296 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 7, 1905. 
A Mountain Stream. 
Even in the valley -where it flows through beaver flats 
and meadows the Big Thompson Creek shows its moun- 
tain breeding. It rushes headlong over its winding speed- 
wa'y, tripping over every stone; but all its disasters are 
evidenced by musical gurgles that go to swell the general 
melody of the stream. All sound which does not origi- 
i;ate with the stream itself is so enveloped by this music 
that it has no penetrativeness. One may shout with little 
result. The fisherman who seeks to know the mysteries 
of the creek 13 sealed alone with his thoughts, fairly en- 
compased wdth the noise of rushing and falling water. 
Both in the. valley and the- upper canon the creek is the 
heart of all action. In the icy waters of the stream itself 
is found the most active expression of mountain life, 
which is trout; and along the banks live and dive anr< 
have their .cautious being the mink of costly brown and 
the less attractive musquash; while in the marshy flats 
are many evidences of beaver. In the dry ravines the 
long-tailed mice busy themselves in the hot afternoons, 
and in the groves of quivering aspens which wind with 
the stream, no creature is more certainly to be seen than 
the familiar cotton-tail sitting timidly still, in the “leafy 
light and shadow.” Upon the higher ground, under the 
ragged boulders which sentinel the valley, many a 
groundhog family, suns itself at the base of its miniature 
precipice; and almost everywhere about there dwells an 
active population of chipmunks — bright little chaps that 
may be taught to feed from the hand, but which have 
very litde spare time for ceremony. A strayed jack rab- 
bit may occasionally be met with or a prairie coyote on 
his. bee-line trip from one county to another. 
Beyond the lesser boulders are scraggly cliffs clothed 
scantily with small brush and sage and studded with 
many a dead pine trunk; or difficult slopes hardily 
wooded with groves of sturdy spruce and hemlock, with 
a sparkling of those gentler pines which lift silver-lined 
palms to the sky. In the carpets of green moss of vari- 
ous shades which lie so snugly against the mountains of 
the main range that projects itself massively against the 
sky-line, there, are deer and bobcats and bear, for in 
reality these mosses are jungles of pine. In the desolate 
and barren .heights above timber-line, where hard packed 
snow has leases in perpetuity of all deep caverns with 
north openings, whence it gleams as blotches and rivulets 
of white- for miles away, are the stamping grounds of 
the wary raouiitain sheep. 
It -is from these wild heights and. secret haunts the 
stream comes, fuming and fretting and lashing itself into 
a fury between granite walls and leaping to seeming 
destruction or more composedly but not less energetically 
eating itself into a softer bank — a habit which teaches 
trees and bushes to stand deferentially with their roots 
back out of the way. 
The power which the Big Thompson exhibits in nar- 
row places is never absent, though sometimes concealed. 
In the beaver flats in the meadow, the creek, apparently 
confused by the number of pathways open to it, divides 
itself into numerous streams, each of which must find its 
Avay through a wilderness of bushes as best it can to a 
common meeting place below. It is in this region the 
industrious beaver have made use of the various brooks 
to create marshy ponds for their purpose and in the 
sloughs which lie between the several branches as they 
here divide one may wander about in hip boots, and find 
a way of escape only after a bad wetting. Here, it is 
true, there is one branch among them all that represents 
more than the others the original stream. This cuts 
itself a deep and narrow channel through soggy soil and 
flows with an attitude of calm that the stream seldom 
assumes. By peering down between the fringes of grass 
on either bank, which would arch and hide the channel 
completely if they could, one may observe trout “hang- 
ing” in the wafer, like Lamb’s pike in the fish pond near 
the “Orangerie.”' But they har^e an aristocracy of their 
owm and are so. well fed that an artificial fly is an imposi- 
tion upon the face of it, and they will not rise. At least 
that was one day’s experience. How swiftly, the bit of 
feather and metal floated down, indicating an unsuspected 
force of current. A false step through that deceptive 
grass shelter would give one’s foot a force like Stockton’s 
negative gravity. Looking carefully one may note that 
although the water flows without noise, nevertheless it 
sucks through that part of the marsh with somewhat the 
force of an ocean undertow, and from below comes a 
sound of merriment where this stream again reaches a 
rocky bed. 
To know by personal observation the upper mysteries 
of the. Big Thompson one must start early with Alpen- 
stock in hand and trout basket full of luncheon. Thus 
equipped a companion and I set out when the day was 
young,.- our path winding at first through thick aspen 
groves wherein the morning air was cool and invigorat- 
ing, and the ground: just damp enough from the night’s 
shower to fill the notsrils with the best fragrance of the 
woods. The running water in the creek tinkled pleasant- 
ly in. our ears, seeming to- tell of a day’s journey done 
before sun-up. At times as we progressed, our path led 
quite' down to the creek’s side by the' edge of a deep 
: pooL-where the water made, a sudden pause before taking 
its next .series of frantic leaps. Ah, for the chance to 
make one cast with a roval-coachman ! One AA-.ould fillip 
the very rim of that circle of boiling white foam Avhere 
the Avater. pouring down from above, falls, into the basin 
with a deep plunge. Or else- one Avoul.d permit the fly 
to- be carried in the talJm? Avater with a brief whisk 
below the surface. Behind that fall your biggest trout 
lies. Avatching eagerly • for his 'food, which is' commonly 
washed down to him in that steady pour, and one may 
trust his eye despite T-be confusion and. his quicknei^; and 
the force .of the wafer, But this temptation we |i.ad 
anticipated, by leaving our fishing outfits at camp, well 
knowing the probability and the danger of meeting dark- 
ness aboA^e timberline. We paused seldom- — once to 
clamber out into mid-stream, where' the stream had 
temporal ily: bo.vt itself among giant boulders — but 
climbed a..igenuy up the sterile canon,, keeping as close 
to otir stream as practicable, which meant tOi.pling at 
times to bushes and the roots of trees on a steep'.descent, 
to cross the cataract on fallen pines and to imprison our- 
selves. with persistent frequency behind the rotting tree 
trunks Avhich choked much of the forest. We watched 
AAnlh Avhat reckless adeptness our creek leaped over dis- 
tances that for us represented long and arduous laboi', 
and we Avelcomed with.. pleasure the- discovery, on one 
side, of a path over which hunters had evidently packed 
their burros, and which the feet of prospectors had 
Avorn to some distinctness. By noon Ave began to cross 
feed brooks and to discover that our creek was indeed 
a stream of parts. 
We re.sted and ate our luncheon where streams from 
two sources floAved together, and where a tiny diverted 
rivulet furnished us with the purest of drinking water. 
Llere the dark corners of the Avood invited furtive 
glances. What solitude ! Down the ravine and up the 
side of the mountain opposite every separate pine tree 
pointed solemnly and accurately upward, a spire. Here 
there were no song birds whatever, nor other small life 
of the woods. A small gray squirrel had peaked at us 
from the other side of a spruce trunk, but that had been 
an hour back. Not even the chatter of a chipmunk modi- 
fied the monotony of the roar of the running water. 
Suddenly Ave heard a harsh cry, which, as it sounded 
in our ears, Avas the embodiment of a thousand scarcely 
admitted apprehensions, but presently we knew its source, 
for a hawk flew from a nearby spire to one more dis- 
tant, again voicing the petulance of his kind. 
In her search for pleasanter things in that region my 
companion’s eye suddenly lighted wdth pleasure and her 
lips involuntarily framed an exclamation. Following the 
direction of her finger I saw above us, hanging their 
gayly decked heads like Amin narcissus over a brook, 
some blue Columbines, the Colorado State flower. We 
climbed and plucked them greedily, and, discovering 
others, continued our depredations. Other odd and curi- 
ous blossoms greeted us as Ave proceeded, but in that 
Avild and silent region, where every dark cavity in the 
rocks Avas a spur to the imagination, we saw nothing so 
reassuring as those flower-faces outlined against the dark 
granite. 
A little more of climbing and a true secret of the 
creek’s life was revealed to us. We had discovered and 
inspected a rough shelter Avhich a gang of prospectors 
had evidently set up for themselves but which they had 
deserted for the time being, though not for long, for a 
rubber coat was hanging from a nail and some cooking- 
utensils w'-ere scattered about where they had been re- 
cently used, and we were treading our way expectantly 
down a pathAvay when, at a sudden turn, there came to 
view a little mountain lake of perhaps an acre or two in 
extent that was well worth admiration. Not a ripple dis- 
turbed its mirror-like surface. It lay like a mammoth 
drop of mountain dew, pure, cold, clear, reflecting the 
precipitous shore opposite. This lake . was one of the 
creek’s natural reservoirs and the water’s only real rest- 
ing place on earth. 
While feasting our eyes on the marvel, we noted with 
dismay that drops were beginning to mar the. smooth 
surface of the lake. Glancing up we perceived that a 
great black cloud, sailing low enough to hide a nearby 
peak, had already sent its advance guards over us and 
Avas itself fast approaching, leaking as it came. 'Very 
soon, at the awful explosion of a thunderbolt made on 
the spot, the shower was upon us. It was somewhat aAve- 
inspiring to see how dexterous echo caught the thunder 
bombs and tossed them in dim inuendo down the valley. 
But mountain showers are usually not of lon.g duration 
and Ave Avere soon able to leave the shelter of the big tree 
trunks we had chosen and to turn our faces again up- 
Avard. Up, up, up, we climbed until the trees became 
few and stunted, and bald rocks were everywhere in evi- 
dence. Over these we clambered and were able to dip 
our drinking cup at last one of the very founts of 
our stream — into the icy pool at the edge of a bank of 
melting snoAv. Above the white bank, in a crevice among 
the. rocks, grew a single bunch of sturdy moss, and 
above that bare rocks were piled in the form of the half of 
a great amphitheater with here and there, in the August, 
sun. a blotch of old snow like a white-haired spectator. 
Across an impassable ravine near at hand the highest 
peak in our vicinity tOAvered yet a little way above us — 
dangerous, icy and unclimbable. 
Satisfied with having traced our stream to its source, 
and since the afternoon Avas more adA^anced, we started 
Avithout much delay upon the return journey. The slip- 
pery log crossings, the peril of which our enthusiasm had 
minimized on the upward trip, had a hazardous appear- 
ance when we viewed them again and knew that necessity 
this time commanded. Steep and narrow paths gained an 
added aspect of danger Avhen one looked down instead 
of up. Nevertheless, we accomplished the long, ragged 
downward trip in much shorter time than it had taken- to 
ascend. Yet the sun had disaoneared in gallant- TareAvell 
behind the mountains and the blue vapors of evening had 
filled the 'valley when Ave reached camp, Avhere vv-e were 
greeted by the familiar chatter of the magpies^ in a nearby 
grove, received the salutations of friends and sniffed the 
appetizing odor of the evening meal. Milton M.^r-ks. ' 
THE MANY-USE Olli 
Ke^ns boots and soft and waterproof '; .2oz. bottle 10 cents. 
r-Adv. . ^ 
The Log of a Sea Angler. ! 
“Matia Better Than Nothing ’'^Thc Lost Woman of San 
Nicolas— The Isle of Winds., 
BY CHARLES F. HOLDER, AUTHOR OF “tHE ADVENTURES OF’ 
TORQUA,” ETC. ' ’ 
The climate of southern California is a puzzle to many; 
Avho think they know it well. Thousands of tourists' 
come to the coast every winter to- escape the rigors of 
the season in the East; they remain until April or May,, 
and return to their homes in the East believing that t,he| 
southern Californians roast, so to speak, during the hot' 
months. How can it be otherwise? If the winter is' 
Avarm the summer must be hot. Again, the palms and 
other semi-tropic plants tell the story of a tropicah 
climate. Yet these tourists have all seen the country , in: 
what is considered the disagreeable season by the natives, 
or the “old ’niners.” 
Ask a southern Californian which part of the year he 
likes best and he will tell you that the winter is the most- 
beautiful season, as the land is a garden, clothed in.: 
greens, but for comfort give him the summer, which 
along there is rarely really hot. 
I shall arouse criticism when I say that, to my mind,’, 
southern California is a delightful summer resort, far! 
more delightful than any resort on the Atlantic coast. It 
is now Aug. 21, and the average temperature in my study 
in Pasadena all summer has been 75 degrees with the 
doors open, 70 degrees with the doors closed. There has: 
not been a night, so far, but what one. or two blankets i 
Avere not needed, and a hot day, in the Eastern sense, 
along there from San Diego to San Francisco, is almost 
unknown. Hot days there are in the inland towns ; at 
times some are very hot ; but there are localities, like the 
San Gabriel, Los Angeles and others twenty miles inland 
v\/here the summer climate, compared to that of any 
region in New England or the Middle States, is almost 
perfect. 
I have one fault to find with the summer climate, as a 
rule : it is too cool to sit out of doors evenings. It is too 
cool for duck and the typical summer clothing of the 
East; and if anyone is. fond. of mosquitoes he will be dis- 
appointed ; we h.ave none. 
I mention this as the peculiar climate forced itself upon- 
my attention twenty years ago, when I first came to Cali- 
fornia for health. I found that I gained in summer and 
held my OAvn in 'winter; but what struck me as the most- 
remarkable feature Avas that I could appoint a day for an 
outing a month ahead and be absolutely sure that the 
weather would be clear and beautiful ; and from April or. 
May to November there is a succession of clear, delight- 
ful days, without (with very rare exceptions) a storm, 1 
thunder shower, squall or gale of any kind. 
There appeared to be one exception to this. Out from 
Santa Catalina, ninety miles by the log, lies the island of 
San Nicolas, one of the channel islands, yet so wind- 
swept that the wind gods themselves seem to have taken: 
possession and- are_ blowing the island into the sea. 
Three or four times I endeavored to reach the place: 
on a large yacht, but as many times we were blown back,: 
or made so uncomfortable that we sailed for Catalina: 
Harbor, and one night rode out the gale in the outer:; 
channel, early in the morning going back under a close-j 
reefed foresail. ! 
I do not intend to say that the wind was dangerous, but', 
we were out for pleasure and a certain amount of com-i 
fort, and not wind-jammers in any sense. We wished to: 
reach San Nicolas in Aveather ' that would permit us to*; 
land, and one afternoon Ave made it in a stiff breeze, and 
rounded up in the pseudo lee — one of the most disagree-i 
able places I have ever found myself. . 
■ -The island was about seven miles in length, and near; 
the northern end rose in hills or mountains perhaps 1,500 
feet or more in height, ■ about which hovered a long, 
attenuated lead-colored cloud, indicating that half a gale^ 
AA'as blowing. / -n , 
The anchorage was to the .south of a long sand spif 
upon which the surf beat heavily, coming from two direc- 
tions, around each end of the island ; and as we dropped 
anchor I saw that a current Avas running along there-’ 
about six miles an hour — a current that evidently ran in 
one direction for a Avhile,- or' until it became weary, then 
shifted about and ran in the opposite, or stopped short.; 
There was something uncanny about the place, and as the 
night came on and we made everything snug, the wind’ 
rose and played on the rigging strange notes, twanged, 
them in weird chords until a wail of sounds seemed tcs 
fill the very air. I am not superstitious, but I crawled, 
on deck four or five times that -night just to listen to- the 
strangest of all winds I had ever met, and I .have knowU; 
many, high and low, fierce and strong. Early in the 
morning we made the attempt to land on a beach with, 
a- heavy sea running, a strong undertow, and a- fringe of 
deadly kelp that coiled and lashed the se.as like snakes. 
It was an ominous outlo-ok as we held the, boat on the, 
waves, watching for an opportunity to run in, and wher- 
we did, I Avas in light swimming costume, ready for any-: 
thing. The swell was coming from behind us and froU' 
the. south, and :met forming a cross sea which went hiss-i, 
ing in. upon a steep and dangerous beach; but there is 
time to beach a boat, and we waited for. -it, and shot ir; 
on the crest of a wave.- As we- struck, and the undertow 
began,' we leaped over and held her hard, then when th< 
next- wave, came, by the best of luck we were "carried -wel 
up the beach and left high and dry, wondering how aw 
had accomplished it, the Avaves were so high, the shore sr 
impossible. 
I have landed on some Aveird and desolate places. I 
- lived on a key in the Gulf of Mexico— thirteen acres 11 
.extent--^£or. neatly six, years , and .might be conside^p^ 
V 
