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Sierra Club Bulletin 



heard the "harp of the winds" in the trees. This was a well- 

 ducked and well-marked trail through woods sometimes open 

 and cheerful, sometimes dark and gloomy. Walking on through 

 Post Corral Meadows, we reached Sand Meadow (Helms 

 Creek), where I prepared for a little nap. H. H. started fish- 

 ing. I was awakened by wild yells, and as soon as I could get 

 my eyes open beheld H. H., the rod bent almost double, strug- 

 gling with a large trout. After helping him get it ashore (it 

 was almost a foot long), I returned to my nap. Very soon 

 there was a duplication of the performance, so I gave it up 

 and started supper. We got eleven beauties all told, the first 

 real fishing of the trip. They had the ordinary markings, and 

 what was new to me, the fine bright red spots of the Eastern 

 brook trout. 



Next day we went on upward, noting a pair of fine gray 

 foxes on our way through the forest. The trail here passed 

 through magnificent forests of red fir, tamrac, white fir and 

 sugar pine. Near by dozens of beautiful snow plants were 

 seen. We finally left the trail and struck out across country 

 to try to find the McKinley Grove of Big Trees, marked rather 

 indefinitely on the maps. Upon climbing to the top of a huge 

 rock, great was our joy when we made out a number of the 

 sequoias among the thousands of trees visible. After plunging 

 through the brush we came upon one of the giant redwoods 

 and knew that we had found the grove. The impression was 

 that of entering a great cathedral, and we went in with our 

 hats off. The wonderful coloring and size of the trees are al- 

 ways soul-stirring. The grove is a small one, but is almost 

 unspoiled by tourists, and pin-headed officials have not yet la- 

 beled the trees "General Wellington," "General Napoleon," etc. 



We now resumed our journey, and passing down Laurel 

 Creek, approached the Dinkey Ranger Station. The first man 

 we talked with since leaving Bishop Pass was a cook for the 

 outfit of J. Robinson, well known to Sierra Club people. We 

 rested at the station, then trudged on over a dusty road, think- 

 ing of the clean and dustless country left behind. Luckily, a 

 delightful camp-spot was found, where a clear stream gushed 

 out of a fragrant group of azalea. 



Our walk next day was through a most desolate region of 



