ARBORICULTURE 



317 



Timber Line on Mt. Shasta. 



Special for Arboriculture by Mrs. Stephen A. 

 Jones. San Jose. Calif. 



One of the noblest mountains in 

 California is the regal peak, Mt. Shasta, 

 which "lords all cloudland" near the 

 northern boundary line of the state. 

 Nearly fifteen thousand feet high, and 

 rising far above all the neighboring 

 summits, it is visible for hundreds of 

 miles and wears forever the ermine of 

 a royal race. 



"Far off, the old snows, ever new, 

 W^ith silver edges cleave the blue, 

 Alone, aloft, divine." 



Much might be written of its geo- 

 logic past, and of the place it holds in 

 the history and literature of California, 

 but my purpose in this sketch is to 

 give a brief account of our climb to 

 timber line upon its mighty flank. 



Early in the morning of a mid-sum- 

 mer day, three of us left our canip at 

 its base and set our faces mountain- 

 ward. We had two wiry horses, good 

 mountain climbers, provided with 

 Mexican saddles. By changing fre- 

 quently, now walking, now riding, we 

 relieved each other, so that no one was 

 on foot very long. The first few miles 

 of the way was over a gently ascending 

 stretch of country, covered with cha- 

 parral. 



A dense forest of sugar and yellow 

 pine once stood here, but it was cut 

 off more than twenty years ago, and 

 only huge stumps now mark its loca- 

 tion. 



The pulverized soil was dry and 

 light as ashes, for, with the ancient 

 forests vanished also the springs and 

 running streams, while the dust rose 

 at every step. 



At the l.-ase of the mountain we 

 struck an old logging road, and follow- 

 ed it as it wound through a scattering 

 growth of pine and fir trees, the larg- 



est timber having been cut out years 

 before, when the region below was 

 denuded by lumbermen. 



x\fter a mile or more, the climb grew 

 steeper, the road ended in a narrow 

 trail which wound over rocks and fall- 

 en logs, and through underbrush so 

 dense that we often lost sight of one 

 another when only a little way apart. 



Our horses were good travelers and 

 picked their way carefully; when in 

 doubt as to the trail we gave them 

 loose^rein, and they always found the 

 right path. Not many travelers go up 

 Mt. Shasta and the trail is dimly de- 

 fined, being only marked by hoof prints 

 here and there. It was hard climbing, 

 and to the one toiling along on foot, it 

 was a welcome sight to see, around a 

 bend, the bay horse or the buckskin, 

 with its bridle hitched over a bush and 

 its saddle empty. 



We stopped often to breathe our 

 horses and to look back, when the 

 view was clear, upon the world be- 

 low. The tar ofif plain, where stood the 

 homes and haunts of men sank and 

 sank, while beyond it, to the west, 

 mountains rose and rose, new ranges 

 coming into view, one behind another, 

 the nearer ones distinctly wooded, the 

 farther ones blue, violet, amethyst, un- 

 til they melted into the sky. 



Mt. Eddy seemed to rise with us, and 

 Castle Crags stood up in prominence, 

 but we looked down on a host of lesser 

 peaks. We came to virgin forest, where 

 neither ax nor fire had marred the 

 stately, thick-growing ranks of trees. 

 The ground here was clear of under- 

 brush, and we could see down the 

 long vistas of dark-green firs ; the pines 

 had ceased, perhaps had reached their 

 limit. 



We had gained the true wilderness, 

 and already breathed that tranquility 

 and peace which nature has in store 

 for those Avho love her. 



