BEING STRAY NOTES OF FIVE YEARS OF TRAVEL.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 18, 29 April 1908, Page 32

BEING STRAY NOTES OF FIVE YEARS OF TRAVEL.

By

WINIFRED H. LEYS, AUCKLAND.

AMERICA’S TWO GREATEST CANYONS.

I. THI< YOSEMITE \ ALLEY. CALI FORMA. wr E were somew hat an overdose of BA/ women that Thursday afterB/B/ noon when we set oil’ from f f San Francisco en route to the great Yosemite Valley, nevertheless, in spite of the four ladies to two gentleman we made a very merry pa rty. The first night we spent on the train, onr journey really commencing with the dawn of the following morning when we mounted the coaches at Raymond and drove away through a very Australian type of scenery. Early in the afternoon we entered a magnificent pine forest. through which our way continued until we halted for the night at the de light fill little village of Wowona. Ret ween that pine forest, with its complete lack of undergrowth and the dense tangled forest of onr own land, no greater contrast could he imagined, l ilac ami manzenita ami a tew small shrubs appeared here ami there, hut on tin- whole the great t rees rose up from the pineneedle strewn earth tall and bare in many case- to a height of L>o feet and even 1 igher. As we a-vended we entered the snow line, and every now and then our e\es were refreshed hr patches of white snow gleaming on th* brown earth. I he slowness of th * as vent became most monotonous ami we were glad to stretch our legs at interval* by a short walk up the hill-, w here the gathering of little yellow violets (the first of the sort I had ever seen) afforded an object for our walk. At rare intervals. a scarlet or rather blood red snow plant thrust itself through tin* brown earth. No blazing production oi a tropical sun could be more glorious than this. Imagine a blood red artichoke, out of the centre of which rises a thick pink stem about three inches long; all round this stem are arranged blood-red bells, and at the foot of each bell a blood red leaf the whole plant standing 6 inches or 9 inches high. (ould anything be more brilliant? It is scarcely necessary to say that the snow plants are very ran*, and it was only . Iter climbing down into a valley, io where the snow was fairly deep, that we procured one for examination. That night was spent at Wowona, and by <1.30 a.m. next day we were once more on board the coach. A hea'vy

mist had hung in the valley of Wowona, but this was soon left behind and the freshness and brightness and surprising warmth of the air left nothing to be desired. All the morning we ascended through the pine forest, where the snow lay in great patches on the ground. When the season is in full swing the whole coach journey from Raymond to Yosemite occupies but twelve hours, but in those days of early May the roads were* in a most horrible condition: the horses, too. were very soft, and would not he hurried, so the journey from Wowona to Yosemite seemed the longest 27 miles I have ever driven. In starting form Wowona our party got split and two of us found ourselves (Hi a coach with half a dozen Americans of the very noisiest type, but of such undoubted good nature that one could not help being attracted by them. During those weary hours these happy folks ( balled each other and the driver of the coach (piite unmercifully, and the newness and (|iri int ness. to our English ears, of the expressions they used made them doubly entertaining. Four were women end two men. husbands of two of the women. Tin* single ladies made many amusing and. to an English woman, astounding allusions to their efforts to capture a husband, talking of hours so spent as • working overtime,” and threatening. that if this trip failed as a means of seeming husbands, they would most assuredly annex the husbands of the married women who accompanied them. Such remarks, coming from English lips, would repel one at once, but there was so much beaming good nature and such lack of malice in tin* voices of these American women that one felt more admiration than disgust of them. Rut even these abundant spirits wore out a little as the prospect of luncheon grew more and more remote. From 5.3(1 a.m. to 2.30 pan. is a fair while to fast on a very cold day. so when we were eventually deposited at the Sentinel Hotel, it was in a very weary and famished condition.

From the moment we got in sight of the valley, stretching away eight miles between the huge granite precipices, which rose sheer from the floor of the valley to the heght of 3.000 and 4.000 feet. I felt we were to be rewarded for all the weariness we had suffered during our coach journeys. Imagine to yourself a flat, grassy valley through which

a quiet river is winding, bordered from end to end by these granite precipices, down which dash four of the hugest waterfalls—the Bridal Veil, 940 feet; the Yosemite, 2,634 feet; the Vernal, 350 feet; and the Nevada, 700 feet in height. Often when visiting a new place one is reminded very much of some other spot with which one is familiar, but the Yosemite Valley is quite a revelation. As I stood that day looking up at the great bare rocks or at one of the splendid waterfalls 1 felt absolutely dizzy, almost frightened. One day our reunited party was up early, and, dressed in the queerest divided skirts vou ever saw. and mounted

on mules, was soon wending its way up a steep rocky trail to Glacier Point, a huge overhanging rock, 3250 ft above the valley. Indeed it was a most exciting trip.

The long steep mule trail, over which the sure-footed mules plodded with great care and precision, the tall pines rising to nearly 20(>ft in height, the views we got of the valley far, far below, and by and bye the deep banks of snow through which we rode, all filled me with a feeling of wild exhilaration. Oh, the snow! We live in a corner of the world where snow is never seen, and although 1 had often gazed on the gleaming white tops of mountains, I had never been close enough to stand in a snowfield or to press the soft white substance in my hands. Can't you imagine how my heart beat as we rode deeper and deeper into the snow country? How, when the trail grew narrower, my feet grazed against the banks of snow, rising eight and nine feet on either side of me, I leaned from my mule and grabbed great handfuls and pelted those in front of me? I longed to get down and fill my arms with snow, to roll in it, to make it into balls and cover the others with it; and when at last we reached the summit my desire was gratified, and I ran about on the snow, sinking over my ankles in it, wetting my feet and hands, and laughing until I was tired out, as the others pelted me with great snow-balls. When, almost exhausted, we sat on the rocks and gazed far down 3400 ft into the valley, it seemed to me that before us was one of the grandest and largest sights nature has provided for her sons and daughters.

opposite us were th? Nevada, the Vernal. and the Yosemite Falls, and behind them the huge snow-capped domes.

Projecting out some eight feet into the air is a huge piece of rock, on which many folks stand, but to me it seemed pure bravado to risk a clear fall of 3250 feet when nothing whatever was to be gained by so doing—in other words I was afraid, so I contented myself with photographing one of the party as he stood there. This rock, Glacier Point, is world famous, and magazines delight in reproducing photos in which people are performing all manner of startling acrobatic feats on its narrow and dangerous projection; so no doubt manv of vou

know it well by sight. The descent of the trail was somewhat exciting, but I soon learned that the mule knew his way much better than ever I could guide him; and, indeed, the only time he showed any signs of hesitating was when I instinctively pulled the reins at the corners. Then he simply refused to budge, looking round at me with a positively contemptuous air, as much as to say, “Do you think I’ve travelled this track daily for years, and don't know every stone and hole on it?

Just you leave me alone.” So I rested the reins on the saddle, and gave him his own free way, and, apart from a most disconcerting habit he had of going to the edge and looking over into the valley, and a desire to eat the leaves of the chinquapin tree whenever it grew elose enough to the trail, “Roddy” was most trustworthy.

My opinion of mules has risen most considerably. They hardly need a rest — our mules only stopped once on the ascent of 3400 ft—they never slip; one may snowball them to one’s heart’s content, and they take not the slightest notice; besides these admirable qualities. our guide told me they are most faithful. What more could man ask from a beast?

When we got off our mules, I think we all felt as stiff as it was possible to feel; so after lunch we walked five miles to get a closer view of the Vernal Falls. Of the four falls in the valley the Bridal Veil is the universal favourite, because of its extreme softness of appearance; but the Yosemite Fall, which is really divided into three falls—upper 1600 ft, middle 534 ft. and lower 500 ft—is a serious rival. One morning I awoke early, and pulling up the blind, lay in bed watching the Upper Yosemite Fall, and began to feel that, after all, perhaps, this was the finest waterfall I’d ever

seen; but on the afternoon of the same day, when we were returning to Wawona, we again passed through the spray of the Bridal Veil, and all my old allegiance returned with almost doubled vigour. The Fall is wide at the top, and a splendid column of water falls over; but after - the water has dropped a couple of hundred feet, it seems to spread out and fall with great gentleness into the huge rocky pool below. Yet, though one may have favourites, any one of the four waterfalls was finer than anything of the kind I had ever

seen before. We took many walks; the freshness of the air enabling one to walk quite long distances without tiring; so we learned to know the names of the various bluffs

and to connect with each the old romantic Indian legends in which the Yosemite Valley is truly rich. We gazed at our own reflections in Mirror Lake—the lake which Tis-sa-ack in her enormous thirst drank dry. Tis-sa-ack and her husband had travelled many a weary mile ere they came to Mirror Lake, and. pool) souls, were very thirsty.. Tis-sa-ack was some distance in front of her husband. and, when she saw the clear, fresh water, stooped down to drink. So very thirsty was she that by the time her equally thirsty husband had arrived on the scene, he found she had drunk the

lake completely dry. This made him so angry, indeed, that he began to beat her sorely, and Tis-sa-ack. also becoming angry, spoke roughly to him. and. raising the basket she was carrying, flung it at him. Now. the customs of the Indians forbid a man to beat his wife, but even more severely do they forbid a woman to retaliate on her husband, so the Gods, looking down at this quarrelling pair, turned them into stone as they stood, the stones we see to-day. the North Dome the man, the Half Dome the woman. and the little dome the basket, which, in her anger, Tis-sa-ack threw at her husband.

A more amusing legend is attached to the enormous bluff. El Capitan, or, as the Indians call it, To-tau-kon-nu-la. Many years ago El Capitan was but a large boulder on the river bank, and on it one day two little boys lay down to sleep, from which sleep they never woke until many days and months had passed. During this long sleep, the boulder had been growing and growing until the little boys were completely out of sight; in fact, ’tis rumoured they scraped their faces against the moon, yet they slept on. Tn desperation all the animals assembled to devise a plan, by means of which the little boys might be rescued; the mouse came, and the rat, the grizzly bear and the lion, and each in turn jumped up at the rock, but none succeeded in getting very far. Unnoticed

and despised, a poor wriggly little worm had joined the council, and, seeing the fruitless efforts of the great wild beasts,

began himself to slowly and painfully wriggle his way up the rock's surface. Many months he took, aye many, many months, but at last his climb was ended, and he took the children and brought them safely down to their friends. So the rock, whose height is 3.300 ft. above the valley, and whose front face, destitute of any foliage whatever, covers a space of 100 acres, is named by the Indians To-tau-kon-nu-la on account of the little worm.

The valley is not without its love story —one of the most pathetic ever chronicled.

A little to the East of the Yosemite Falls rises a spire of rock known as the Lost Arrow, and named so in memory of Kos-su-kah and Tee-hee-nay, an Indian man and maid, whose tragic story the Indians love to recount around the log-fires at night. On the eve of the wedding day, Kos-su-kah set forth to the mountains with his followers to procure game for the wedding feast, and ere he went he arranged wth Tee-hee-nay that at sunset he would come to the rock above the Yosemite Falls and shoot an arrow into the valley, and on the arrow feathers would be attached corresponding in number to the animals slain.

Towards sunset Tee-hee-nay came to the foot of the Falls, and. though she waited all through the long night, no arrow did she find. By morning her fears for Kos-su-kah’s safetv had be-

come intense, so >he painfully climbed up the Canyon until at length she stood on Yosemite Point. There she

found footmarks leading towards the precipice, which she followed, and, seeing the edge of the precipice broken away, she stooped down and peered over. Far below on a ledge of rock lay

the lifeless body of Kos-su-kah. Poor Tee-hee-nay at once built a signal fire, which soon brought help from the valley. and. a rope being made. Tee-hee-nay

insisted on being lowered over the precipice. Her strength and presence of mind lasted her until, holding tightly to the body of her lover, she was drawn up to the rock summit; then her great

grief welled up. and she Hung herself, sobbing wildly, on poor Kos-su-kah’s breast. There they left her for a while until her grief had worn her out. and when some of her tribe gently raised the body, they found that she was dead. Thus were the lovers re-united. Many a search has been made for the arrow, but it was never found, and the Indians believe that it was carried away by the spirits of Kos-su-kah and Tee-hee-nay.

After leaving Wowona on our return journey, we drove through the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. Great monsters they are. of the Sequoia Gigantea species, some measuring Lsoft. in circumference and 375 ft. in height. Through two of these giants a road is cut, and we had the novel experience of driving, coach, four horses and all. through the verv heart of a tree.

These Sequoia are claimed as the greatest wooden giants of the world; plentiful, too, in this district, for the Upper Mariposa Grove alone contains 160 trees, all of colossal dimensions and fabulous value, a single tree being estimated as worth £ 6,000. This and the other groves that exist in America are Government reserves, hence great care is taken that no bold adventurer should slaughter the giants. Almost every tree is badly burned by fire, owing, no doubt, to the bush fires which, in days gone by, have swept away the surrounding forests, yet not a single tree is dead, a fact which seems to endorse the statement that the big trees are imperishable. The largest kauri tree ever found in New Zealand would be small compared with these forest giants. One gained no real conception of their size by just glancing at them,, but when we got down from the coach and found that three of us could, standing abreast, run along the length of one jf the fallen trees, then indeed did their immensity appeal to one.

The three sunny days that had passed since we had come along the road from Raymond had opened up hundreds and thousands of wild flowers, so that on all sides the eye was gratified by banks of blue lupin, scarlet India-paint-brush and golden violets, intermingled with another yellow flower the Indians call golden

sun-rays, besides which the hills were literally white with wild lilac. We plucked branches of mistletoe, and chased each other for the usual penalty. I fear we were sadly frivolous, but the flower-strewn ground and sunny sky was exhilarating, and, after all, one is not always young, nor always in a field of wild flowers on a bright spring day.