18 
THE ORFGON NATURALIST. 
bear of immigrants in pre-railroad days, but 
now worked to a very good grade by the Toll 
Company. By noon we have surpassed this 
obstacle and are rolling into Goverment Camp, 
which with its green grass and fluwing waters, 
seems like an oasis in the desert, after the 
morning Of sind and dust. The place takes its 
name from the fact that in early times a troop 
of U. S. Regulars were stationed ‘here to pro- 
tect theemigrant trail. Surprised by the early 
approach of winter, they, were snowed in with- 
out sufficient supplies, and to ward off starvation, 
were compelled to eat their Mules, even mak- 
ing soup of the hides and hoofs. 
the nick of time, they made their way to 
Oregon City. 
Rescued in 
From here is the final pull, an upward climb 
of five miles, to the timber line, without one 
foot of descent. This is the most disagreeable 
portion of the whole trip. The Sun beats 
down unabated by any kind of verdure, and 
intensified by the barren waste of volcanic ash 
and lava, 
No water can be had til we reach the snow. 
Slowly one milais passed, then another. Now 
the region lately bared of snow is reached. 
The grass is no longer dried and withered 
Flowers are blooming. Here and there are little 
rills trickling from some patches of snow. The 
trees have been crushed and bowed down with 
the weight of snow, of which the genial Sun 
has but lately relieved them. But the road 
go:s onward, upward, ending abruptly in a 
snow bank, 
While we are debating the advisiability of 
proceeding the wagon decides the questicn 
by. tipping over and accommodatingly de- 
positing our traps in a most suitable place for 
acamp. The first thing is to water the hors.s 
and fill all available utensils; for as the day 
wanes the melting ceases and the porous earth 
soon soaks up all moisture. 
snug for the night. After a hewty meal, a 
rush is made above timber line, to see old 
All is soon made 
Helios take his evening bath in the waters of 
the Pacific. 
Upon returning, the cry of **Three o’clock 
in the morning” sends most of us post-haste to 
bed, fora good night’s rest, should prelude 
the morrow’s task. The first thing, in the 
morning 
g, is the preparation and disposal of a 
hearty breakfast: for no ordinary mortal can 
hope to scale Hood’s lofty peak on an empty 
stomach. Before five o’ciock our amateur 
mountaineers have left camp provided with 
plenty of lunch and armed with Alpine stocks 
Our party isin charge of the veteran guide, 
Mr. W. G. Steel. 
keep together, rest 
His orders are ‘‘go slow, 
often but not long.” 
The last stunted pine soon fallsto our rear 
Before 
huge 
and we are within the Arctic Zone. 
the light of the advancing day, the 
shadow of the mountain fades away and all 
Mt. Jeffer- 
son, the most conspicuous object to the south, 
resembles Hood as seen fron Portland Heights. 
things s‘and forth in clear relief. 
In the same direction are visible the Three 
Sisters, Mt. Mc. Laughlin and Snow Butte. 
The wisdom of an early start now becomes 
very apparent; for, shod with loggers calks, 
we had advanced over the frozen crust with no 
difficulty. Butas the heat takes effect, the 
task is not so easy. ! 
However, by this time-——about noon—we 
reach Crater Rock. Here all except a few 
whose nerves have been disarranged by the 
dizzy height or the fumes of sulphur, strengthen 
themselves with a hearty lunch. 
Calling the roll and finding three of our 
uumber fallen by the way. we, metaphorically 
speaking, gird ourselves for the final effort by 
We then file 
out upon the hog back, a ridge of snow joining 
Our trail ends 
providing our shoes with screws. 
Crater Rock with the summit. 
abruptly at the crevasse—a transverse crack in 
the snow, of varying breadth and depth. 
Following the lower edge some distance to 
the left, we pass in safety over a snow bridge. 
The ascent now becomes almost perpendicular 
and would be quite dangerous were the path 
frozen. But a few more steps and resting on 
the summit, we are entranced with the pano- 
rama of mountain and valley, of forest, lake, 
and glaciers ennobled by the snow cap senti- 
nels of the Cascade Range. 
Of the twenty four aspirants for Alpine 
honors, all but three, won the prize and twelve 
thousand feet above sea level, placed their 
names on the record of the Mazamas, as a 
testimony of a, to them, never forgotten feat. 
Arthur P. McKinlay. 
Portland, Ore. 
