" PERHAPS OUR GREATEST NATIONAL PARK 



147 



stands higher above the valley floor and occupies a simi- 

 lar position at the valley's western gate. It is not so 

 massive as El Capitan and, therefore, not so impressive ; 

 but it is superb. It is better compared with Half Dome, 

 though again not so impressive. But it has its own 

 august personality, as notably so as either of these wprld- 

 famed rocks ; and, if it stood in the Yosemite, would 

 share with them the incomparable valley's highest honors. 



From the floor, the whole aspect of the valley changed. 

 Looking up, Tehipite Dome, now outlined against the 

 sky, and the neighboring abrupt castellated walls, 

 towered more hugely than ever. We did not need the 

 map to know that some of these heights exceed Yose- 

 mite's. The skyline was fantastically carved into spires 

 and domes, a counterpart in gigantic miniature of the 

 Great Sierra of which it was the valley climax. The 

 Yosemite measure of sublimity, perhaps, lacked, but in 

 its place was a more rugged grandeur, a certain sug- 

 gestion of vastness and power that I have not seen 

 elsewhere. 



This impression was strengthened by the floor itself, 

 which contains no suggestion whatever of Yosemite's 

 exquisiteness. Instead, it offers rugged spaciousness. In 

 place of Yosemite's peaceful woods and meadows, here 

 were tangled giant-studded thickets and mountainous 

 masses of enormous broken talus. Instead of the quiet 

 winding Merced, here was a surging, smashing, froth- 



ing, cascading, roaring torrent, several times its volume, 

 which filled the valley with its turbulence. 



Once step foot on the valley floor and all thought of 

 comparison with Yosemite vanishes forever. This is a 

 different thing altogether, but a thing in its own way no 

 less superlative in its distinction. The keynote of the 

 Tehipite Valley is wild exuberance. It thrills where 

 Yosemite enervates. Yet its temperature is quite as 

 mild. 



The Kings contains more trout than any other stream 

 I have fished. We found them in pools and riffles 

 everywhere; no water was too white to get a rise. In 

 the long greenish-white borders of fast rapids they float- 

 ed continually into view. In five minutes' watching I 

 could count a dozen or more such appearances within a 

 few feet of water. They ran from 8 to 14 inches. No 

 doubt larger ones lay below. 



So I got great fun out of picking my particular trout 

 and casting specially for him. Stop your fly's motion 

 and the pursuing fish instantly stops, backs, swims round 

 the lure in a tour of examination and disappears. Start 

 it moving and he instantly reappears from the white 

 depth where no doubt he has been cautiously watch- 

 ing. A pause and a swift start often tempted to a strike. 



These rainbows of the torrents are hard fighters. And 

 many of them, if ungently handled, availed of swift cur- 

 rents to thresh themselves free. 



KEARSARGE PINNACLES AND THE LAKE 



The Pinnacles were once called "The Devil's Backbone" and most appropriately, judging from this view of their jagged outline, but even at 

 that it is exceedingly difficult to associate anything so cool looking and generally beautiful with his Satanic majesty. The Lakes are on the 

 very edge of the timber line, being at an elevation of eleven thousand feet. 



