312 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 18, 1896. 
met bim only a short distanceffrom camp. I fear I shall 
never hear the laBt from P. about my remark, "Here, 
Jack, hold my horse." 
Saturday, Sept. 16.— It having been decided to break 
camp the next day, as C. has to be in college by the 28th, 
I go to improve my last chance, if possible, and with 
Phillips visited the carcass of the twelve-point bull which 
had given us so much trouble to track him. The others 
staved in camp to pack up the odds and ends. 
No bear had been to the carcass of the elk, and the only 
way I could account for their complete absence was that 
we were too high up in the mountains, while the bears 
themselves at this season of the year kept further down 
below. While we were discussing this question we dis- 
covered, a couple of thousand feet above us, two moun- 
tain sheep, rams, I thought, even after a look with the 
glasses. Shall we go after them? If we are not in camp 
by noon P. will understand that we are after either bear 
or sheep; so here goes. 
"Luck is going to change at last and I am going to get 
a ram after all," I thought as we toiled up the steep 
acclivities of the mountain. Accustomed and inured to 
climbing as I was by this time, the almost perpendicular 
ascent obliged me several times to rest to regain my 
breath, and once I nearly came to grief for good and all. 
Crossing some slide rock I slipped, and, being unable to 
regain my feet, had just presence of mind enough to turn 
over on my back spread-eagle fashion, trying at the same 
time to dig my heels into the loose shale. It would not 
hold, however, and the prospect of my being dashed to 
pieces at the bottom nf the precipicp, the edge of which I 
was rapidly approaching, seemed unpleasantly near, 
when Phillips managed to reach me my leather rifle sling 
and by its aid to pull me back on firmer ground. It is 
accidents of this kind which make it desirable for two 
persons to hunt together in these mountains, so one can 
eventually render assistance to the other; but the cause 
of this particular accident was no doubt the rubber-soled 
shoes which I wore and which were without heels. How- 
ever desirable these may be for still-hunting elk in the 
timber, they are not near as good as stout hob-nailed 
shoes for mountain work on rocks. 
When we reached the place near where we had observed 
the two sheep I was almost completely fagged out, and 
had to take a rest of several minutes. Then, inch by inch, 
we wormed our prostrate bodies forward until I finally 
got to within 25yds. of a large ewe whose head and neck 
were visible, the body being hidden by a large rock. The 
moment she saw us we remained perfectly motionless, 
and she kept staring at us for fully a minute. Then she 
evidently made up her mind that she did not like our 
looks, and disappeared. We heard a clatter of small 
stones, and running toward the noise saw the whole band 
— five in number — disappearing over the sky line. They 
were only ewes and lambs, and we bad had our climb for 
nothing. 
In the afternoon we packed up our things and got 
everything ready to move on. 
Sunday, Sept. 17.— But, we bad so many trophies of elk 
and elk antlers that we decided to split up our party, P., 
C. and I going ahead with Woody and Brown, leaving 
the others with the heavy luggage and most of the pack 
horses to follow us in a more leisurely manner. 
We followed the same trail which we had traveled com- 
ing in and on our way killed half a dozen grouse, while 
P. this day made a most remarkable shot at a black-tail 
buck. He and Woody (who were riding ahead) had seen 
the buck — a small two-year-old— feeding, and P., whose 
double express was packed up in its case, therefore took 
C.'s— his son's — Winchester. The first shot hit the buck, 
who was about 150yds. distant, breaking a hindleg high 
up, but the next three shots missed — all being high. The 
buck was so badly wounded, however, that he was caught 
and dispatched by Woody with the knife. And now 
comes the remarkable part of the story. While we were 
standing around the dead animal P. turned to me and 
said: "I can shoot this Winchester all right, but I am not 
stuck on it. Did you see where the last three shots went?" 
I told him they had gone about 6ft. over the animal's 
back. Then we all looked at the rifle and C. said: "See 
here, papa! you are the luckiest man I know of, killing a 
150yds. shot with the 400yds. sight up." And so it was, 
C, after bis last long shot at elk, having forgotten to put 
the sight down again! 
After traveling all day we made camp at Cliff Creek in 
a drizzling rain. I helped Brown to get supper, and was 
voted a good cook. 
Monday, Sept. 18.— The morning broke bright and clear, 
but all the higher peaks were covered with snow. We 
traveled all day long through lovely scenery, but although 
a few moose are known to exist around here in the 
swamps, we saw none of the animals themselves or any 
of their fresh traces. Being now again in the Park, we 
of course dare not kill anything; but I should have liked 
to have seen a bull moose, this being an animal which I 
have never seen yet in his native wilds. 
In the afternoon, near where the Yellowstone River 
empties into Yellowstone Lake, C. tried to photograph a 
large porcupine at close quarters, with the result that he 
scared the animal, which rushed among our pack horses, 
making them buck and kick. In the confusion which 
ensued Brown was pulled out of his saddle by the pack 
horse which he was leading and measured his length upon 
Mother Earth. His remarks about porcupines and kodaks 
were both loud and fervent. 
We went into camp for the night on the east shore of 
Yellowstone Lake. We saw two spike bulls enter the 
water near our camp for their evening bath, but both 
sun and wind being wrong, we could not obtain their 
photographs. 
Tuesday, Sept, 19— The horses had strayed during the 
night and it was late before we made a start. With our 
glasses we counted sixteen bull elk in a shallow part of 
the lake opposite our camp. 
The trail followed the east shore of the lake more or less 
all the time and the scenery was lovely, the tops of the 
Tetons being again visible in the southwest. ThiB day we 
got several times quite close to bull elk, who in each case 
were challenging our horses, and when we made camp in 
the evening, near the Steamboat Spring, we not only saw 
two more bulls, but the elk kept up a perfect concert all 
around us all night long, challenging and whistling. 
Wednesday, Sept. so.— Woody said we should get to 
the Canon Hotel this evening, so we made an early start. 
It began to storm during the early part of the day and it 
snowed more or less all day long, The country through 
which we traveled seemed alive with ducks, geese and 
pelicans, but the driving snow obscured a great deal of the 
more distant scenery. We got near the Yellowstone River 
about noon and could see the stage-road and the telegraph 
line on the other side. We crossed the river a little above 
the Mud Geyser. No one seemed to know the ford, so C. 
and Brown went across first at a place which seemed, 
and was, quite shallow. They then insisted that some 
50yds. further up it was still shallower; but when P., 
Woody and I got near the middle of the stream we had 
to swim our horses — and the pack horses, following suit, 
got a good many of our belongings quite wet. 
The Mud Geyser I consider if not the most wonderful, 
then certainly the most grewsome sight in the Park. We 
all walked a great deal this afternoon to keep ourselves 
warm and about dusk arrived safely at the Canon Hotel. 
Thursday, Sept. 21,—Lvat night we slept again in a 
bed, in a room heated by steam. After bidding Woody 
and Brown good-bye and informing our families of our 
safe return by telegraph, we left the Canon Hotel for 
the Mammoth Hot Springs. There must have been quite 
a foot or 15in. of snow on the ground, but the roads being 
good we got to Larry's at noon and arrived at the Mam- 
moth Hot Springs in the evening, where we were wel- 
comed by our friend, Captain Anderson, of the Sixth 
Cayalrv. We were quite disappointed not to find any 
mail, Captain A having sent our letters after us with a 
soldier who was going on a scout a week ago, and the 
soldier had missed us. 
Here closes my diary. While we were unfortunate in 
not getting either sheep or bears, we bad the consolation-^ 
to know that no such collection of elk heads as our party 
obtained was ever brought out of the Shoshones before. 
Paul Fbancke. 
THE BIG TROUT OF BEAR VALLEY. 
As inward love breeds outward talk, 
The hound some praise, and some the hawk; 
Some, better pleas'd with private sport, 
Use tennis; some a mistress court; 
But these delights I neither wish, 
Nor envy, while I freely fish. —Izaak Walton. 
* In July, 1894, a big trout lived in a dark pool at the 
head of Bear Canon, in the San Bernardino Mountains of 
California. The trip from Pasadena to Bear Valley, by 
way of the upper road to San Bernardino, and thence by 
the Arrowhead Grade, the Mountain Crest and Bear 
Valley wagon roan's, into the valley, returning by the 
City Creek Grade, and borne through Redlands, Riverside 
and Pomona, is about 235 miles in length. It reaches, at 
the highest point, an altitude of 8,400ft., and take it all in 
all, wheat fields, vineyards, orange groves, thriving towns, 
orchards, profound canons, magnificent views of foothill 
and plain, pine forests and snow-clad heights, cannot, I 
believe, be matched in an equal distance, in our own land 
or elsewhere. 
As courtship is to the honeymoon, so is preparation and 
the journey to fishing. We (son and I) overhauled the 
camping wagon, put m the tent, the spring bed, frying 
pans, kettles, angle worms, bacon, canned corn and 
tomatoes, "Macaulay's Essays," landing net, coffee, fish 
bag, eggs, ham, rods, ammonia (for snako bites), tape 
measure, thermometer to take temperature of cold 
springs, and especially a memorandum book, for we are 
after a big trout, leaving nothing to guess work. Imag- 
ination is well enough to make small fish big, but I have 
noticed that the weight or measure of a large fish read 
from a note book seems more to our friends as an un- 
varnished tale than simply words of mouth. People 
believe that Jonah camped in a whale for one reason, 
because it is written in a book. Then after we had made 
a special visit to the Angel City and subpoenaed what good 
Izaak Walton called "a jury of flies likely to condemn all 
the trout in the river," we set the alarm for 4 o'clock 
A. M., and got up three times in the night to see if the 
clock had stopped. 
At last we are off, and drive forty-five miles the first 
day. The next morning we are in San Bernardino at 10 
o'clock, and after reinforcing the commissary department 
start for the mountain, some six miles, and, pulling up a 
canon for several miles, beautiful with oaks, sycamores 
and a swift stream of clear, cold water, camp at the foot 
of the steepest part of the Arrowhead Grade. We were 
now fairly in the mountain air, and breathing the pleas- 
ant smells peculiar to the shrubs and flowers of that re- 
gion. Early to bed, the brook sings us to sleep, and up 
early for the steep climb. This takes about an hour and 
a quarter. The road is cut into a spur of the main moun- 
tain, and doubles on itself several times before reaching 
the pine forest near the summit. Here, at an elevation of 
5,000ft., we begin a journey hard to describe, but once 
experienced never to be forgotten. An hour's ride up 
hill and down, every turn of the road disclosing new and 
wonderful views, brought us to the famous Squirrel Inn, 
built after the description in Frank Stockton's story of 
that name, and owned by a club of wealthy gentlemen, 
who have erected several beautiful log houses close by. 
Mr. Adolph Wood, vice-president and manager of the 
Arrowhead Reservoir Company, very courteously showed 
us over the interesting hostelry. It is built of hewn pine 
logs, has immense stone fireplaces, and is profusely deco- 
rated with large numbers of ornithological and marine 
specimens, the great turkey hanging over the dining 
room mantel being a marvel in the art of taxidermy. 
The premises are in a forest of noble pines directly on the 
edge of the mountain, and commanding a view to the 
south practically limitless in the clear California atmos- 
phere. 
Pushing on, the road winds around the higher peaks, 
affording views to the north of Antelope Valley and the 
Mohave desert, and again to the south, where towns and 
villages on the plain, with their surrounding orchards 
laid out in squares, look like an immense checker board. 
We reached camp on Deep Creek, a tributary of the 
Mohave River, about 5 o'clock, fed and tethered tie 
horses, and were soon whipping the stream for a supply 
of trout. We stopppd at eighteen, and such a supper— a 
foretaste of the good things to come. A big camp-firf , 
we retire, and only the moping owl breaks the profour d 
silence of the vast mountain solitude. 
The next morning a two hours' steady climb brings us 
to the toll house of the Bear Valley wagon road, altitude 
7,000ft., temperature at 10 o'clock 65°, and after another 
long grade we reach the highest point in our journey— 
8,400 ft.— on the north side of a peak at least 1 000ft. 
higher. Here we drink from the famous Barrel Spring, 
which gushes from the granite rocks a stream as big as a 
4in, hose and with a temperature of less than 40 a . We 
drive on, up hill and down, and at last, when we were 
sure there could not possibly be another hill to climb in 
California, we emerged into a beautiful park of green, 
flower-strewn meadow, set in a grove of giant pinesi 
From this lovely spot it is down grade to Bear Valley, 
which soon opened to our delighted vision. First the 
great silver lake in its setting of green meadow and dark 
pine forest, then the hills rising to the south into the great 
San Bernardino Mountains, and all capped and crowned 
by Grayback, two miles and a quarter high— timberless, 
gray in its tremendous precipices of granite, its vast dome 
smooth and white with snow that never entirely disap- 
pears. The devout angler at each recurring season times 
his pilgrimage to this famous spot when the moon is at 
her full, and pitching his tent on the north shore of the 
lake, often walks forth in the evening to gaze on these 
snowy heights, a full mile higher than where he stands, 
to fill his soul with the grandeur of the scene and with 
reverent thoughts of the great Architect who planned and 
piled up these giant hills for his children. 
Bear Valley is about ten miles long and affords summer 
pasturage for hundreds of cattle, which are yearly driven 
up from the desert on the east side of the range. A dam 
at the very head of Bear Canon and at a point where the 
hills, almost come together at the west end of the valley 
was built in 1885. It is 53ft. high and 175ft. long, made 
of huge granite blocks quarried on the spot and cemented 
together with cement that cost $12 per barrel delivered. 
The whole structure is crescent in shape, with its convex 
side against the lake. The reservoir is five miles long and 
holds 280,000,000,000 gallons of water, and is held to sup- 
ply the irrigation systems in the fertile valleys below dur- 
ing the dry and rainless summer. It furnishes the juice 
for the far-famed navel oranges of Redlands, Highlands 
and vicinity. After its release at the dam it just plunges 
down Bear Caiion eleven miles to the Santa Ana River, 
forming incidentally one of the finest trout streams in 
southern California. 
Bear Canon is a dark and profound mountain gorge, 
heavily wooded to the summit of its almost perpendicular 
sides, the bottom narrow and strewn with irregular masses 
of granite, and the stream which roars and plunges and 
foams over its rough bed is thickly lined by willows, ef- 
fectually barring the approach of the angler, except at 
considerable intervals, where great ribs of rock come 
down to the stream at right angles, restraining the mad 
waters into long, deep pools. These often have a fall of 
10 or 15ft. pouring into their upper reaches, and here the 
fisherman may cast bis fly without hindrance. What 
dear Walton and his pupil Venator would think of Bear 
Canon as contrasted with the primrose bauks and the 
honeysuckle hedges of old England it is hard to tell, but 
doubtless it would have given them some ideas in ad- 
vance of the sublimity to which they have now so long 
been accustomed. 
Here is the only place in southern California where I 
have seen the ouzel or water thrush, so marvelously de- 
scribed by John Muir in his "Mountains of California." 
Except for his size, this, the only bird of the Sierra water- 
falls, reminds one of the Eastern wren, especially in the 
management of his tail. He flits by as you stand quietly 
on the bank, alighting on a half-submerged rock, where 
he sits in the spray of a roaring fall, now diving into the 
foam, now standing in the shallows; in an instant back 
again, alert, polite in his poisings and bowings, happy in 
his rainbow home, and mingling his cheerful voice with 
the ceaseless song of the mountain river. 
The fish in the upper part of this stream are of good 
size, not many less than £lb. The further down you go the 
smaller and more numerous the fish, but the journey back 
is something that makes the most ardent angler think 
twice before repeating the experience. The only trail that 
leads to the bed of the caiion ends less than a mile and a 
half from the dam, the last descent being very steep, 
where if you study wisdom you will have a burro to pull 
you up (by his tail) on your return. 
Our camp was made under a group of pines and hard 
by a spring of clear, ice-cold water. The bluejays and 
chipmunks at once began our acquaintance, and encour- 
aged by a handful of grain fairly overran us, even jump- 
ing on our heads and scampering across our laps if we sat 
still. As they pouched the grain and carried it into an 
old hollow stub, we estimated that there was eight solid 
quarts of the pretty creatures in the den at one time. 
The next morning we arose before day and first took 
a long look at Grayback, already beginning to flush with 
the glorious pink of dawn. Breakfast, lunches (one of 
which was forgotten and the other subsequently lost), 
horses saddled, and we are off to the dam, two miles be- 
low, then on foot a mile further, and we turned our steps 
to fish back. Only a small part of this upper stream can 
be approached with a rod, but every pool and open rapid 
rewarded us with beautiful fish, until our bag was very 
full and our stomachs very empty, At one point I found 
the boy who had jumped to a flat rock a few feet from the 
bank in frantic gesture, trying to secure a big fish he had 
hooked, and in his enthusiasm said, "Papa, this is the best 
time I ever had in my life." 
Twice I took two large trout at a single cast, and by the 
time we reached the big pool below the dam we were the 
happiest boys in California and the hungriest. 
As there was no luncheon to eat, we at once made ready 
for the big trout. That day the pool, with a surface of 
perhaps an eighth of an acre, was supplied with nearly 
3,000in. of water, an unusual quantity, as the preceding 
winter bad been seriously deficient in rainfall.* It 
foamed and thundered down a rocky bed 200t't. with a 
fall of 70ft., and rushed through the middle of the pool 
until turned back by a granite wall, causing two great 
eddies, revolving in opposite directions, on either Bide. 
We were on a flat rock -oirectly at the end of the bisecting 
inflow. The eddy to our right was completely covered 
with large pieces of thick, rough pine bark that made 
their slow and ceaseless rounds with the current and 
caused the deep water beneath to look black, although 
actually clear as a crystal spring. We felt that the big 
trout we had come so far to catch was in the deepest 
water under the bark. 
Whence the feeling when no eye had seen him, and 
when not a flower or leaf or bird had whispered of his 
presence? The scientist answered that it was a brain 
shadowgraph produced by the X rays that cannot be re- 
* In California an inch of water is what will flow through a hole 
an inch square under a pressure of 4in., and amounts in quantity 
to 13,000 gallons in twenty four hours. 4 miner's inch is the Berne 
size with a pressure of Sin. 
