Part 23 (1/2)
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 G.o.d'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 acc.u.mulate 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 suns.h.i.+ny 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 s.p.a.ces 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 alt.i.tude 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 c.u.mulous heaps. The apex of Pyramid was cloud-capped all day. s.h.i.+fting 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 pa.s.s.
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.