THE ROREGON 
NATURALIST. 
VOL. 2. 
PORTLAND, OREGON, FEB., 1895. 
Nie: =2: 
A TRIP TO MT. HOOD. 
During the week previous to Ang. 16th. 
1894 various members of our party had been 
Our 
leave Portland, early Monday 
morning, the 13th at 9:30. WepassGresham, 
a thriving burg, through which passes the Bull 
setting out for the chosen rendezvous. 
detatchment 
Run line of piping, which conveys an abund- 
ant supply of crystal water from Bull Run Lake 
ta Portland, a distance of thirty miles or more. 
All along the route are large fields of grain, 
ready for the harvest, whose golden color calls 
to our minds’ eye visions of the sheckles to fall 
into the pockets of the industrious farmers. 
The first score of miles, graded and graveled 
after the similitude of the streets oi a city, soon 
roll westward, but the succeeding five miles 
which transfers us to the Clackamas Co. roa 
would cause unholy feelings to arise in the 
breast of the Saint. 
**Come what come may, 
Time and the hour run through the longest 
day.” 
veriest However! 
And likewise with this evil stretch of road. 
Emerging from the forest we are at Sandy 
Post Office, the terminous of the Portland and 
Sandy stage line. Near here is afforded to the 
sight seer a magnificent view of the Sandy 
Canyon, so deep that the largest Fir appears 
dwarfed. At the bottom, the Sandy hoary 
with sediment from the glaciers of Hood, dashes 
in rapid course. 
But the shades of night are falling fast and 
so we hurry on in search of a camping place 
for the night. The spot selected is in a cosy 
glen, with a crystal spring hard by. The 
hours of the night pass without noteworthy in- 
cident and we are off early in the morning. 
Mc. Intires, or 
Salmon Post Office, a justly celebrated camp- 
ing resort. 
Five miles bring us to 
Just beyond here begins the grade 
by which we are raised to the base of Mt. 
Hood, by no means heavy at first, but very 
wearing on the horses by reason of the long 
stretches of sand. However just at noon 
savory odors of frying trout and the joyful ac- 
clamations of the earlier arrivals bid us a 
hearty welcome to camp ‘‘Vensylvia.” 
Time and space forbid to tell of the delights 
of our the haunts of the 
spreckled beauty: of the anticipations aroused 
in rummaging for black berries and huckle- 
berries; and after these excursions of the day, 
search there for 
of the impromptu entertainments around the 
roaring campfire. But as the embers die 
the 
subdued roaring of the Zig-zag; and the swish of 
away, the murmurs of the Stillwater, 
the tree tops entice to slumbers. 
One by one the circle lessens and resting on 
his downy couch of moss eachis soon lulled to 
sleep by the music of nature’s instruments. 
Up with the lark in the morning, the cry of 
all is ‘On to Mt. Hood.” Only absolute 
necessities, plenty of food for man and_ beast 
and bedding are taken; all else being stored 
in the tents for safe keeping, A walk of 
twenty minutes brings us to the Toll Gate. 
By the magic influence of a little free silver 
$2.50 per team, the iron lock is unloosened an 
we are bidden to enter. For several miles the 
course lies through a vast bed of sand, orna- 
mented with huge boulders and sparsely clad 
in Manzinita, Rhododendra, Chinchipin and 
Bull Pine. 
Next comes Laurel Hill, the one time bug- 
