The Kern River Outing of igi6 



177 



all of them confided to the "stay-at-homes" later that it had 

 been worth the effort. 



Good fishing in Bubbs Creek, East Creek, and Lake Char- 

 lotte; the opportunity to explore the upper reaches of Vidette 

 Creek, with its well-concealed lakes; the walk down Bubbs 

 Creek to the falls, or farther to the wooded ravine from which 

 East Creek pours forth and where a fine view of Mount Brew- 

 er was to be had — these jaunts were compensation for the in- 

 timidated. 



Thursday we moved camp a short distance to Sunset Lake, 

 one of the chain of sparkling sapphire pools which lie at the 

 base of Kearsarge Pinnacles. Many were off early to visit Lake 

 Charlotte on the way, a delightful place to spend the day, with 

 good fishing, and for those who went merely to "fry them in 

 the pan" there was the additional interest of greeting the knap- 

 sack parties from Rae Lake and being the first appreciative au- 

 dience. Reluctant we were to leave this heavenly spot, for to- 

 morrow afternoon would find us in Independence, back among 

 watermelons and white folks. 



The last night in the mountains our commissary was estab- 

 lished on a narrow neck of land between two lakes, and long 

 before summons to dinner sounded there was "standing room 

 only." After each knapsack trip, despite the glowing tales of 

 scorched rice and superabundance of fish, the returned adven- 

 turers are always conspicuously first to dinner, and with heap- 

 ing plate and brimming cup immediately go to the end of the 

 line, in order to waste no time between first and second help- 

 ings. The evening air here was rather chill, and as the sunset 

 glow faded from the tips of the Pinnacles all of us showed a 

 decided preference for the camp-fire. It was a fitting climax to 

 these characteristic gatherings that we should hear a chapter 

 from John Muir's Florida diary, as yet unpublished. Little did 

 we realize that on the morrow some of us would follow his ex- 

 ample and find a comfortable camping-place in a cemetery. Then 

 we sang "High, high, high," and hied ourselves to our sleep- 

 ing-bags. Throughout the women's camp the fires sprang to 

 life, reminding one of the old illustrations of Dante's master- 

 piece, each ledge with its flame dancing and changing and 

 throwing mysterious shadow-figures. How grateful were these 



