The Climb of Dunderherg via Virginia Canon 289 



within a few years has been reblazed at the lower part of the 

 canon, suddenly gives out, and you are your own trailmaker. 

 Open meadow follows stretches of forest, and forest succeeds 

 delightful flower-scented glades. If you are careful, you are 

 further repaid with the sight of soft-eyed deer, looking at you 

 from the tangled underbrush, unafraid. The birds, particular- 

 ly the thrushes, are fluting their dreamy songs from brush to 

 mountain side, and the chickadee sings his love song. 



We had evidence abundant that this is the true home of 

 Apollo and the Muses. In fact one of our number had strange 

 stories to tell of a lost trail leading to secret haunts where the 

 sense of direction becomes confused and where, in bewilder- 

 ment, one lies down and dreams to the music of unseen choris- 

 ters and is wafted away under the tricky guidance of Pan and 

 the water sprites. Yes, it is an intimate, a lovely, a friendly 

 canon, with a stream in its midst that has every virtue that a 

 stream could have — babbling noises, tumbling rapids, cold, 

 crystal pools, moss-lined and tanglewood banks, and overhang- 

 ing shelves where the ouzel dips with lightning speed — every- 

 thing !— with one exception. In vain did the best of fishermen, 

 even the unexcelled d'Estrella, speed the singing line upon the 

 foaming pools and change from fly to fly. Sad but true, the 

 trout is a minus quantity. Still the trout is not always neces- 

 sary, and we had ample compensation, an appetite and a thirst 

 "you couldn't buy," and a meal truly fit for the gods. 



And then as we sat in the gathering twilight, listening to the 

 music of the stream and the last song of the thrush, we were 

 suddenly aware of a miracle. The entire valley was trans- 

 formed into a bowl filled to its brim with molten gold, while 

 Shepherd's Crest, with its mantle of snow, blazed in the last 

 rays of the sun like a great amethyst. We sat in silence for a 

 long time watching it until gradually the light faded and the 

 long shadows dropped into darkness. It was a scene that none 

 of us can ever forget. 



And then such a camp-fire as we had, soaring high above 

 and lighting and lifting higher still the splendid tree tops that 

 seemed to lose themselves in the sky ! Songs, stories, a round 

 table of friendly jest and reminiscence, and we are safe again 

 in our sleeping bags upon "rock and cones imbedded deep." 



