Ascent of Red Peak 



25 



ASCENT OF RED PEAK. 



By S. L. Foster. 



One day in August, 1910, after a delightful half day's 

 horseback climb past famous waterfalls and through 

 virgin forests of Douglas spruce, cedar, and pine, I found 

 myself alone, about noontime, in gentian-covered Starr 

 King Meadow. It lies at an altitude of about 8000 feet. 

 The guide, saddle horse, and mule that had brought me 

 and my traps from Yosemite Valley that morning were 

 just disappearing among the trees on their way back. 

 To the west the bare, conical dome of Mt. Starr King, 

 9200 feet high, stood up strikingly out of the otherwise 

 unbroken forest, while to the east, above the tree-tops, 

 could be seen the grotesquely splintered summit of Clark 

 Mountain. I walked around a few minutes in the balmy 

 sunshine enjoying the absolute quiet and the realization of 

 my freedom from every restraint of civilization — like a 

 bird out of its cage or a bear loose again in his native 

 woods. Then, cheerfully shouldering my sleeping bag 

 and two weeks' supply of provisions, I began making my 

 way through the stately corridors and aisles formed by 

 the immense fir and pine trees. Passing over the ridge 

 to the east of the meadow I soon found a suitable camp- 

 ing place in an opening just inside the edge of the forest 

 that fills the huge amphitheater at the headwaters of the 

 Illilouette. 



Before descending to the river bed I sat down and for 

 a long time gazed admiringly from this bare granite 

 eminence over the assemblage of magnificent trees stand- 

 ing below me like an army of hundred-foot soldiers at 

 "attention," and filling the eight-mile basin solidly from 

 rim to rim. It seemed as if I might be looking at some 

 vast audience of giants just after their leader had asked 

 every one to rise and join in a grand chorus. It was a 

 most impressive scene. 



