RECREATION IN THE ROCKIES. 



H. A. CRAFTS. 





Dayton's invitation was so cordial that 

 to have declined it would have been to 

 commit a serious breach of etiquette. The 

 offer of a conveyance, fishing tackle and a 

 sociable companion as driver, was not an 

 every day occurrence. And the proffered 

 freedom of a well stocked preserve was 

 a still higher courtesy, in no way to be dis- 

 regarded. The morning drive over the Col- 

 orado hills was another rare treat. The 

 wind was fresh from the distant snow clad 

 peaks, richly perfumed, however, by the 

 odor of pine boughs and of wild flowers 

 that grew in the shaded dells. It was like 

 a draught from the fountain of youth. 

 There were broad views of hill and valley 

 overhung by cloudless skies, and charming 

 scenery along the mountain road as it 

 wound through a maze of rugged country. 



The grand canyon of the Cache la Poudre 

 is a deep gorge, 50 miles in length, leading 

 from Chambers lake, under the shadow of 

 Clark's peak at the Southern extremity of 

 the Medicine Bow range, to the plains on 

 the East. For the most part it is neither 

 narrow nor tortuous, but winds in graceful 

 curves between pine clad hills rising 1,000 

 to 2,000 feet above the bed of the canyon. 

 Through it pours the Cache la Poudre 

 river, whose clear and never failing waters 

 are fed by the melting snows of the higher 

 ranges and by countless crystal springs. 

 For miles it is bordered by narrow bottom 

 or tablelands, from the outer edge of 

 which rise the mountains. Yet at certain 

 points it thunders through narrow defiles 

 overhung by beetling cliffs. In the open val- 

 leys the stream is fringed with groves of 

 pines, cottonwoods and quaking asps. Its 

 waters, flowing over beds of many colored 

 pebbles and shining sand, are thickly peo- 

 pled with beautiful trout. Thanks to wise 

 State laws, fish increase and multiply 

 far beyond the annual losses wrought by 

 the sportsman. Each spring, thousands of 

 small fry are transplanted from the Col- 

 orado State fish hatchery to these waters. 



Our first glimpse of the canyon was from 

 the top of Pingree hill. The lower valley 

 was not reached until we plunged 1,200 

 feet down a winding gorge, the descent be- 

 ing accomplished by 2 miles of travel. It 

 was a breakneck journey, but safely made 

 by careful driving. As we drew near the 

 bottom of the canyon we could hear the 

 brawl of the river. This increased as we 

 descended, until it became a steady volume 

 of sound, pitched in a minor key. From a 

 distance it seemed monotone, but a closer 

 acquaintance revealed an infinite variety of 

 tones. 



The fishing was good and as we had 

 miles of fruitful fishing ground it was not 

 far past noon before our creels were filled. 

 In the meantime clouds had gathered over- 

 head and thunder muttered ominously far 

 back in the mountains. Some distance up 

 the canyon rain was already falling, 

 marching across the valley in column. 

 Above us the clouds gathered hurriedly, 

 like the rush of an army to attack. Soon 

 there was a warning patter of rain drops, 

 and we prepared to hasten homeward. Just 

 as we reached the foot of Pingree hill the 

 floods descended. Slow and toilsome was 

 the journey upward. There was no shelter 

 at hand, however, and we pressed onward, 

 absorbing moisture by the bucketful. Far 

 above us could be seen the white drifts of 

 storm clouds gathering more densely ; and 

 the thunder pealed with redoubled violence 

 among the crags and peaks. Suddenly from 

 the mist appeared 2 large white objects 

 descending upon us like devouring beasts. 

 We had just time to turn aside from the 

 path as 2 canvas topped camping wagons 

 sped by us. From their white folds peered 

 well known faces and came cheerful fa- 

 miliar voices. They were city acquaintances 

 out for 2 weeks' recreation. In a moment 

 they were gone, and the rain came down 

 with redoubled fury. 



Drenched to the skin, and chilled to the 

 bone, we alighted from our conveyance and 

 plodded laboriously up the steep pathways, 

 which then ran deep with water. The 

 storm continued unabated ; floods poured 

 out of each gulch and spread over 

 the hill sides. As we neared the top of the 

 hill the rain slackened, and we saw misty 

 clouds chasing each other across the space 

 of the mountains. The ascent at last ac- 

 complished, the rain ceased, but below us 

 the storm still" raged magnificently. The 

 air was chill and the breezes brisk in this 

 higher altitude; and visions of pneumonia 

 haunted us. 



When we reached camp we found it in a 

 sorry condition indeed; materfamilias sur- 

 rounded by a brood of bedraggled little 

 ones. The storm had nearly overwhelmed 

 them. In spite of frantic efforts to prevent 

 it. the flood swept through the tent, wet- 

 ting bag and baggage. There was a mo- 

 ment of blank despair. Then we went 

 bravely at work to improve the situation. 

 The tent site was drained, a cheery fire 

 set blazing in the camp stove, and wet gar- 

 ments changed for dry ones. Our spirits 

 began to rise, and the trials of the day 

 were forgotten. 



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