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Sierra Club Bulletin 



far up-flung spray; in that dim shadow of the cliff having 

 none of the sparkle, the exuberant joyousness of Yosemite 

 and Bridal Veil, as we had seen them in the sunshine, but 

 somber, illusory, strange, lost in the cloudy mists at its 

 base. Seeming possessed of a more actual personality than 

 all the others, it was also the essential symbol, the perma- 

 nent archetype of all great waterfalls, even as Hokusai 

 saw and drew them. 



Little Yosemite as a camping site is memorable — to all 

 law-abiding folk at least — for the first real all-over bath, 

 for in the valley one's way is hedged about by a paternal 

 government, and one must keep out of that cool river, 

 and splash about in a dish like a canary bird, or be con- 

 tent with a dry polish. Not least of all the pleasures of the 

 Sierra Club trip is bathing in those mountain streams and 

 lakes in green cold water that folds about one more soft 

 than liquid silk. 



The next morning, cheered by the memory of the ease 

 of the first walk, and spurred somewhat, it must be con- 

 fessed, by the unattractiveness of our camp site among 

 scurvy tamaracks, we tenderfoots set gaily out for Lake 

 Merced. We were to learn the measure of "a Colby mile." 

 Understanding that the ascent of Cloud's Rest was but a 

 mere stepping aside from the beaten track, we first made 

 that, gratuitously. Then we went on, expecting to find 

 Lake Merced around the next corner. We went and went. 

 The great dark forests were all alight with blossoming 

 azalea; the views from the ridges and from the wide glaci- 

 ated slopes were thrilling with their snowy wastes and 

 menacing gray peaks. We went and went. The Merced 

 river foamed and fell by our trail. Then came groves of 

 aspen, with leaves aquiver in the quiet, and pale, smooth 

 trunks gleaming through the wood, like the bare bodies 

 of bathers. And last of all we heard the bells of grazing 

 ponies, and camp appeared — that is. to most of us ; a few 

 stragglers did not get in till morning. Mild men and mod- 

 erate say that trip was twenty-two miles! It was long, 

 but it was all glorious and we regretted not one inch of it. 



