Part 1

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THE

MOUNTAINS

OF OREGON

BY

W. G. STEEL,

Fellow of the American Geographical Society.

PORTLAND, OREGON: DAVID STEEL, SUCCESSOR TO HIMES THE PRINTER, 169-1/2 Second Street.

1890.

COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY W. G. STEEL.

PREFACE.

This little volume has not been written with the expectation of accomplishing a mission, or even attracting general attention, but simply to put into permanent form a small portion of information that is constantly appearing in newspaper articles. Such information usually comes from abler pens than mine, but it is all the more pity that it is not in proper shape for future use. If it amuses, entertains or instructs those who peruse it, its aim will be accomplished, and its author satisfied.

There is, however, a word of explanation due for the manner in which it is arranged. It was not begun with the intention of publishing a book, but in response to numerous requests received for descriptions of Crater Lake and Mt. Hood. As it was impossible at the time to answer them satisfactorily, it was decided to print a letter on each subject, and issue as a small pamphlet. Before this was accomplished the discovery was made that the space allotted was entirely inadequate, so, acting on the advice of friends, this form was adopted; too late, however, to prevent the present arrangement.

W. G. S.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Crater Lake 12

Exploration Department, Oregon Alpine Club 73

Game Protective Department, Oregon Alpine Club 77

Illumination of Mount Hood 3

Josephine County Caves 34

Mount Rainier 55

Night on the Summit of Mount Rainier 43

Oregon Alpine Club 67

Oregon Alpine Club, Constitution 69

Oregon Bibliography 85

Our Mountains in War 40

Photographic Department, Oregon Alpine Club 79

Preface 1

Presidents of the Oregon Alpine Club 82

Statement of Rev. Peter Stanup 57

Thoughts on the name Tacoma 59

Topical Index 109

What They Signify 52

ILLUMINATION OF MOUNT HOOD.

Mount Hood is located in the Cascade range in Oregon, twenty-five miles south of the Columbia river. It is about twelve thousand feet high, and is visible over a large part of the State. Above an elevation of five thousand feet it is covered with perpetual snow. It stands sixty miles east of Portland, a monument of beauty, and the pride of Oregon. In the spring of 1885 the idea originated of illuminating it with red fire. An effort was made to carry this into effect on the following 4th of July, but failed for the reason that, instead of staying with it over night, a system of clock work and acids was devised, which was perfectly willing to do the work assigned, but an ugly avalanche came along at four o'clock in the afternoon, broke the bottles of acid and set the whole thing ablaze. In 1887, the Celebration Committee of Portland, decided to make the trial, and placed the matter in charge of the writer, who was accompanied by N. W. Durham, correspondent of the _Oregonian_, O. C. Yocum, photographer, Dr. J. M. Keene, J. M. Breck, Jr., C. H. Gove and Chas. F. Adams. More agreeable, determined and competent associates I never met. Breck was a cripple, finding it necessary at all times to walk with a crutch, yet, a better mountain climber is hard to find.

Everything being placed in readiness, we left Portland at 6 o'clock A.M., Friday July 1st, and reached Government Camp at 5 o'clock in the afternoon of the second. From this point, the mountain rises to the north in all its beauty and grandeur, with timber line apparently within a few rods, instead of four miles, the actual distance. Here the wagons were left, and two horses were packed with blankets and provisions, and our journey was resumed as soon as possible. It was necessary to cross two small streams, over both of which the bridges had fallen, so we were compelled to carry logs and fill in until it was possible to get the horses over. About nine o'clock, finding that we could not reach timber line, it was decided to camp on some friendly rocks near at hand. Here we found the trees thickly covered with a long, dry moss, which afforded excitement for the evening, for, no sooner had the inner man's longings been supplied, than lighted matches were applied to the moss, which blazed furiously until it died out in the distance, simply for the want of material. The scene, while it lasted, was indeed brilliant, and accompanied by a roar that seemed but the echo of thunder. Already exhausted, after three hours plodding through snow knee deep, we sank to rest and slept soundly until four o'clock. At five we were on our way, somewhat surprised to see that the snow remained as soft as on the evening before. In addition to the difficulty of sinking each step nearly to our knees, each man was loaded with fifty pounds of blankets, provisions or red fire, while three tugged savagely at a heavily loaded toboggan. At noon we lunched at timber line. It was hardly a sumptuous repast, but answered every requirement, there being canned Boston brown bread and beef tea, mixed with snow and seasoned with smoke. Not a dainty dish, to be sure, but "the best the market afforded." After lunch we dragged our weary way along, among other difficulties encountering a bitter cold wind, blowing directly from the summit with fearful velocity. Slower and slower we moved, until three o'clock, when two men fell in their tracks utterly exhausted. Here was a "pretty kettle of fish." Barely seven thousand feet up, with five thousand feet more above, and only one day in which to climb. It was finally decided to make camp on the nearest rocks, abandon all idea of reaching the summit, then, on the day following, find the best place possible for the illumination. Two thousand feet above timber line we camped on rocks, over which the cold wind swept, penetrating to the very marrow. Of course it was impossible to have a fire, and at night it was necessary to pile large stones on our blankets to keep them from sailing down the mountain. Hats and a few other things were anchored in like manner.

The "Glorious Fourth" was ushered in, clear and cold, while a patriot in the party, not to be outdone by Uncle Sam, saluted the rising sun with a deafening round of fire cracker artillery. At five o'clock we started on our upward march. Every thing was left behind except one hundred pounds of red fire, three overcoats and a few crackers. At 11:30 A.M., bare rocks were found to the west of the summit, in what was considered a good location, and at an altitude of about ten thousand feet. Here our burdens were cast at the foot of the cliff, and all hands, except Keene and myself, returned to Government Camp. By noon the wind had died down entirely, and the day became very pleasant. While waiting at this lonely station for the appointed hour of illumination, a panorama was spread before us, of a scope and magnificence that cannot be appropriately described, but must be seen to be appreciated. Yes, and it remains for those who love the beautiful and grand sufficiently to scale mountains, to toil on day after day, patiently waiting for the time that is sure to come, when the glorious pages of Nature will be unrolled before them. Then,

"It seems by the pain of ascending the height, We had conquered a claim to that wonderful sight."

The scene embraces millions of acres of land in Eastern Oregon, extending from the Cascades to the Blue mountains, a distance of over one hundred and fifty miles. The entire range of the Cascades lies before us, showing the foothills of both Eastern and Western Oregon, and the increase in height toward the center. For miles upon miles to the south, cross ranges, running from east to west seem piled one upon the other, and to their tops is added a covering of snow, changing the solemn, otherwise unbroken, dark green, to a variegated picture, not only of grandeur, but beauty. To the left of the centre stands Jefferson, similar to Hood as seen from Portland. Next come the Three Sisters to the left of Jefferson, while still further stands Snow Butte. Almost in front of Jefferson is Washington, while to the right McLaughlin looms up in southern Oregon, two hundred and fifty miles distant. Changing the view to western Oregon, we see Mary's Peak over one hundred miles southwest. The Willamette valley can be seen through its entire extent of many miles, while here and there we catch glimpses of the river flowing on to the lordly Columbia. Along the western horizon extends the Coast Range, while in one little spot the mountains break way and give us a vista of the ocean. In the immediate foreground lies the base of old Hood, white with snow for five thousand feet below us. To witness a scene like this many a man would circle the globe;--and yet, imagine a sunset upon it. At 5:30 P.M. clouds drifted from the north and hung on the points of the range a mile below. Slowly the sun sank to rest, while the clouds hovering over the western horizon became brighter and brighter, until it seemed that the very gates of heaven were thrown wide open, and over a scene of unrivaled grandeur was spread another of marvelous magnificence. As if Nature was not even yet satisfied with such dazzling beauty, suddenly the smoke that had gathered far below us, shutting out the great Columbia, was drawn aside and the waters of that river seemed, through the thin smoke remaining, like a stream of molten gold, visible in an unbroken line, winding from the mountain to the sea a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. Then, too, as we looked, just beneath the setting sun, the Pacific ocean came to view, while the sun was setting in the mouth of the Columbia, reflecting its ruddy glare in the ocean and river at one and the same time. To the right could be seen Cape Disappointment, while to the left Point Adams showed with equal clearness. So closed the day and the night came on.

Far above the few clouds that lurked beneath us, threatening the success of our experiment, the atmosphere was so perfectly clear that we thought its equal had never been seen. Promptly with the departing day the full moon arose in all its beauty, changing the day's brilliance to a subdued halo of glory. About seven o'clock the wind blew furiously, almost carrying us from the rocks to the snow beneath. Although clad for a land of wintry blasts, it was necessary to pace back and forth, swinging our arms and jumping to keep warm. At eight o'clock the wind died down, and we became comfortable without exercise. Our spirits were low, however, for it seemed that the entire country was covered with a thick veil of smoke, and our labor was to be in vain. Suddenly at 9:30 we saw a red light in the direction of Portland. It was the signal for a complete revolution in our feelings. We danced for joy. Yes, we screamed and halloed until we were hoarse. Did all sorts of silly things, for now we _knew_ our fire would be seen. Following the first light came another, and still others, and in our mad excitement we took a handful of red fire and burned it on a rock. "Thereby hangs a tale."

The members of our party at Government camp were gathered around a cheerful fire telling bear stories and waiting patiently for the appointed time, when they were startled by a brilliant light from the mountain, showing through the trees in front of them. Instantly they scattered, every member forgetting his companions in a wild scramble for a good view. In this sudden stampede, one member, who is hard of hearing, climbed a tree, where he remained until the others began to assemble. As one of the drivers, a hardy son of Erin, passed the tree and heard a rustling in the branches, he glanced up, saw a large, dark object, took it for a bear and gave the alarm. Instantly all hands gathered around the tree, every one armed with a club, which he swung like the arms of a windmill, at the same time shouting for some one else to get a gun. The man up a tree, not understanding why the commotion should extend so long after the burning of red fire, started to go down, but, was met with such a lively rain of clubs that he beat a precipitate retreat. At this point, a gun arrived and every fellow wanted to shoot the bear. Bruin, at last comprehending the situation, chimed in with: "You fellows let up with your durned foolishness, will you."

Soon after the red fire and rockets at Portland were noticed, others were seen at Prineville, seventy-five miles to the southeast, and also at Vancouver, W. T. These were watched with the most intense interest, until the time arrived to make our own novel show. The red fire was placed in a narrow ridge about ten feet long, and at right angles with Portland. Holding my watch before me, promptly at 11:30 we applied the match with the result as shown by the following account in the _Oregonian_ of the next day:

"The celebration closed with the illumination of Mount Hood, the grandest and most unique event of the day. Precisely at 11:30, the time appointed, just as the fireworks display was over, a bright red light shone away up in the clouds above the eastern horizon, which was greeted with cheers from the thousands congregated on the bridge, wharves, roofs, boats on the river and on the hills back of town, and with vigorous and long-continued whistling from every steamboat on the river.

"The mountain had been plainly visible all day, but toward evening a curtain of mist and smoke shut off the view at the base, and as twilight fell, the curtain rose higher till at last only the very peak could be seen, and as night came on, even that disappeared from view. Many gave up all hope of seeing any sign from the mountain. But many thought that the obstructions to a view of the summit were very slight, and if the party had reached the peak, the light from one hundred pounds of red fire would be able to pierce through them, and so it proved. It lasted exactly fifty-eight seconds. This was the most novel and the highest illumination ever made, and was seen the farthest and formed a fitting close to the celebration of 1887."

Immediately after the illumination we started down the mountain, following our previous trail in the snow. Just after midnight, while lunging through the snow, we suddenly lost our footing and were no little astonished to find that we had fallen into a crevasse. It proved narrow and shallow, however, and all things considered, we extricated ourselves with remarkable celerity and passed on down the mountain side, only to get lost in the timber below, and wander around until daylight, when we found camp and soon after were homeward bound.

CRATER LAKE.

ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREAT NATURAL WONDERS.

A trip to Crater Lake is, to a lover of the grand and beautiful in nature, an important event, around which will ever cluster memories of unalloyed happiness, thoughts of little adventures and weird experiences that go to make life worth living. It is situated in the northwest portion of Klamath county, Oregon, twenty-two miles west of north of Fort Klamath, and about eighty miles northeast of Medford, which is the best point to leave the Oregon & California railroad. The Jacksonville and Fort Klamath military road passes the lake within three miles, and the road to the very walls of it is an exceptionally good one for a mountainous country, while in near proximity may be found remarkably fine camping grounds.

The Indians of Southern Oregon have known of it for ages, but until recently none have seen it, for the reason that a tradition, handed down from generation to generation, described it as the home of myriads of sea-devils, or, as they were called, Llaos; and it was considered certain death for any brave even to look upon it. This superstition still haunts the Klamaths. While a few of the tribe have visited it, they do so with a sort of mysterious dread of the consequences. It was discovered by a party of twelve prospectors on June 12th, 1853, among whom were J. W. Hillman, George Ross, James Louden, Pat McManus, Isaac Skeeters and a Mr. Dodd. These had left the main party, and were not looking for gold, but having run short of provisions, were seeking wherewithal to stay the gnawing sensations that had seized upon their stomachs. For a time hunger forsook them, as they stood in silent amazement upon the cliffs, and drank in the awe of the scene stretched before them. After partaking of the inspiration fostered by such weird grandeur, they decided to call it Mysterious, or Deep Blue Lake. It was subsequently called Lake Majesty, and by being constantly referred to as a crater lake, it gradually assumed that name, which is within itself so descriptive.

At times when gazing from the surrounding wall, the skies and cliffs are seen perfectly mirrored in the smooth and glassy surface over which the mountain breeze creates scarce a ripple, and it is with great difficulty the eye can distinguish the line dividing the cliffs from their reflected counterfeits. The lake is almost egg-shaped, ranging northeast by southwest and is seven miles long by six in width. The water's surface is six thousand two hundred and fifty-one feet above sea level, and is completely surrounded by cliffs, or walls, from one thousand to over two thousand feet high, which are scantily covered with coniferous trees. To the southwest is Wizard Island, eight hundred and forty-five feet high, circular in shape, and slightly covered with timber. In the top is a depression, or crater--the Witches' Cauldron--one hundred feet deep and four hundred and seventy-five feet in diameter. This was evidently the last smoking chimney of a once mighty volcano. The base of the island is covered with very heavy and hard rocks, with sharp and unworn edges, over which scarcely a score of human feet have trod. Farther up are deep beds of ashes, and light, spongy rocks and cinders, giving evidence of intense heat. Within the crater, as without, the surface is entirely covered with volcanic rocks, but here it forms one of the hottest places on a clear day in August, it has ever been my lot to witness. Not a breath of air seems to enter, and the hot sun pours down upon thousands of rocks and stones that reflect his rays with an intensity that seems to multiply beyond conception. Here, however, we determined to lunch--and did--but one such experience will last a long time. Directly north of the island is Llao Rock, a grand old sentinel, standing boldly out on the west side of the lake and reaching up over two thousand feet perpendicular. From the top of it you can drop a stone and it will pass down and grow smaller and smaller, until your head begins to swim and you see the stone become a mere speck, and fade entirely from view; and at last, nearly half a mile below, it strikes the unruffled surface of the water and sinks forever from sight in the depth of a bottomless lake.

There is probably no point of interest in America that so completely overcomes the ordinary Indian with fear as Crater Lake. From time immemorial, no power has been strong enough to induce him to approach within sight of it. For a paltry sum he will engage to guide you thither, but, before you reach the mountain top, will leave you to proceed alone. To the savage mind it is clothed with a deep veil of mystery, and is the abode of all manner of demons and unshapely monsters. Once inhabited by the Great Spirit, it has now become the sheol of modern times, and it is certain death for any proud savage to behold it. This feeling has, to a certain extent, instilled itself in the mind of such whites as have made it their Mecca, until every stray log that floats upon the water is imagined to possess life, and may possibly be a monster. Exaggerated accounts of different points have been given and implicitly believed without a question or reflection. It has been claimed that the crater was eight hundred feet deep, while by actual measurement we found it to be scarcely a hundred. The island was said to be fifteen hundred feet high, but an accurate measurement placed it at just eight hundred and forty-five feet.

From Allen Davey, Chief of the Klamath tribe, I gleaned the following in reference to the discovery of Crater Lake:

A long time ago, long before the white man appeared in this region to vex and drive the proud native out, a band of Klamaths, while out hunting, came suddenly upon the lake and were startled by its remarkable walls and awed by its majestic proportions. With spirits subdued and trembling with fear, they silently approached and gazed upon its face; something within told them the Great Spirit dwelt there, and they dared not remain, but passed silently down the side of the mountain and camped far away. By some unaccountable influence, however, one brave was induced to return. He went up to the very brink of the precipice and started his camp fire. Here he laid down to rest; here he slept till morn--slept till the sun was high in air, then arose and joined his tribe far down the mountain. At night he came again; again he slept till morn. Each visit bore a charm that drew him back again. Each night found him sleeping above the rocks; each night strange voices arose from the waters; mysterious noises filled the air. At last, after a great many moons, he climbed down to the lake and there he bathed and spent the night. Often he climbed down in like manner, and frequently saw wonderful animals, similar in all respects to a Klamath Indian, except that they seemed to exist entirely in the water. He suddenly became hardier and stronger than any Indian of his tribe because of his many visits to the mysterious waters. Others then began to seek its influence. Old warriors sent their sons for strength and courage to meet the conflicts awaiting them. First, they slept on the rocks above, then ventured to the water's edge, but last of all they plunged beneath the flood and the coveted strength was theirs. On one occasion, the brave who first visited the lake, killed a monster, or fish, and was at once set upon by untold numbers of excited Llaos (for such they were called), who carried him to the top of the cliffs, cut his throat with a stone knife, then tore his body in small pieces, which were thrown down to the waters far beneath, where he was devoured by the angry Llaos--and such shall be the fate of every Klamath brave, who, from that day to this, dares to look upon the lake.