The Dawson Leuco 



amid a chaos of boulders, fills my heart with reminiscent longing at this 

 distant and comfortable moment. To live over again the early triumphs 

 of cavemen is one of the sweetest privileges of the Sierras. Thus fortified 

 by the certainty of slumber, I addressed myself for the remaining hours of 

 daylight to the snowfields and the cliffs, and soon had the satisfaction of 

 making a location. This was confirmed by a later, and enduring, visit of 

 the female, at a point midway of the main cliffs, and on a wall 425 feet 



Taken in Fresno County 



Photo by the Author 



SUNRISE ON THE LEUCO CLIFFS 



high. Forbidding as the prospect appeared, I saw how it might, conceiv- 

 ably, be reached through a succession of wells, or deep fissures, whose low- 

 est ramifications extended to a tiny ledge which seemed to command the 

 very niche on which the Leuco had lost herself. Repairing, accordingly, 

 the next day to the peak (altitude 11,600) with Robert, who had joined 

 me, we contemplated the descent. It was not alluring. It was, in fact, 

 abominably steep, and a good bit farther than we had counted on. We 

 stripped to the barest necessities, save rope and pikes (both a mistake, as 

 the event proved), and prepared, with some little trepidation, to go down. 

 The passage may be described briefly as a well, a near perpendicular ledge, 

 and a well. The upper well was obstructed in two places by rock-masses 



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