Part 2

This route gives regular rest, takes one through a beautiful and picturesque country, from the fact that, after striking the foothills, it lies along the dividing ridge between the Tuolumne and Merced rivers. On the east lies the Sierra Nevada, with Castle Peak, Mount Dana, and other prominent points, while westward it commands a view of the San Joaquin Valley and the Coast Range. To this may be added the fact that as a good part of the road runs east and west, and as the prevailing winds are northerly, the dust is blown away to one side instead of along with you.

Another and very great advantage of this route is that, from and after the fifteenth of this month, June, 1871, it will run stages to the very brink of the valley, leaving but two and a half miles of saddle riding to the valley below, and only seven miles on horseback to the hotels. This same advantage will then be true, also, of the Big Oak Flat, or Hutchings' route, which enters the valley by the same trail.

Mariposa Route.

This is the lower, or southern route, taking its name from that of its chief town, Mariposa, once famous as the seat of Fremont's famous "estate," with its gold mines of supposed exhaustless wealth.

This route takes one by California Pacific Railroad from San Francisco, through Lathrop to Modesto, one hundred and one miles; thence ninety-six miles of staging, through Snelling's, Hornitos, Bear Valley, and White & Hatch's (stop over night) to Clark & Moore's, at the end of staging. From Clark's to the brink of the valley, by saddle, is twenty-three miles, and thence to the hotels, seven miles; making a total of thirty miles horseback riding. As an offset to this the Mariposa Route claims the advantage of the view from Inspiration Point, which lies nearly a mile off the direct trail, and for grandeur and beauty is certainly all that can be claimed or desired.

Besides the view from Inspiration Point, this route also presents the attraction of the Mariposa Big Trees, six miles from Clark's, and requiring an additional expense of $2.50 for each horse, besides the cost of another day's board and the fee of the guide.

The Calaveras trees, while equally grand and beautiful and even loftier, have the great advantage of an excellent hotel in the very midst of them, so that the tourist can spend much more time in rambling among their monumental bulks.

Besides the three routes already named, two others have been opened during the present season. The first of these may be called the

Mokelumne Hill Route.

Parties of eight, leaving San Francisco on the morning train, or Sacramento on the noon train, can take stage at Mokelumne station, at 1.30 P.M., reach Mokelumne Hill the same evening at seven o'clock, stay all night, and reach the Calaveras Big Trees at noon next day.

Price, from San Francisco to the Trees, and return, $17.00; from Sacramento to the Trees and back, $15.50. Parties of four will be taken for $15.00 each from Mokelumne station to the trees and back, in first class coaches and carriages. Any wishing to try this route can address Peck & Co., Mokelumne Hill.

From the trees one can go on to the valley by regular stages, and come out by any trail he likes, by making previous arrangements accordingly.

The second additional route is known as

Hamilton's New Route.

By this route the tourist from either San Francisco or Stockton takes the Western Pacific Railroad to Galt, whence stages leaving at one P.M., carry him by the way of Ione City and Valley, through Jackson to Mokelumne Hill, where he arrives at 7 P.M., and stays over night.

Leave Mokelumne Hill at 6.30 next morning; take the direct route through Railroad Flat and reach the Big Trees at noon. Fare, for the round trip from San Francisco or Sacramento, $20.00. From either city to the Big Trees, $12.00, leaving one free to go from the grove to Yosemite, when and as he likes.

Independent Trips,

Are commonly made in one of three ways:

1st. By private wagons, taking camping apparatus, cooking utensils and provisions along.

2d. In the saddle, taking apparatus, utensils and food along on pack horses.

3d. On foot, taking as little as possible, and depending mainly on hotels and wayside ranches or farm houses for the necessary meals and lodging, unless you choose to lodge in your own blankets.

I. BY PRIVATE WAGONS.

Parties of from four to thirty try this method every season, and report themselves delighted with the enjoyment of it, and subjected to an average expense not exceeding $2.00 a day for each one of a party less than eight, or $1.50, or even less, a day for a party of from twelve to thirty.

II. BY SADDLE AND PACK ANIMALS.

By this method the party is still more independent than by wagons, as hoofs can go where wheels cannot. The expense is about the same, as what is saved in the hire of wagons is balanced by the cost of the greater number of horses where there must be one animal for each person in the party, besides from one to four, or even six, animals to carry camp equipage and food.

III. ON FOOT.

For complete independence, combined with the ability to go where and as you please, unconfined by roads or trails, this is the best way of all. You can feed and lodge at hotels and wayside houses, or you can take along blankets and lodge where night overtakes you. To the untrained this may seem exceedingly rough and uncomfortable; to those who have fairly tried it, you will have no need to recommend it.

Hotel Rates along these Routes.

The hotel rates vary but little by whatever route you may go or come. You will seldom find a meal or a lodging as low as fifty cents, especially among the mountains and at the places most frequented by summer travel. The more common price is seventy-five cents for either, and as we approach the Valley, or the Big Trees, we may calculate on that figure as the usual cost. The reasonable tourist,--and those who have souls great enough to lead them to nature's wonders are supposed to be reasonable at least,--will readily see two good reasons why the charges along routes like these must be relatively higher than along the more frequently and permanently traveled routes of the thickly settled portions of the State: 1st, Everything which requires transportation, furniture, carpets, and all articles of food which cannot be raised in the immediate vicinity, necessarily cost much more for transportation than where steamers or cars bring them almost to the door. 2nd, The travel along all such routes, and the consequent profit upon that travel, must be made within less than one third of the year. During the remaining two thirds, furniture must stand unused, and nearly the whole amount invested for the accommodation of tourists must remain idle, not only yielding no income, but actually becoming a source of additional expense until the opening of a new season.

We have no disposition to apologize for any extortionate or unreasonable charges; for we are very happy to say that any such apology is rarely needed. Every experienced and fair-minded traveler knows that his fellow passengers are unreasonable and extortionate in _their_ demands fully as often as the transportation companies and their agents are in theirs. The various lines into the Valley and the Big Trees are managed by men who realize perfectly well that the amount of patronage they receive, and consequently, the profits which they make, must depend upon their gaining and keeping the good will of the traveling public. There is plenty of opposition; among the rival lines, no one has or can obtain any monopoly.

The sensible and safe way, here, as everywhere, is to make a definite agreement beforehand. Don't trust _any_ stranger's assurance that "we'll make _that all right_." That very fair sounding phrase has made more trouble than almost any other of equal length. The trouble is that it has two meanings. The speaker's "all right" means, for himself, and the hearer's "all right" means for _himself_, too; hence the frequent upshot of such loose understanding is, that it proves a complete _mis_understanding, when they come to settle. Distinctly specify what is to be done; how it is to be done; by whom and when; and then add at least ten per cent. to the specified cost for those little extras which will inevitably force themselves upon you in almost every trip. Thus you may escape adding yourself to the list of those improvident ones whose usual exclamation at the close of any pleasure trip is "It cost me a great deal more than I _expected_; _and I always thought it would_."

Valley Hotels.

There are three--Hutching's, Black's, and Liedig's. Any of them will keep you well for from $3.00 to $3.50 a day, or $20.00 a week. Hutchings' is the farthest up the valley and nearer the greater number of points of interest. Hutchings himself, as poor Dan Setchell used to make Captain Cuttle say of his friend "Ole Sol Gills," is the "chuck-fulledest man o' science," in all matters pertaining to the valley and its history, that one can find in the State. He keeps an excellent house and usually entertains the more distinguished literary and scientific tourists. The Yosemite branch of the Western Union Telegraph now completed and working as far as Garrote, will be extended into the valley and have its office at Hutchings, by July 1st.

Black's is a new house, built expressly for the increased travel of late years--having excellent bath and other accommodations, with well-finished and furnished rooms. It stands three quarters of a mile nearer the west end of the valley.

Liedig's is also new, and is specially noted for the bountiful supply of well-cooked food which usually loads its hospitable table, under the immediate and personal superintendence of its obliging hostess. It is situated nearly in front of the base of Sentinel Rock.

Each of these houses, of course, has its warm friends, loud in its praises. All of them do their best for the satisfaction of guests and any one of them will provide the tourist with a comfortable home.

Horses and Guides in the Valley.

For a good horse and saddle the charge is $2.50 a day, or for a trip, if it occupies such part of the day that the animal cannot go out on any other one the same day. If you propose to stay a week or more, and wish to engage the same horse for your regular and exclusive use every day during that time, you can do so for one fifth less; sometimes lower than that.

The horses are good, trusty, serviceable beasts, trained to their business and generally safe and reliable.

Going into or coming out from the valley with any regular trip, over any route, you have nothing to do with providing or paying for a guide. One accompanies the saddle-train each way.

In and about the valley, you can have the company and attention of a practiced and competent guide for $3.00 a day--or, a trip. The guide's fee is the same whether the party be small or large.

No tourist who has the nerve and muscle of an average man or woman really _needs_ either horse or guide. The valley is only seven miles long and but a mile wide. The perpendicular walls, from three to five thousand feet high, shut you in all around. You certainly can't get _out_; and with so many prominent landmarks all about you, you can't get _lost_, unless you try very hard indeed. With a good guide-book before you and well-rested legs under you, a very moderate exercise of common sense will take you all about the valley, and enable you thoroughly to explore its wonders "on foot and alone" if you choose so to go.

Bear in mind, however, that you are nearly a mile--in some places more than a mile--above the sea; that the atmosphere is rare and light; that you need to restrain your impulse to _dash_ about, especially at first. For the first two or three days "go slow"--take it moderately; see _less_ than you think you might, rather than more. As you become more familiar with the character of the rocks and ravines and accustomed to the exertion of climbing about them, you can extend your excursions and attempt harder things.

For the longer trips, such as the ascent of the Sentinel Rock, it may be safer and wiser to employ a good guide.

Expenses.

The total necessary expenses by each route are:

1st. By Big Oak Flat (Hutchings') Route:

From San Francisco to Yosemite Valley, _or_ return $20 From San Francisco to Yosemite _and_ return 38 From San Francisco to the Calaveras Big Trees, _or_ return 10 From San Francisco to the Calaveras Big Trees and Valley, _or_ return 25 From San Francisco to the Calaveras Big Trees and Valley, _and_ return 45

Thomas Houseworth & Co., Agents, 317 and 319 Montgomery street, San Francisco.

2d. By the Coulterville Route:

From San Francisco to Yosemite Valley, _or_ return $20 From San Francisco to Yosemite Valley, _and_ return 38

G. W. Coulter, Agent, 214 Montgomery street, San Francisco.

3d. By Mariposa Route:

From San Francisco to Yosemite Valley, _or_ return $25 From San Francisco to Yosemite Valley, _and_ return 45

Ed. Harrison, Agent, Grand Hotel, San Francisco.

Board and Lodging en route, per day $3 00 Board and Lodging in the Valley, per day 3 00 Board and Lodging at Big Trees, per day 3 00 Board and Lodging in either place, per week 20 00 Horses in Valley, or to Big Trees, per day 2 50 Guides in Valley or to Big Trees, per day 3 00

TOTAL EXPENSES OF EXCURSION.

1. To Yosemite Valley, direct, by Big Oak or Coulterville, stay one week in the Valley, hiring guide and horse three days, and returning by same route $80

2. Above excursion, including Calaveras Big Trees 90

3. To Yosemite Valley direct, by Mariposa, staying a week in the Valley, hiring guide and horse three days, and coming out same way 87

4. Above excursion, including Mariposa Big Trees 93

5. In by Big Oak Flat or Coulterville, and out by Mariposa, or _vice versa_, other conditions as above 87

6. In by Mariposa, and out by Big Oak Flat, visiting _both_ groves of Big Trees, same conditions as above 110

In the above statement the expense for guide is based on the supposition that the party includes at least three persons.

YOSEMITE VALLEY.

The name is Indian. Pronounce it in four syllables, accenting the second. It means "Big Grizzly Bear."

The valley lies very near the centre of the State, reckoning north and south, about one fifth the way across from east to west, and almost exactly in the middle of the high Sierras which inclose it. Its direction from San Francisco is a little south of east, and its distance about one hundred and forty miles in an air line. The valley itself lies nearly east and west. Its main axis runs a little north of east by a little south of west.

It consists of three parts:

1st. The surrounding wall of solid rock, nearly vertical, and varying in height from one thousand to four and even five thousand feet.

2d. The slope of rocky masses and fragments which have fallen from the face of the cliffs, forming a sort of _talus_ or escarpment along the foot of this wall, from seventy-five to three hundred and fifty feet high, throughout the greater part of its extent.

3d. The nearly level bottom land, lying between these slopes, forming the valley proper, and divided into two unequal parts by the Merced River flowing through westerly, from end to end.

The main valley is seven miles long; though one may make it longer if he estimates the branches or divisions at the upper or eastern end. Its width varies from a few feet on either side of the stream, to a full mile and a quarter in its broadest part. It contains over a thousand acres; two thirds meadow, and the rest a few feet higher, somewhat sandy, gravelly, and, in places, covered with rocks and boulders from the surrounding cliffs. Over the latter portion, at irregular intervals, trees, shrubs and ferns are sparsely sprinkled or set in irregular groups. The richer bottom supports several fine clumps and groves of graceful trees.

The bottom of the valley is four thousand feet above the level of the sea, and has an average fall, towards the west, of about six feet to the mile. The river varies in width from fifty to seventy feet, and in depth from six to twelve feet. Its bottom is gravelly, its current remarkably swift, its waters clear as crystal. Trout, of delicious quality, abound, but seldom allow white men to catch them.

The rocky wall which shuts it in, averages over three quarters of a mile in perpendicular height. Nothing on wheels has ever gone up or down this tremendous precipice, and in only two places have the surest-footed horses or mules been able to find a safe trail.

Yosemite Valley is really a huge sink or cleft in a tangle of rock-mountains; a gigantic trough, not scooped or hollowed out from above, but sunk straight down, as if the bottom had dropped plumb toward the centre, leaving both walls so high that if either should fall, its top would reach clear across the valley and crash against the opposite cliff several hundred feet above its base.

In many places these cliffs rise into rock-mountains, or swell into huge mountainous domes, two or three of which have been split squarely in two, or cleft straight down from top to bottom, and the two halves, still standing straight up, have been heaved or thrown a half-mile asunder, whence each looks wistfully across at its old mate, or frowns sternly and gloomily down upon the beautiful valley which quietly keeps them apart.

Here and there they tower into lofty spires, shoot up in shattered or splintered needles, or solemnly stand in stately groups of massive turrets. High bastions surmount steep precipices, and both look down on awful chasms.

Back from the edge of the valley, behind these cliffs, the rock country stretches away in every direction through leagues of solid granite, rising irregularly into scattered hills, peaks and mountains, between which run the various snow-fed streams, whose final, sudden plunge over the valley's sharp and rocky brink makes the numerous falls of such wonderful height.

Coming in by either trail, one enters the western or lower end of the valley. We will suppose ourselves entering by the Mariposa trail. We have clambered, or allowed our animals to clamber, safely down the rocky, steep, and crooked trail, which lands us finally at the foot of the precipitous slope of two thousand seven hundred feet. As we follow the trail up the valley, that is, bearing away to the right, going eastward along the foot of the south wall, we encounter the falls, mountains, spires and domes in the following order:

One coming in by the Coulterville, Hardin's or Big Oak Flat trail, finds himself at the same end of the valley, directly opposite the foot of the Mariposa trail, having the river between; and as he bears away to the left, along the base of the north wall, he would, of course, meet all these wonders in exactly the reverse order. But to return to the foot of the Mariposa or Clark's trail:

First, the

Bridal Veil Fall,

Indian name Po-ho-no, meaning, "The Spirit of the Evil Wind." The fall is over nine hundred feet high, and of indescribable beauty. The stream which forms it has an average width of some sixty-five feet at the edge of the cliff where it breaks over the brink. It is narrower in summer and wider in winter. For six hundred and thirty feet the stream leaps clear of the cliff in one unbroken fall. Thence it rushes down the steep slope of broken rocks in a confusion of intermingled cascades nearly three hundred feet more.

The varying pressure of the changeful wind causes a veil-like waving, swaying and fluttering, which readily suggests the obviously fitting and most appropriate name.

What could a bride be made of, Who would wear a veil like this? No sooner asked than answered, She must be "Maid o' the Mist."

This fall presents its greatest beauty in May or June when the volume of water is not too great. The situation of Pohono, added to its intrinsic beauty, waving a welcome as the tourist enters and fluttering a farewell as he leaves, make it the universal favorite. Ladies especially love to linger at its foot, feasting their eyes with its marvelous and changeful beauty, and delighting their hearts with the delicious suggestiveness of its most appropriate name. The honeymoon can nowhere be more fittingly or happily spent than within sight of Pohono.

Half a mile further the cliff rounds outward and swells upward into an enormous double, rocky bastion, the

Cathedral Rocks.

Two thousand six hundred and sixty feet above the valley. Indian name, Po-see-nah Choock-kah, meaning a large store or hoard of acorns. From certain points of sight the form of these rocks readily suggests the outline of a dilapidated Gothic cathedral. Only the superior grandeur of Tu-toch-ah-nu-lah and the South Dome, prevent this rock from greater fame. Outside of Yosemite it would quickly attain a world-wide celebrity.

Just beyond these rocks the cliff bears away to the southeast and sends up two slender, graceful pinnacles of splintered granite, rising five hundred feet above the main wall, which supports them. These are the

Cathedral Spires.

Their summits are twenty-four hundred feet above the valley. Seen from the northeast, a mile distant, these spires appear symmetrical, of equal height, squarely hewn and rising above the edge of the cliff behind, exactly like two towers of a Gothic cathedral. One who doubts the appropriateness of their name, has only to view them from this point, whence a single glance will end his skepticism. Beyond the spires the wall runs southeasterly a quarter of a mile, then curves through an easterly and northerly sweep into a north and south line. The whole sweep forms a sort of precipitous coast with its rocky headlands, inclosing the valley between like an emerald bay. Beyond this bay the rocky wall gradually curves again, and resumes its easterly trend. An eighth of a mile further brings us to

The Fissure.

This is a cleft or split in the rock, running back southeasterly at nearly a right angle with the face of the cliff. It is one thousand feet deep, five feet wide at the top and front, and grows gradually narrower as it extends downward and backward into the mountain. Several boulders have fallen into it and lodged at different depths.

A third of a mile east of this fissure, and a mile and three quarters from the Cathedral Rocks, another rocky promontory projects northwesterly, like a huge buttress, a third of a mile into the valley, crowned with a lofty granite obelisk, three hundred feet thick, and standing straight up twelve hundred feet above the giant cliff which supports it. This is the famous

Sentinel Rock,

so named from its resemblance to a gigantic watchtower or signal station, for which, the legends say, the Indians formerly used it. The Indian name was Loya. Its top is three thousand and forty-three feet above the river at its foot. The sides show plainly-marked perpendicular cleavages in the granite.