced in his own sawmill, except the redwood used for finishing. The hotel as it now stands was completed in 1900.

Gulls, pelicans and mud-hens can generally be seen in large numbers around the piers at Tallac, and the fleet of fishing boats, each with its one or more eager anglers, is one of the sights.

The steamer stops here long enough to allow a few minutes ashore, and the visitors ramble over to the hotel, chat or chatter with the Washoe Indian squaws who have their baskets for sale, or enjoy the grassy and shaded grounds.

From the wharf at Tallac visitors for Glen Alpine, Fallen Leaf Lodge, and Cathedral Park take their respective stages. These three resorts are within a few miles and afford additional opportunities for lovers of the region to add to their knowledge of its scenic, botanic, arboreal and geologic features. Indeed such glacial experts as Joseph LeConte, John Muir, and David Starr Jordan have united in declaring that the region around Glen Alpine gives a better opportunity for the study of comparatively recent glacial phenomena than any other known area.

Adjoining Tallac on the east is the private residence of W.S. Tevis, of San Francisco. His beautiful yacht, the Consuelo, may generally be seen anchored here, when not in actual service.

Half a mile from Tallac is The Grove, close to the Upper Truckee River, the main feeder of Lake Tahoe, and four miles further is Al-Tahoe, a new and well-equipped hotel, standing on a bluff commanding an expansive view of the Lake. It practically occupies the site of an old resort well-known as "Rowland's." It is near to Freel's Peak (10,900 feet), which in olden days was known as Sand Mountain, on account of its summit being composed of sand.

A mile and a half further along is Bijou, a pleasant and comfortable stopping place, while three miles further a picturesque rustic pavilion on the end of the pier denotes Lakeside Park, a well-known and long-famous resort. Forty-five years ago, or more, Capt. W.W. Latham built the famous State Line House at this point, and twenty years ago it came into the hands of its present owners.

This is the most easterly of all the resorts and settlements at the south end of Lake Tahoe. It is in California, in El Dorado County, though its post-office is Stateline, the dividing line between California and Nevada. The Park is over 2000 acres in extent and has already become the nucleus for a choice summer residence section.

Leaving Lakeside Park the steamer now turns northward and follows the eastern or Nevada shore, until Cave Rock is passed and Glenbrook is reached. This is the only resort on that side of Lake Tahoe. Once the scene of an active, busy, lumber town, where great mills daily turned out hundreds of thousands of feet of timber for the mines of Virginia City and the building up of the great historic mining-camps of Nevada, the magic of change and of modern improvements has swept away every sign of these earlier activities and left Glenbrook a quiet, delightful, restful resort, nestling in its own wide and expansive meadows at the foot of towering mountains that give a rich and contrasting background for the perennial beauty of the Lake. Practically all that remains to remind one of the old days are the remnants of the logging piers and cribs, the school-house, the quiet "City of Those who are Gone," and further up the hills, the old railroad grade on which the logs were carried to the mill and the lumber taken through the tunnel, which still remains, to the flume by which it was further conveyed to the railroad at Carson City.

Immediately to the right of Glenbrook, as the steamer heads for the wharf, can be seen the celebrated Shakspeare Rock. John Vance Cheney, the poet, thus describes it:

No sooner had the steamer been made fast than a ledge of rocks was pointed out to us, rising precipitously some distance from the pier. "Can't you see it?" again and again asked our guide, renewing his endeavor to dispel our distressing stupidity. At length "it" appeared to us, and we stood mute with astonishment. There, on the front of a bold cliff, graven with all the care of the best copies with which we are familiar, looked down upon us the face of Shakspeare! As if in remembrance of her favorite son, here in this far wild region, nature had caused his features, cut in everlasting rock, to be hung on high, a fitting symbol of his intellectual sovereignty over the world. The likeness needs no aid from the imagination: it is life-like, recognized instantly by the most careless observer, and, let it be added, never forgotten. The beard is a trifle longer than we are accustomed to see it, but this deviation does not detract from the majesty of expression becoming the illustrious original. The spacious forehead, the nose, even the eyes, all are admirably represented. A more astounding surprise it has not been the writer's fortune to experience. The portrait looks as if it were made by moss growing upon the smooth flat surface of a huge rock; but we were informed that the face is all of stone, and has undergone no perceptible change since its discovery about five years since. [This was written in 1882.] A lady tourist from Massachusetts has, it is believed, the honor of first pointing it out. Nature cannot forget her Shakspeare. So we all mused, and, musing, would have forgotten our dinners, had we not been summoned inside the hotel. The repast was not peculiarly relishable; consequently, we had all the more opportunity to feed spiritually upon the masterpiece on the cliff,—the rock-portrait of Avon's, of England's, of the World's immortal bard.

As the steamer leaves Glenbrook one may gain clear and distinct views of the four prominent peaks of the Nevada side. Above Lakeside, at the southeast end, is Monument Peak, then, about midway between Lakeside and Glenbrook is a sharp-pointed bare mass of rock known as Genoa Peak. Immediately behind Glenbrook is Dubliss Mountain (8729 feet), so named after Duane Bliss, father and son, both of whom have done so much to make Tahoe known to the world. Marlette Peak is to the northeast, 8864 feet, with Snow Valley Peak, 9214 feet, a little to the South. These both overshadow Marlette Lake, a full description of which is given elsewhere. All these peaks afford excellent views of Lake Tahoe on the one side and of the valleys and mountains of western Nevada on the other.

The steamer now continues along the Nevada shore, past the scars caused by the breaking of the Marlette Lake flume, by Crystal Bay and the site of the old town of Incline, around State Line Point to Brockway.

This resort has been long and favorably known for its famous hot mineral springs. The hot water is piped to all rooms and private baths of the hotels and cottages, and is a great source of pleasure as well as health-giving comfort to the guests.

We are now on the home-stretch, and soon after leaving Brockway (1-1/2 miles away) and forty-five minutes (eight miles) from Tahoe Tavern, we reach Tahoe Vista. Here one is afforded a perfect view of the Lake and its snowcapped ranges east and south.

Crossing Agate and Carnelian Bays the steamer's last stop is at Carnelian Bay. Here there is great building activity going on and many neat and commodious cottages and bungalows are being erected.



Observatory Point is the last object passed before the Tavern is again reached. This name was given because of the fact that it was once the chosen site, by James Lick, for the observatory he contemplated building. This plan, however, was never carried out, as it was shown to the philanthropist that the cold weather of winter would work exceeding hardship upon the astronomers without any compensating advantages. The result was the Observatory was finally established on Mt. Hamilton, and it is now a part of the great California University system.

Thus the complete circuit of Lake Tahoe is made daily in summer by the steamer, and no matter how often the trip is taken it never palls upon the intelligent and careful observer. New glories and wonders are constantly springing forth as pleasant surprises and one soon learns to realize that here Nature indeed has been most prodigal in her scenic gifts to mankind.



CHAPTER XIX

DEER PARK SPRINGS

While in one sense all the resorts of the Tahoe region are mountain resorts, a difference should be noted between those that are located directly on the shores of Lake Tahoe, or some lesser lake, and those that are away from immediate proximity to a lake. The latter type is more correctly designated mountain resorts, and of these are three in the Tahoe region, viz., Deer Park Springs, Rubicon Springs and Glen Alpine. All these resorts were discovered by following the trails of animals which were visiting them for "salt licks" that existed in connection with their mineral waters as related in the chapter on Glen Alpine.

Deer Park is a private estate of approximately 469 acres, in two sections, one the Mineral Springs Section, consisting of nearly 309 acres, and on which the celebrated springs—two of soda, one of sulphur, and one of iron—are located, and the other, the Five Lakes Section, of 160 acres. The former begins a mile from the Truckee River, up Bear Creek Canyon. This was originally taken up from the Government as timber claims, but the timber has never been cut, and the great pines, firs and junipers remain as the original settlers found them. The Five Lakes section is a fascinating and attractive location two miles away, over the first divide of the mountains, and therefore 1000 feet higher than the Inn, where five glacial lakes nestle in their granite basin. Four of these, and a large part of the fifth, are included in the estate, while all surrounding is government land of the Tahoe National Forest. If a dam were built to restrain the flow of water into Five Lake Creek, it would need only to be ten feet high to convert the five lakes into one, so near are they to the same level.

As it is the flow from these lakes forms Five Lakes Creek, which empties into the Rubicon and thence into the South Fork of the American.

Five Lakes afford excellent fishing and a log-cabin, three boats and fishing tackle are kept here throughout the season for the pleasure of guests. Those who disdain the ordinary accommodations of a hotel can here camp out, rough it, and make it their headquarters while climbing the adjoining peaks or exploring the ravines and canyons at the head of the American River.

In 1914 a student from Stanford University was host at the Five Lakes log-cabin. He cooked for those who desired it, helped gather fir boughs for camp beds, prepared fishing-tackle for women anglers, rowed them to and fro over the lakes, and accompanied parties to the nearby summits. There are full accommodations at the cabin for seven persons, and the rule of the camp is that guests stay only one night, moving on to make room for the next comer, unless arrangements for a longer stay are made beforehand. Thus all the guests at Deer Park Inn may enjoy this novel experience if they so desire.

In the region of Five Lakes, Basque and other foreign shepherds may be found tending their flocks, and prospectors, with queer little pack-burros, who climb the mountains seeking the elusive gold, as they did in the days of '49.

It was from Deer Park that the trail into the famous Hell Hole was recut by Miss Katherine Chandler, owner of the Inn and estate, in 1908, after having been lost for many years. Arrangements for this trip, and other famous hunting and fishing trips may be made at the Inn and many people who have gone over the mountains to the Yosemite have outfitted and secured their guide here.

One of the finest trail trips of the Tahoe region is that afforded over the trail, back of Deer Park Inn, to the rugged pile known as The Crags, over Inspirational Ridge to Ward's Peak. In the early part of the season great snow banks are encountered, and when the flowers begin to bloom there are great fields covered with Sierran primroses, with many patches of white heather and beautiful cyclamens. This is but one of many fine trail trips that may be made.

Deer Park Inn is one of the oldest and best established resorts of the Tahoe region. The house that I occupied on my short visit was a solid log cabin, full of romantic interest, for it was quaint, old-fashioned and appropriate to the surroundings. The key-note of the place is comfort. Under its present management a large number of wild New England flowers have been planted to add their beauty to that of the native California flower, and each year, about the third week in July, the guests wander over the sun-kissed slopes, climb the snowy heights and ramble through the shady woods gathering Sierran flowers of every hue, form and variety for an annual flower show. This is one of the distinctive features of the life at Deer Park Inn.

It is an interesting fact here to notice that, when Miss Parsons, chief author of Flowers of California, was preparing that volume, she found such a wealth of mountain flora in the Deer Park region that she spent about as many weeks as she had planned for days. Other botanists have found it equally productive.

To those who come early in the season tobogganing and snow shoeing are not unusual experiences. The shady sides of the mountains offer these winter sports as late as June and early July, and many Californians who have never enjoyed the frolic of snow-balling come here to gain their first experience in this common eastern enjoyment.

Elsewhere I have referred to the many evidences of glacial action found about a mile above Deer Park Inn. Still further up the canyon, on the trail going to Five Lakes, are interesting deposits of volcanic rock—andeside—so that these two geological phenomena may be studied close at hand.

Having its own rich meadows on Bear Creek, the Deer Park Spring tables are always supplied with good milk and cream from its own dairies, while fresh fruit and vegetables are supplied daily. Fish and game in season are frequent, and the table being under the direct and personal supervision of the management has gained an enviable reputation.

Living water flows in marvelous abundance through Deer Park all throughout the year. Springs and melting snow send four different streams, tributary to Bear Creek, coursing across the property. The domestic water supply of the Inn is gained from springs on the mountain side, 800 feet above the Inn, and it is piped all over the place and to every cottage.

There has been some talk, recently, of converting Deer Park into a private park. There is no better location for such a purpose in the whole Tahoe region. Situated as it is in the heart of a canyon it is readily isolated and thus kept entirely secluded and free from intrusion. While such a procedure would be a great advantage to any individual or club who might purchase the estate, it would be a decided loss to the general public who for so many years have enjoyed the charms and delights of this earliest of Sierran mountain resorts.



CHAPTER XX

RUBICON SPRINGS

One of the oldest and most famous resorts of the High Sierras is Rubicon Springs. It is nine miles from Lake Tahoe, at McKinney's, over a mountain road built many years ago, engineered so as to afford marvelously entrancing glimpses of the Lake and of the mountain scenery on either hand. Here are primeval forest, flower-strewn meadows of emerald, crystal streams and placid-faced glacial lakes in which snow-clad mountain summits are mirrored in quiet glory. The Rubicon River is one of the feeders of the American River, and the springs are located not far from its head waters.

The Rubicon Springs were originally discovered and located upon by the Hunsaker brothers, two genuine explorers and adventurers whose names deserve to be preserved in connection with the Tahoe region. They were originally from the Hoosier state, coming to California in 1849, across the plains, by Fort Hall, the sink of the Humboldt, Ragtown, and by Carson Canyon to old Hangtown (now Placerville). They mined for several years. Then came the Comstock excitement. They joined the exodus of miners for the Nevada mountains and were among the earliest to help to construct the Georgetown trail. Thus it was they discovered Rubicon. In 1869 they located upon 160 acres, built a log-house and established a stopping station which they called Hunsaker Springs. In the winter they rested or returned to Georgetown, making occasional trapping trips, hunting bear and deer, and the meat of which they sold. In those days deer used to winter in large numbers almost as far down as Georgetown (some fifteen miles or so), so that hunting them for market was a profitable undertaking in the hands of experts.

They and John McKinney, the founder of McKinney's, were great friends, having worked together in the Georgetown mines. They soon made their places famous. Their mining friends came over from Virginia City, Gold Hill, Carson, etc., by way of Glenbrook, where they were ferried across Lake Tahoe by the old side-wheel steamer, Governor Stanford, to McKinney's. Then by pack trail over to Hunsakers.

For many years they used to cut a great deal of hay from the nearby meadows. A natural timothy grows, sometimes fully four feet high. A year's yield would often total fully thirty tons, for which the highest price was paid at the mines.

There was another spring, beside Hunsakers', about a mile higher up, owned by a friend of the Hunsakers, named Potter. In time he sold this spring to a Mrs. Clark, who finally sold it back to him, when it was bought by Mr. R. Colwell, of Moana Villa. When the Hunsakers grew too old to run their place they sold it to a man named Abbott, who, in due time wished to sell out. But, in the meantime the railroad had surveyed their land, granted by Congress, and found that the springs and part of the hotel building were on their land, so that while Abbott sold all his holdings to Mr. Colwell, he could not sell the main objects of the purchaser's desire. An amicable arrangement, however, was made between all the parties at interest.

Mr. Colwell is now the owner of all the property.

For countless centuries the Indians of both west and east of Tahoe were used to congregate in the Rubicon country. They came to drink the medicinal waters, fish, catch deer and game birds, and also gather acorns and pine nuts. How well I remember my own visit to the Springs in the fall of 1913. Watson and I had had three delightful days on the trail and in Hell Hole, and had come, without a trail, from Little Hell Hole up to Rubicon. The quaking aspens were dropping their leaves, the tang of coming winter was in the air, mornings and evenings, yet the middle of the day was so warm that we drank deeply of the waters of the naturally carbonated springs. No, this statement is scarcely one of fact. It was warm, but had it been cold, we, or, at least, I should have drank heartily of the waters because I liked them. They are really delicious, and thousands have testified to their healthfulness.

We saw the station of the water company, where a man remains through the year to register the river's flow and the snowfall. Then we passed a large lily lake to the left,—a once bold glacial lake now rapidly nearing the filled-up stage ere it becomes a mountain meadow—and were fairly on the Georgetown grade, the sixty mile road that reaches from McKinney's to Georgetown. It is a stern road, that would make the "rocky road to Dublin" look like a "flowery bed of ease," though we followed it only a mile and a half to leave it for the steep trail that reaches Rock Bound Lake. This is one of the larger of the small glacial lakes of the Tahoe Region, and is near enough to Rubicon Springs to be reached easily on foot.

From a knoll close by one gains an excellent panorama of Dick's, Jack's and Ralston's Peaks. Tallac and Pyramid are not in sight. The fishing here is excellent, the water deep and cold and the lake large enough to give one all the exercise he needs in rowing.

On the summit of the Georgetown road one looks down upon the nearby placid bosom of Buck Island Lake. It received this name from Hunsaker. The lake is very irregular in shape, about a third of a mile long, and a quarter of a mile wide in its widest part. Near one end is a small island. Hunsaker found the deer swam over to this island to rest and sleep during the heat of the day, hence the name.



The Little Rubicon river flows into Buck Island Lake and out again, and about two miles below Rubicon Springs the Georgetown road crosses the river at the foot of the lake.

With these two lakes, and others not far away, fine hunting and fishing, with several mountains nearby for climbing, the hotsprings, a fine table and good horses to ride it can well be understood that Rubicon Springs makes a delightful summer stopping-place. One great advantage that it possesses, under its present proprietorship is that guests may alternate between Moana Villa and the Springs and thus spend part of their time on the Lake and the other part in the heart of the mountains. The Colwells are hearty and homelike hosts, and are devoted to giving their many guests the greatest possible enjoyment, pleasure and health that a summer's vacation can contain.



CHAPTER XXI

EMERALD BAY AND CAMP

Situated near the southwest corner of Lake Tahoe is Emerald Bay, by many thousands regarded as the choicest portion of Lake Tahoe. Surrounded by so many wonderful scenes, as one is at Tahoe, it is difficult to decide which possesses surpassing power, but few there are who see Emerald Bay without at once succumbing to its allurement. Its geological history has already been given in Chapter VIII, in which it is clearly shown by Dr. Joseph Le Conte that it was once a glacial lake, and that the entrance to the main lake used to be the terminal moraine that separated the two bodies of water. As a natural consequence, therefore, visitors may expect to find evidences of glacial action on every hand. They are not disappointed. The walls of the Bay, on both north and south, are composed of glacial detritus, that of the south being a pure moraine, separating the once glacial lake of Emerald Bay from Cascade Lake.

Emerald Bay is about three miles in length, with a southwesterly trend, and half a mile wide. The entrance is perhaps a quarter of a mile wide and is formed by a triangular spit of sand, on which grows a lone pine, on the one side, and a green chaparral-clad slope, known as Eagle Point, on the other. The Bay opens and widens a little immediately the entrance is joined. The mountains at the head of the Bay form a majestic background. To the southwest (the left) is Mount Tallac, with a rugged, jagged and irregular ridge leading to the west, disappearing behind two tree-clad sister peaks, which dominate the southern side of the Bay's head. These are known as Maggie's Peaks (8540 and 8725 feet respectively, that to the south being the higher), though originally their name, like that of so many rounded, shapely, twin peaks in the western world gained by the white man from the Indian, signified the well-developed breasts of the healthy and vigorous maiden. Emerging from behind these the further ridge again appears with a nearer and smoother ridge, leading up to a broken and jagged crest that pierces the sky in rugged outline. A deep gorge is clearly suggested in front of this ridge, in which Eagle Lake nestles, and the granite mass which forms the eastern wall of this gorge towers up, apparently higher than the nearer of Maggie's peaks, and is known as Phipps' Peak (9000 feet). This is followed by still another peak, nearer and equally as high, leading the eye further to the north, where its pine-clad ridge merges into more ridges striking northward.

Between Maggie's and Phipps' Peaks the rocky masses are broken down into irregular, half rolling, half rugged foothills, where pines, firs, tamaracks and cedars send their pointed spires upwards from varying levels. In the morning hours, or in the afternoon up to sunset, when the shadows reveal the differing layers, rows, and levels of the trees, they stand out with remarkable distinctness, each tree possessing its own perfectly discernible individuality, yet each contributing to the richness of the clothing of the mountainside, as a whole.

Down across the lower portion of Maggie's Peaks, too to 200 feet above the level of the Bay, the new automobile road has ruled its sloping line down to the cut, where a sturdy rustic bridge takes it over the stream which conveys the surplus waters from Eagle Lake to the Bay. On the other side it is lost in the rolling foothills and the tree-lined lower slopes of Cathedral Peak from whence it winds and hugs the Lake shore, over Rubicon Point to Tahoe Tavern.

But Emerald Bay has other romantic attractions besides its scenery. In the early 'sixties Ben Holladay, one of the founders of the great Overland Stage system that reached from the Pacific Coast to the Missouri River, built a pretentious house at the head of the Bay. Naturally it was occupied by the family only part of the time, and in 1879, a tramp, finding it unoccupied, took up his lodgings therein, and, as a mark of his royal departure, the structure burned down the next morning. The site was then bought by the well-known capitalist, Lux, of the great cattle firm of Miller & Lux, and is now owned by Mrs. Armstrong.

As the steamer slowly and easily glides down the Bay, it circles around a rocky islet, on which a number of trees find shelter. This island was inhabited at one time by an eccentric Englishman, known as Captain Dick, who, after having completed a cottage to live in, carried out the serious idea of erecting a morgue, or a mausoleum, as a means of final earthly deposit upon dissolution. This queer-looking dog-house might have become a sarcophagus had it not been for one thing, viz., Captain Dick, one dark and stormy night, having visited one of the neighboring resorts where he had pressed his cordial intemperately, determined to return to his solitary home. In vain the danger was urged upon him. With characteristic obstinacy, enforced by the false courage and destruction of his ordinarily keen perception by the damnable liquor that had "stolen away his brains," he refused to listen, pushed his sail-boat from the wharf and was never seen again. His overturned boat was afterwards found, blown ashore.



* * * * *

EMERALD BAY CAMP

Emerald Bay is made accessible to regular summer guests by Emerald Bay Camp, one of the choice and highly commendable resorts of the Tahoe region. The Camp is located snugly among the pines of the north side of the Bay, and consists of the usual hotel, with nearby cottages and tents.

Less than five minutes' walk connects it with the picturesque Automobile Boulevard, which is now connected with the Camp by an automobile road. The distance is four-fifths of a mile and hundreds of people now enjoy the hospitality of Emerald Bay Camp who come directly to it in their own machines.

Its location suggests many advantages for the angler, the famous Indian fishing grounds being located at the mouth of the bay. Cascade, Eagle, and the unfished Velma Lakes are easily accessible to trampers, the outlets from these furnishing sporty brook trout fishing. These streams and lakes are all stocked with Eastern brook, Loch Levin and cutthroat. The protected waters of the bay make boating safe and bathing a comfortable delight.

But not all the beauty of nature and the advantages of excellent location can make a popular camp. There is much in the individuality of those who own or "run" it. Emerald Bay Camp is owned by Mr. Nelson L. Salter, for many years so favorably known in the Yosemite Valley. Such is its growing popularity that Mr. Salter has recently (1921) purchased another ten acres of adjoining land, thus enlarging his frontage on the Bay to about 1000 feet, and giving him many more cottages for the entertainment of his guests.

* * * * *

EAGLE LAKE

From Emerald Bay Camp there are quite a number of interesting trail and climbing trips, one of the commonest of which is that to Eagle Lake.

Taking the trail west, one zigzags to the north until the Automobile Boulevard is reached. A half mile's walk brings one to the bridge over Eagle Creek. Here a few steps lead to the head of the upper portion of Eagle Falls, which dash down a hundred feet or so to the rocky ledge, from whence they fall to their basin, ere they flow out to join the waters of Emerald Bay.

A few yards beyond the bridge the trail starts. It is a genuine mountain trail, now over rough jagged blocks of granite, then through groves of pines, firs, tamaracks and spruces, where flowers, ferns, mosses and liverworts delight the eyes as they gaze down, and the spiculae and cones and blue sky thrill one with delight as they look above, and where the sunlight glitters through the trees as they look ahead. To the right Eagle Creek comes noisily down, over falls and cascades, making its own music to the accompaniment of the singing voices of the trees. Now and again the creek comes to a quiet, pastoral stretch, where it becomes absolutely "still water". Not that it is motionless, but noiseless, covered over with trees and vines, that reflect upon its calm surface and half hide the trout that float so easily and lazily through its clear, pure, cold stream.

There is enough of climbing to call into exercise long unused muscles, the granite blocks are rough, angular and irregular enough to exercise eyes, hands and feet to keep one from falling, and the lungs are filled with balsam-ladened mountain-air, fresh from God's own perfect laboratories, healing, vivifying, rejuvenating, strengthening, while the heart is helped on and encouraged to pump more and more of its blood, drawn from long almost quiescent cells into the air-chambers of the lungs, there to receive the purifying and life-giving oxygen and other chemical elements that multiply the leucocytes vastly and set them at work driving out the disease germs that accumulate and linger in every city-living man's and woman's system.

Suddenly from a little rise the lake is revealed. Eagle Lake, or Pine Lake, or Spruce Lake, or Hidden Lake, or Granite Lake, or Sheltered Lake—any of these names would be appropriate. Almost circular in form—that is if you are not expected to be too rigidly exact in geometric terms—it is literally a jewel of lapis lazuli in a setting of granite cliffs.

Here one may sit and rest, enjoying the placid waters of the lake, the rugged grandeur of the immediate cliffs, or the slopes of the towering mountains that encircle the horizon.

Eagle Lake is but one of the hundred of glacially made Sierran lakes of the Tahoe region, but a study of its idiosyncrasies would reveal distinctive and charming characteristics.

* * * * *

CATHEDRAL PEAK

There are two Cathedral Peaks at Tahoe, one above Cathedral Park on Fallen Leaf Lake, the other at the rear of Emerald Bay Camp. Early in the season, 1914, three girls decided to climb this peak from the camp although there was no trail. One of them wrote the following account of the trip:

The most interesting peak of the Rubicon ridge is Cathedral. The mountain rises directly back of Emerald Bay, some three thousand feet above the Lake. About six hundred feet above the camp there is a meadow where larkspur grows four and five feet high. But from Eagle Creek the aspect is quite different. There are no soft contours. Huge rocks pile up—one great perpendicular surface adding five hundred feet to the height—into spires and domes for all the world like some vast cathedral which taunts the soul with its aloofness. If, on some sunshiny afternoon you look up from the camp and see a ghost-moon hanging, no more than a foot above the highest spire, you must surely be "citified" if you do not pause to drink in its weird sublimity and wild beauty.

Many winters of storm and snow have loosed the rocks and carried them down the mountain. Those thrown down years ago are moss-covered and have collected enough soil in their crevices to nourish underbrush and large trees. But there are bare rocks along Eagle Creek to-day large enough for a man to hew a cabin from. Standing in awe of their size one surely must look curiously up the mountain to find the spaces they once occupied. Then, taking in the size of the peak it is equally natural that one should be filled with a desire to climb it and look down the other side and across the vista to the neighboring ranges. While we were getting used to the altitude we stood below admiring. Every evening we went out on the wharf, gazed up at its grandeur and discussed the best way to go, for though we knew we should have to break our own trail, we had decided to attempt the climb. We set a day and the hour for rising; the night before laid out our tramping clothes and religiously went to bed at eight. I doubt if any of us slept, for we were used to later hours and excitement kept us awake.

As it was the first trip of the season, we lost some time at the start, admiring each others' costumes. Two of us adhered to the regulation short skirt and bloomers, but the third girl wore trousers, poked into the top of her high boots. This proved, by far, the most satisfactory dress before the day's tramping was done. We got started at four-thirty. The first awakened birds were twittering. The shadows of the moraine lay reflected in the unruffled surface of the Bay. Gradually rosy flushes showed in the east. By the time we reached the meadow the sun rose suddenly above the Nevada mountains and some of the chill went out of the atmosphere.

The meadow was flooded with snow-water. Beyond, the mountain rose by sheer steps of rock with slides of decomposed granite between. We avoided the under-brush as far as possible, preferring to take back and forth across the loose granite. The wind came up as we left the meadow, grew in force as we climbed. Some one suggested breakfast, and then there began a search for a sheltered place. A spot sided by three bowlders away from under-brush was decided upon. By the time the fire was built the wind was a gale sending the flames leaping in every direction—up the rocks and up our arms as we broiled the bacon. Breakfast was a failure, as far as comfort was concerned. It was a relief when we finally tramped out the embers and resumed our journey.

The top of a long snow-drift was a previously chosen land-mark. It was seven when we reached the top of it. Some one came out on the Bay in a row-boat—we were too high for recognition—thought better of it and went back. Towards the top we left the decomposed granite and underbrush behind, climbing the rocks in preference to the snow, where the choice was allowed us. The wind howled and shrieked, and blew with a force great enough to destroy balance, while its icy touch brought the blood tingling to our cheeks.

At last we reached the summit. And oh! the joy of achievement.

All Rubicon ridge and its neighbors, as far as the eye could see, were white with snow; the lakes in the valley below were still frozen—only one showing any blue. Clouds came up rapidly from the west, rushed by to the Nevada side where they piled up in great cumulous heaps. The apex of Pyramid was cloud-capped all day. Shifting gusts drove the waters of Tahoe scurrying first this way, then that. Where in the early morning every tree had viewed her image among the reflected tints of sunrise, at ten-thirty white-caps flashed and disappeared to flash in a different place among the everchanging eddies. Cascade and Fallen Leaf Lakes presented a continuous procession of white-caps to the east, while Eagle lay black and sinister in the shadow of Maggie's Peaks.

After lunch, the wind blowing too cold for comfort, we started home, straight down—over snow, granite and underbrush—till we hit the State Highway. Here we found a sheltered place by a creek and talked over the day's happenings.

Along the roadside we drew up a resolution on the satisfaction of the trip. The girl who had been cold all day didn't ever want to see snow again, but already the others were discussing a possible ascent from the Eagle Creek side—so great is the lure of the high places.



CHAPTER XXII

AL-TAHOE

Al-Tahoe, four miles east of Tallac, is one of the newer, better and more fashionable and pretentious resorts recently established at the south end of the Lake. Its projectors saw the increasing demand for summer residences on the Lake, and realizing to the full the superior advantages of this location, they divided their large holding into suitable villa and bungalow sites, and other lots, and readily disposed of a number of them to those who were ready to build. To further the colonizing plans of these chosen and selected purchasers a fine, modern, well-equipped hotel was erected, replete with every convenience and luxury that progressive Americans now expect and demand in their chosen resorts. The result is quite a settlement has grown up, and Al-Tahoe sees ahead an era of rapid growth and prosperity. Its homes are substantial and beautiful and indicate that John LeConte's prophecy, elsewhere quoted, is already coming to pass. Pasadena capitalists are behind the hotel and town project.

Being advantageously located on the State and National automobile boulevard, and near to all the choice mountain, lake and other resorts of the southern end of Tahoe, it appeals to those who wish to combine equally ready access to civilization with the wild ruggedness and infinite variety of many-featured Nature.

It is situated on a high plateau, gently sloping from the bluff, with a Lake-frontage of about three quarters of a mile. The land rises with a gentle slope to the edge of the terrace facing the stream, meadow, and mountains on the south.

With no stagnant water, there are practically no mosquitoes, and it is confessedly one of the most healthful spots of all this health giving region. Being on a lea shore, the cold air from the snowy summits of the mountains tempered by the warm soil of the foothills and level area, there is no place on the Lake better adapted for bathing and boating, especially as the beach is sandy and shallow, sloping off for some distance from the shore.

The accompanying photographs give some idea of the hotel and its cottages, together with some Al-Tahoe homes. The water supply for the town and hotel is gained from beautiful and pure Star Lake, 3000 feet higher than Lake Tahoe, and where snow may be seen during the entire year. The Al-Tahoe Company owns its own electric generating plant and supplies all the cottages with electric light.

The hotel itself is conducted on the American plan, and in every modern way meets the requirements of the most exacting patrons. Amusements of every kind are provided, and there is a good livery stable and automobile garage.

The town itself is being built up with a select class of summer residents. No saloons are allowed. There are still desirable lots for sale, and the Al-Tahoe Company, or L.H. Bannister, the Postmaster, will be glad to correspond with any who contemplate purchasing or building. Letters may be addressed to either at Al-Tahoe, Lake Tahoe, Calif.



CHAPTER XXIII

GLEN ALPINE SPRINGS

The earliest of all the resorts of the Tahoe region away from the shores of Tahoe itself, Glen Alpine Springs still retains its natural supremacy. Located seven miles away from Tallac, reached by excellent roads in automobile stages, sequestered and sheltered, yet absolutely in the very heart of the most interesting part of the Tahoe region, scenically and geologically, it continues to attract an increasing number of the better class of guests that annually visit these divinely-favored California Sierras. John Muir wrote truthfully when he said:

The Glen Alpine Springs tourist resort seems to me one of the most delightful places in all the famous Tahoe region. From no other valley, as far as I know, may excursions be made in a single day to so many peaks, wild gardens, glacier lakes, glacier meadows, and Alpine groves, cascades, etc.

The drive from Tallac around Fallen Leaf Lake under trees whose boles form arch or portal, framing pictures of the sunny lake, is a memorable experience; then on past Glen Alpine Falls, Lily Lake, and Modjeska Falls, up the deep mountain glen, where the road ends at the hospitable cottages, log-houses and spacious tents of Glen Alpine.



Here is the world-famous spring, discovered in the 'fifties by Nathan Gilmore (for whom Gilmore Lake is named). Mr. Gilmore was born in Ohio, but, when a mere youth, instead of attending college and graduating in law as his parents had arranged for and expected, he yielded to the lure of the California gold excitement, came West, and in 1850 found himself in Placerville. In due time he married, and to the sickness of his daughter Evelyn, now Mrs. John L. Ramsay, of Freewater, Ore., is owing his discovery of Glen Alpine. The doctor ordered him to bring the child up into the mountains. Accompanied by an old friend, Barton Richardson, of the James Barton Key family of Philadelphia, he came up to Tallac, with the ailing child and its mother. Being of active temperament he and Mr. Richardson scaled Mt. Tallac, and in returning were much entranced by Fallen Leaf Lake. Later Mr. Gilmore came to Fallen Leaf alone, wandering over its moraines and lingering by its shores to drink in its impressive and growingly-overpowering beauty. In those days there was no road at the southern end of Fallen Leaf and the interested explorer was perforce led to follow the trails of bear, deer and other wild animals. Rambling through the woods, some two miles above the lake he came to a willow-surrounded swampy place, where the logs and fallen trees were clearly worn by the footprints of many generations of wild animals. Prompted by curiosity he followed the hidden trail, saw where a small stream of mineral-stained water was flowing, observed where the deer, etc., had licked the stones, and finally came to the source in what he afterwards called Glen Alpine Springs. Scientific observation afterwards showed that the water had an almost uniform temperature, even in the hottest days of summer, of 39.6 degrees Fahr., and that there was free carbonic acid gas to the extent of 138.36 cubic inches. The analysis revealed that each U.S. gallon contained grains as follows:

Sodium Chloride ............ 21.17 Sodium Carbonate ........... 32.75 Potassium Carbonate ........ Trace Ferrous Carbonate........... 1.8 Alumnia .................... 1.43 Borates .................... Trace Magnesium Carbonate ......... 9.96 Calcium Carbonate ........... 45.09 Calcium Sulphate ............ 4.10 Silica ...................... 2.50 Organic Matter............... Trace ——— Total Solids................ 118.80

The water is pleasant to the taste, and, as has been shown, highly charged with carbonic acid gas; its action is diuretic, laxative and stimulative to the entire digestive tract. Eminent physicians claim that it is beneficial in dyspepsia, torpid liver, kidney and bladder irritation, and is also a tonic.

Whether this be true or not I cannot say, but I do know that every time I go to Glen Alpine I drink freely and abundantly of the water, to my great physical pleasure and satisfaction. It is one of the most delicious sparkling waters I have ever tasted, as gratifying to the palate and soothing to the fevered mucous membranes as Apollinaris or Shasta Water, and I am not alone in the wish I often express, viz., that I might have such a spring in my backyard at home.

One result of this discovery was that Mr. Gilmore decided to locate upon the land. As soon as the first claim was made secure a rude one-roomed cabin was built and Mr. Richardson was the first guest. Preparatory to bringing his family, Mr. Gilmore added two more rooms, and to render ingress easier he built a road to intersect with the Tallac road at the northern end of Fallen Leaf Lake. As this had to be blasted out with black powder,—it was before the days of dynamite,—Mr. Gilmore's devotion to the place can be well understood.

When his daughters grew up, they and their friends came here to spend their summers, and by and by, almost unconsciously, but pleasantly and agreeably, the place became a public resort. Though Mr. Gilmore has long since passed on, having died in Placerville, Calif., in the year 1898, Glen Alpine Springs is still in the ownership of his family, and its management and direction is entirely in their hands.

As in the beginning they have ever sought to preserve its character of simplicity. It is their aim that everything should be as primitive as possible, consonant with healthfulness, privacy and comfort. While no sanitary precautions are neglected, and water, hot and cold, is extravagantly provided, with free shower baths, there are none of the frills and furbelows that generally convert these—what should be—simple nature resorts into bad imitations of the luxurious hotels of the city. There are positively no dress events. Men and women are urged to bring their old clothes and wear them out here, or provide only khaki or corduroy, with short skirts, bloomers and leggings for the fair sex. Strong shoes are required; hob-nailed if one expects to do any climbing. Wraps for evening, and heavy underwear for an unusual day (storms sometimes come in Sierran regions unexpectedly), are sensible precautions.

Sleeping out-of-doors is one of the features of the place, an invigorating, rejuvenating joy, which Mark Twain affirmed was able to destroy any amount of fatigue that a person's body could gather. Visitors are given their choice of a comfortable bed in the open, in a cottage, tent, or one of the main buildings. There are practically no rules at Glen Alpine save those that would operate in any respectable home. No liquors are sold, and visitors are frankly told that "If they must have liquid stimulants they must bring them along." In order that those who desire to sleep may not be disturbed by the thoughtlessness of others, music is prohibited after ten o'clock. One of the delights of the place is the nightly camp-fire. Here is a large open space, close to the spring, surrounded by commodious and comfortable canvas seats, that will easily hold eight or ten persons, the blazing fire is started every evening. Those who have musical instruments—guitars, banjos, mandolins, flutes, cornets, violins, and even the plebeian accordion or the modest Jew's-harp—are requested to bring them. Solos, choruses, hymns and college songs are indulged in to the heart's content. Now and again dances are given, and when any speaker arrives who is willing to entertain the guests, a talk, lecture or sermon is arranged for.

Three things are never found at Glen Alpine. These are poison-oak, rattlesnakes and poisonous insects. The rowdy, gambling and carousing element are equally absent, for should they ever appear, they speedily discover their lack of harmony and voluntarily retire.

While the Glen Alpine resort is not situated directly on one of the lakes, it owns over twenty boats on eight of the nearby lakes, and the use of these is freely accorded to its guests. That it is in close proximity to lakes and peaks is evidenced by the following table, which gives the distance in miles from the hotel:

Miles 2-1/2 Angora Lake 4 American Lake 6 Avalanche Lake 3-1/4 Alta Morris Lake 7 Azure Lake 5 Center Lake 5-1/2 Crystal Lake 5-3/4 Crater Lake 6 Cup Lake 4-3/4 Cathedral Lake 5-1/2 Echo Lake 2 Fallen Leaf Lake 5-1/4 Floating Island Lake 4-1/4 Forest Lake 6 Fontinalis Lake 1-1/4 Glen Alpine Falls 1-1/4 Grass Lake 4-3/4 Grouse Lake 3-1/2 Glmore Lake 3-1/4 Heather Lake 3-1/4 Half Moon Lake 5 Kalmia Lake 1 Lily Lake 2-1/4 Lucile Lake 3-3/4 LeConte Lake 2-1/2 Margery Lake 1/4 Modjeska Falls 3-1/2 Observation Point 4-1/4 Olney Lake 4-1/4 Pit Lake 6 Pyramid Lake 4-3/4 Rainbow Lake 2-3/4 Susie Lake 3-1/2 Susie Lake Falls 2-3/4 Summit Lake 6 Snow Lake



Miles 4-1/4 Tamarack Lake 6 Tallac Lake 7 Tahoe Lake 6-1/2 Velma Lakes 3-1/4 Woods, Lake of the 3-1/2 Angora Peak 5-1/4 Dicks Peak 5-1/2 Jacks Peak 2-1/2 Keiths Dome 7 Pyramid Peak 6-1/2 Ralston Peak 3-3/4 Richardsons Peak 5 Upper Truckee River 4-3/4 Mt. Tallac 7 Mt. Agassiz 3 Cracked Crag

As the proprietors of Glen Alpine ask: "Where else outside of Switzerland is there a like region of lakes (forty-odd) and world of Sierran grandeur, such air with the tonic of altitude, mineral-spring water, trout-fishing, and camaraderie of kindred spirits!"

While the foregoing list gives a comprehensive suggestion of the wide reach of Glen Alpine's territory there are several especial peaks and lakes that are peculiarly its own. These are Pyramid, Agassiz, Dicks, Jacks, Richardsons, Ralston, and the Angora Peaks, Mount Tallac, Mosquito Pass, and Lakes Olney, LeConte, Heather, Susie, Grass, Lucile, Margery, and Summit with Lake of the Woods and others in Desolation Valley, Gilmore, Half Moon, Alta, Morris, Lily, Tamarack, Rainbow, Grouse, and the Upper and Lower Echo. Desolation Valley and all its surroundings is also within close reach. This is some four miles westward of Glen Alpine Springs, and is reached by way of easy mountain trails under sweet-scented pines and gnarled old junipers; besides singing streams; across crystal lakes, through a cliff-guarded glade where snowbanks linger until midsummer, ever renewing the carpet of green, decking it with heather and myriad exquisite mountain blossoms. On, over a granite embankment, and lo! your feet are stayed and your heart is stilled as your eyes behold marvelous Desolation Valley. Greeting you on its southern boundary stands majestic Pyramid Peak, with its eternal snows. Lofty companions circling to your very feet make the walls forming the granite cradle of Olney, the Lake of Mazes. The waters are blue as the skies above them, and pure as the melting snows from Pyramid which form them. He who has not looked upon this, the most remarkable of all the wonder pictures in the Tahoe region, has missed that for which there is no substitute.

The whole Glen Alpine basin,—which practically extends from the Tallac range on the north, from Heather Lake Pass (the outlet from Desolation Valley) and Cracked Crag on the west and southwest, Ralston Peak and range to the south and the Angora Peaks on the east,—is one mass of glacial scoriations. Within a few stone-throws of the spring, on a little-used trail to Grass Lake, there are several beautiful and interesting markings. One of these is a finely defined curve or groove, extending for 100 feet or more, above which, about 11/2 feet, is another groove, some two to four feet wide. These run rudely parallel for some distance, then unite and continue as one. Coming back to the trail—a hundred or so feet away,—on the left hand side returning to the spring, is a gigantic sloping granite block, perfectly polished with glacial action, and black as though its surface had been coated in the process. Near here the trail ducks or markers are placed in a deep grooving or trough three or four feet wide, and of equal depth, while to the right are two other similar troughs working their winding and tortuous way into the valley beneath.

In Chapter VIII an idea is given of the movements of the great glaciers that formed Desolation Valley and all the nearby lakes, as well as Glen Alpine basin. These gigantic ice-sheets, with their firmly-wedged carving blocks of granite, moved over the Heather Lake Pass, gouging out that lake, and Susie Lake, in its onward march, and then, added to by glacial flows from Cracked Crag, the southern slopes of the Tallac range, and the Angora Peaks, it passed on and down, shaping this interestingly rugged, wild and picturesque basin as we find it to-day. How many centuries of cutting and gouging, beveling and grooving were required to accomplish this, who can tell? Never resting, never halting, ever moving, irresistibly cutting, carving, grinding and demolishing, it carried away its millions of millions of tons of rocky debris in bowlders, pebbles, sand and mud, and thus helped make the gigantic moraines of Fallen Leaf Lake. The ice-flow itself passed along over where the terminal moraine now stands, cutting out Fallen Leaf Lake basin in its movement, and finally rested in the vast bowl of Lake Tahoe.