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Sierra Club Bulletin 



The Middle Fork Canon from Palisade Creek down to Cartridge 

 Creek was only five years ago one of the most inaccessible spots in 

 all the Sierra. Barriers of glaciated granite stretching from cliff to 

 river made it not only impassable for animals, but also a test of 

 mountaineering skill for men. In color and sculpture it is a mag- 

 nificent canon, suggestive of the Tuolumne, but without its water- 

 falls. Except for the short distance down this canon, our trip for the 

 next four days was among scenes made familiar on the 191 3 outing 

 of rainy memory — the glorious flower-garden of Simpson Meadows ; 

 the pine forest just below ; the dome of Tehipite, free this time from 

 obscuring clouds and rising white and incredibly high in the moon- 

 light. Several members of the outing party successfully climbed the 

 dome, the first time outing itineraries and weather have permitted 

 the attempt. 



Other pictures of this homeward journey rise to mind — the blaz- 

 ing-star {Mentzelia laevicaulis) that bloomed at dusk beside our 

 Tehipite camp-fire; the morning view of the Middle Fork Canon 

 from the brink of Tehipite Valley ; the forest of red fir and the field 

 of flowers at Gnat Meadows, libelously so named. There the vaude- 

 ville was staged with its last program from our popular violinists, 

 and, with its fashion show, rivaling in originality even the demo- 

 cratic convention fittingly held in Jackass Meadows. 



One more day deserves special mention. There has been no other 

 just like it in our annals — lost sheep day, when from Crown Meadow 

 to North Fork we strayed about seeking trails, finding trails, losing 

 them, blazing them, dispensing with them, scorning them, until din- 

 ner-time found us at North Fork a shattered party minus half the 

 dunnage, all the stoves, all the horseback riders, all the cooks, part 

 of the commissary, and forty per cent of the personnel. The un- 

 daunted Outing Committee produced dinner promptly on time. Not 

 the most vigilant assistant cook can name all the ingredients of that 

 wonderful soup ; but a horrid doubt persists whether the three bottles 

 of Worcestershire sauce were meant to enhance or to conceal the ulti- 

 mate flavor. There was dinner enough to satisfy those present and a 

 liberal reserve in stock for stragglers. And they straggled ! A string 

 of mules drifted in; a group of people; another string; a cook; the 

 cavalcade; another cook; still more people. At last, amid cheers, 

 the Colonel rode into the firelight on his white charger. With up- 

 lifted arm he delivered himself of an oration in praise of the Judge, 



