"Hey, Hiker!" * * * * * 119 



quarters for numerous living glaciers, the world's oldest and largest 

 trees, the highest waterfalls, and the tallest peak in the United States. 

 Next to this peak, strangely enough, lies the country's lowest region, 

 Death Valley, four hundred feet below sea level. 



It goes without saying that looking after this vast area has kept the 

 club busy. At least once each year the club pitches its official tent as 

 near the timberline as possible, somewhere along the long John Muir 

 Trail skirting the skyline of the Sierra, and literally hundreds of Sier- 

 rans, men and women alike, undertake personal inspections of the great 

 Sierra peaks. It is the practice of the Sierrans to do things right, which 

 can be interpreted as meaning that when the commissary pack train 

 pitches camp there is plenty of food and blankets for an army of trail 

 trekkers. The Sierrans hold that camp comfort adds to the joy of moun 

 tain climbing. It likewise is the practice of this organization to scour 

 California for the best camp cook in the world, it being assumed that 

 this dignitary will be found somewhere in that fair state, and his pres 

 ence adds to the zest of mountaineering. 



This annual outing of the Sierra Club is a momentous affair, and the 

 Sierrans take no chance of being incapacitated. To keep fit for the big 

 hike each summer, they organize trail trips each week-end from San 

 Francisco and Los Angeles, into the near-by mountains with which those 

 favored cities are blessed. For all its enormous size, there probably is 

 no mountain in the world so well explored, so thoroughly trailed, and 

 so easily accessible as the Sierra Nevada. Six months of the year its 

 higher regions are locked in the arms of winter, but during the arid Cali 

 fornia summers Sierra trails are dry and safe and the atmosphere is 

 perfect for hiking. Four great national parks, Sequoia, Yosemite, Gen 

 eral Grant, and Lassen, lie in this fastness, and half a dozen national 

 forests. All are centers for expeditions each summer. 



You've heard of the Mazamas. Well, they live in Oregon. Their 

 name they share with a mythical mountain said by geologists to have 

 been the highest in the United States. It stood sixteen thousand feet 

 high at one time, and belched forth from its volcano until so much of 

 its interior had been blown out that the whole peak caved in, forming 

 what is now Crater Lake. Too late the Mazamas organized to protect 

 this mountain. It is a matter of opinion what they might have done 

 about it had they been on the job at the time. Nevertheless, they are the 

 patrons of the defunct mountain and the more practical minded of the 

 Mazamas have turned their attention to Mount Hood, not so high 

 but probably as beautiful at least to the eyes of a Mazama. Every 

 time some engineer proposes to build an incline up Mount Hood, 

 the Mazamas set up a terrific protest, with the result that all such ideas 

 have failed. Mount Hood is reserved for those who travel by trail, 



