But “tempora mutantur,” indeed. Motor cars in California increased in geometrical ratio and the owners banded themselves together in the live and efficient organization known as the Automobile13 Club of Southern California. This246 club contended that no good reason could be urged against admitting motor cars to Yosemite and after a dint14 of effort succeeded in bringing the Secretary of the Interior to the same point of view. True, the decree was issued with apparent fear and hesitation15 and the venturesome motorist who wished to explore the park was hedged about with restrictions16 and hampered17 with endless red tape regulations. The cars came, nevertheless, though probably as many were deterred18 by the stringent19 rules as by the forbidding roads.
The dire20 results so freely predicted by the stage men did not materialize in any great degree. There were few serious accidents and the motors, as a rule, met with little difficulty in negotiating the roads to and within the park. As a consequence, the rules were relaxed with each succeeding year and many of the most annoying regulations abandoned or reduced to mere21 formalities. We made our trip in September of the Panama-Pacific year, and during the previous months of the season nearly two thousand cars had preceded us into the park. We did not have to demonstrate that “either set of brakes would lock the wheels to a skid;” in fact, I am very dubious22 on this point. We did not have to get up at an unearthly hour to enter or leave the park and the time schedule imposed247 on us was so reasonable that none but the speed maniac24 would care to exceed it, even had no severe penalty been attached. It was all simple enough and our trials in doing Yosemite by motor lay in a different direction than the rules and regulations, as will appear in due course of my narrative25.
There are several routes by which one may enter and leave the park pending26 the happy day longed for by the Auto11 Club when a broad, smooth road—“no grades exceeding five per cent”—shall convey the joyful27 motorist to this Earthly Paradise of the Sierras. You can go from Fresno via Coarse Gold, from Merced via Coulterville, from Stockton via Chinese Camp, or from Madera via Raymond. You can now even reach the park from the east by the new Tioga road, branching off the Sierra Highway at Mono Lake, should you be seeking the wildest and most difficult route of all.
We decided, for reasons which may become apparent as I proceed, to make our entrance by the Madera route and to leave the park with Stockton as our objective. We still have reason to believe that as things stood at the time—or even now—these routes were the most satisfactory and we are quite sure that whatever improvement may be made, the tourist interested in pioneer days of California and fond of wild248 and impressive scenery should choose the Stockton road at least one way.
We did not get away from Fresno, where we passed the night preceding our start for Wawona, until late in the afternoon. A swift run over the splendid new highway brought us to Madera about four in the evening, but there remained little hope of covering sixty miles of unknown mountain road to Wawona before nightfall. A glance at our maps revealed Raymond, about twenty-five miles farther on—the terminal of a branch railroad from Madera. We decided that Raymond would make a good stopping-point for the night; an early start would easily enable us to reach Yosemite the next day. So we set out over a choppy and very dusty dirt road which was conducive29 to anything but speed and comfort, but which nevertheless brought us to our objective in the course of an hour.
We found a forlorn-looking hamlet in the edge of the foothills and a glance at the ramshackle wooden hotel was anything but reassuring31. A short conversation with the proprietor32 of a little shack30 labeled “garage” was not more encouraging. He was very noncommittal about the merits of the hotel and finally said,
“It’s only thirty miles to Miami Lodge33—mighty34 comfortable place; you ought to reach249 there before it gets dark. Shall I telephone them to hold dinner for you?”
All of which sounded good to us as we contemplated35 prospective37 accommodations in Raymond, and with a speedy acquiescence39 we were away for Miami Lodge. Ten miles per hour, said the garage man, would be a good average for a greenhorn over the road we were to traverse—a ridiculously low estimate, we thought, but we had not proceeded far before we agreed with his conservatism. A narrow and exceedingly tortuous40 road plunged41 into the hills, threading its way among giant pines or creeping precariously43 along steep hillsides and around abrupt45 corners deep with dust and at times laboriously46 steep. Now and then it emerged into pleasant little glades47 and on entering one of these we saw a young mountain lion trotting48 leisurely49 toward the thicket51. Of course our small rifle was under a pile of baggage, unloaded, and the cartridges52 in a grip, but we consoled ourselves with remarks about the extreme improbability of hitting him even if we had the gun.
It was sunset by the time we had covered little more than half the distance and while we regarded the approaching darkness with some apprehension53, for the road showed no signs of improvement, we forgot it all in our admiration54 for the enchanting55 scene. Many were the magnificent250 vistas56 opening through the pines skirting our road along the mountainside. Purple hills topped with dark forests stretched away to a crimson58 sky; shadowy canyons60 sloped far beneath us, their mysterious deeps shrouded61 in a soft blue haze62. It was a constantly changing yet always entrancing picture until the color faded from the skies and the canyons were blotted63 out by the gathering64 blackness. Then the road demanded our undivided attention, for we covered the last ten miles in pitch darkness and our neglected headlights proved in very poor condition.
About dusk we passed a little store and postoffice bearing the poetic65 name of Grub Gulch66 and later came to a comfortable-looking roadside inn, the Ahwahnee Tavern67, where we should doubtless have stopped had our accommodations not been ordered at Miami Lodge. We learned, however, that this was only six miles farther and we crept cautiously onward68 over the stiff grades and around the abrupt turns. We were glad indeed when the lights of the Lodge twinkled through the pines and, leaving the old car to shift for herself under the stars, made a hasty toilet and attacked the substantial meal we found ready for us.
The Lodge is a comfortable rustic69 inn set in the pines on a hillside which slopes down to251 a clear creek70 dammed at one point into a small lake. The little valley forms a natural amphitheater surrounded by the forest-clad hills and is altogether a pleasant and restful spot well away from noise and disturbance71 of any kind. The creek is stocked with rainbow trout72 and big game is fairly common—attractions which bring many sportsmen to the Lodge. It is easy of access by the Madera-Yosemite auto stages which run daily during the season.
Beyond Miami Lodge we found the road even more trying than it was southward. Heavy grades and sharp turns continued, and deep dust and rough stretches caused much discomfort73. We met many motor trucks and several heavy wagons74 drawn76 by six or eight horses, which made ticklish77 work in passing on the narrow grades and which stirred up clouds of yellow dust. As the sun mounted, the day became intolerably hot, making it necessary to elevate our cape78 top which combined with the dust to interfere79 with our view of the scenery.
The famous Mariposa Grove80 of giant redwoods lies a short distance off the main road to Wawona and though we had visited this before, we could not resist the temptation to do the big trees by motor. An attendant at the entrance gate demanded a fee of one dollar and admitted us to a narrow, winding81 road which steadily252 climbed a stiff grade for about three miles before we came to the trees. We renewed our acquaintance with the Grizzly82 Giant, reputed the oldest of living things on this mundane83 sphere. We found him protected by a high wire fence to ward50 off fiends suffering from the name-carving mania23 or souvenir seekers who sought to rob him of a chip or twig84. He had not aged85 perceptibly since our previous visit and looked good for many more centuries, though the late John Muir once declared his belief that the Grizzly Giant had passed his zenith of growth and is now in his decline, a point not yet reached by any other redwood. But the hoar old monarch86 stands a second visit well indeed, though one may not experience quite the feeling of awe87 always inspired by the first sight of these mighty trees. It quite overwhelms one to reflect that here is a living thing older than the oldest records of the human race—a life that was in its infancy88 at the beginnings of Egyptian civilization. So impressive to us was the Giant and the reveries he excited that we hardly gave due attention to his three hundred and sixty-four companions in this grove, the least of which, taken by itself, might well excite the astonishment89 of anyone who had never before seen a redwood. Of course we had the novel experience of piloting a motor car through the living arch of the Wawona while253 completing the circle through the grove which brought us again into the road by which we entered.
Wawona is only four miles from the big-tree road, a rough, dusty, and very winding four miles with a good many steep grades, and it was an interesting comparison to recall the trip we made over it in a coach-and-four on our previous visit to the grove. Making due allowance for all the discomforts90 one experiences in an automobile during a hot, dusty day on difficult mountain roads, our present method of travel made the memory of the snail’s pace and suffocating91 dust and heat of our former trip to the grove seem more than ever like a nightmare.
We reached Wawona in time for the noonday luncheon92 at the pleasant old inn which has been the haven93 of sightseers for nearly half a century. It is delightfully94 situated95 in a little vale amidst a group of towering pines and all about it green meadows stretch away to the forest-clad hills that surround it on every hand. Through the valley runs the South Merced, famous for its mountain trout, a delicacy96 which guests at the inn sometimes enjoy. About the main hotel building are scattered97 several isolated98 cottages for the accommodation of guests who may be particular about privacy and plenty of light and air. There are numerous beautiful254 drives in the vicinity aside from the Mariposa Grove trip. One of these follows the river for some distance and another makes a circuit of the valley.
We had no time for these, as we were intent upon reaching Yosemite for the night and the regulation is that you check in at the final station by six o’clock. About a mile from Wawona we found the cabin of the ranger99 who issues tickets for the south entrance to the park. The formalities detained us but a few moments, since with the great influx100 of motor tourists during the exposition year, much of the original red tape was dispensed101 with. A copy of the rules and regulations was given us and the time of our entrance was stamped upon the ticket to be delivered to the superintendent102 at Yosemite village. The action of our small rifle was sealed and, with a friendly caution that it would be unwise to exceed the limit, we were ordered to proceed. Knowing something of the trip from previous experience we felt no uneasiness about exceeding the two hours and twenty-seven minutes minimum time allowed for covering the twenty-eight and nine-tenths miles between the station and Yosemite garage. No one but a confirmed speed maniac would care to exceed this very reasonable limit and anyone wise enough to admire the scenery along the road as it deserves to be admired255 might well consume twice the minimum time.
For some miles after entering the park we climbed the long, steady grade following the South Merced Canyon59, always at a considerable distance above the stream, which we could see at intervals103 through the pines, flashing over its rock-strewn bed. There was scarcely a downward dip in the road for the first half-dozen miles, and we could not but recall the distressing104 effort of the horses as they toiled105 painfully upward on our former trip while we sat disconsolately106 enveloped107 in smothering108 clouds of dust. What a contrast we found in the steady, cheerful hum of our engine as it drove our car onward at not less than the permitted speed of fifteen miles, leaving the dust behind us and affording unhindered views of the endless panoramas111 of canyons and hills. Despite the heat and some murmurs112 from the back seat about the effect of the too ardent113 caresses114 of California sunshine on the complexion115, we had lowered the cape top, for no one can get the full effect of the towering pines that skirt this road unless he has the open heavens above him. One will not often come across—even in California—finer individual cedars116, sugar pines, and yellow pines than he will see here—splendid arrow-straight shafts117 several feet in circumference118, often rising to a height256 of two or even three hundred feet. It is, indeed, pleasant to think that they are immune from the lumberman’s ax and guarded carefully against devastating119 fires. We paused at times in the shade of these forest titans and contemplated the wide range of hills and valleys beyond the canyon—particularly at Lookout120 Point, some seven or eight miles from Wawona. Here we beheld121 a seemingly endless panorama110 of forest-clad hills stretching away until lost in the infinite distance of the lucent afternoon. Once before we had beheld the same scene—at sunset, the hills shrouded in an amethyst122 haze, the valleys dim with purple shadows, and the sky resplendent with crimson and gold. Nothing could have shown more impressively the wonderful variations of the same landscape at different hours of the day, or proven more completely that one must come many times to see the beauty of Yosemite.
Three or four miles beyond Lookout Point the road branches, the left fork leading to Glacier123 Point, a distance of fourteen miles. This is a magnificent drive through virgin124 forests and should not be missed by anyone who has not made the trip. There is an old-fashioned hotel at Glacier Point where one may be fairly comfortable for the night and it is worth while to remain for the night to witness the sunrise over257 the mountain ramparts of the Valley. We did not undertake this trip, having made it a few years before by stage, but for all that we are sorry now that we let slip an opportunity to view the wonderful Glacier Point panorama a second time and some day, shall have to go back again.
Continuing a few miles farther, we came to the top of the grade leading down into the valley. We recalled it as a stiff, strenuous125 road, winding around sharp curves and often along the edge of sheer precipices126 which gave us a great many thrills from our high perch128 beside the driver of our four-in-hand. We had traversed mountain roads so much worse in the meanwhile that Wawona grade really seemed quite tame from a motor car and even the ladies took only languid interest in its twists and turns. We paused again for the third time at the famous Inspiration Point, and, indeed, we can not help envying those who are fortunate to come into the Yosemite by this road and thus get their first glimpse of the valley from Inspiration Point. Perhaps the view from Glacier Point is as glorious but one is not likely to come upon it so suddenly and is somehow expecting stupendous things, but Inspiration Point bursts on the wayfarer129 from the Wawona all unaware130 and he sees unfold before him almost in an instant all the marvelous sights that have made Yosemite a258 world’s wonder. I have tried elsewhere—in a previous book—to tell something of my impressions when I first viewed this unmatched scene and perhaps I may be pardoned for a short repetition of my words, since I do not know that I can do any better in describing it.
“Inspiration Point! Well named, indeed, for it must surely be a prosaic131 imagination that does not kindle132 with enthusiasm at the prospect38. ‘It comes up to the brag,’ is what Ralph Waldo Emerson said after contemplating133 it long in silence—or at least that is what the guide books and railroad literature credit him with having said. It sounds strangely unlike our staid and gentle philosopher, whose language we are wont134 to admire as the finality in polished English. But it expresses one’s feelings more strongly, perhaps, than fine words. We have been led to expect much; they have assured us and we have often read, that the view from Inspiration Point is surpassed by few panoramas in the world—if, indeed, by any—for grandeur135 of mountain, cliff, and peak and for beauty of contour and color, and all of these are enhanced by the magic of the hour when we are so fortunate as to see it.
“The valley lies before us in the soft blue haze of the evening shadows, and its encompassing136 walls and towers are kindled137 with the purple and golden hues138 of the sunset. As one contemplates259 the glittering peaks and domes139 and the ranges of glowing mountains out beyond, he can realize John Muir’s characterization of the Sierras as the ‘Mountains of Light.’ The grandeur of Inspiration Point seems more of cliffs and spires140, of towering walls and mountain peaks, while from Glacier Point one is perhaps more interested in the details of the valley itself. But from either point one may witness a scene that will possess his soul and whose beauty will linger through the years. We regret the necessity which hurries us from the scene, for the pause of the stage coach is but momentary141. We have had but a glimpse of a landscape that might well hold one’s rapt attention for hours.”
It is the third time we have viewed this wonderful scene and we have been fortunate in coming each time at a different period of the day—morning and evening and early afternoon. Each has shown us a different phase of the beauty of Yosemite, for the variation of light and consequent changes of coloring have everything to do with the view from Inspiration Point.
We proceeded slowly and cautiously down the steep switchbacks leading to the floor of the Valley, a long, low-gear grind, for regulations forbid disengaging gears on roads in the park. The descent did not seem nearly so precarious44 as when we first made it in the regulation coach-and-four—the260 road appeared to have been widened at the turns; maybe this was only in our imagination, due to greater familiarity with mountain roads. We were enough at our ease to enjoy the splendid vistas of the valley and mountains which were presented from a hundred viewpoints as we slowly descended142, something that we hardly did the first time. Nor did the time seem so long, though I really doubt if we went down so quickly as our dashing driver piloted his coach-and-four over this three-mile grade on our first trip. We soon found ourselves on the floor of the valley with Bridal Veil Falls waving like a gossamer143 thread above us—it was in September and the waterfalls were all at lowest ebb144. The four miles along the floor to Yosemite was a joy ride indeed and we felt no desire to infringe145 the low speed limit imposed on motor cars. What though we had seen this wondrous146 array of stupendous cliffs, domes, pinnacles147, and towers many times before, familiarity does not detract from their overpowering majesty148 and weird149 changeful beauty.
When we left Wawona we were somewhat fearful that we would be in danger of exceeding the seemingly absurdly low minimum time allowed—two hours and twenty-seven minutes for the twenty-six miles. It seemed as if we couldn’t help beating it without loafing on the way. However,261 on consulting our timepieces on nearing Yosemite station—there is a heavy fine for coming in ahead of schedule—we found that we had consumed over three hours and had stopped only a few minutes on the way. At the checking station we paid the five dollar fee required of motorists who enter Yosemite and took the car to the official garage forthwith, for absolutely no motoring is permitted in the park except for ingress and egress150.
The old Sentinel Hotel had not changed in appearance since our last visit, nor had it improved in service; however, it was comfortable enough for a short stop in warm weather. We had heard many rumors151 of a new modern hotel to be erected152 on the site of the Sentinel and one declared that it was to be built and managed by that prince of innkeepers, Frank Miller153 of the Glenwood Mission Inn—all of which we fondly hoped might prove true. We learned, however, that although Mr. Miller had negotiated with the authorities in regard to building a hotel in Yosemite, he abandoned the scheme when he found that the government would not grant a lease for a period of more than ten years. Later a corporation, the Desmond Company, secured control of the concessions154 of the park and among their plans, we were told, is the erection of a first-class hotel, though at this writing the work262 has not begun. The company already has a new hotel at Glacier Point—a great improvement over the barn-like structure with which Yosemite tourists have so long been familiar.
Our excuse for a third trip to Yosemite was chiefly that we wanted to visit it by motor car; we had seen most of the sights and made most of the trail trips and drives, so there was little to do but lounge about in the hotel and vicinity for the rest of the afternoon. I visited the garage, which was merely a huge tent with open sides, where the cars were parked in care of an attendant. There was apparently155 a very good machine shop which seemed to have plenty of work, for break-downs are exceedingly common. The manager asked us if we would favor him by carrying a new axle to a motorist who was laid up at Crane Flat, near the entrance to the park on the road by which we expected to leave the next morning.
The regulations require that motor cars leave by the Big Oak Flat road between 6:00 A. M. and 4:00 P. M. and the first-named hour found us ready for departure, as we had been warned that an exceedingly strenuous day’s work lay before us. It is only one hundred and twenty-three miles to Stockton; hence we concluded that the strenuousness156 must be due to something besides long distance—a surmise263 which we did not have to wait long to verify. About two miles from the hotel, following the main valley road we came to a sign, “Big Oak Flat Route” and turned sharply to the right, crossing the Merced River. Immediately we began a sharp ascent157 over a dusty trail through thickly standing158 pines. Coming out of the trees we find ourselves on a narrow road cut in the side of the almost perpendicular159 cliff. It is fair at first, screened from the precipitous drop alongside by a row of massive boulders161 which have the psychological effect of making us feel much more at ease, though I doubt if they would be of much use in stopping a runaway162 car. Nevertheless, they are a decided factor in enabling us to enjoy the wonderful views of mountain and valley that present themselves to our eager eyes as we slowly climb the steep ascent. We are sure that we see many vistas quite equal to the view from the much vaunted Inspiration Point—but they are not so famous because far less accessible.
The road grows rougher and dustier as we climb slowly upward; the boulder160 balustrade disappears and we find ourselves on a narrow shelf, with infrequent passing places, running along the edge of a cliff that falls almost sheer beneath us. We pause occasionally to contemplate36 the marvelous scene beneath. The whole floor of the264 valley is now visible; its giant trees seem mere shrubs164 and the Merced dwindles165 to a silver thread; across the narrow chasm166 we now look down on the Cathedral Spires, the Three Sisters, and Sentinel Rock; we see Bridal Veil Fall swaying like a gossamer against the mighty cliff, and beyond we have an endless vista57 of forest-clad mountains. Three thousand feet above the valley we enter a forest of mighty pines; the road winds among them in sharp turns and the grades are very steep and deep with dust. We are not very familiar with our car—which we leased from a Los Angeles dealer167, and as we near the summit the motor loses power and can not be cajoled into propelling the car over the last steep, dusty pitch. After an hour of fruitless effort, we appealed to the foreman of a road gang which, fortunately for us, was at work close by, and he helped the balky engine out with a stout168 team of horses.
“What’s the damage?” we gratefully asked of our rescuer.
“Just a bottle of whiskey, stranger, if you happen to have one along.”
We expressed regret at our inability to meet the very modest request and our friend had to be content with coin of the realm instead. Later on an auto expert told us that the particular make of carburetor on this car will not work satisfactorily265 at an elevation169 of more than seven thousand feet.
We were still several miles from Crane Flat and the descent proved quite as steep and rough as the climb, but there was no precipice127 skirting the road to add nervous disquiet170 to bodily discomfort.
Crane Flat is nothing more than the ranger station on the road and the official took up our “time card”—we came by a safe margin171 of two or three hours—and removed the seals from our “game getter.” We delivered the axle entrusted172 to our care, but found that the owner of the broken-down car had accepted the situation philosophically173 and gone fishing—his third day of this pleasant pastime while waiting for repairs.
Out of the park we hoped for better things in the way of roads, but we soon found the dividing line imaginary in more ways than one. The road speedily became rougher, dustier and steeper than that we had traversed, but, fortunately, it was down hill.
Two or three miles from Crane Flat we came to the Tuolumne Grove of Big Trees, where there are numerous giant redwoods, though not so many or so huge as those of Mariposa. A short detour174 from the main route took us to the Dead Giant, the most remarkable175 tree of this grove. It is tunneled like the Wawona tree in266 Mariposa and we had the sensation a second time of driving through a redwood. The remains176 of the Dead Giant are one hundred feet high and one hundred and five feet in circumference; scientists estimate that the tree must have been at least forty feet in diameter and perhaps four hundred feet high—larger and higher than any redwood now living. It was destroyed perhaps three hundred years ago by fire or lightning. The General Lawton of this grove is one of the most beautiful redwoods in existence and there is also a Fallen Giant still growing greenly although lying prone177, its roots not being entirely178 severed179.
Near the grove is the Tioga road which has recently been completed across the Sierras to Mono Lake on the Sierra Highway so that Yosemite may be reached from the east, although the entrance must be made at the west end of the valley. We met a party that had just made this trip and who declared the road next to impassable at that time.
A few miles beyond Tuolumne Grove one may reach the Hetch Hetchy Valley by a short side trip—a valley which has been styled a miniature Yosemite. It attained180 a nation-wide celebrity181 by the fight made to prevent the city of San Francisco from using it as a source of water supply, but San Francisco finally won and an act of267 congress permits the city to retain the water of the valley by a dam across the entrance. The engineers, however, claim that the work will not destroy the beauty of the valley nor prevent the public from visiting it.
Beyond Tuolumne Grove we still continue to plunge42 downward over the rough, stony182 trail which tried every rivet183 in the car and worked havoc184 with tires. At one point we had the unpleasant experience of meeting a car coming at high speed around a corner—the road was very narrow and as the newcomer was right upon us a collision seemed inevitable185. The wild man at the wheel of the scrambling186 Ford109, however, took long chances, for he ran upon the sidling bank when we had given him the last inch we could squeeze from the outer side of the road. It seemed that he must inevitably187 turn over on top of us, but the luck that sometimes is said to shield infants and fools—he was certainly no infant—favored him and he rolled back into the road right side up and went plunging188 along on the narrow grade. My friend, after drawing a deep breath, referred to the crazy driver as the “wild Irishman” and though I protested against the reflection on my remote ancestry189, we still identify the road hog190 who gave us such a scare, by this appellation191.
It was lunch time when we reached Sequoia192,268 though we were only twenty-nine miles from Yosemite—a pretty insignificant193 showing for a half day’s run, from a mileage194 point of view, but it had been strenuous enough to make us tired and ravenously195 hungry. And hunger proved a very good sauce for the meal which we got at Crocker’s Hotel, which is about all there is of Sequoia. And I am not complaining of Crocker’s Hotel, either. I think they did very well when one considers that all their supplies must be hauled eighty miles by wagon75 road—naturally canned stuff and condensed milk prevailed. Another outstanding recollection is that it cost us forty cents per gallon to replenish197 our gasoline and we could not complain of that under the circumstances. The young fellow who kept the store near the hotel said he “had been the rounds in California,” but Crocker’s Ranch28 suited him best of any place he had seen. It was interesting to know that anyone could be satisfied in this remote and lonely place; it certainly had the advantage of being near to nature, if that was what our friend was seeking.
Beyond Crocker’s the characteristics of the country were about the same. A rough, dusty trail, winding through pine-clad hills with occasional heavy grades, carried us along for a good many miles. We occasionally passed a remote little station with a general store and “garage”269 bearing evidence of its origin in an old-time blacksmith shop. Colfax Gate, Smith’s, Garrett, and Big Oak Flat—which showed little reason for the distinction of giving its name to the road—were all of the same type, with nothing to invite even a casual glance from the tourist unless he needed gasoline or oil.
At Priest’s there is a country hotel, a haunt of hunters and ranchmen; but we recall Priest’s chiefly because it gives its name to one of the most beautiful bits of road engineering in California. The old road through this section had some of the steepest grades to be found in a country of steep grades; in fact, it was all but impassable to automobiles198 as bits of it still to be seen from the new highway will amply prove. The new grade extends for eight miles from Priest’s to Jacksonville, in which distance it descends199 fifteen hundred feet, but in no place does the gradient exceed five per cent. It follows the very crest200 of a giant hill range overlooking a beautiful valley some two or three thousand feet below. Alongside there is nothing to break the full sweep of one’s vision—not a tree or even a shrub163 intervenes between the roadbed and the precipitous slope beneath. Although the road is wide enough for easy passing at any point, the very baldness of its outer edge is enough to give a decided thrill to nervously201 inclined people and270 our driver received more advice and caution from the rear seat than had been offered him on far more dangerous roads with occasional rocks or trees alongside.
At Jacksonville the road comes down almost to the level of the Tuolumne River and we found ourselves on the border of the old gold-mining region made famous by the tales of Bret Harte. There are still several placer mines in operation along the river—the road passes a very large one at the foot of Chinese Camp grade, and the river is sullied for miles by the muddy washings from the mill. Chinese Camp grade is one of the worst encountered on our entire trip; it is steep and terribly rough, and dust a foot deep hides the ruts and chuck-holes, so we were compelled to “go it blind.” It was a four-mile plunge and scramble202 around sharp curves, half smothered203 and blinded by dense196 dust clouds which rose before we could get away from them, we made such slow progress over the dreadful road. At the hilltop, however, we were rewarded for our strenuous scramble by a magnificent view of the river canyon and a wide panorama of forest-clad hills with the emerald thread of the Tuolumne winding through them. Contemplation of the magnificent scene and a draught204 of cold water from our thermos205 bottle revived our spirits,271 which had drooped206 somewhat in the hot, dusty climb to the summit of the grade.
A short distance over a stony trail brought us into the main street of Chinese Camp, if we may so designate the wide, dusty section of road lined with wooden shacks207 of which every other one seemed a saloon. The appearance of the buildings warranted the guess on our part that there has been little change in this primitive208 hamlet since Bret Harte visited it, nearly a half century ago. Not far from here are many other camps and villages which found enduring fame in the stories of this most representative of all earlier California writers. Sonora, Angel’s Camp, Tuttletown, San Andreas, Mokelumne, and other places familiar in Harte’s pages may all be reached in a detour of fifty miles or so from the Big Oak Flat road. Most of these towns, like Chinese Camp, have made little progress since they were mirrored in the tales which appeared in the old Overland and Argonaut of San Francisco.
Beyond Chinese Camp we encountered the worst stretch of road of the entire day—a mere trail winding through a rough, boulder-strewn country seemingly having no end or object in view except to avoid the rocks too large to run over. No effort had been made to remove the smaller stones from the way and we had an unmerciful272 jolting209, although we crawled along at a dozen miles per hour. Fortunately, there are no steep grades, and occasionally smoother stretches afforded a little respite210. It would be hard to use language, however, that would exaggerate the relief which we felt when, on ascending211 a sharp little rise, we came upon a splendid paved highway which the road-book declared would continue all the way to Stockton. I think that the last forty miles into the city consumed less time than any ten miles we had covered since leaving Yosemite that morning.
We certainly presented a somewhat disreputable appearance when we came into the town. The car and everything about it, including the occupants, was dirty gray with dust, which I noted212 was two inches deep on the running boards and perhaps a little less on our faces, while it saturated213 our clothing and covered our baggage. California hotels, however, are used to such arrivals and we were well taken care of at the Stockton, despite our unprepossessing appearance. A thorough cleaning up, a change of raiment and a good dinner put us at peace with the world and we were soon exchanging felicitations over the fact that we had done Yosemite by motor car.
The route which we had taken, though strenuous enough, as my narrative indicates, is273 the one used by the majority of motorists going into the park. Of course, earlier in the season this road is not so rough and is freer from dust; one may make the trip to best advantage in July or early August. The time of opening the road varies, but the passes are usually clear of snow by the middle of June, though one is likely to find mud in places for some time after the snow has disappeared.
There are two other roads into the valley besides the Tioga road from the east. One of these leaves Fresno and joins the Madera road a few miles west of Wawona. One may start from either Modesto or Merced for the Coulterville road, which joins the valley road a little beyond El Portal. This road has the steeper grades, some as high as thirty per cent, but it takes one through some magnificent scenery and also passes the Merced Grove of big trees.
When the new route proposed and surveyed by the Automobile Club of Southern California is finally completed, the routes which I have described will probably be obsolete214 except for the occasional tourist who prefers the strenuous. The new route proceeds from Merced to Mariposa, a distance of forty miles, and is already partially215 completed. From Mariposa a new route has been surveyed by the club engineers to El Portal, following Bear Creek Canyon, a274 distance of thirty-three miles. Including the fifteen miles from El Portal, the total distance from the main highway is eighty-eight miles, or considerably216 less than any existing route. Better still, no grade on the new road will exceed five per cent and it will make Yosemite accessible by motor a much greater part of the year than at present. The completion of this proposed road is brought measureably nearer by the fifteen million dollar bond issue voted in 1916, as the Highway Commission has made the new Yosemite route a part of its pledged program.
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1
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stringent
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| adj.严厉的；令人信服的；银根紧的 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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39
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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40
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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41
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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42
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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43
precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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47
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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48
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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50
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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52
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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53
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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54
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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56
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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57
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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58
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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60
canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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61
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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62
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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63
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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64
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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65
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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66
gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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67
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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68
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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70
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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71
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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72
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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73
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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74
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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75
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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76
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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78
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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79
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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80
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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81
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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82
grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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83
mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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84
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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85
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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86
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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87
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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88
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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89
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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91
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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92
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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93
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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94
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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95
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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97
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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99
ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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100
influx
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| n.流入，注入 | |
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101
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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102
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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103
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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104
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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105
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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106
disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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107
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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109
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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110
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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111
panoramas
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| 全景画( panorama的名词复数 )； 全景照片； 一连串景象或事 | |
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112
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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113
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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114
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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115
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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116
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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117
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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118
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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119
devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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120
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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121
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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122
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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123
glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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124
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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125
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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126
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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127
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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128
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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129
wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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130
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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131
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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132
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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133
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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134
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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135
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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136
encompassing
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| v.围绕( encompass的现在分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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137
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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138
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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139
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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140
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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141
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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142
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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143
gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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144
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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145
infringe
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| v.违反，触犯，侵害 | |
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146
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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147
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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148
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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149
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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150
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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151
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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152
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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153
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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154
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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155
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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156
strenuousness
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157
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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158
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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159
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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160
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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161
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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162
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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163
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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164
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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165
dwindles
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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166
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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167
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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169
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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170
disquiet
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| n.担心，焦虑 | |
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171
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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172
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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174
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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175
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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176
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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177
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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178
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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179
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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180
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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181
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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182
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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183
rivet
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| n.铆钉；vt.铆接，铆牢；集中(目光或注意力) | |
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184
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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185
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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186
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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187
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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188
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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189
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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190
hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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191
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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192
sequoia
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| n.红杉 | |
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193
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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194
mileage
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| n.里程，英里数；好处，利润 | |
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195
ravenously
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| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
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196
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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197
replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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198
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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199
descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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200
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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201
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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202
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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203
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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204
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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205
thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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206
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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207
shacks
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| n.窝棚，简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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208
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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209
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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210
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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211
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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212
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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213
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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214
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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215
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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216
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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