TO YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK. 21 
ninety miles away, looking almost mysterious froin their distance and vast height, the Tetons, of a 
pale purple hue, with their piercing summits glittering like icebergs. Only to the southeast, look- 
ing toward the great Idaho Desert, did a space appear which showed no prominent peaks. We had 
scarcely time to more than glance at this superb landscape, while resting and eating lunch with the 
aid of a hatful of snow from a neighboring bank, when a ferocious squall of hail, rain, and snow 
burst upon us from the northwest, and swept us like dust from the bald summit of the mountain. 
We were instantly compelled to seek shelter on the lee side, where, cowering and half-frozen, we 
awaited the passing of the storm. Motion, however, was absolutely essential to warmth; so, with- 
out again trusting the untender mercies of the mountain, over which the wind 
still blew keen and cold, we plunged into a deep ravine leading steeply down its 
western flank, aud regained the trail at the foot. The storm had wet the rich black mold, and 
made the path slippery and difficult through the deusest timber of spruce and pine, where hardly 
sufficient cutting had been done to afford the narrowest of passage-ways. The projecting branches 
flapped back their freight of rain-drops into our faces and clothing, and many of the broken twigs 
bore trophies snatched from the packs. 
There were several sharp pitches into and out of the valleys of small brooks, which could easily 
be avoided. At present, the trail is unnecessarily hilly and fatiguing, although delightful on account 
of the fine forest and the great number and variety of the flowers. The grass is everywhere luxu- 
riant and sweet, the brooks are frequent, and flow in all directions, and camp could be made at 
almost any point. The trail, however, might be greatly improved by means of a little well-directed 
labor and the exercise of better judgment in selecting it. The work of a pack or saddle animal is 
vastly increased by unnecessary ascents and descents, which both their couformation and the posi- 
tion of the load render arduous, and the easiest road is one of even grade, though it be thrice the. 
length of the more direct one. 
Ascending to alow divide between two mountains, the valley of Cascade Creek was reached and 
followed to camp. The last three or four miles were over a meadow whichin many 4, unt washburne 
places was wet and very boggy. The hail here had fallen in considerable quantity, ae Cascade 
and whitened all the ground; the sky was dark, and the air raw and wintry. 
Camp was made on the east bank of the creek, where it leaves the meadow and enters the narrow, 
steep valley through which it reaches the Yellowstone. A roaring camp-fire soon restored the 
warmth and cheerfulness of the party, which had been somewhat impaired by the shivering weather. 
We were only about a mile from the falls, and after everything had quieted down to silence their 
deep roar became vaguely audible. The evening was again cloudy and rainy. Distance traveled 
during the day estimated at eighteen miles. 
August 17.—Lay over in camp to visit the falls. The night bad been cold, and by 8 a. m. the 
hail of yesterday had not disappeared. Waiting an hour longer for the sun to dry 
the heavy grass, we took on foot the trail which led us to the brink of the river- 
valley, half-way between the Upper and the Lower Fall, which are half a mile apart. Reserving the 
Lower Fall, whose deep thunder we could now plainly hear, we descended toward the Upper, and, 
after a short scramble over loose trachytic blocks, climbed out upon a point which, projecting into 
the cafion below the fall, furnished a fine view of it almost en face. The river makes a sharp bend 
to the eastward just above the fall, which in consequence fronts nearly at right angles to the gen- 
eral direction. From the sharp and narrow pinnacle on which we stood, or rather to which we clung, 
the cataract, some 150 feet distant, was exposed in its full height and beauty. It upper ran,10 feot 
is a slanting one, having a base of perhaps one-half its altitude, which, as measured in height. 
by a cord brought for the purpose and marked in ten-foot lengths, is 110 feet. The water leaps down 
its rocky slope between black, shining walls of trachyte, and its pure green is broken into foam and 
spray from the very summit. From the foot the currents of air drove the clouds of vapor up the 
steep sides of the caiion, which were clothed in vegetation of the freshest and most brilliant hue, 
while a double rainbow illumined the surface of the stream below. The picture was certainly a 
beautiful one, and we hung over it in delight for an hour, which, with the thunder of the Lower 
Fall still fresh in recollection, was all the time we could afford. Half an hour of rough climbing 
over bowlders and loose trachytic blocks, across Cascade Creek, and down the side Upper Fall. 
of the main valley, brought us to a small plateau at the very erest of the main fall, 
Mount Washburne. 
Yellowstone Falls. 
