A TRIP TO THE OLYMPICS. 



429 



true nobility is visible every foot of the 

 way. Wild wood, wild berries, wild life; 

 there's nothing tame in the Olympics ! 



Mr. and Mrs. Borrowman welcomed me 

 kindly, and all the people who dwell in 

 Eden valley I shall remember kindly. The 

 latch string is always out up there, and 

 their hospitality is proverbial. 



Burt and I daily took long rambles in 

 the mountains, he with .30-30 strapped to 

 his back, and I with camera and Horton 

 rod, for we were in vicinity of bear and 

 wildcats, and the best of trout streams. 

 Deer abound in the mountains, but none 

 was killed during my sojourn there, as it 

 was before the season opened. 



We could shoot grouse, however, and 

 usually killed one a day, that being all the 

 meat we required. They are big fellows, 

 and get up lumberingly, yet get beyond 

 range quickly. We enjoyed all kinds of 

 trout, and the fruit was especially fine, as 

 was also the delicious wild honey. One 

 day Burt and I left the ranch on a fishing 

 excursion to the famous Elwha river. We 

 cut out several miles bv crossing cuts in 

 the mountains by means of fallen trees. 

 When we reached the Elwha, our trouble 

 began. The river was a raging, nearly ice- 

 cold, stream, 200 feet below us, with per- 

 pendicular side walls. We managed to get 

 down, by means of logs and clefts, about 

 100 feet ; then climbing into a tree, we 

 began the descent. The base of this tree 

 was on a slippery rock, near a likely look- 

 ing pool for large trout. When I reached 

 the lowest limb, I found I should need to 

 drop a few feet. Getting around on the 

 side farthest from the river, I let go, and 

 dropped squarely on a wildcat ! He was 

 frightened, and with one leap disappeared 

 into a cave, at the mouth of which he was 



lying- 

 Dolly Vardens were jumping about, 

 great big ones, but we did not take any of 

 them; they had no relish for our flies. 

 Aggravating? Have you ever been there? 

 . We stretched away for the mouth of the 

 river, 6 miles to the straits of Juan De 

 Fuca. We found the tide out, and as we 

 had our shot guns, we enjoyed an hour's 

 sport with the snipe. We did not score a 

 kill for every shot. I distinctly remember 

 boring some lovely holes in the atmos- 

 phere. I do not doubt that a Washington 

 snipe, coming down the wind, covers space 

 faster than shot that is pushed along by 

 nitro. That accounts for some of our 

 misses. "Scaipe! scaipe!" but we pass 

 on, leaving the happy fellows behind us, 

 for we have counted our bag ; 6 apiece. It 

 is enough, and anyhow we feel sad over our 

 wantonness. 'Twas the excitement that 

 urged us to slay ; next time we will leave 

 our guns at home, and depend on the 

 camera. 



Did you ever get truly leg-weary? I 

 did on that occasion, and when the top oi 

 the mountain was reached, and a spring 

 discovered, my joy was complete. I would 

 walk 10 miles to-night to taste water from 

 that spring ! It was not like the stuff we 

 call water here; it was more like wine. 



On the following day we had planned to 

 cross the mountains to Lakes Sutherland 

 and Crescent.. Merrily we jogged along 

 through the dense forests. Giant firs and 

 cedars, 7 to 11 feet in diameter at the base, 

 and whose tops seemed to mingle with the 

 clouds, blocked our way. Up we climbed, 

 and our hearts were in tune with our sur- 

 roundings. As we neared the top, we 

 could almost touch the clouds with our 

 hands, and the air was exhilarating. At 

 the mountain top the sun burst out and 

 millions of raindrops glistened a moment, 

 ere they were absorbed. Burt touched 

 my arm, and turning, I beheld Sutherland 

 at our feet, so peaceful, so far down, that 

 as I bent over the ledge I drew back half 

 dizzy. Lake Sutherland is a beauty spot, 

 and so pleased us we forgot for the 

 time that we had started for Crescent. 

 We fished Sutherland with flies until noon, 

 with indifferent success. 



About 2 p. m. I put out a trolling spoon, 

 a common skinner, as an experiment. 

 Soon there came a savage strike, a flash in 

 the sunlight, and then war was on. The 

 battle, however, was short. He was well 

 hooked. I drew him in, killed him 

 in mercy, and we put the spoon away. 

 That was the most beautiful specimen I've 

 ever taken. I thought I had taken a blue- 

 back, but have since been informed that they 

 are known only in Crescent, 2 miles farther 

 on. Its dull blue black, soft-tinted salmon- 

 pink sides, and bright silver belly were 

 identical with Crescent's bluebacks. Our 

 admirable hostess, Mrs. Wilson, weighed 

 the trout. Its weight was 5 pounds. She 

 baked it and served it with bread and wild 

 berries, hot biscuits and wild honey. What 

 a repast ! We remained at Mrs. Wilson's 

 over night, and next morning went over 

 to famous Lake Crescent. Blue as indigo, 

 nestling among those great red and gray 

 mountains, it has left its impression on my 

 mind so distinctly that I can recall every 

 detail of its beauty and wild surroundings. 

 For years I had longed to behold it, and 

 there I was, bounding over its almost im- 

 measurable depths. All day we passed 

 on the lake, part of the time in an open 

 row boat, part of the day in the little 

 steamer. We landed at last on the shore 

 nearest Lake Sutherland. I backed from 

 the presence of that charming lake as from 

 a throne room. 



It was then time for me to return to the 

 coast, and with mingled feelings of grati- 

 tude and regret I bade Eden valley and its 



