Aud. s, 1905,] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
109 
er mother, and in the morning he would bring her. 
hen it was the same thing over again; she was afraid 
f her mother. I offered to stay a week or two and 
irse her, but her father objected on the score of his 
rughter’s reputation, to which I replied: ‘Sir, your 
uighter has been with me some ten days. I am a 
:an, not a brute!’ When they tore her from my 
et she fainted, the father called me one side and said, 
dr. Graham, I am not rich, neither am I a pauper, 
hat do I owe you for your services?’ ‘Sir, you owe 
e nothing,’ and jumped into my canoe and went back 
) my wolves. 
“In the spring, when I came down, Lilia was dead; 
id, Jack, it has always been a mystery to me that 
le escaped the wolves, for I never saw them so thick 
id bold. Let us turn in and it is your turn to get the 
.-eakfast.” Moquaw. 
The Tragedy of El Capitan* 
In the San Francisco Chronicle Mr. J. C. Staats tells 
lis story of the climb of El Capitan in June, when 
s companion, C. A. Bailey, fell and was dashed to 
lath: 
There is something in all great mountain peaks which 
cms like a direct challenge from nature to the traveler, 
he sheer height of an unsealed summit rises insolently, 
; if it laughed at the insignificance of man. I am 
're that this idea has occurred to every climber who 
IS set his strength and cunning against the stern face 
’ the granite, and I know it quickened in the breast 
: one at least the determination to let no crag go un- 
mquered. That one was my friend, Charles A. Bailey, 
Oakland, whose intrepidity led to his fatal fall from 
e almost perpendicular face of El Capitan on June 
of this year. That mighty wall has been scaled at 
St — but at what cost! 
It was my first visit to the Yosemite, and I had started 
it with a general determination to let no view es- 
pe on account of the difficulty of climbing to the best 
lint of vantage. But the first glimpse of_ the valley 
om the gorge of the Merced temporarily put all 
oughts of climbing out of my mind. As the stage 
imbled along at the base of El Capitan the idea of 
tempting to scale it seemed simply ridiculous, and I 
iderstood at once why nobody had ever, up to that 
ne, seriously entertained it. 
'We arrived at the hotel on the evening of June 2, 
id as I listened to the stories of what others had done, 
y courage revived. Then somebody introduced me 
i"' Charles A. Bailey, and the spell of the mountaineer 
as upon me. Bailey told us of the peaks he had sur- 
ounted in Asia and in Europe, and as he spoke with 
le vivid language of a good raconteur, climbing 
;emed easy. The next day we spent enjoying the 
ories of the valley, which are within the reach of the 
ost timid soul, and it was not until the following Mon- 
ty that he mentioned El Capitan. It was several 
Durs before the sun had gilded the neighboring peaks 
id spires when we started down the east bank of 
i.e river. No more lovely morning ever tingled with 
le spirit of springtime. Nowhere was there a fore- 
ladowing hint of the tragedy which was to end the day. 
We walked as far as Bridal Veil Falls and sat down 
1 plan our campaign, commenting at the same time 
n the surpassing loveliness of the scene. We had not 
it fully determined to make El Capitan the objective, 
id arriving at Cathedral Spires, debated whether it 
ould not be well to attempt the gorge between them, 
hen we turned toward the river and crossed the 
ridge which leads to New Inspiration Point- — how un- 
)rtunate nomenclature often is — and there to the right 
ise El Capitan itself, steep and unconquered. Bailey 
t once laid bare the plan he had been cherishing in 
is heart, and without much persuasion I agreed to help 
lake the mad attempt, which, I was yet to learn, was 
) go where no human foot had gone before. 
By 10 o’clock our progress had become very much 
ower. The path was now frequently overhung with 
rojecting shelves of rock, and the foothold consisted 
f fragmentary ledges to reach which Bailey would 
limb upon my shoulders, and then, taking hold of some 
rojecting knob, slowly draw himself up tp a place of 
ifety. I would then pass him his staff, with which he 
'Ould reach down and help me to gain a place beside him. 
After allowing my companion to use me as a ladder 
few times in the way described, I proposed that we 
ive up the enterprise, and descend, if possible, by 
ae way we had come. But my loss of nerve was mo- 
lentary. To go back would in itself haye been an 
ndertaking full of peril, and when Bailey cried, “Never 
ive up till you’re up!” I was seized again with the 
nthusi'asm which loves to conquer difficulties. I sup- 
ose it is some such spirit which bids men cut down a 
iant tree and hold cotillon parties on its stump— the 
elights of mastering something huge, be it a giant 
?dwood or El Capitan. 
“That’s right! Brace up, and the summit is ours,” said 
lailey, when he found me ready to proceed. But no 
ooner had we recommenced the climb than he_ himself 
eemed to realize the desperate nature of the situation. 
"If one of us should fall,” be observed, “it would 
lean death — to both.” 
“Why both?” asked I. 
“Because neither would be able to climb up or down 
-om this place without the assistance of the other.” 
“Then God grant that I may not be the one left alone!” 
cried. Nothing could have been more horrible than 
le thought of being solitary, helpless, clinging between 
eaven and earth to the face of that sheer precipice, 
leling one’s strength gradually go and waiting for the 
levitable fall. From that moment I knew that it was 
0 be a fight with death, and the very extremity of the 
anger nerved me to go on. In the end it was,_ indeed, 
who was left alone, but by better luck than is likely 
3 come to a man twice, I was not called upon to share 
lie fate which overtook the brave man who had acted 
s my guide. 
But we now faced a well-nigh perpendicular wall of 
ock, with nothing to break the smooth surface save 
ere and there a small shelf or crevice. We could not 
ee more than a few feet above us, as it was exceedingly 
angerous to lean back or try to obtain a clear view 
f the way. All that promised a foothold was a tiny 
;dge nearly ten feet directly over our heads. 
Bracing myself as before, I let Bailey climb upon 
my shoulders. Then he reached up with one hand a.nd 
grasped the edge of the shelf, and a moment later had 
succeeded in seating himself upon it. It was a mag- 
nificent feat of strength, agility and coolnes.s — the last 
he was destined ever to perform. He seemed quite 
elated at having bridged a seemingly impossible part 
of the journey, and called down to me, quite exultingly: 
“When you reach this place the hard climb will be 
over.” 
A moment later he said: “Pass me my staff and I will 
help you up.” 
These were his last words. Whether he was seized 
with fright, vertigo or weakness I do not know, but an 
instant later I saw him fall back against the face of 
the rock. The shelving ledge on which he sat let him 
slip, and he shot like an arrow into the abyss, passing 
about three feet to the right of where I was standing. 
I saw him strike first one ledge and then another, till 
falling in a bruised head upon a point of rock many 
feet below, he bounded and took the final plunge out 
of sight. 
I was not frightened. I was not nervous. I did 
not cry out. I felt as if I were turning- into stone. I 
could not move. My feet and hands seemed heavy, or 
raf:her as if glued to the little shelf on which I stood. 
Gradually I realized where I was, and what had hap- 
pened. The meaning of my friend’s words, “If one falls 
it will mean death for both,” came back to my mrad. 
There I clung for I know not how long, nothing but 
the steep granite above, below, and about. 
When I could move, the first thing I did was to stick 
Bailey’s staff into a crevice to mark the spot. Then 
I crawled down to the shelf below and removed my 
shoes. Barefoot, I succeeded in reaching the place 
where he had first struck. There lay his hat, a mute 
token of the tragedy, so silent, so sudden, so awful, 
which had taken place. By the time I had reached the 
third red-stained ledge, which he struck in falling, I 
discovered that it would be impossible for me to get 
where I could even see his body, and I began to think 
about my own safety. Discarding everything which 
could encumber me, I tried to regain the lost ground. 
For a long time it was impossible to advance an inch, 
and I was about to give up the struggle, when I noticed 
a narrow shelf two feet above me, which seemed to 
extend clear around the main rock. Below me was the 
gorge. Above me was the sky. My only hope was 
the shelf. Did it grow narrower or wider? 
My fate depended upon that answer. With my arms 
stretched flat against the rock, and my face close to the 
wall, I began sidling along to the right. But the shelf 
became narrow; my heels projected over the dizzy 
gorge. Still I continued to advance slowly and pain- 
fully, till suddenly the sound of falling water burst upon 
my ears. Little by Jittle my six-inch path widened, and 
I was enabled to move a degree faster, but an over- 
mastering desire to look behind me was threatening me 
-with imminent danger. Calling all the remnants of my 
will power into play, I succeeded in momentarily con- 
trolling this awful desire, to gratify which would have 
meant instant death. The sound of gurgling water 
became plainer. I was nearing a waterfall, and in a 
moment more the fall itself was in sight. 
There was but one thing possible to do. That water- 
fall must be surmounted. Into the icy water I crawled, 
and up, right under the falling stream. The rocks were 
of shale and I reached up, grasping a projecting point 
of one, by means of which I drew myself up to a higher 
shelf. But this ledge was in the direct path of the 
falling water and my limbs were fast becoming chilled. 
I knew continuous motion was necessary, so by hold- 
ing to the rocks along the stream I managed to drag 
myself up some thirty feet higher, where further ad- 
vance was apparently stopped by a perpendicular wall 
nine feet high which barred my way. Even in the face 
of this difficulty, my nerve did not fail me. I worked 
loose some small stones which I piled to a height of 
about two feet just under the falls, and found that by 
standing on this pile I could just reach with the ends 
of my fingers a small projecting rock. Securing as 
firm a hold as I could, I swung my feet clear of the 
stone pile to a point about eighteen inches higher, and 
by continuing to push myself up feet first, and making 
use of the small bumps on the rocks, I finally was able 
to stand upright on a small shelf of rock only a little 
distance from the one from which my late companion 
had been hurled to his death. I was, by this time, 
thoroughly soaked, and shivering with cold. My fingers 
were blue and pinched, my whole body numb; but I felt 
with a sensation of infinite thankfulness that, as Bailey 
had said, “If I could attain that ledge, the worst was 
over.” 
I looked at my watch. It was just four o’clock. It 
seemed an age since I had started on my appalling 
climb over the perpendicular face of the monster cliff 
after Bailey had vanished, yet only an hour had been 
consumed. The distance to the top of El Capitan was 
yet two hundred feet, but the mountain from the point 
where I was, is covered with small bushes, vines and 
rocks, and in an incredibly short time as compared with 
my previous efforts, I stood upon the summit, 3,300 
feet above the level floor of the valley, but beyond the 
grim clutch of death. The top of El Capitan is nearly 
level, and after searching for some time for a sign or 
mark that would aid me in discovering a trail to the 
valley, I found a blazed tree, and following the direction 
indicated soon came to an Indian trail which led to 
Eagle Peak, where I struck the main trail to Yosemite 
Falls. The distance from the blazed tree to the camp 
is fourteen miles, but the trail was good, and I made 
raoid progress. I reached the valley at 7 o’clock, just 
three hours frorn the time I had stood on a narrow 
ledge, clinging like a fly to a sheer wall of granite, 
and having expected for hours to be dashed, a whirling 
atom, on the giant rocks below. 
When I was able I reported the awful accident, and 
was ready to lead a party to the scene of the tragedy 
that same night, but this idea had to be abandoned. At 
5:30 o’clock on the morning of June 6 I started back over 
the ground, in company with nine others, and at ii o’clock 
reached the top of the gorge at the point where I had 
come out the day before. We had brought 700 feet of 
rope with us, but finding it 20 feet short, we obtained a 
piece from a pack saddle, and so were enabled to 
reach the remains of my friend. The heroism of J. A. 
Snell, of Calistoga and of H. Spaulding and F. Curry, 
of Palo Alto, who perrpitted themselves to be lowered 
over the great cliff, deserves to be commemorated. 
When we again reached camp, my nerves suffered a 
complete collapse, from which they have not yet re- 
covered. They will not be put to the test again. Others 
may attempt to scale El Capitan, I have climbed my 
last crag. 
Whale Fishing in Brazilian Waters. 
United States Consul-General Seeger writes from 
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: Whales seem to be animated 
in spring by that indefinable desire to wander, which 
the Germans call “wanderlust.” Regularly every year, 
at the beginning of spring (which in this part of the 
world is August and September), numerous shoals of 
cetaceans leave the southern waters and swim northward 
toward the coast of Bahia, so rich in the fish and ani- 
malculae they seek. The reefy waters between the 
Abrolhos Islands and the port of Caravellas are their 
feeding grounds. While they are feasting on the al- 
most inexhaustible supply of fish the natives lie in 
wait for them. Fortunately for the whales (which be- 
long to the species of cachalot or sperm whale and are 
neither very swift nor very courageous) their human 
enemies are centuries behind the times, lacking modern 
weapons and equipments. 
From the Abrolhos the whales, on their journey to 
the equator, keep close to the shore until they reach 
the Bay of Bahia, where, in the vicinity of the island 
of Itaparica, within sight of the city of Bahia, the con- 
ditions are very much like those of the Abrolhos. The 
fishermen keep a sharp lookout for the passing whales, 
and at a signal they prepare an organized attack, ex- 
actly in the manner their ancestors did 300 years ago. 
Two clumsy, flat-bottomed whaleboats, manned by six 
or eight oarsmen accompanied by half a dozen small 
canoes, with four colored fishermen in each, take stra- 
tegical positions. The men never think of venturing 
out in the open sea with their primitive craft, but 
scheme to surround their victims and drive them to- 
ward the shoals inside the bay. After they have suc- 
ceeded in isolating a whale, the whaleboats are rowed 
up to it, one on each side, and the “baleadores” (har- 
pooners) drive their heavy, old-fashioned spears into the 
neck of the animal. The whale tries to escape, but the 
boats keep up a hot pursuit, and the “baleadores” con- 
tinue spearing their victim whenever they have a 
chance. This struggle lasts for many hours until the 
whale, exhausted through loss of blood, gives up the 
fight. Then comes the moment for driving the har- 
poon home, which is delayed until the agony of death 
has set in for fear the harmless monster might try to 
defend itself or madly rush out into the open ocean and 
escape. With their antiquated methods the hunters 
can kill but few of the whales within their reach. But, 
strange to say, they hardly ever lose one after they 
have attacked.it, and accidents to the men are of very 
rare occurrence. 
When the troubles of the whale have ended the real 
troubles of the hunters begin — the transportation of 
the dead whale (generally from 75 to 100 feet long) to 
the island. It often takes these fishermen (Brazilian 
half-breeds or negroes) several days to pull the carcass 
ashore. Its landing, of course, causes the greatest 
tumult among the insular population gathered at the 
shore and eager to help. When the monster is securely 
on shore, twenty to thirty negroes, armed with heavy 
cutlasses, throw themselves on the carcass and cut it 
to pieces. The choice portions, in chunks of 50 to 80 
pounds, are taken to the “saladeiros,” or salting places, 
where they are prepared for the market in Bahia, whose 
negro population furnishes ready customers for the 
meat in spite of its very nauseating smell. The blubber 
and other portions, without being properly flensed, are 
carried to the,, “whale factory,” where the oil is tried 
out. The rest of the krang, nearly half the carcass, as 
well as the skeleton find the flesh, after the oil is pressed 
out, are left to decay- Neither the skin, out of which 
a high-grade leather miglit be manufactured, nor the 
blood, the baleen, -rthe fins, nor the bones are utilized 
by the ignorant whale hunters of Bahia. The presses 
used for obtaining the oil are remnants of the colonial 
period. The oil is neither purified nor clarified, but 
is sold in its crude state to Bahia dealers. 
The catch in the neighborhood of Itaparica is now 
about thirty or forty wliales annually. 
Owls Killed by Electricity. 
The temporary suspension of work at the mine and 
mill of the Granite-Bimetallic Mining Company, caused by 
an owl becoming entangled in the wires, recalls the fact 
that since the transmission line was put in commission, 
nearly four years ago, twenty-five owls have been electro- 
cuted by coming in contact with the wire.s, and since 
November, of last year, twelve fine specimens of the owl 
family, have gone to owl land over this route. 
The transmission line is eleven miles in length and fur- 
nishes a current of 16,000 volts to the mine and mill. No. 
4 copper wire being used. The line traverses a wild and 
unsettled countrj^, the abiding place of all kinds of wild 
beasts and birds. Shortly after the line was opened there 
w'as a sudden break in the current one night. The line 
crew began an investigation at once. A few miles from 
the power station a monster owl was discovered dead 
just below the pole line. The bird bore every evidence 
of having been electrocuted. The occurrence was then 
considered a novelty, and the bird was stuffed by some 
of the company employees and placed on exhibition. Since 
then, however, the act has been repeated so often and 
with such serious loss of time to^ the company’s opera- 
tions that the freaks of the owls have become a serious 
nuisance. 
As might be supposed, the breaks always occur at night, 
just at the time they are most difficult to find. In nearly 
every instance the wires are burned outright, but in a few 
cases where the owl fails to land with both feet on both 
wires no serious damage is done to the wires, but the 
bird is always a victim. George T. MacGuire, the elec- 
trician at the power house, has a memento of one of 
these night tragedies in the shape of a rabbit’s foot, which' 
was found in the talons of an electrocuted owl. — From a 
Phillipsburg Correspondent Anaconda Standard, 
