68 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 27, 1895. 



NORTHWARD TO THE FAR WEST.— IV. 



[Continued from page i7.] 



Oxjr three days at Glacier are gone, and once more we 

 resume our way toward the setting sun. 



We soon drop down below the Glacier House, and it is 

 out of sight behind the mountain which we circle. We 

 can look back to Rogers Pass and still see Sir Donald 

 above the surrounding peaks as we double on the "Loop." 



This is one of the sights of the line, and was one of the 

 engineering triumphs of the construction. To reach the 

 bottom of the valley the railroad has to double on itself 

 and come back to where it started. Four tracks in all 

 can be seen at one time, looking like four different roads, 

 but it is our own iron way. Ross Peak station is 522ft. 

 below Glacier and only seven miles away. 



The gorge of the Illicelliwae is a very rough one, but 

 densely timbered with immense trees, which are part of 

 this wonderful country. We drop another 850ft. and the 

 train pauses at Albert Canon, along the very brink of 

 which the road runs. 



A platform has been built up over the side of the preci- 

 pice and the passengers flock on to it to gaze into the 

 depths below. 



The chasm or crack in the solid rock is about 300ft. 

 deep, and the water of the rushing river is pressed to- 

 gether into a mad, boiling current, not much over 20ft. 

 wide. The sight is a beautiful one, and we would will- 

 ingly linger longer, but the bell rings and "All aboard!'' 

 bids us tear ourselves away. 



Still downward we glide, passing Twin Butte, named 

 for the Mounts Mackenzie-Tilly, which rear their joint 

 heads into the clouds above us. The valley narrows and 

 again becomes a gorge, and at Illiceliiwaet Canon the 

 river and rocks again strive for supremacy; they each 

 win, for the rocks crowd the river into such a narrow 

 space that it roars and rumbles as it dashes against the 

 rocky walls in its efforts to escape, and escape it does, 

 though through a narrow passage with vertical walls 

 only a few yards apart, and out into the open valley it 

 glides to join the mighty Columbia, that here comes 

 down from the north. Only twenty-two miles from the 

 Albert Gorge and we are down 1,370ft. and in the town 

 of Revelstoke. 



Here the Columbia flows to the South. When we left 

 it at Golden and Beaver mouth it was flowing northward. 

 We have come straight "across lots," it had to go round 

 the massive Selkirks and now comes down between them 

 and the Gold range. 



Revelstoke, while not a mining town, has been built up 

 by the mining interest and is at present the head of steam 

 navigation on the Columbia, though at certain seasons a 

 boat could run further north, and small boats with min- 

 ing supplies are still taken toward the Big Bend country. 

 A great trip for those fond of adventure would be to 

 start with canoes from Donald and go around the Big 

 Bend to Revelstoke. The chances for big game would be 

 excellent, a wild and practically uninhabited country 

 would be seen and some rapid canoe riding could be in- 

 dulged in. 



The trip could be continued southward for hundreds of 

 miles. But a word of warning: let no one attempt it with- 

 out a guide, for there are some very bad rapids— one called 

 "Death's Pool or Rapids" has claimed several victims in 

 the past. 



Revelstoke is a good point to outfit in for the lower 

 country, and good caribou hunting can be found up the 

 Columbia and in the Gold range inside of twenty miles 

 from town; but if the Gold range is hunted, it must be 

 on foot. Up the Big Bend trail horses can be taken. 



A little local steamer can be taken to Arrow Lake 

 landing, and then back over to Trout Lake, where there 

 are mines, and a caribou can be gotten quite easily — if 

 you are in luck— but it is not a trip to take a lady with 

 one. 



Across the Columbia, Mount Bigbee looms up with its 

 sides covered with eternal snow and ice. There is no 

 record of a white man ever having scaled the Great 

 Glazier, which we could see from our bed-room window, 

 but the Siwashes hunt caribou on Mount Bigbee, and claim 

 they found the skeleton of a white man who got lost in 

 the trackless forest below the ice fields. 



The hotels at Revelstoke are of the usual order in a 

 mining town, and as it was Madame's first experience it 

 was a little "tough" after the fine accommodations, etc., 

 at Banff, Field and Glacier. 



Three dollars a day ought to pay for a good hotel, but it 

 does not always do it in the mining regions, or any price 

 for that matter. However, the three days we had to re- 

 main at Revelstoke were not unpleasant ones, and our 

 time was spent in photographing and getting pointers on 

 the region round about as regards game, etc. A very 

 fine boat for this country (The Columbia) had been run- 

 ning down the river, but unfortunately she had burned 

 just before we reached there, so her sister boat had to 

 take her place. When we went down to get aboard in 

 the evening (as the steamer left at daylight the next 

 morning) we found a genuine Western river steamboat, 

 "built to run in a heavy dew," with a stern wheel. 

 Owing to the heavy freshets of the spring the wharf was 

 all washed away and in bad shape, and we had to walk 

 a plank to get aboard. Madame was a little nervous, 

 and when she saw the kind of a craft she was booked fox- 

 she opened her eyes, and when we reached the upper 

 deck and entered the cabin where a game of poker was 

 in full blast she opened them wider. 



She was fast seeing the "West and its ways." How- 

 ever, our stateroom, though small and not lighted by 

 electricity, was neat and clean, and we found the steamer 

 Lytton, her captain, her crew, her steward and his cuisine 

 like the "singed" cat in the tale, much better than they ap- 

 peared at first sight, and we spent a very pleasant two 

 days aboard, and the writer repeated his experience with 

 no cause for regret, of which more anon. 



From Revelstoke to Northport, Wash., is about 200 

 miles, and the Columbia & Kootenay Navigation Com- 

 pany run steamers twice a week, connecting at different 

 points for the interior. We had not left our berths the 

 next morning before we felt the motion of the steamer 

 as she turned her prow down the swift-flowing current of 

 the Columbia. We hurried on deck, anxious to see the 

 scenery that this section is noted for. We were fast leav- 

 ing the Gold range behind us, and the snowy peak of Mt. 



Bigbee was just discernible through the masses of vapor 

 which overhung the Glacier. 



The dark green of the firs and cedars came down to 

 the water edge and joined the great piles of drift-wood 

 which had been thrown high up by the unprecedented 

 floods of early spring and summer. 



The Siwashes "had never seen anything like such floods. 

 The water rose in places over 100ft., and no one, except 

 those who have seen the Columbia, can have- even the 

 faintest conception of what that means. The scenery 

 along the banks of the Columbia is of the wildest descrip- 

 tion, and when backed by a vista of snow-capped and 

 rugged mountain peaks it is beyond compare. A few 

 miles below Revelstoke the river widens into a broad, 

 even flowing stream with shores stretching into the 

 distance, forming what is known as Upper Airow Lake, 

 and we now are treated to a different kind of scenery 

 from that we have been viewing for some days. 



The mountains are still with us, but they are more 

 distant and not so bold and prominent; the effect is softer; 

 a blue haze in the atmosphere lends beauty to the scene, 

 and the rippling of the water, caused by a gentle breeze, 

 catches the sun's rays, turning the lake into a mass of 

 molten gold. 



Flock after flock of ducks is startled into flight by the 

 passing steamer, only to circle and re-alight after she has 

 passed. 



We keep on down the lake to Nakusp, from which 

 point a railway has been built over to New Denver and 

 Slocan Lake and into the Kootenay mining country. 



Here we make quite a stop and unload a lot of mining 

 supplies. The town is new, and like all Western mining 

 towns has lots of saloons and unpainted board structures. 

 There has been considerable excitement all through the 

 Slocan and Kootenay country the last year or two over 

 very rich gold and silver discoveries, and large lots of ore 

 are being shipped to Tacoma and Omaha to the smelters. 

 If British Columbia could be taken into Uncle Sam's 

 territory, there would be a boom at once. 



Southward from Nakusp the lake grows narrower and 

 finally becomes a river again. Here the mountains reach 

 greater altitudes. 



We had made the acquaintance of two gentlemen from 

 Boston, who Kad come out into this region on a hunting 

 trip, and we enjoyed our day's sail very much, while 

 chatting of game and the country. This was their second 

 jaunt and they were after caribou this time. Passing 

 through the narrow part of the river we again come into 

 an opening in the hills and Lower Arrow Lake was before 

 us. As the afternoon waned we reached Fire Valley, 

 where our Boston friends left us. They had made their 

 arrangements and were met by their guide, who came out 

 to the steamer in a dugout, an immense canoe, hollowed 

 out of one of the great trees of this country. The steam- 

 er's nose was held against the bank, their duffle was piled 

 into the dugout and we left them standing on the little 

 point, looking a bit forlorn, but they probably "braced 

 up" and we heard afterward on our return trip that they 

 had killed caribou, goats and deer and sheep galore, but 

 had let a big grizzly bear get away. 



From Fire Valley we kept on down the lake, passing 

 Deer Park and the Natural Bridge, of which more later. 



Sixteen miles from Deer Park we again enter the river 

 through a narrow gateway, guarded on either side by huge 

 rocks. The current here becomes very rapid and flows 

 swiftly through the rock bottom sluiceway. The evening 

 is with us, but a full moon rises from out the east and 

 sheds its mellow rays over the high peaks, lighting up the 

 dark and somber trees and rocks and turning the glisten- 

 ing water into a sheet of silver. 



Moonlight on an ocean or a great lake is beautiful, but 

 moonlight on a mountain river is more than beautiful. 



We are at one moment in the deep shadow of some 

 huge fir hill, and the next in a halo of silvery light, glid- 

 ing by some massive rock that stands with its rugged 

 sides kissed by the foam-crested waves of the dashing 

 rapids as they are hurled high up on it by the swiftly flow- 

 ^ ing stream. 



We do not see as much or as far as when the orb of day 

 lights our way, but fair Luna lends a more mystic light, 

 and her silvery beams add to the romantic scene a charm 

 and peculiar weirdness that is most enchanting. Just be- 

 fore reaching Robson at 9 in the evening we passed 

 through a very bad place in the river which is considered 

 quite dangerous, but Jerry McBride, a local character, 

 whom we got acquainted with on the return trip, hangs 

 out a lantern so as to guide the pilot of the steamer — a 

 sort of movable lighthouse as it were. 



At Robson we were getting into that part of the river 

 where rapids were frequent, and it was really exciting to 

 sit on the deck and see the steamer plunge down the 

 rapidly shooting waves. Sometimes the spray and water 

 would dash back, making the deck quite wet. 



Indians in their qu,eer-looking barfc and canvas canoes 

 were fishing here and there along the river, while their 

 wigwams with the smoke curling out of the open tops 

 could be seen hidden among the pines or near some 

 grassy bottom land, where the ponies could find good 

 pasture. 



There are few ponies in this country, however, as the 

 chief mode of traveling is by canoe. Here we see evi- 

 dences of the placer miner's work, and wheels to lift the 

 water into the sluice boxes are run by the swift current 

 of the river. 



A few lines published in the Northwest Magazine last 

 June are brought to mind by the sight of an old bearded 

 miner, who stands in the water in his gum boots, shovel- 

 ing the gold-bearing sand into the sluice box, working 

 on, hoping on — 



"Where the flr trees whisper like mourning ghosts, 

 On the rugged mountain slopes, 

 And deep in whose somber and silent shades 

 The treacherous grizzly gropes. 



"Down to the verge of the noisy stream, 

 All stony and shadowed and worn, 

 Where the fretted waters babble anon 

 Of the rocks from the mountain torn. 



"Here the miner bends o'er the glittering sands, 

 Silent and bearded and old, 

 Hope lending strength to his shaking hands— 

 Panning the gravel for gold. 



"Panning the gravel with heart of trust, 

 With hope of ultimate gain, 

 Flecks of gold from the somber dust- 

 Fruition of toil and pain. 



"Patiently washing, day by day, 

 Unconsciously growing old; 

 Heart of trust and hope alway 

 Panning the gravel for gold." 



"Maude Meredith." 



The old placer miner is a character fast passing away, 

 and those who have met him regret this, for he is dis- 

 tinctly alone and rare. 



At noon we reach Northport and after an interview 

 with "Uncle Sam's" customs officer step on United States 

 soil once more. 



We had crossed the boundary line some miles back, but 

 did not land. Old Fort Shepard used to be at the boundary 

 and the line between the two countries can plainly be 

 seen, as the trees are cut down, making an open way, or 

 lane. 



At Northport we board the Spokane Falls & Northern 

 R. R. and follow the Columbia on down. Near Marcus, 

 where there is a large summer hotel, we turn away from 

 the Columbia and at Meyer's Falls turn east to the great 

 "boom" town of Colville. We now follow the Colville 

 River and see many Indian outfits all along. They live 

 in log cabins and wigwams, evidently using both as fancy 

 pleases them. 



This is a great hunting country for small game, ducks 

 and chickens with grouse, in the high hills, abounding. 

 There are a number of small lakes all through the country, 

 and parties come out from Spokane. We were not sorry 

 to reach Spokane and were more than pleased to find the 

 Professor looking for us, and we all smiled when he ran 

 along the train before it stopped and thumped on the 

 windows to attract our attention. We had been com- 

 panions on a trip through the Yellowstone country and 

 Idaho ten years before, and what is there that either 

 cements or breaks friendship more than a hunting trip of 

 several months ? 



The Professor was a New York man, but had become so 

 enamored of the West that he had settled near Spokane. 

 Some days were spent here, visiting, resting, fishing and 

 in the fields after birds, and then we began to think of a 

 hunt we had planned. 



The fishing in the Spokane River is excellent, and 

 though we were' a little late, we managed to catch trout 

 weighing 2|lbs. The Professor had caught one of 7lbs. 

 just before we arrived, and held the record. 



Down in the field below the ranch could generally be 

 found a family of chickens, but as they would fly over 

 the river when raised, we did not get many. Up in the 

 hills the blue grouse had been plenty, but they had gone i 

 higher, and we hoped to find them on our hunt. 



The Spokane River heads in Coaur d'Alene Lake and is 

 a fine stream for fish, large basketfuls being taken from 

 it by the residents of the city. Some make a practice of 

 going out ten miles or more Saturday evening and camp- 

 ing and fishing all day Sunday. There are also a large 

 number of lakes near by which are much frequented, and 

 it is not far to Coeur d'Alene, to which place there is a 

 daily train, and then beautiful Pend d'Oreille is only a I 

 little further. Spokane is a fine little place, with every- 

 thing modern, and a good place to reach fine hunting 

 grounds from. It is, like all Western towns, feeling the i 

 effect of too much boom, but it has a bright future. 



Ranch life on such a ranch as we had found was very | 

 pleasant, but we wanted to get into the mountains, so we 

 hustled about and got our outfit in shape; and one bright, 

 cold September morning we put two of the Professor's 

 horses into the light farm wagon, loaded it with the pack \ 

 saddles, riding saddles, etc., for we could not reach our i 

 destination with the wagon, and with a fond farewell to 

 the two mesdames, who stood on the porch and watched 

 us as we loaded in the guns and a few last "tricks," we 

 were off for old Baldy. 



We made the end of the wagon road about noon and 

 unhitched. After a lunch and feeding the horses the cir- 

 cus began. We were sadly disappointed by a friend not 

 joining us, owing to a bad accident, and he was going to 

 bring two horses; so we were short on horses and long on 

 stuff to pack. Finally we borrowed a little mare from a 

 rancher to pack some blankets, and got the rest of the 

 duffle on the others, reserving only two horses for three 

 men to ride. The packing was not done without some 

 trouble, as any one knows who has tried to put packs on 

 the first day out, and besides there was only one in the 

 party who could throw the diamond hitch. However, 

 we got off at last, 



H. led L the way with one pack horse, Frank following 

 with the mare, and the Professor forming the rear guard 

 leading Old Baldy, an old pack horse we had picked up on 

 the ranch and named for our destination. 



The Professor did not last long as a leader, though in 

 some ways he is a first-class one; but his forte was not 

 leading Baldy, so the old fellow was turned loose and 

 made to follow the mare. We then got along better. 

 The trail led us up a steep mountain right at the start, and 

 it continued up steep mountains all the way. The dis- 

 tance was called only seven miles, but it took us four and 

 one-half hours to make it. 



We had to climb up about 4,000ft., over a trail but little 

 used, through down timber and over rocky places. It was 

 all up but one little piece of trail, and that went over a 

 sharp peak and jumped off on the other side, at least it 

 seemed to. The afternoon grew dark and rain was threat- 

 ened. We dreaded that, as the bushe3 were so dense that 

 it meant a regular bath. 



So much climbing made the packs slip, and they had to 

 bs readjusted and the diamond tightened; one pack about 

 came off. But these are the mere trifles always expected 

 in mountain travel, so we did not waste much breath 

 repining. 



The seven miles seemed long indeed, even to the riders, 

 and as for the man who walked — well, he did not say. 

 It was just getting dark when H. said, "We are about 

 there, boys; the cabin is only a little further; but where 

 is the Professor?'' We had not noticed he was not keep- 

 i ng up and had not heard from him for the last half hour. 

 "Guess we better go back and get him," said Frank. 

 "No, let's go on, get our packs off and he will surely be 

 along," replied H. So on we went and having reached 

 the cabin we unsaddled and got our horses unpacked 

 when out of "the gloaming" came a voice: "Hello, you 

 fellows! if you want to go off alone why in blazes didn't 

 you say so and I would have stayed home. Come and 

 help me get this old rack of bones to camp." Poor Pro- 

 fessor, we had traveled too fast for Old Baldy, and he 

 having got pretty tired and missing the rest of the horses, 

 had tiled to take the back trail. Then the circus — and no 

 audience. H. went back and caught Baldy and the Pro* 



