The Kern River Outing of ipi6 



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and rocky bed of the stream making it an uncertain pleasure ; 

 others were ferried across by a most obliging member, who 

 made countless trips with two animals ; while on the opposite 

 bank were gathered those who had arrived earlier and were dry- 

 ing out. ^'Gabriel," our most picturesque donkey, was almost 

 drowned in the stream, and his rescue added a thrill of excite- 

 ment. 



Wednesday a delightful six-mile tramp over the Kernbut 

 brought us to Little Kern Lake, where we were to camp for 

 several days. The real trip had begun ; we had at last reached 

 the Kern, our variable companion for several weeks to come. 

 We should know its every mood, and part with it reluctantly. 

 The fishermen here forgot their disappointment that this was 

 the closed season for golden trout in their endeavors to catch 

 the more familiar varieties. Lunch parties with trout cooked in 

 the ashes or on a hot rock or in the less picturesque frying-pan 

 were not infrequent. Excellent swimming in Little Kern Lake 

 made the small sandy beach a gay and busy place every after- 

 noon. 



These days of lazy pleasure were soon over, and we jour- 

 neyed up the cafion past Lower Funston Meadow to the point 

 where the Big Arroyo tumbles down in white cascades to meet 

 the Kern. This trip was a varied eleven miles between the 

 precipitous walls of the canon. The trail led now across talus 

 slopes, now over grassy, sparkling meadows, then across swift- 

 running torrents. Each day we became more adept at crossing 

 foaming, noisy streams on slippery logs, but the one over Rattle- 

 snake Creek was a wet and undulating sapling — a test of self- 

 control and coordination. The Big Arroyo camp was almost 

 surrounded by two rivers, and the Big Arroyo unkindly rose at 

 such a rapid rate after sundown that a hasty evacuation of 

 some of the most charming camp-sites was necessary. 



On Sunday we zigzagged up a very steep slope toward the 

 Chagoopa Plateau, frequently stopping for breath and to enjoy 

 the ever-changing prospect down the Kern Canon, so colorful 

 with living shadows. Pushing on through a splendid forest, we 

 suddenly came out into Sky-Parlor Meadow, too glorious a 

 spectacle to describe or to forget, a wide-spread amphitheater, 

 carpeted with flower-sprinkled green, encircled by dark pines 



