Camping Above the Yosemite. 



97 



of all. Three days were ours of enchanted wanderings — 

 up the Rancheria Creek, back to the Little Hetch-Hetchy 

 Valley, across the river and under the cliffs; and three 

 nights of enchanted sleep under the high pines and the 

 stars, with the full moon mounting late over the lofty 

 granite shoulder of "Kolana," and looking down serenely 

 on the human intruders in her quiet world. 



Late on the third day our twenty hardiest mountaineers 

 emerged from the Grand Cafion of the Tuolumne, their 

 flesh scratched, their clothes begrimed and tattered. The 

 three women wore knickerbockers or close bloomers — 

 no skirts ; and all — men and women alike — carried, slung 

 and strapped over the left shoulder, the slim seven-foot 

 rolls of bedding and provisions which had burdened them 

 for four days, while they were tearing through thickets 

 and scrambling up and down vertical rocks and swimming 

 the deep swift river. Some day the Government will 

 cut and blast a trail through this great gorge, and give its 

 spectacular beauty to the world. 



On July 26th we climbed out of the Hetch-Hetchy for 

 the home-stretch of five days to Bret Harte's village of 

 Tuolumne. Two days we camped at Lake Eleanor, near 

 the northwestern corner of the park — a glassy sheet of 

 pure warm water in which we dipped and swam, and 

 whose wooded and rocky shores we explored. Then on 

 at four o'clock one morning through forests and lovely 

 valleys to our last camp at Reed River. By this time we 

 had passed the park's boundary, and the next morning, 

 as we marched toward the lumber-camp whence we were 

 to take a logging-train, the great pines and cedars lay 

 prone and stripped around us. The pain of their degra- 

 dation was sharp and fresh in each of us like a woimd; 

 each felled giant seemed the victim of a separate murder. 

 For weeks these mighty citizens had been our friends — 

 by day companions, guardians by night; and now they 

 lay humbled, helpless, under the staring sun. The glory 

 of the wilderness lay behind us ; once more trains and 

 turmoil, clothes and vanities — all the foolish frenzy of 



