The Lake of the Sky
by George Wharton James · English · Gutenberg #13170 · 760,108 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Lake of the Sky
Author: George Wharton James
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[Illustration: Cascade Lake and Lake Tahoe]
THE LAKE OF THE SKY
LAKE TAHOE
IN THE HIGH
SIERRAS OF CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA
Its History, Indians, Discovery by Frémont, Legendary Lore, Various
Namings, Physical Characteristics, Glacial Phenomena, Geology, Single
Outlet, Automobile Routes, Historic Towns, Early Mining Excitements,
Steamer Ride, Mineral Springs, Mountain and Lake Resorts, Trail and
Camping Out Trips, Summer Residences, Fishing, Hunting, Flowers,
Birds, Animals, Trees, and Chaparral, with a Full Account of the Tahoe
National Forest, the Public Use of the Water of Lake Tahoe and Much
Other Interesting Matter
BY
GEORGE WHARTON JAMES
_Author of_
"Arizona, the Wonderland," "California, Romantic and Beautiful," "New
Mexico, the Land of the Delight Makers," "Utah, the Land of Blossoming
Valleys," "Quit Your Worrying," "Living the Radiant Life," etc.
_With a map, and sixty-five plates, including a folding panorama View_
L.C. PAGE & COMPANY BOSTON PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915, BY EDITH E. FARNSWORTH
_All Rights Reserved_
TO ROBERT M. WATSON
(_To his friends "Bob"_)
Fearless Explorer, Expert Mountaineer,
Peerless Guide, Truthful Fisherman,
Humane Hunter, Delightful Raconteur,
True-hearted Gentleman,
Generous Communicator
of a large and varied Knowledge,
Brother to Man
and Beast and Devoted
Friend,
AND TO ANOTHER,
though younger brother of
the same craft
RICHARD MICHAELIS
These Pages are Cordially Dedicated
with the Author's High Esteem
and Affectionate Regards.
[Illustration: "Bob" Watson, Tahoe guide, at home, with his dog
Skookum John]
INTRODUCTION
California is proving itself more and more the wonderland of the
United States. Its hosts of annual visitors are increasing with
marvelous rapidity; its population is growing by accretions from the
other states faster than any other section in the civilized world.
The reasons are not far to seek. They may be summarized in five
words, viz., climate, topography, healthfulness, productiveness and
all-around liveableness. Its climate is already a catch word to the
nations; its healthfulness is attested by the thousands who have
come here sick and almost hopeless and who are now rugged, robust and
happy; its productiveness is demonstrated by the millions of dollars
its citizens annually receive for the thousands of car-loads (one
might almost say train-loads) of oranges, lemons, grape-fruit,
walnuts, almonds, peaches, figs, apricots, onions, potatoes, asparagus
and other fruits of its soil; and its all-around home qualities are
best evidenced by the growth, in two or three decades, of scores of
towns from a merely nominal population to five, ten, twenty, forty or
fifty thousand, and of the cities of San Francisco, Los Angeles and
Oakland to metropolises, the two former already claiming populations
of half a million or thereabouts.
As far as its topography, its scenic qualities, are concerned, the
world of tourists already has rendered any argument upon that line
unnecessary. It is already beginning to rival Switzerland, though that
Alpine land has crowded populations within a day's journey to draw
from. One has but to name Monterey, the Mt. Shasta region, Los
Angeles, San Diego and Coronado, the Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, the Big
Trees, the King and Kern River Divide, Mono Lake and a score of
other scenic regions in California to start tongues to wagging over
interesting reminiscences, whether it be in London, Paris, Berlin,
Madrid or Petrograd.
Books galore are being published to make California's charms better
known, and it has long seemed strange to me that no book has been
published on Lake Tahoe and its surrounding country of mountains,
forests, glacial valleys, lakes and canyons, for I am confident that
in one or two decades from now its circle of admirers and regular
visitors will include people from all over the civilized world, all of
whom will declare that it is incomparable as a lake resort, and that
its infinite variety of charm, delight and healthful allurement can
never adequately be told.
Discovered by the "Pathfinder" Frémont; described in the early days of
California history and literature by John Le Conte, Mark Twain, Thomas
Starr King, Ben C. Truman, and later by John Vance Cheney and others;
for countless centuries the fishing haunt of the peaceable Nevada
_Washoes_, who first called it Tahoe--High or Clear Water--and
of the California _Monos_; the home of many of their interesting
legends and folk-lore tales; occasionally the scene of fierce
conflicts between the defending Indians and those who would drive
them away, it early became the object of the jealous and inconsequent
squabbling of politicians. Its discoverer had named it Mountain Lake,
or Lake Bonpland, the latter name after the traveling and exploring
companion of Baron von Humboldt, whose name is retained in the
Humboldt River of Nevada, but when the first reasonably accurate
survey of its shores was made, John Bigler was the occupant of the
gubernatorial chair of the State of California and it was named after
him. Then, later, for purely political reasons, it was changed to
Tahoe, and finally back to Bigler, which name it still officially
retains, though of the thousands who visit it annually but a very
small proportion have ever heard that such a name was applied to it.
In turn, soon after its discovery, Tahoe became the scene of a mining
excitement that failed to "pan out," the home of vast logging and
lumber operations and the objective point to which several famous
"Knights of the Lash" drove world-noted men and women in swinging
Concord coaches. In summer it is the haunt of Nature's most dainty,
glorious, and alluring picturesqueness; in winter the abode, during
some days, of the Storm King with his cohorts of hosts of clouds,
filled with rain, hail, sleet and snow, of fierce winds, of dread
lightnings, of majestic displays of rudest power. Suddenly, after
having covered peak and slope, meadow and shore, with snow to a depth
of six, eight, ten or more feet, the Storm King retires and Solus
again reigns supreme. And then! ah, then is the time to see Lake Tahoe
and its surrounding country. The placid summer views are exquisite
and soul-stirring, but what of Tahoe now? The days and nights are free
from wind and frost, the sun tempers the cold and every hour is an
exhilaration. The American people have not yet learned, as have the
Europeans in the Alps, the marvelous delights and stimulations of the
winter in such a place as Lake Tahoe. But they will learn in time, and
though a prophet is generally without honor in his own country, I will
assume a role not altogether foreign, and venture the assertion that
I shall live to see the day when winter visitors to Lake Tahoe will
number more than those who will visit it throughout the whole of the
year (1914) in which I write. One of the surprises often expressed
by those I have met here who have wintered in the Alps is that no
provision is made for hotel accommodation during the winter at Lake
Tahoe.
To return, however, to the charms of Tahoe that are already known to
many thousands. Within the last two or three decades it has become the
increasingly popular Mecca of the hunter, sportsman, and fisherman;
the natural haunt of the thoughtful and studious lover of God's great
and varied out-of-doors, and, since fashionable hotels were built, the
chosen resort of many thousands of the wealthy, pleasure-loving and
luxurious. What wonder that there should be a growing desire on
the part of the citizens of the United States--and especially of
California and Nevada--together with well-informed travelers from all
parts of the world, for larger knowledge and fuller information about
Lake Tahoe than has hitherto been available.
To meet this laudable desire has been my chief incitement in the
preparation of the following pages, but I should be untrue to my own
devotion to Lake Tahoe, which has extended over a period of more than
thirty years, were I to ignore the influence the Lake's beauty has had
over me, and the urge it has placed within me. Realizing and feeling
these emotions I have constantly asked with Edward Rowland Sill:
What can I for such a world give back again?
And my only answer has been, and is, this:
Could I only hint the beauty--
Some least shadow of the beauty,
Unto men!
In looking over the files of more of less ephemeral literature, as
well as the records of the explorations of early days, I have been
astonished at the rich treasures of scientific and descriptive
literature that have Lake Tahoe as their object. Not the least service
this unpretentious volume will accomplish is the gathering together of
these little-known jewels.
It will be noticed that I have used the word _Sierran_ rather
than _Alpine_ throughout these pages. Why not? Why should the
writer, describing the majestic, the glorious, the sublime of the
later-formed mountain ranges of earth, designate them by a term coined
for another and far-away range?
I would have the reader, however, be careful to pronounce it
accurately. It is not _Sy-eer-an_, but _See-ehr-ran_, almost
as if one were advising another to "See Aaron," the brother of Moses.
Tahoe is not _Teh-o_, nor is it _Tah-ho_, nor _Tah-o_.
The Washoe Indians, from whom we get the name, pronounce it as if it
were one syllable _Tao_, like a Chinese name, the "a" having the
broad sound _ah_ of the Continent.
Likewise _Tallac_ is not pronounced with the accent on the last
syllable (as is generally heard), but _Tal['x]-ac_.
While these niceties of pronunciation are not of vast importance, they
preserve to us the intonations of the original inhabitants, who, as
far as we know, were the first human beings to gaze upon the face of
this ever-glorious and beautiful Lake.
When Mark Twain and Thomas Starr King visited Tahoe it was largely in
its primitive wildness, though logging operations for the securing of
timber for the mines of Virginia City had been going on for some time
and had led to the settlement at Glenbrook (where four great saw mills
were in constant operation so long as weather permitted), and
the stage-road from Placerville to Virginia City demanded
stopping-stations, as Myers, Yanks, Rowlands and Lakeside.
But to-day, while the commercial operations have largely ceased, the
scenic attractions of Lake Tahoe and its region have justified the
erection of over twenty resorts and camps, at least two of them
rivaling in extent and elaborateness of plant any of the gigantic
resort hotels of either the Atlantic or Pacific coasts, the others
varying in size and degree, according to the class of patronage they
seek. That these provisions for the entertainment of travelers, yearly
visitors, and health seekers will speedily increase with the years
there can be no doubt, for there is but one Lake Tahoe, and its lovers
will ultimately be legion. Already, also, it has begun to assert
itself as a place of summer residence. Fifteen years ago private
residences on Lake Tahoe might have been enumerated on the fingers of
the two hands; now they number as many hundreds, and the sound of
the hammer and saw is constantly heard, and dainty villas, bungalows,
cottages, and rustic homes are springing up as if by magic.
_Then_ Lake Tahoe was comparatively hard to reach. _Now_,
the trains of the _Southern Pacific_ and the _Lake Tahoe
Railway and Transportation Company_ deposit one on the very edge of
the Lake easier and with less personal exertion than is required to
go to and from any large metropolitan hotel in one city to a similar
hotel in another city.
It is almost inevitable that in such a book as this there should be
some repetition. Just as one sees the same peaks and lakes, shore-line
and trees from different portions of the Lake--though, of course, at
slightly or widely differing angles--so in writing, the attention of
the reader naturally is called again and again to the same scenes. But
this book is written not so much with an eye to its literary quality,
as to afford the visitor to Lake Tahoe--whether contemplative, actual,
or retrospective--a truthful and comprehensive account and description
of the Lake and its surroundings.
It will be observed that in many places I have capitalized the common
noun Lake. Whenever this appears it signifies Lake Tahoe--the chief of
all the lakes of the Sierras.
While it is very delightful to sit on the veranda or in the swinging
seats of the Tavern lawn, or at the choice nooks of all the resorts
from Tahoe City completely around the Lake, it is not possible to
write a book on Lake Tahoe there. One must get out and feel the
bigness of it all; climb its mountains, follow its trout streams;
ride or walk or push one's way through its leafy coverts; dwell in the
shade of its forests; row over its myriad of lakes; study its geology,
before he can know or write about Tahoe.
This is what I have done.
And this is what I desire to urge most earnestly upon my reader. Don't
lounge around the hotels all the time. Get all you want of that kind
of recreation; then "go in" for the more strenuous fun of wandering
and climbing. Go alone or in company, afoot or horseback, only go!
Thus will Tahoe increase the number of its devoted visitants and my
object in writing these pages be accomplished.
[Illustration: Signature]
George Wharton James
TAHOE TAVERN, June 1914.
[Illustration: PANORAMA FROM SOUTH END FALLEN LEAF LAKE.
Captions along top edge of illustration: Angora Peak--Glen
Alpine--Mt. Tallac--Rubicon Peaks--Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: PANORAMA FROM SOUTH END FALLEN LEAF LAKE.
Captions along top edge of illustration: Mt. Tallac--Rubicon
Peaks--Fallen Leaf Lake--Lake Tahoe]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
Introduction
I Why "the Lake of the Sky"?
II Frémont and the Discovery of Lake Tahoe
III The Indians of Lake Tahoe
IV Indian Legends of the Tahoe Region
V The Various Names of Lake Tahoe
VI John Le Conte's Physical Studies of Lake Tahoe
VII How Lake Tahoe Was Formed
VIII The Glacial History of Lake Tahoe
IX The Lesser Lakes of the Tahoe Region and How They Were Formed
X Donner Lake and Its Tragic History
XI Lake Tahoe and the Truckee River
XII By Rail to Lake Tahoe
XIII The Wishbone Automobile Route to and Around Lake Tahoe
XIV Tahoe Tavern
XV Trail Trips in the Tahoe Region
To Watson's Peak and Lake
To Squaw Valley, Granite Chief Peak, Five Lakes
and Deer Park Springs
To Ellis Peak
XVI Camping Out Trips in the Tahoe Region
To Hell Hole and the Rubicon River
XVII Historic Tahoe Towns
XVIII By Steamer Around Lake Tahoe
XIX Deer Park Springs
XX Rubicon Springs
XXI Emerald Bay and Camp
XXII Al-Tahoe
XXIII Glen Alpine Springs
XXIV Fallen Leaf Lake and Its Resorts
XXV Lakeside Park
XXVI Glenbrook and Marlette Lake
XXVII Carnelian Bay and Tahoe Country Club
XXVIII Fishing in the Lakes of the Tahoe Region
XXIX Hunting at Lake Tahoe
XXX The Flowers of the Tahoe Region
XXXI The Chaparral of the Tahoe Region
XXXII How to Distinguish the Trees of the Tahoe Region
XXXIII The Birds and Animals of the Tahoe Region
XXXIV The Squaw Valley Mining Excitement
XXXV The Frémont Howitzer and Lake Tahoe
XXXVI The Mount Rose Observatory
XXXVII Lake Tahoe in Winter _Written by Dr. J.E. Church, Jr.,
University of Nevada_.
XXXVIII Lake Tahoe as a Summer Residence
XXXIX The Tahoe National Forest
XL Public Use of the Waters of Lake Tahoe
APPENDIX
A Mark Twain at Lake Tahoe
B Mark Twain and the Forest Rangers
C Thomas Starr King at Lake Tahoe
D Joseph LeConte at Lake Tahoe
E John Vance Cheney at Lake Tahoe
F The Resorts of Lake Tahoe
[Illustration: TAHOE TAVERN, LAKE TAHOE, CALIF.]
[Illustration: STEAMER TAHOE OFF CAVE ROCK, NEVADA SIDE, LAKE TAHOE]
THE LAKE OF THE SKY
LAKE TAHOE
CHAPTER I
WHY "THE LAKE OF THE SKY"?
Lake Tahoe is the largest lake at its altitude--twenty-three miles
long by thirteen broad, 6225 feet above the level of the sea--with but
one exception in the world. Then, too, it closely resembles the sky
in its pure and perfect color. One often experiences, on looking
down upon it from one of its many surrounding mountains, a feeling of
surprise, as if the sky and earth had somehow been reversed and he was
looking down upon the sky instead of the earth.
And, further, Lake Tahoe so exquisitely mirrors the purity of the sky;
its general atmosphere is so perfect, that one feels it is peculiarly
akin to the sky.
Mark Twain walked to Lake Tahoe in the early sixties, from Carson
City, carrying a couple of blankets and an ax. He suggests that his
readers will find it advantageous to go on horseback. It was a hot
summer day, not calculated to make one of his temperament susceptible
to fine scenic impressions, yet this is what he says:
We plodded on, two or three hours longer, and at last the Lake
burst upon us--a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand
three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by
a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full three
thousand feet higher still. It was a vast oval, and one would
have to use up eighty or a hundred good miles in traveling around
it. As it lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly
photographed upon its still surface I thought it must surely be
the fairest picture the whole earth affords!
And there you have it! Articulate or inarticulate, something like this
is what every one thinks when he first sees Tahoe, and the oftener
he sees it, and the more he knows it the more grand and glorious it
becomes. It is immaterial that there are lakes perched upon higher
mountain shelves, and that one or two of them, at equal or superior
altitudes, are larger in size. Tahoe ranks in the forefront both for
altitude and size, and in beauty and picturesqueness, majesty and
sublimity, there is no mountain body of water on this earth that is
its equal.
Why such superlatives in which world-travelers generally--in fact,
invariably--agree? There must be some reason for it. Nay, there are
many. To thousands the chief charm of Lake Tahoe is in the exquisite,
rare, and astonishing colors of its waters. They are an endless source
of delight to all who see them, no matter how insensible they may be,
ordinarily, to the effect of color. There is no shade of blue or
green that cannot here be found and the absolutely clear and pellucid
quality of the water enhances the beauty and perfection of the tone.
One minister of San Francisco thus speaks of the coloring:
When the day is calm there is a ring around the Lake extending
from a hundred yards to a mile from the shore which is the most
brilliant green; within this ring there is another zone of the
deepest blue, and this gives place to royal purple in the
distance; and the color of the Lake changes from day to day and
from hour to hour. It is never twice the same--sometimes the blue
is lapis lazuli, then it is jade, then it is purple, and when the
breeze gently ruffles the surface it is silvery-gray. The Lake
has as many moods as an April day or a lovely woman. But its
normal appearance is that of a floor of lapis lazuli set with a
ring of emerald.
The depth of the water, varying as it does from a few feet to nearly
or over 2000 feet, together with the peculiarly variable bottom of the
Lake, have much to do with these color effects. The lake bottom on a
clear wind-quiet day can be clearly seen except in the lowest depths.
Here and there are patches of fairly level area, covered either with
rocky bowlders, moss-covered rocks, or vari-colored sands. Then,
suddenly, the eye falls upon a ledge, on the yonder side of which the
water suddenly becomes deep blue. That ledge may denote a submarine
precipice, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand or more feet deep, and
the changes caused by such sudden and awful depths are beyond verbal
description.
Many of the softer color-effects are produced by the light colored
sands that are washed down into the shallower waters by the mountain
streams. These vary considerably, from almost white and cream, to
deep yellow, brown and red. Then the mosses that grow on the massive
bowlders, rounded, square and irregular, of every conceivable size,
that are strewn over the lake bottom, together with the equally varied
rocks of the shore-line, some of them towering hundreds of feet above
the water--these have their share in the general enchantment and
revelry of color.
Emerald Bay and Meek's Bay are justly world-famed for their
triumphs of color glories, for here there seem to be those peculiar
combinations of varied objects, and depths, from the shallowest to the
deepest, with the variations of colored sands and rocks on the bottom,
as well as queer-shaped and colored bowlders lying on the vari-colored
sands, that are not found elsewhere. The waving of the water gives a
mottled effect surpassing the most delicate and richly-shaded marbles
and onyxes. Watered-silks of the most perfect manufacture are but
childish and puerile attempts at reproduction, and finest Turkish
shawls, Bokhara rugs or Arab sheiks' dearest-prized Prayer Carpets are
but glimmering suggestions of what the Master Artist himself has here
produced.
There are not the glowing colors of sunrises and sunsets; but they are
equally sublime, awe-inspiring and enchanting. There are Alpine-glows,
and peach-blooms and opalescent fires, gleams and subtle suggestions
that thrill moment by moment, and disappear as soon as seen, only to
be followed by equally beautiful, enchanting and surprising effects,
and with it all, is a mobility, a fluidity, a rippling, flowing,
waving, tossing series of effects that belong only to enchanted
water--water kissed into glory by the sun and moon, lured into softest
beauty by the glamour of the stars, and etheralized by the quiet and
subtle charms of the Milky Way, and of the Suns, Comets and Meteors
that the eye of man has never gazed upon.
There is one especially color-blessed spot. It is in Grecian Bay,
between Rubicon Point and Emerald Bay. Here the shore formation is
wild and irregular, with deep holes, majestic, grand and rugged rocks
and some trees and shrubbery. Near the center of this is a deep hole,
into which one of the mountain streams runs over a light-colored sandy
bottom where the water is quite shallow. Around are vari-colored trees
and shrubs, and these objects and conditions all combine to produce
a mystic revelation of color gradations and harmonies, from emerald
green and jade to the deepest amethystine or ultra-marine. When the
wind slightly stirs the surface and these dancing ripples catch the
sunbeams, one by one, in changeful and irregular measure, the eyes are
dazzled with iridescences and living color-changes covering hundreds
of acres, thousands of them, as exquisite, glorious and dazzling
as revealed in the most perfect peacock's tail-feathers, or
humming-bird's throat. Over such spots one sits in his boat
spell-bound, color-entranced, and the ears of his soul listen to color
music as thrilling, as enchanting as melodies by Foster and Balfe,
minuets by Mozart and Haydn, arias by Handel, nocturnes and serenades
by Chopin and Schumann, overtures by Rossini, massive choruses
and chorals by Handel, Haydn and Mendelssohn, fugues by Bach, and
concertos by Beethoven.
The blue alone is enough to impress it forever upon the observant
mind. Its rich, deep, perfect splendor is a constant surprise. One
steps from his hotel, not thinking of the Lake--the blue of it rises
through the trees, over the rocks, _everywhere_, with startling
vividness. Surely never before was so large and wonderful a lake of
inky blue, sapphire blue, ultra-marine, amethystine richness spread
out for man's enjoyment. And while the summer months show this in all
its smooth placidity and quietude, there seems to be a deeper blue,
a richer shade take possession of the waves in the fall, or when its
smoothness is rudely dispelled by the storms of winter and spring.
So much for the color!
Yet there are those who are devoted to Lake Tahoe who seldom speak
of the coloring of its waters. Perhaps they are fascinated by its
fishing. This has become as world-famed as its colors. Thousands,
hundreds of thousands, of the most gamey and delicately-flavored trout
are caught here annually, both by experts and amateurs. The Federal
and State governments, and private individuals yearly stock the main
Lake and the hundred and one smaller lakes of the region with the
finest species of trout obtainable, and the results fully justify the
labor and expense.
To the mountain-lover the Tahoe region is an earthly paradise. One
summer I climbed over twenty peaks, each over nine thousand feet
high, and all gave me glimpses of Tahoe. Some of them went up close to
11,000 feet.
Are you an admirer of Alpine, nay, _High Sierran_, trees? You
will find all the well-known, and several rare and entirely new
species in this region. This field alone could well occupy a student,
or a mere amateur tree-lover a whole summer in rambling, climbing,
collecting and studying.
And as for geology--the Grand Canyon of Arizona has afforded me
nature reading material for nearly three decades and I am delighted
by reading it yet. Still I am free to confess the uplift of these
high-sweeping Sierras, upon whose lofty summits
The high-born, beautiful snow comes down,
Silent and soft as the terrible feet
Of Time on the mosses of ruins;
the great glacial _cirques_, with their stupendous precipices
from which the vast ice-sheets started, which gouged, smoothed,
planed and grooved millions of acres of solid granite into lake-beds,
polished domes and canyon walls and carried along millions of tons of
rock debris to make scores of lateral and terminal moraines; together
with the evidences of uplift, subsidence and volcanic outpouring of
diorite and other molten rocks, afford one as vast and enjoyable a
field for contemplation as any ordinary man can find in the Grand
Canyon.
But why compare them? There is no need to do so. Each is supreme in
its own right; different yet compelling, unlike yet equally engaging.
Then there are the ineffable climate of summer, the sunrises, the
sunsets, the Indians, the flowers, the sweet-singing birds, the
rowing, in winter the snow-shoeing, the camping-out, and, alas! I must
say it--the hunting.
Why man will hunt save for food is beyond me. I deem it that every
living thing has as much right to its life as I have to mine, but I
find I am in a large minority among a certain class that finds at Lake
Tahoe its hunting Mecca. Deer abound, and grouse and quail are quite
common, and in the summer of 1913 I knew of four bears being shot.
Is it necessary to present further claims for Lake Tahoe? Every new
hour finds a new charm, every new day calls for the louder praise,
every added visit only fastens the chains of allurement deeper. For
instance, this is the day of athletic maids, as well as men. We find
them everywhere. Very well! Lake Tahoe is the physical culturist's
heaven.
In any one of its score of camps he may sleep out of doors, on the
porch, out under the pines, by the side of the Lake or in his tent
or cottage with open doors and windows. At sunrise, or later, in his
bathing suit, or when away from too close neighbors, clothed, as
dear old Walt Whitman puts it, "in the natural and religious idea of
nakedness," the cold waters of the Lake invite him to a healthful and
invigorating plunge, with a stimulating and vivifying swim. A swift
rub down with a crash towel, a rapid donning of rude walking togs and
off, instanter, for a mile climb up one of the trails, a scramble over
a rocky way to some hidden Sierran lake, some sheltered tree nook,
some elevated outlook point, and, after feasting the eyes on the
glories of incomparable and soul-elevating scenes, he returns to camp,
eats a hearty breakfast, with a clear conscience, a vigorous appetite
aided by hunger sauce, guided by the normal instincts of taste, all of
which have been toned up by the morning's exercise--what wonder that
such an one radiates Life and Vim, Energy and Health, Joy and Content.
Do you know what the lure must be when a busy man, an active man,
an alert man, a man saturated with the nervous spirit of American
commercial life, sits down in one of the seats overlooking the Lake,
or spreads out his full length upon the grass, or on the beds of
Sierran moss, which make a deliciously restful cushion, and stays
there! He does nothing; doesn't even look consciously at the blue
waters of the Lake, on the ineffable blue of the sky, or the rich
green of the trees or the glory of the flowers--he simply sits or
sprawls or lies and, though the influence is different, the effect is
the same as that expressed in the old hymn:
My soul would ever stay,
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing itself away,
To everlasting bliss.
There's the idea! Calm, rest, peace, bliss. Those are what you get
at Lake Tahoe. And with them come renewed health, increased vigor,
strengthened courage, new power to go forth and seize the problems
of life, with a surer grasp, a more certain touch, a more clearly and
definitely assured end.
There are some peculiarities of Lake Tahoe that should be noted,
although they are of a very different character from the foolish and
sensational statements that used to be made in the early days of its
history among white men. A serious advertising folder years ago sagely
informed the traveling public as follows: "A strange phenomenon in
connection with the Truckee River is the fact that the Lake from which
it flows (Tahoe) has no inlet, so far as any one knows, and the lake
into which it flows (Pyramid Lake, Nevada), has no outlet."
[Illustration: MT. TALLAC IN STORM. LAKE TAHOE, CAL.]
[Illustration: THE PICTURESQUE TRUCKER RIVER, NEAR LAKE TAHOE]
How utterly absurd this is. Lake Tahoe has upward of a hundred feeders,
among which may be named Glenbrook, the Upper Truckee, Fallen Leaf
Creek, Eagle Creek, Meek's Creek, General Creek, McKinney Creek, Madden
Creek, Blackwood Creek, and Ward Creek, all of these being constant
streams, pouring many thousands of inches of water daily into the Lake
even at the lowest flow, and in the snow-melting and rainy seasons
sending down their floods in great abundance.
To many it is a singular fact that Lake Tahoe never freezes over
in winter. This is owing to its great depth, possibly aided by the
ruffling and consequent disturbance of its surface by the strong
northeasterly winter winds. The vast body of water, with such
tremendous depth, maintains too high a temperature to be affected
by surface reductions in temperature. Experiments show that the
temperature in summer on the surface is 68 degrees Fahr. At 100 feet
55 degrees; at 300 feet 46 degrees; at 1506 feet 39 degrees.
Twenty years ago the thermometer at Lake Tahoe registered 18 degrees
F. _below zero_, and in 1910 it was 10 degrees F. below. Both
these years Emerald Bay froze over. Perhaps the reason for this is
found in the fact that the entrance to the bay is very shallow, and
that this meager depth is subject to change in surface temperature,
becoming warmer in summer and colder in winter. This narrow ridge once
solidly frozen, the warmth of the larger body of water would have no
effect upon the now-confined smaller body of Emerald Bay. Once a firm
hold taken by the ice, it would slowly spread its fingers and aid in
the reduction of the temperature beyond, first producing slush-ice,
and then the more solid crystal ice, until the whole surface would be
frozen solid.
An explanation of the non-freezing of the main Lake has been offered
by several local "authorities" as owing to the presence of a number of
hot springs either in the bed of the Lake or near enough to its shores
materially to affect its temperature. But I know of few or no "facts"
to justify such an explanation.
When I first visited Lake Tahoe over thirty years ago I was seriously
and solemnly informed by several (who evidently believed their own
assertions) that, owing to the great elevation of the Lake, the
density of the water, etc., etc., it was impossible for any one to
swim in Lake Tahoe. I was assured that several who had tried had
had narrow escapes from drowning. While the utter absurdity of the
statements was self-evident I decided I would give myself a practical
demonstration. To be perfectly safe I purchased a clothes-line, then,
hiring a row-boat, went as far away from shore as was desirable,
undressed, tied one end of the rope around the seat, the other around
my body, and--jumped in. I did not sink. Far from it. I was never more
stimulated to swim in my life. My ten or fifteen feet dive took me
into colder water than I had ever experienced before and I felt as
if suddenly, and at one fell swoop, I were flayed alive. Gasping for
breath I made for the boat, climbed in, and in the delicious glow that
came with the reaction decided that it was quite as important to
feel of the temperature of lake water before you leaped, as it was
to render yourself safe from sinking by anchoring yourself to a
clothesline.
But I would not have my reader assume from the recital of this
experience that Lake Tahoe is always too cold for swimming. Such is
not the case. Indeed in June, July, August and September the swimming
is delightful to those who enjoy "the cool, silver shock of the plunge
in a pool's living water," that Browning's _Saul_ so vividly
pictures for us. Hundreds of people--men, women and children--in
these months indulge in the daily luxury, especially in the coves and
beaches where the water is not too deep, and the sun's ardent rays woo
them into comfortable warmth.
After a warm day's tramp or ride over the trails, too, there is
nothing more delicious than a plunge into one of the lakes. A short,
crisp swim, a vigorous rub down, and a resumption of the walk or ride
and one feels _fit_ enough to conquer a world.
It can be imagined, too, what a lively scene the Lake presents in the
height of the season, when, from the scores of hotels, resorts, camps,
private residences, fishermen's camps, etc.; fishing-boats, row-boats,
launches, motor-boats, and yachts ply to and fro in every direction,
unconsciously vying with each other to attract the eye of the
onlooker. The pure blue of the Lake, with its emerald ring and varying
shades of color, added to by the iridescent gleam that possesses the
surface when it is slightly rippled by a gentle breeze, contrasting
with the active, vivid, moving boats of differing sizes, splashed with
every conceivable color by the hats and costumes of the occupants--all
these conspire to demand the eye, to enchain the attention, to
harmlessly hypnotize, as it were, those who sit on the shore and look.
And when is added to this the spontaneous shouts and shrieks of
delight that the feminine "fishermen" give when they are successful
and make a catch, the half-frenzied and altogether delighted
announcements thereof, the whole-hearted or the half-jealous,
half-envious return-congratulations, while now and then the large
steamer, _Tahoe_, or an elegant private yacht, as the Tevis's
_Consuelo_, crosses the scene, one may partially but never fully
conceive the joy and radiant happiness, the satisfaction and content
that Lake Tahoe inspires and produces.
Lake Tahoe covers about 190 square miles, and its watershed is about
500 square miles. The boundary line between Nevada and California
strikes the Lake on the northern border at the 120th meridian, and
a point at that spot is called the State Line Point. The latitude
parallel of this northern entrance is 39° 15". The boundary line goes
due south until about 38° 58" and then strikes off at an oblique angle
to the southeast, making the southern line close to Lakeside Park, a
few miles east of the 120th meridian.
CHAPTER II
FRÉMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF LAKE TAHOE
Like so many other great discoveries that were to have an important
effect upon the lives of countless numbers of people, the discovery
of Lake Tahoe was accidental. Nor did its finder comprehend the vast
influence it was to possess, not only upon the residents of California
and Nevada, but upon the travel-loving and sight-seeing portion of the
population of the whole world.
John C. Frémont, popularly acclaimed "the pathfinder," was its
discoverer, on the 14th day of February, 1844. In the journal of his
1843-44 expedition he thus records the first sight of it:
Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest peak
to the right from which we had a beautiful view of a mountain
lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so nearly
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet.
It cannot be deemed out of place in these pages, owing to the
significance of the discovery by Frémont, to give a brief account of
the exploration and its purposes, in the carrying out of which Tahoe
was revealed to the intrepid and distinguished explorer.
Fortunately for us, Frémont left a full story of his experiences in
the Nevada country, complete in detail, and as fresh and vivid as if
but written yesterday. This account, with illuminating Introduction,
and explanatory notes by James U. Smith, from whose pioneer father
Smith Valley is named, was republished in the _Second Biennial
Report of the Nevada Historical Society_, from which, with the
kind permission of the secretary, Professor Jeanne Elizabeth Wier, the
following extracts are made.
Frémont had already made his first exploration of the Rocky Mountains
and South Pass in the summer of 1842. It was in this expedition that,
standing on the highest peak of the Rockies, he looked down into
the vast area beyond, known as the Great Basin, comprising with its
mountain ranges the whole western portion of the continent of North
America. This he determined to explore, and it was on this second
expedition that Lakes Pyramid and Tahoe, the Truckee River, etc., were
discovered.
Later, Frémont made his third western journey, that in which he
came into conflict with the Mexican officials of California, became
governor of California, and was finally placed under arrest by General
Kearny, and taken back to Washington to be tried for mutiny. The
results of that unfortunate Kearny conflict are well known.
At the official close of the dispute he made his fourth expedition
and finally his fifth, all of which are fully treated in Smucker's and
Bigelow's _Life of Frémont_.
To return now to the second expedition. In the words of Mr. Smith:
The object of the expedition was purely for the purpose of
exploring and otherwise getting scientific information about
the great territory between the Missouri frontier and the
Pacific Ocean. Emigrants were making their way westward to
the new Oregon Territory, and hunters and trappers had been
visiting portions of that region. Farther north the fur
companies had their posts and did a regular business with the
trappers and Indians. But little was known about the regions
further south, and especially the great territory between the
Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountain chains, and that little was
freely adulterated with fiction.
Great Salt Lake was supposed to be a very strange and
wonderful lake, the islands of which were covered with woods
and flowers, through which roamed all kinds of game, and whose
waters were sucked down in a great awe-inspiring whirlpool
into an underground passage under the mountains and valleys
to the distant sea. Another myth, or rather pair of myths, in
which geographers placed sufficient faith to give a place on
the maps of the time, was the great Buenaventura River, and
that semi-tropical Mary's Lake, the waters from which found
their way through the Sierra Nevadas to San Francisco Bay.
Mary's Lake was supposed to be a body of water such as a
traveler dreams about, whose clear waters were bordered by
meadows ever green, a place on whose shores he could pitch his
tent and cast aside all thought or care of the morrow. Frémont
counted on this lake as a place where he could recuperate
and make ready for a final dash eastward across the unknown
country to the Rocky Mountains and thence home to the
Mississippi River. Contrast these anticipations with the
hardships and fears he encountered while groping his way
through the Black Rock Desert, north of Pyramid Lake.
But Frémont was a good leader followed by courageous men, and
disappointments did not make weaklings of either him or his
men. His party, on leaving Missouri, consisted of thirty-nine
men--Creoles, Canadian-Frenchmen, Americans, a German or two,
a free negro and two Indians. Charles Preuss was Frémont's
assistant in topography, and it is likely that he made his
sketches, several of which were published in the original
report. Another member of the party, and one who joined it
in the Rocky Mountains and is of special interest to us, was
Christopher Carson, commonly known as "Kit" Carson. Frémont
speaks of him in very friendly and flattering terms. At the
time of the meeting with Carson, he says: "I had here
the satisfaction to meet our good buffalo hunter of 1842,
Christopher Carson, whose services I considered myself
fortunate to secure again." On another occasion, when Carson
had successfully performed a responsible errand, he says:
"Reaching St. Vrain's Fort ... we found ... my true and
reliable friend, Kit Carson." Frémont left Kansas City, Mo.,
May 29, 1843.
His general route was along the _old_ "Oregon Trail,"
then the _new_ "Oregon Trail," but at many places his
route was different. He followed up the Kansas River instead
of the Platte. But he crossed the Rocky Mountains over the
South Pass, which is that of the Union Pacific Railroad,
and was common to the Oregon Trail and the emigrant road to
California. During nearly the whole journey to Oregon
Frémont divided his party. One part he placed in charge of
Fitzpatrick. This consisted of the carts with the bulk of the
supplies and about half of the men. The other part consisted
of a mounted party with packhorses and the howitzer. Frémont,
of course, took charge of the latter party, for, traveling
light as it did, he was able to make detours covering country
he wished to explore, always, however, using the other train
as a base of supplies. The course of the other party was
generally along the emigrant road to Oregon.
After crossing the Rocky Mountains, Frémont went south with
his party to explore Great Salt Lake. Thence he returned north
again to the emigrant road, which then followed in a general
way the Snake or Lewis River to the Columbia, with the
exception of the great bend in northeastern Oregon which was
traversed by a shorter route. Along the bank of the Columbia
the road followed to the Mission Station at the Dalles,
or great narrows of the river. At this point many of the
emigrants transferred their baggage to barges and floated
with the current to their destination on the Willamette River.
Others continued by land down the river. Frémont's division
reached the Dalles November 4th. Fitzpatrick's train did not
come in until the 21st. The latter left his carts at the mouth
of the Walla Walla River according to Frémont's orders; and,
after making pack-saddles, transferred what was left of his
baggage to the backs of his mules for the trip down to the
Dalles. In the meantime Frémont, with Preuss and two of the
other men, had gone down to Fort Vancouver in canoes. This was
the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company for the West. Here
supplies for the return journey were obtained.
Having transported these supplies up to the Dalles in barges
propelled by Indians, he was ready to take up the final
preparation for the homeward journey. It is best to let him
describe these preparations in his own words. He says:
"The camp was now occupied in making the necessary
preparations for our homeward journey, which, though homeward,
contemplated a new route, and a great circuit to the south and
southeast, and the exploration of the Great Basin between the
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada.
"Three principal objects were indicated, by report, or by
maps, as being on this route, the character or existence of
which I wished to ascertain, and which I assumed as landmarks,
or leading points, on the projected line of return. The first
of these points was the Tlamath Lake, on the tableland between
the head of Fall River (this is now called by its French name,
the Des Chutes River), which comes to the Columbia, and the
Sacramento, which goes to the Bay of San Francisco, and from
which lake a river of the same name makes its way westwardly
direct to the ocean.
"This lake and river are often called Klamet, but I
have chosen to write the name according to the Indian
pronunciation. The position of this lake, on the line of
inland communication between Oregon and California; its
proximity to the demarcation boundary of latitude 42 deg.; its
imputed double character of lake, or meadow, according to
the season of the year; and the hostile and warlike character
attributed to the Indians about it;--all make it a desirable
object to visit and examine. From this lake our course was
intended to be about southeast, to a reported lake called
Mary's, at some days' journey in the Great Basin; and thence,
still on southeast, to the reputed Buenaventura River, which
has a place in so many maps, and countenanced the belief
of the existence of a great river flowing from the Rocky
Mountains to the Bay of San Francisco. From the Buenaventura
the next point was intended to be in that section of the Rocky
Mountains which includes the heads of Arkansas River, and of
the opposite waters of the California Gulf; and thence down
the Arkansas to Bent's Fort, and home.
"This was our projected line of return--a great part of it
absolutely new to geographical, botanical, and geological
science--and the subject of reports in relation to lakes,
rivers, deserts, and savages, hardly above the condition of
mere wild animals, which inflamed desire to know what this
_terra incognita_ really contained. It was a serious
enterprise, at the commencement of winter, to undertake the
traverse of such a region, and with a party consisting only
of twenty-five persons, and they of many nations--American,
French, German, Canadian, Indian, and colored--and most of
them young, several being under twenty-one years of age.
"All knew that a strange country was to be explored, and
dangers and hardships to be encountered; but no one blenched
at the prospect. On the contrary, courage and confidence
animated the whole party. Cheerfulness, readiness,
subordination, prompt obedience, characterized all; nor
did any extremity or peril and privation, to which we were
afterward exposed, ever belie, or derogate from, the fine
spirit of this brave and generous commencement.
"The course of the narrative will show at what point, and for
what reasons, we were prevented from the complete execution
of this plan, after having made considerable progress upon it,
and how we were forced by desert plains and mountain ranges,
and deep snows, far to the south and near to the Pacific
Ocean, and along the western base of the Sierra Nevada; where,
indeed, a new and ample field of exploration opened itself
before us."
From these quotations it is evident that Frémont had no idea of
entering California at this time. He was simply driven to it by
circumstances over which he had no control.
Leaving the Dalles, Frémont followed up the Des Chutes River to its
headwaters in southeastern Oregon, thence he crossed over the divide
to the waters of the Klamath, which he followed southward to what is
known as Klamath Marsh. This he called "Klamath Lake."
Now started the hunt for Mary's Lake and the San Buenaventura River.
The party came down through southeastern Oregon into Nevada, where
they camped on the night of December 26, in Coleman Valley, on what
is called Twelve-Mile Creek, and about eleven miles from the present
California line. It may be noted here that at that time the parallel
between Nevada and California on the south and Oregon on the north,
was the southern boundary of the territory of the United States.
Frémont was, therefore, about to cross into Mexican territory.
He then progressed southward through what are now Washoe, Humboldt,
Churchill and Lyon counties, and over the California line into Mono
County, back again into Douglas, and thence over the mountains south
of Lake Tahoe, but did not find Mary's Lake, nor the places upon which
he relied to recruit his animals and give rest to his party. He did,
however, find Pyramid Lake. This being the body of water into which
the Truckee River flows, and the Truckee being the only outlet to Lake
Tahoe, it is well that this portion of the account be given in full.
Frémont and Carson were on ahead. The day was January 10, 1843.
Frémont writes:
Leaving a signal for the party to encamp, we continued our way
up the hollow, intending to see what lay beyond the mountain.
The hollow was several miles long, forming a good pass (some
maps designate this pass as Frémont Pass, others as San Emidio
Canyon), the snow deepened to about a foot as we neared the
summit. Beyond, a defile between the mountains descended
rapidly about two thousand feet; and, filling up all the lower
space, was a sheet of green water, some twenty miles broad
(Pyramid Lake). It broke upon our eyes like the ocean. The
neighboring peaks rose high above us. One peak, on the eastern
side of the lake, rises nearly forty-four hundred feet above
the lake, and on the side (toward which Frémont was looking)
one peak rises 4925 feet above the lake; and we ascended one
of them to obtain a better view.
The waves were curling in the breeze, and their dark-green color
showed it to be a body of deep water. For a long time we sat
enjoying the view, for we had become fatigued with mountains,
and the free expanse of moving waves was very grateful. It was
set like a gem in the mountains, which, from our position,
seemed to inclose it almost entirely. At the western end it
communicated with the line of basins we had left a few days
since; and on the opposite side it swept a ridge of snowy
mountains, the foot of the great Sierra. Its position at first
inclined us to believe it Mary's Lake, but the rugged mountains
were so entirely discordant with descriptions of its low rushy
shores and open country, that we concluded it some unknown body
of water, which it afterwards proved to be.
On January 13th we followed again a broad Indian trail along
the shore of the lake to the southward. For a short space we
had room enough in the bottom; but, after traveling a
short distance, the water swept the foot of the precipitous
mountains, the peaks of which are about 3000 feet above the
lake. The trail wound around the base of these precipices,
against which the water dashed below, by a way nearly
impracticable for the howitzer. During a greater part of the
morning the lake was nearly hid by a snowstorm, and the waves
broke on the narrow beach in a long line of foaming surf,
five or six feet high. The day was unpleasantly cold, the wind
driving the snow sharp against our faces; and, having advanced
only about twelve miles, we encamped in a bottom formed by a
ravine, covered with good grass, which was fresh and green.
We did not get the howitzer into camp, but were obliged to
leave it on the rocks until morning. The next morning the snow
was rapidly melting under a warm sun. Part of the morning was
occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making only nine miles,
we encamped on the shore, opposite a very remarkable rock in
the lake, which had attracted our attention for many miles.
It rose, according to our estimate, 600 feet above the water,
and, from the point we viewed it, presented a pretty exact
outline of the great pyramid of Cheops. Like other rocks,
along the shore, it seemed to be incrusted with calcareous
cement. This striking feature suggested a name for the lake,
and I called it Pyramid Lake; and though it may be deemed by
some a fanciful resemblance, I can undertake to say that
the future traveler will find much more striking resemblance
between this rock and the pyramids of Egypt
than there is between them and the object from which they take
their name....
The elevation of this lake above the sea is 4890 feet, being
nearly 700 feet higher than the Great Salt Lake, from which
it lies nearly west, and distant about eight degrees of
longitude. The position and elevation of this lake make it an
object of geographical interest. It is the nearest lake to the
western rim, as the Great Salt Lake is to the eastern rim
of the Great Basin which lies between the base of the Rocky
Mountains and the Sierra Nevada--and the extent and character
of which, its whole circumference and contents, it is so
desirable to know.
The Indians then directed him to a river of which he says:
Groves of large cottonwood, which we could see at the mouth,
indicated that it was a stream of considerable size, and, at
all events, we had the pleasure to know that now we were in a
country where human beings could live. Reaching the groves,
we found the inlet of a large fresh-water stream (the Truckee
River), and all at once were satisfied that it was neither
Mary's River nor the waters of the Sacramento, but that we had
discovered a large interior lake, which the Indians informed
us had no outlet. It is about 35 miles long, and, by the mark
of the water-line along the shore, the spring level is about
12 feet above its present waters.
In the meantime, such a salmon-trout feast as is seldom seen
was going on in our camp, and every variety of manner in
which fish could be prepared--boiled, fried and roasted in
the ashes--was put into requisition; and every few minutes an
Indian would be seen running off to spear a fresh one. Whether
these Indians had seen whites before, we could not be certain;
but they were evidently in communication with others who had,
as one of them had some brass buttons, and we noticed several
other articles of civilized manufacture. We could obtain from
them but little information about the country. They made on
the ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as
issuing from another lake in the mountains three or four days
distant, in a direction a little west of south; beyond which,
they drew a mountain; and further still, two rivers; on one of
which they told us that people like ourselves traveled.
They still wandered to the south, passing near where Dayton, Nevada,
now is, and reaching Bridgeport and Mono and Twin Lakes. Here they
struck north and west again and soon had to leave the howitzer.
Passing through Antelope Valley they reached Markleeville in deep
snow, passed Graver's Springs, entered Faith and Hope Valleys, and
here it was Frémont gained his view of Lake Tahoe. It was February 14,
1844. He says:
The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in sight from this
encampment. Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the
highest peak to the right [probably Stevens Peak, 10,100 feet
above sea-level], from which we had a beautiful view of a
mountain lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and
so entirely surrounded by mountains that we could not discover
an outlet [Lake Tahoe]. We had taken with us a glass, but
though we enjoyed an extended view, the valley was half
hidden in mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow could
be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains,
eastward, as far as the eye could extend. It ranged over a
terrible mass of broken snowy mountains, fading off blue in
the distance. The rock composing the summit consists of very
coarse, dark, volcanic conglomerate; the lower parts appeared
to be of a slaty structure. The highest trees were a few
scattered cedars and aspens. From the immediate foot of the
peak, we were two hours reaching the summit, and one hour and
a quarter in descending. The day had been very bright, still,
and clear, and spring seemed to be advancing rapidly. While
the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly, and gushing
springs cover the face of the mountain in all exposed places,
but their surface freezes instantly with the disappearance of
the sun.
I obtained to-night some observations, and the result from
these, and others made during our stay, gives for the latitude
38 deg. 41' 57", longitude 120 deg. 25' 57" [the correct
longitude for this place is 119 deg. 58'], and rate of the
chronometer 25.82.
The next night they encamped on the headwaters of a little creek,
where at last the water found its way to the Pacific. The following
morning they started early.
The creek acquired a regular breadth of about 20 feet, and we
soon began to hear the rushing of water below the icy surface,
over which we traveled to avoid the snow; a few miles below
we broke through, where the water was several feet deep, and
halted to make a fire and dry our clothes. We continued a few
miles further, walking being very laborious without snowshoes.
I was now perfectly satisfied that we had struck the stream on
which Mr. Sutter lived; and, turning about, made a hard push,
and reached the camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure to find
all the remaining animals, 57 in number, safely arrived at
the grassy hill near camp; and here, also, we were agreeably
surprised with the sight of an abundance of salt. Some of the
horse-guard had gone to a neighboring hut for pine nuts,
and discovered unexpectedly a large cake of very white, fine
grained salt, which the Indians told them they had brought
from the other side of the mountain; they used it to eat with
their pine nuts, and readily sold it for goods.
On the 19th, the people were occupied in making a road and
bringing up the baggage; and, on the afternoon of the next
day, February 20, we encamped, with the animals and all the
_materiel_ of the camp, on the summit of the pass [Carson
Pass, at the head of Hope Valley] in the dividing ridge, 1000
miles by our traveled road from the Dalles to the Columbia.
The people, who had not yet been to this point, climbed the
neighboring peak to enjoy a look at the valley.
The temperature of boiling water gave for the elevation of the
encampment, 9338 feet above the sea.
This was 2000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky
Mountains, and several peaks in view rose several thousand
feet still higher. Thus, at the extremity of the continent,
and near the coast, the phenomenon was seen of a range
of mountains still higher than the great Rocky Mountains
themselves. This extraordinary fact accounts for the Great
Basin, and shows that there must be a system of small lakes
and rivers scattered over a flat country, and which the
extended and lofty range of the Sierra Nevada prevents from
escaping to the Pacific Ocean. Latitude 38 deg. 44', longitude
120 deg. 28'. [This latitude is that of Stevens Peak, the
highest in that ridge, 10,100 feet, and of course he did not
go over the top of that peak, when Carson Pass, 1600 feet
lower, was in plain view; this pass is the lowest one visible
from the route on which they had come; another pass much lower
leads out from the other or northern end of Hope Valley, but
was not visible from their trail. The summit of Carson Pass
is approximately latitude 38 deg. 41' 50"; longitude 119 deg.
59'. Frémont's longitude readings are unreliable, owing to
error in his chronometer.]
From this point on, following the south fork of the American River,
sixteen days from the summit landed Frémont and his party at Sutler's
Fort, March 8. Of their arrival Frémont says:
A more forlorn and pitiable sight than they presented cannot
well be imagined. They were all on foot, each man weak and
emaciated, leading a horse or mule as weak and emaciated
as themselves. They had experienced great difficulty in
descending the mountains, made slippery by rains and melting
snows, and many horses fell over precipices and were killed,
and with some were lost the packs they carried. Among these
was a mule with the plants which we had collected since
leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2000 miles of travel. Out
of 67 horses and mules, with which we commenced crossing the
Sierra, only 33 reached the valley of the Sacramento, and they
only in a condition to be led along.
In concluding this chapter it should not be overlooked that on his
maps of the expedition of 1843-44 Frémont called the mountain lake he
had discovered "Lake Bonpland." He says in a private letter: "I gave
to the basin river its name of Humboldt and to the mountain lake the
name of his companion traveler, Bonpland, and so put it in the map of
that expedition."
[Illustration: A Washoe Indian _Campoodie_, Near Lakeside Park,
Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Washoe indians at Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: The 'Signal Code' Design]
Amadé Bonpland was born at Rochelle, France, in 1773. He was educated
as a physician but became a noted botanist. He accompanied Humboldt
to America, and subsequently became a joint author with the great
traveler and scientist of several valuable works on the botany,
natural-history, etc., of the New World. He was detained as a prisoner
for nearly ten years by Dictator Francia of Paraguay to prevent him
from, or to punish him for, attempting to cultivate the maté, or
Paraguay tea, in that country. He died in 1858 at Montevideo, the
Capital of Uruguay, in South America.
His name as applied to Lake Tahoe is practically unknown, save to the
curious investigator or historian. Other names given by Frémont have
"stuck" to this day, amongst them being Humboldt, Walker, Owen, Kern
and Carson rivers, Pyramid and Walker lakes, etc.
The vicissitudes of the naming of Lake Tahoe is of sufficient interest
to occupy a whole chapter, to which the reader is referred.
CHAPTER III
THE INDIANS OF LAKE TAHOE
Since Lake Tahoe was the natural habitat of one of the most
deliciously edible fishes found in the world, the Indians of the
region were bound, very early in their history here, to settle upon
its shores. These were the Paiutis and the Washoes. The former,
however, ranging further east in Nevada, were always regarded as
interlopers by the latter if they came too near to the Lake, and there
are legends current of several great struggles in which many lives
were lost, where the Washoes battled with the Paiutis to keep them
from this favored locality.
Prior to the coming of the emigrant bands in the early 'forties of the
last century, the only white men the Indians ever saw were occasional
trappers who wandered into the new and strange land. Then, the
beautiful Indian name, soft and limpid as an Indian maiden's eyes, was
_Wasiu_--not the harsh, Anglicized, _Washoe_. Their range
seemed to be from Washoe and Carson valleys on the east in winter, up
to Tahoe and over the Sierras for fishing and hunting in the summer.
They never ventured far westward, as the Monos and other mountain
tribes claimed the mountain regions for their acorns and the game
(deer, etc.), which abounded there.
While in the early days of the settlements of whites upon their lands
the Washoes now and again rose in protest, and a few lives were lost,
in the main they have been a peaceable and inoffensive tribe. The
Paiutis were far more independent and warlike, placing their yoke upon
the weaker tribe. Indeed, when I first talked with the older Washoes
and Paiutis thirty years ago they were full of stories of big wars
between themselves. They showed me rocks near to the present town of
Verdi, on the line of the Southern Pacific, on which their ancestors
had made certain inscriptions which they interpreted as warnings to
the Paiutis not to dare trespass beyond that sign, and the Paiutis had
similar notices inscribed upon bowlders near to their boundary lines.
As a result of one of their fights the Washoes were forbidden the use
of horses, and it is only since the whites have exercised control that
the weaker tribe has dared to disregard this prohibition.
To-day they number in the region of six hundred men, women and
children. On account of their nomadic habits it is impossible to
secure a complete census.
In appearance they are heavy and fat, though now and again a man of
fine, muscular form and good height is found. The women have broad,
shapeless figures and clumsy, deliberate movements. The older they
get the more repulsive and filthy they become. While young some of the
women have pleasing, intelligent and alert faces, while children of
both sexes are attractive and interesting. But with them as with all
aboriginal people who have absorbed the vices and none of the virtues
of the whites, the Washoes are fast losing power, vigor and strength
by disease and dissipation. The smoke of the _campoodie_ fire is
also ruinous to their eyes and ophthalmia is prevalent among them. It
is no uncommon thing to see a man or woman entirely blind.
The old-time methods of clothing have entirely disappeared. When I
first knew them it was not unusual to find an old Indian wrapped in
a blanket made of twisted rabbit-skins, but I doubt if one could be
found to-day. The white man's overalls, blouse and ordinary coat and
vest for the men, with calico in variegated colors for the women, seem
to have completely taken the place of their own primitive dress. A
pair of moccasins, however, now and again, may be found in use at a
dance or on some special occasion.
They still paint and tattoo their faces, hands and wrists, in lines,
triangles and circles. On their bodies also stripes of irregular
design and varying colors are often used, all having a symbolic
meaning originally, now lost, however, at least to all the younger
members of the tribe. Painting the face has a definite and useful
purpose. It softens the skin and prevents the frosts of winter from
cracking it.
Their dwellings are of the rudest character, mere brush shacks in
summer, and in winter, nondescript structures of brush, old boards,
railroad ties, tin cans, barrel-staves, old carpet, canvas, anything
that will sustain a roof and keep out wind, rain and as much of the
cold as possible. Their name for this structure is _campoodie_.
Of course there is no pretense of sanitation, cleanliness or domestic
privacy. The whole family herds together around the smoking fire, thus
early beginning the destruction of their eyesight by the never-ceasing
and irritating smoke.
Their native food consists of fish, the products of the chase, which
include deer, antelope, an occasional bear, rabbits, squirrels and
even coyotes, mountain-lions and wildcats, with acorns, manzanita
berries, currants and the seeds of wild peaches and the various
grasses, together with a large assortment of roots. While they gather
and eat pine nuts, they generally save them for purposes of barter or
sale. Their carrying baskets contain a good wheelbarrow load and are
called _mo-ke-wit_.
They are great gamblers, their chief game being a guessing contest,
where sides are chosen, the fortune of each side depending on its
ability to guess who holds a certain decorated stick. Men and women
alike play the game, though generally the sexes separate and play by
themselves. Quiet chanting or singing often accompanies the game. All
alike smoke the cigarette.
[Illustration: Dat-so-la-le, the artistic Washoe basket maker]
[Illustration: One of Dat-so-la-le's masterpieces, 'Our Hunters'
design]
[Illustration: 'Our Ancestral Hunters' design]
[Illustration: Washoe baskets made by Dat-so-la-le, 'Happy Homes'
design]
Of their religious beliefs little can be said. The fact is their
simple nature-worship and the superstitions connected with it have
been abolished, practically, by their association with the whites, and
we have given them nothing as substitutes. As Mrs. W.W. Price says in
a letter to me:
In several talks with Susan and Jackson, after the death
of Susan's sister, I endeavored to find out some of their
religious beliefs. But these talks were not very satisfactory.
Neither one knew what he did believe. Their old Indian
religion--whatever it may have been--seemed to have passed,
and the religion of the white man had not taken very deep
hold.
While Susan felt that she must cut her hair short and burn all
her sister's things and do just so much wailing each day to
drive off the evil spirits (on the occasion of her sister's
death), she took most _comfort_ in doing as "white woman"
do--putting on a black dress.
The most interesting result of my talks with Jackson was the
following ghost story, which he told me to show that Indians
sometimes did live again after death. His grandmother had told
him the story and had heard it herself from the man to whom it
had happened. It is as follows: "An Indian woman died,
leaving a little child and her husband. The latter spent the
accustomed four days and nights watching at her grave without
food or drink. On the fourth night the grave suddenly opened
and the woman stepped out before him. 'Give me my child,' said
she. The man said not a word but went quickly and brought the
little child. The woman did not speak but took the child and
suckled it. Then holding it close in her arms, she began to
walk slowly away. The man followed her, but he did not speak.
On, on they went, through forest and meadow, up hill and down
dale.
"By and by the man made a movement as though he would take
hold of her to stop her. But the woman warded him off with a
wave of her hand. 'Touch me not,' she said. 'If you touch me,
you must die too!' She stood and suckled the child once more,
then laid him gently in her husband's arms. 'Go home,' she
said, and faded from his sight.
"Home he went with the child, full of awe and fear.
"A few days afterwards the child died, though there was
nothing the matter with it. The man, however, lived to be very
old."
Jackson was not sure whether he believed this story or not.
But his manner of telling it indicated that it was very real
to him.
Now and again near Tallac one may see one of the dances of the
Washoes. Though war is past with them they still occasionally indulge
in their War Dance and its consequent Scalp Dance. There are not more
than ten or a dozen of the old warriors still living who actually
engaged in warfare in the old days, and these are too old and feeble
to dance. But as the young men sing and throw their arms and limbs
about in the growing frenzy of the arousing dance, and the tom-tom
throbs its stimulating beat through the air, these old men's eyes
flash, and their quavering voices become steady and strong in the
excitement, and they live in the conflicts of the past.
Another of the dances that is still kept up is the Puberty Dance.
Many white people have seen this, but not having any clew to its
significance, it seemed absurd and frivolous. When a girl enters the
door of young womanhood the Washoe idea is to make this an occasion
for developing wiriness, strength, and vigor. Contrary to the method
of the white race, she is made, for four consecutive days, to exert
herself to the utmost. She must walk and climb mountains, ride and
run, and when night comes on the fourth day, she and her mother, and
as many of the tribe as are available, begin to dance at sunset and
keep it up all night. The girl herself is designated by a long and
slim pole which she carries in her hand, and which towers above her
head. By her side stands her mother. The leader of the dance begins a
song, a simple, rhythmic, weird chant, the words of which are archaic
and have no significance to the Indians of to-day, but merely give
syllables to hang the tune upon. As the leader sings he slowly moves
his legs in a kind of oblique walk. The young men take his hand
and follow. The women unite, and a rude circle is made, generally,
however, open, at the place where the dance-leader stands. After once
or twice around, the leader moves first one foot, then the other,
sideways, at the same time jogging his body up and down in fairly
rapid movement, in perfect time to his song. In a few moments all are
bobbing up and down, with the onward side-shuffling movement, and the
real dance is on. This continues according to the will of the leader.
When his voice gives a sudden drawling drop that dance ends. There are
a few minutes for relaxation and breath, and then he lines out a
new song, with new syllables, and a new dance begins. This continues
practically all night, the dance-leader showing his memory power or
his composing genius by the number of new songs he introduces. I have
counted as many as thirty to forty different tunes on one occasion.
Just at sunrise the mother of the girl fetches one or two buckets of
cold water, while the maiden undresses. The water is suddenly dashed
over her "to make her vigorous and strong," and the dance comes to an
end.
This rude and rough treatment, in the early days, was made to have all
the potency and sanctity of a religious rite. The reason for it was
clear. The Washoes were surrounded by people with whom they were
often at war. Indian warfare takes no cognizance of sex or its special
disabilities. In order that their women should not be regarded as
_hors de combat_, or enfeebled, at such times and thus hamper the
movement of the tribe in case a sudden flight was needed, the shamans
or medicine men taught that strength, activity and vigor were just as
possible at that time as any other. "Those Above" commanded that it
be so. Hence all the sanctity and seriousness of a religious rite was
thrown around these dances, and though the Indians of to-day have
lost many of their old customs, this is one that is still rigorously
observed.
Another singular custom that still obtains is where, after the birth
of a first child, the _husband_ and _father_ is required to
fast and work arduously from the day of the birth until the child's
navel shrivels off. This is to make him strong and vigorous, so
that he may be able to give as much strength to his second and later
children as he did to the first.
As soon as a girl matures she is marriageable. Several and simple are
the ways in which a Washoe youth shows his preference and desire
for marriage. Equally simple are the girl's signs of acceptance or
rejection. There is no ceremony as the White Race understands that
term, though to the Indian there is everything that is necessary to
make the rite as binding as it is to his white brother and sister.
Though polygamy has always been practiced, the custom to-day limits
the wives to two, and only a few men have more than one wife. Where
plural wives are taken they are generally sisters. There is little
intermarriage among other tribes. Though it occasionally occurs it is
fiercely frowned upon and all parties are made to feel uncomfortable.
Prostitution with the whites and Chinese is not uncommon, and children
born of such relationship have just as good a standing as those born
in wedlock. The Indian sees no sense in punishing an innocent child
for what it is in no way responsible for. He frankly argues that only
a silly fool of a white man or woman would do so cruel and idiotic a
thing.
Children are invariably welcomed and made much of at birth, though it
is seldom a Washoe woman has more than four or five babies. They are
always nursed by the mother, and not often weaned until they are four
or five years old.
In the early days the labor of the sexes was clearly defined. The man
was the hunter and the warrior, the guardian of the family. The
woman was the gatherer of the seeds, the preparer of the food, the
care-taker of the children. To-day there is not much difference in the
division of labor. The breaking down of all the old customs by contact
with the whites has made men and women alike indifferent to what work
they do so that the family larder and purse are replenished thereby.
In the early days the Washoes were expert hunters of bear and deer.
They used to cross over into the mountains of California for
this purpose, and the women would accompany them. A camp would be
established just below the snow line, and while the men and youths
went out hunting the women gathered acorns. My informant, an old
Indian, was a lad of eighteen at the time of which he spoke. In effect
he said: "One day while I was out I found the tracks of a bear which
I followed to a cave. Then I went to camp. But we Indians are not
like you white men. You would have rushed in and shouted to everybody,
'I've found a bear's track!' Instead I waited until night and when all
the squaws had gone to bed I leisurely told the men who were chatting
around the camp fire. They wished to know if I knew where the cave
was, and of course I assured them I could go directly to it. The next
morning early my uncle quietly aroused me, saying, 'Let's go and get
that bear.' I was scared but had to go. When we arrived he took some
pieces of pitch-pine from his pocket, and lighting them, gave me one,
and told me to stand at the mouth of the cave ready to shoot the
bear, while he went in and drove it out. I didn't like the idea, but I
daren't confess my cowardice, for he at once went in. In a few moments
I heard terrific growlings and roarings and then the bear rushed out.
I banged away and he fell, and I was proud to tell my uncle, when he
came out, that I had killed the bear. 'No, you didn't,' said he; 'your
shots all went wild. Here's the shot that killed him,' and sure enough
it was a shot of a different size from that of my gun."
"Another time when I found a bear in a cave he said, 'You must go in
this time and drive out the bear.' I was sure I couldn't do it, but he
insisted, and thrusting the lighted sticks into my hands bade me crawl
in, keeping my eyes fixed the while, as soon as I saw them, upon those
of the bear. I was to keep my back to the wall, and when I got well
in, was to dash the light behind the bear and give a yell. I crawled
in all right and soon got to where I could just about stand up, but
when I saw the bear and he began to growl I was scared and backed out
pretty quick and said I didn't have light enough. My uncle grabbed the
sticks from me, called me a coward, rushed in, and as the bear dashed
out shot and killed it."
It is generally thought that Indians are good shots, but the testimony
of the hunters of the Tahoe region is that the Washoes are very
poor shots. One hunter tells me he has seen an Indian take as fine
a standing shot as one need desire, again and again, and miss every
time. On one occasion he was hunting deer with an Indian. The latter
had gone up a steep slope, when, suddenly, he began to fire, and kept
it up until fourteen shots were fired. Said he: "I was sure he must
have a bunch of deer and was making a big killing, and hurried up to
his side. When I got there I found he had sent all those shot after
one buck, and had succeeded only in breaking its leg. With one shot
I killed the wounded animal, went up to it and was about to cut its
throat, when he begged me not to do so, asserting that if I cut the
deer's throat that way I should never get a standing shot again, the
deer would always be able to smell me."
This is a quaint superstition. The Indians believe that though the
particular deer be slain it has the power of communicating with living
deer and informing them of the peculiar "smell" of the hunter. Hence,
as in the olden days they had no guns, only bows and arrows, and were
compelled to creep up much nearer to their prey than is needful with
a gun, anything that seemed to add to the deer's power of scenting the
hunter must studiously be avoided.
And, although the gun had rendered the old methods of hunting
unnecessary, this particular precaution still persisted and had all
the force of established custom.
My friend then continued: "Another superstition I found out as I
cleaned this deer. I cut out the paunch, the heart and the liver and
offered them to the Indian. He refused them, saying it was food fit
only for women, children and old men. If he were to eat them he would
never have luck in hunting again."
This superstition is common with many Indian tribes. It is based upon
the idea that one becomes like that which he eats. If one eats the
heart of a mountain-lion or bear he becomes daring and courageous.
But to eat the heart of the timid deer is to make oneself timorous and
cowardly.
As soon after puberty as possible a boy is taken out by his father
or uncle on a hunt. Prior to that time he is not allowed to go. But
before he can eat of the product of the chase he must himself kill a
deer with large enough horns to allow him to crawl through them.
A friend of mine was out with a Washoe Indian whose boy was along
on his first hunting expedition. They hunted a deer for nearly three
days, but as soon as they found tracks the father, after studying them
awhile, said: "This a little fellow. No good. He not big enough"--thus
signifying to his son that his horns were not large enough to allow
him to crawl through, hence it was no use following the animal
further.
The Indian is quite sure that deer can smell him and know when he
is on the hunt. He becomes skillful in detecting and following their
tracks, and knows just how to circle around their hiding-place and
suddenly walk in upon them. My friend, referred to above, who is a
great hunter, was once out with a Washoe. They had had three "bad"
days, when suddenly they found a deer's track. It was fresh, but when
they came to the hole where he had lain down to rest, though the place
was quite warm, the deer had gone. The Indian at once exclaimed: "That
deer smell me. I must get rid of the Indian smell." Accordingly he
scooped out a hole in the ground, heated a number of rocks in it,
then, spreading fir boughs over them, lay down over the rocks and
took a "fir-sweat" for fully ten to fifteen minutes. As he arose he
exclaimed: "Deer no smell me to-morrow," and my friend said he did no
longer smell like an Indian, but like burnt fir wood.
Turning to the Indian, however, he said: "You're all right, but how
about me?" to which the reply instantly came: "You all right. Deer
only smell Indian. He not smell white man."
Chief among the women's work is the making of baskets. The best
Washoe basket makers are not surpassed by any weavers in the world.
At Tallac, Fallen Leaf, Glen Alpine and several other resorts
basket-makers may be found, preparing their splints, weaving or trying
to sell their baskets.
Not far from Tahoe Tavern, about a quarter a mile away in the
direction of Tahoe City, is the little curio store of A. Cohn, whose
headquarters are in Carson City, the capital of the State of Nevada.
Mr. and Mrs. Cohn hold a unique position in their particular field.
Some twenty-five years ago they purchased a beautiful basket from a
Washoe Indian woman, named _Dat-so-la-le_ in Washoe, or Luisa
Keyser in American, for she was the wife of Charley Keyser, a general
roustabout Indian, well known to the citizens of Carson. Luisa was a
large, heavy, more than buxom--literally a fat,--ungainly squaw. But
her fingers were under the perfect control of a remarkably artistic
brain. She was not merely an artist but a genius. She saw exquisite
baskets in her dreams, and had the patience, persistence and
determination to keep on weaving until she was able to reproduce them
in actuality. She also was possessed by an indomitable resolution to
be the maker of the finest baskets of the Washoe tribe. While she was
still a young woman she gained the goal of her ambition, and it was
just about this time that she offered one of her baskets to Mr. Cohn.
He saw it was an excellent basket, that the shape was perfect, the
color-harmony superior to any he had seen before, the stitch small,
fine, and even, the weave generally perfect, the design original and
worked out with artistic ability. He saw all this, yet, because it
was Indian work, and the woman was a rude, coarse mountain of flesh,
a feminine Falstaff, of a lower order of beings and without Falstaff's
geniality and wit, he passed the basket by as merely worth a dollar
or two extra, and placed it side by side with the work of other
Washoe and Paiuti squaws. A Salt Lake dealer came into the store soon
thereafter and saw this basket. "How much?" he asked. The price was
given--rather high thought Mr. Cohn--. "Twenty-five dollars!" "I'll
take it!" came the speedy response.
A month or two later Cohn received a photograph from the purchaser,
accompanied by a letter. "You know the basket, herewith photographed,
which I purchased from you. Have you any more by the same weaver, or
of as good a weave? If so, how many, and at what price? Wire reply at
my expense."
Then Mr. Cohn awoke, and he's been awake ever since. He wired his
list of Dat-so-la-le's baskets, but he has had no reply, and that was
twenty-five years ago. He then made arrangements with Dat-so-la-le
and her husband. He provides them house, food, clothing and a certain
amount of cash yearly, and he takes all the work Luisa makes. Every
basket as soon as begun is noted as carefully as every breeding of a
thoroughbred horse or dog. Also the date the basket is finished. It
is then numbered and photographed and either offered for sale at a
certain price, which is never changed, or is put in the safety-deposit
vault of the bank, to await the time when such aboriginal masterpieces
will be eagerly sought after by the growingly intelligent and
appreciative of our citizens, for their museums or collections, as
specimens of work of a people--the first American families--who will
then, possibly, have passed away. The photographs, here reproduced,
are of some of Dat-so-la-le's finest work.
[Illustration: Susie, the Washoe indian basket maker, and narrator
of indian legends]
[Illustration: Jackson, the Washoe indian, telling traditions of
his people about Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake]
[Illustration: Lake Tahoe near Tahoe Tavern, looking south]
CHAPTER IV
INDIAN LEGENDS OF THE TAHOE REGION
As all students of the Indian are well aware these aboriginal and
out-of-door dwellers in the forests, canyons, mountains, valleys, and
on lake and seashores are great observers of Nature, and her many
and varied phenomena. He who deems the Indian dull, stolid and
unimpressionable, simply because in the presence of the White Race he
is reserved and taciturn, little knows the observing and reflecting
power hidden behind so self-restrained a demeanor. Wherever natural
objects, therefore, are of a peculiar, striking, unusual, unique,
or superior character, it is reasonable to assume that the Indians,
living within sight of them, should possess myths, legends, folk-lore,
creation-stories or the like in connection with their creation,
preservation, or present-day existence. This is found exemplified
in the legends of Havasupais, Hopis, Navajos and Wallapais as to
the origin of the Grand Canyon of Arizona, of the Yohamities, Monos,
Chuc-Chances, and others, of the distinctive features of the Yosemite
Valley, the Hetch-Hetchy, etc.
While the present-day, half-educated, half-civilized Washoes are by no
means representatives of the highest elements of natural enlightenment
among the Indian race, they do possess legends about Tahoe, the
following being the most interesting.
All these stories, except the last, were gathered by Mrs. W.W.
Price of Fallen Leaf Lodge, from Indians with whom she has been very
familiar for several years, named Jackson and his wife Susan. There
has been no attempt to dress them up in literary fashion. They are
given as near to the Indians' mode of telling as possible. They are
wonderfully different from certain stories recently published in
current magazines, professing to be Legends of Lake Tahoe. These
latter are pure fiction, and to those familiar with Indian thought,
reveal their origin in the imaginative brain of white writers who have
but faint conceptions of Indian mentality. Mrs. Price is a graduate
of Stanford University, and took great pains to preserve the Indians'
exact mode of expression. As she herself writes:
Long before the white man saw and wondered over the beauty of
Tahoe, theorizing over its origin and concocting curious tales
about its "unfathomable" depths, the Indians knew and loved
it. And as among all other peoples, legends have grown up to
account for every phenomenon of Nature, so among the Washoe
Indians stories about Tahoe have been handed down from
generation to generation.
I do not vouch for these legends. The modern Indian too often
tells what he thinks you want to know,--if only you will cross
his hand with silver. But there are touches here and there
that make me feel that for the most part they are remnants of
very old legends.
THE ORIGIN OF TAHOE, FALLEN LEAF, AND OTHER LAKES
Long, long ago, before the white man came to Nevada, there
lived in the meadow over beyond Glenbrook a good Indian. But
though he was good, he was much annoyed by the Evil Spirit,
who constantly interfered with all that he tried to do.
Finally, he determined that he must move away and get over
into the valleys of California. But when he tried to escape,
the Evil One was always there ready to trip him in some way or
other.
In his trouble the Good Spirit came to his aid, giving him a
leafy branch which had certain magic qualities. He was
to start on his journey. If he saw the Evil One coming he was
to drop a bit of the branch and water would immediately
spring up. The Evil One could not cross water, and thus, being
delayed by going around, would give the Indian time to escape.
The Indian made his way well along to where Tallac Hotel
now is, when, looking back, he saw the Evil One off in the
distance approaching with such strides that his heart was
filled with great fear. In his terror he tried to pluck a leaf
but it snapped off and he dropped almost his whole branch.
To his delight and relief the waters began to rise and soon
"Tahoe"--_Big Water_--lay between him and his enemy.
Free-heartedly he hurried on his way up the canyon, but when
he reached the spot where the head of Fallen Leaf Lake lies,
he turned to reassure himself. Away off the Evil One was
advancing. A new terror filled his soul. In his hand there
remained of his magic branch only one little twig with a
single leaf on it.
Plucking the leaf, he threw it down and watched it fall
waveringly through the air. As it touched earth the
waters again began to rise and "Doolagoga"--_Fallen
Leaf_--sprang into being and on its surface floated the
little leaf, as many leaves now float in the fall of the year.
Turning, he sped up the ravine, dropping bits of his twig as
fear directed him, and in his path, Lily, Grass, and Heather
lakes came up to guard his way.
At last he was over the crest of the mountain and found
himself safe in the long-wished-for Valley of California.
THE LEGEND OF THE TWO BROTHERS
Once long ago in Paiuti-land, Nevada, there lived two
brothers. The older was a hunter and brought home much game.
His wife, whose name was Duck, used to cook this for him, but
she was very stingy to the younger brother, and often times he
was hungry. When he begged her for food, she scolded him and
drove him out of the _campoodie_, saying, "Got none for
you."
One day when the older brother was off hunting Duck was
cleaning some fish. She had been very cross to Little
Brother, refusing to give him any food, and he was terribly
hungry. Presently he came creeping up behind her and when he
saw all the fish he became very angry. He took up a big club
and before Duck could turn around he hit her on the head and
killed her. Paying no attention to her dead body he cooked and
ate all the fish he wanted and then lay down in the sunshine
on a big rock and went fast asleep.
By and by his Hunter Brother came home. Of course when he
found his wife dead, he was filled with great anger at his
young brother, though his anger was lessened when he thought
of his wife's cruelty. He shook him very roughly and said, "I
no like you any more! I go away. Leave you alone!" But Little
Brother begged, "Don't be angry! Don't be angry! Let's go far
away! I help you all the time! Don't be angry!"
Gradually he persuaded the Hunter Brother to forgive him and
they started off together toward the "Big Water"--_Lake
Tahoe_. On the way the Hunter Brother taught the Little
Brother how to shoot with a bow and arrow. By the time they
reached the spot now known as Lakeside both their belts were
filled with squirrels that they had shot.
At dusk they built a good fire and when there were plenty of
glowing coals, Hunter Brother dug a long hole, and filling it
with embers, laid the squirrels in a row on the coals covering
them all up with earth.
He was tired and lay down by the fire to rest till the
squirrels should be cooked. With his head resting on his arms,
the warmth of the fire soothing him, he soon fell fast, fast
asleep.
Little Brother sat by the fire and as the night grew darker,
he grew hungrier and hungrier. He tried to waken his brother,
but the latter seemed almost like one dead and he could
not rouse him. At last he made up his mind he would eat by
himself. Going to the improvised oven, he began to dig up
the squirrels, counting them as they came to light. One was
missing. Little Brother was troubled.
"How that? My brother had so many, I had so many!"--counting
on his fingers--"One gone!" And he forgot how hungry he was as
he dug for the missing squirrel.
All at once he came upon a bigger hole adjoining the cooking
hole. While he stood wondering what to do, out popped a great
big spider.
"I'll catch you!" cried the spider.
"No, you won't!" said the boy, and up he jumped and away he
ran, followed by the spider. They raced over stock and stone,
dodging about trees and stumbling over fallen logs for a long
time. At last Little Brother could run no more. The spider
grabbed him and carried him back to his hole, where he killed
him.
It was almost daybreak when Hunter Brother awoke. He called
his brother to bring more wood, for the fire was almost out.
Getting no answer he went to look at the cooking squirrels.
Greatly surprised to see them lying there all uncovered,
he, too, counted them. Discovering one gone, he thought his
brother must have eaten it and was about to eat one himself
when he saw the old spider stick his head out of the hole.
Each made a spring, but the Hunter Brother was the quicker and
killed the wicked spider with his knife.
Carefully he now went into the spider's hole. There, stretched
out on the ground, lay Little Brother _dead_! Taking
him up in his arms, he carried him outside. Now this Hunter
Brother was a _medicine-man_ of great power, so he lay
down with Little Brother and breathed into his mouth and in a
few minutes he came back to life and was all right.[1]
The Hunter Brother was very happy to have his Little Brother
alive again. He built up the fire and while they sat eating
their long-delayed meal Little Brother told all that had
happened to him.
[Footnote 1: Susan who was telling this story offered no reason why
he had not restored Duck, his own wife, to life.]
The sun was quite above the horizon before the meal was
finished, and soon Hunter Brother was anxious to be moving on,
so they took their way along the lake shore. On their way they
talked and laughed one with another and seemed to agree very
well, until they had gone around the lake and
reached where Tahoe City now is. Here they quarreled and the
Hunter Brother left Little Brother to return and go up the Big
Mountain--_Tallac_--where he had heard there were many
squirrels. After his departure, Little Brother decided to
follow him and get him to make friends again. So he trudged
along the lake shore until he came to Emerald Bay.
There lying on the log at the edge of the lake, lay a
water-baby. It was asleep with its head resting on its arms
and its beautiful, sunshine-golden-hair was spread over it.
"Oh," said Little Brother, "I'll get that beautiful
sun-shine-hair as a present for my brother!" So he crept very
softly down on the log, thinking to kill the water-baby before
it awoke. But he was not successful in this, for the creature
opened its eyes as he laid his hand on its hair, and a furious
fight ensued. Sometimes it seemed as though Little Brother
would be killed, but finally he was able to scalp the
poor water-baby and get possession of the beautiful
sunshine-golden-hair. Every one can see where this fight
occurred. The red hill near Emerald Bay stands as a memorial
of the struggle, for its color is caused by the blood of the
slain water-baby.
Tucking his prize in his hunting shirt and hugging it close,
Little Brother now went on, murmuring to himself, "Oh,
my brother like this, my brother like this beautiful
golden-sunshine-hair!"
But suddenly, as he was climbing upward, he noticed the water
lapping at his heels, and when he turned to see whence it
came, he found that the big lake behind him was rapidly
rising, and even as he stood wondering, it arose above his
ankles.
Then he remembered what he had heard of revengeful
water-babies, but frightened though he was, he could not
bear to throw away his prize. However, he knew he must do
something, so he plucked out a few hairs from the scalp and
threw them into the ascending waves. For a minute the water
ceased to rise and he sped onward, but before long he felt the
water at his heels again, and knew that once more he must
gain a short respite by throwing out a few of the
golden-sunshine-hairs.
And ever and again he had to do this until at last he spied
his brother ahead of him. "Ah, brother," he cried, drawing the
scalp from his blouse, "see what a beautiful present I have
for you!"
But when his brother turned toward him he saw only the angry,
rising waters, and rushing forward he snatched the beautiful
sunshine-golden-hair and cast it back into the waters, crying,
"How you dare meddle with water-babies? Don't you know water
surely come up and get you?"
And poor Little Brother felt very sad; but the danger he
had been in seemed to have endeared him once more to Hunter
Brother and they stood arm-in-arm and watched the waters
recede.
But there were hollows in the land and when the waters went
back they held the water and so were formed that chain of
lakes on the other side of Tallac and Emerald Bay, the Velmas,
Kalmia, Cascade, and others.
The rest of the story is confused and full of repetitions.
The gist of it is that Little Brother was ever getting into
trouble from which Hunter Brother had to rescue him, for which
Little Brother was most grateful and would go off seeking for
a present to give to the Big Brother who was so kind to him.
Once he got a young bear cub. He thought it was a dog. He
petted it and brought it to his brother as a hunting-dog.
Finally, after Hunter Brother had made a first-class hunter
of Little Brother so that he could use his bow and arrows with
great success, they went down toward the Sacramento Valley
hunting deer. They followed a fine buck over hill and dale but
could not get a good shot at him. At last worn out by running
and suffering greatly, the Little Brother lay down and died.
When his brother found him, he did not attempt to bring him to
life again but buried him under a pile of rocks and leaves.
THE "WILD-GRUB" HOLE AT GARDNERVILLE
Once upon a time there was an old Indian who lived over in
Hope Valley with his two grand-daughters. He was a mean old
man. He made the girls work very hard all day
long. They had to gather wild grass seeds and acorns and grind
them into flour all the time. The old man caught plenty of
fish and frogs which he took off for his own eating, but he
gave the girls none.
One day he came in with a woodchuck skin and told the girls
to fill it with wild wheat flour. He did not tell them what
he wanted it for. When the skin was full he left the
_campoodie_ without a word as to where he was going. But
the bag leaked and a little stream of flour trickled out and
marked his path. He went away off to a lake where he caught
plenty of fish and frogs on which he feasted until he could
eat no more. Then he lay down by his fire and was soon fast
asleep.
Meanwhile in the _campoodie_ the two girls were talking
about the old man's meanness. "He makes us work so hard and we
never have any fish to eat. He keeps it all himself," said the
older girl.
"I wonder where he's gone now?" said the younger one, going to
the door-way and looking out. Suddenly she noticed the little
line of flour trailing off through the woods. "Ah, now I'll
find him!" And just calling to her sister that she would be
back soon, she darted off.
It was dark when she came back weeping. She threw herself on
the ground outside the _campoodie_ and poured out her
story. She had found the old man lying there fast asleep,
gorged with fish. The remnants of his feast lay all about him.
She had not dared to waken him or speak to him, but coming
home, had made up her mind to run away and not work for the
mean old man any more.
To this the sister agreed, and at daybreak they were scurrying
off through the forest.
All day they traveled and when night came they were still in
the wilds far from any Indian camp.
Worn out, they lay down under a great pine and looked up at
the stars.
"Oh," said the older girl, "see that fine Star-man up there!
I'd like to marry him!"
"Oh, no!" said the younger, "he belongs to me. I'd like to
marry him!"
They lay there telling what each would do could she only marry
the Star-man, until they fell asleep.
When they awoke in the morning, lo, they found themselves
up in the sky, and the elder girl had a baby already--a
star-baby! At first the girls were very good to the star-baby
but it cried a great deal. One day the younger girl was very
cross and put it outside of the _campoodie_. The poor
baby cried all the more until the elder sister took pity on
it, but when she had fed it and it still cried, the younger
sister became very angry and told her sister to put that
"brat" outside. The sister was tired too, so she put the poor
baby outside.
When the baby could not make them come to him, he got up and
went to find his grandfather, the Moon. He told him how mean
his mother and aunt were to him. The old Moon was very angry.
He took the star-baby by the hand and went tramping back
through the sky to find the cruel mother and her sister.
Now, the girls had been getting rather tired of their
sky-_campoodie_ and they longed for their home on the
earth. They used to go to a hole in the sky and look down on
the earth, wishing they were there again. Indeed, at the time
the star-baby went off to find his grandfather, the Moon, they
were at the hole in the sky, amusing themselves by looking
through and indulging in vain regrets that they were no longer
there.
"Oh, sister," suddenly said the elder, "there goes our old
grandfather! Poor old man! I wish we were with him! See, he's
carrying big bags of wild wheat-flour and acorns!"
Just then the old Moon came tramping up, and the whole sky
trembled. The people on earth said it was thundering. He
grabbed the two girls by their hair and shaking them till they
were almost dead, he hurled them down through the hole.
Down, down, they went, straight down to where their old
grandfather was walking along, little suspecting what was
coming. They both hit him and, coming as they did with such
force, they made a deep hole in the earth in which they were
almost buried.
That hole is over by Gardnerville. In that hole Indians can
always find plenty of wild-grub--wild-wheat, wild potato, wild
acorn--plenty there. Snow very deep. No
difference. Always plenty wild grub there. I see that hole. I
believe that story!
THE ORIGIN OF THE DIFFERENT INDIAN TRIBES
Long, long ago, away over in Paiuti-land there were some young
boys and girls playing. They played all sorts of games, but
they liked hand-ball best. And as they played, they sang songs
of gladness.
There was one old woman, their grandmother, who would not play
with them. She had a little baby, her youngest grandchild,
whom she was trying to quiet, but the little one cried and
cried continuously.
By-and-by the old woman heard a noise outside. She was
frightened and called to the young folks. "Some one's coming!
You better stop! Better hide! Maybe Evil One, devil, coming!"
But the young folks paid no attention to her warning. They
kept on playing harder than ever. The old woman covered the
baby with a big basket and hid her own face in her shawl.
Then the Evil One came in. All the young folks turned to see
who was coming in and as soon as they looked upon his face
they fell dead. Only the old woman and the baby were left; for
the Evil One did not see them.
When he was gone, the old woman snatched up the baby and
hurried off down to the river. As she was hurrying along she
met an old man.
"Where are you going?" said he. Then the old woman saw that it
was the Evil One himself. She was afraid but she did not want
him to know it. She kept the baby covered in the basket and
answered, "I'm going to the river to get wild potatoes!"
"Where are all the girls?" asked the Evil One.
"Oh, they are all over behind the big mountain, playing ball!"
The Evil One went off to find them, because he thought there
were still some left, and the old woman quickly dug a big hole
and hid herself and the baby away in it.
When the Evil One found that the old woman had told him a lie,
he was very angry. He came back and
hunted all day long till sundown for her that he might kill
her. But he could not find any trace of her. He finally went
home and then the old woman took the baby and hid on the top
of a big rock, over near where Sheridan now is.
In the morning the Evil One came back to hunt further, but
without success.
"I guess that the old woman is dead," said he, "or maybe she's
gone across the river." But the Evil One loses his power if he
touches water, so he dare not cross the river to follow her.
The old woman watched him from the top of the rock. Many times
she feared lest he should find her, and she covered the baby
more closely.
At last when he had given up the hunt, she saw him take a
great basket and set it down in the road. Into this basket
he put great bunches of elderberry roots, and as he put each
bunch in, he gave it a name--Washoe, Digger, Paiuti, and so
on. Then he put the lid on tightly and went off through the
forest.
The old woman watched till the Evil One had gone. Creeping
quietly down, she came with the child--she was a little girl
now, not a wee baby any more--and sat down near the basket.
Presently there was a murmuring in the basket. "Oh,
grandmother, what's that noise?" said the little girl.
"Never mind," said the grandmother, "don't you touch the
basket!"
But the little girl kept teasing, "Oh, grandmother, what's in
there?"
And the old woman would say, "Don't you touch it!"
The old woman turned her back just one minute and the little
girl slipped up and raised the lid ever so little. There was
a great whirring noise; the lid flew off and out came all
the Indians. Off through the air they flew--Washoes to Washoe
land; Diggers to Digger land; Paiutis to Nevada--each Indian
to his own home.
The story given above is the one told by Jackson, but his wife,
Susan, tells the same story with these essential differences. In her
narrative there is no Evil One. The old woman scolded the young people
for playing, but they are not all killed. It is the old woman herself
who took a Paiuti water-bottle and after filling it with water, took
wild seeds and placed them in the bottle, naming them the different
Indian tribes. The seeds swelled in the water until they were as big
as eggs and out of these the Indians hatched like chickens, and began
to fight. It is the noise of the fighting that the baby hears.
As in Jackson's story the baby lets them out, but it is the wind that
carries them off to their various homes.
HOW THE INDIANS FIRST GOT FIRE
The Indians were having a "big time" in a great log cabin.
All the birds were there too, for in those days the Indians,
birds, and animals could talk to each other.
They were dancing all around the room and all were merry as
could be. They had a huge wooden drum and, as they passed
this, the dancers kicked it to make music.
Now, among the birds who were there was a big blue-jay. He was
a very saucy fellow, just full of mean tricks. When he came to
the drum, he kicked it so hard that he broke it all to pieces.
Of course this caused a great commotion. Every one was so
provoked by his rudeness that they threw him out of the door.
It was raining hard and the impudence was soon washed out of
Mr. Blue-Jay. He begged at the door in vain, and at last he
huddled up on the branch of a tree, thinking himself greatly
abused.
As he sat there, suddenly, far off, he saw a strange light.
Now the Blue-Jay has an infinite amount of curiosity, so away
he flew to investigate, quite forgetting his troubles.
It was fire which the Indian god had brought down to earth.
The Jay got a piece and soon came flying back to the great
cabin where the dance was still going on.
When he called now at the door, saying that he had something
wonderful to show them, they knew that he was telling the
truth. They let him come in, crowding about him to see this
wonderful thing. They did not know what
to make of this strange new thing. Lest anything should happen
to it, they dug a hole and buried the fire most carefully.
Tired out with the night's dancing the Indians all went off
to rest, leaving the birds to watch the precious fire. But
the birds were tired too, and it was not long before they were
fast asleep. All except the owl. He was wide awake and he,
being very wise, knew that the fire must be put in a safer
place. He went out and calling the yellow snake, the rat, and
the little "hummer" bird, he explained what he wanted them to
do. The snake was to worm his way in under the logs and wait
there till the hummer-bird brought him the fire. The rat was
to go in and chew all the birds' wings so that they should
not be able to catch the little hummer. They were all so fast
asleep that the rat was able to do this very easily.
All went just as they planned. The snake took the fire and
hid a little spark of it in every buckeye tree. And there the
Indians found it when they needed it. For rubbing a piece of
cedar and buckeye together, they very quickly make the spark,
and produce fire.
A LEGEND OF LAKE TAHOE
The following legend was published some years ago in _Sunset
Magazine_. It was written by Miss Nonette V. McGlashan, who heard
it from a Washoe squaw. The story was told with strange gestures and
weird pathos:
The ong was a big bird, bigger than the houses of the white
man. Its body was like the eagle's, and its wings were longer
than the tallest pines. Its face was that of an Indian, but
covered with hard scales, and its feet were webbed. Its nest
was deep down in the bottom of the Lake, out in the center,
and out of the nest rushed all the waters which fill the Lake.
There are no rivers to feed the Lake, only the waters from the
ong's nest. All the waters flow back near the bottom, in great
under-currents, and after passing through the meshes of the
nest are sent forth again. Every plant and bird and animal
that gets into these under-currents, and sometimes the great
trout that are swept into the net-like
nest are there held fast to furnish food for the ong.
He ate everything, he liked everything, but best of all he
liked the taste of human flesh. No one ever heard or saw
anything of such poor mortals as were drowned in these waters,
for their bodies were carried to the ong's nest and no morsel
ever escaped him. Sometimes he would fly about the shores in
quest of some child or woman or hunter, yet he was a great
coward and was never known to attack any one in camp, or when
two or more were together. No arrow could pierce his feathers,
nor could the strongest spear do more than glance from the
scales on his face and legs, yet his coward's heart made him
afraid for his toes had no claws, and his mouth no beak.
Late one fall, the Washoes were making their final hunt before
going to the valleys and leaving the Lake locked in its winter
snows. The chief's daughter was sixteen years old, and before
leaving the Lake he must select the greatest hero in the tribe
for her husband, for such had been the custom of the Washoe
chiefs ever since the tribe came out of the Northland.
Fairer than ever maiden had been was this daughter, and every
unmarried brave and warrior in the tribe wished that he had
performed deeds of greater prowess, that he might be certain
of winning the prize. That last night at the Lake, around the
big council fire, each was to recount to the chief the noblest
achievement of his life, and when all were heard the chief
would choose, and the women join the circle and the wedding
take place. For many years the warriors had looked forward to
this event, and the tribe had become famed because of acts
of reckless daring performed by those who hoped to wed the
chief's daughter.
It was the morning of the final day and much game and great
stores of dried trout were packed ready for the journey. All
were preparing for the wedding festivities, and the fact that
no one knew who would be the bridegroom, among all that band
of warriors, lent intensest excitement to the event. All were
joyous and happy except the maiden and the handsome young
brave to whom she had given her heart. In spite of custom or
tradition her love had long since gone out to one whose feet
had been too young to press the war-path when last the tribe
gave battle to their hereditary foes, the
Paiutis. He never had done deed of valor, nor could he even
claim the right to sit with the warriors around the council
fire. All day long he had been sitting alone on the jutting
cliffs which overhang the water, far away from the laughter
and shouts of the camp, eagerly, prayerfully watching the
great Lake. Surely the Great Spirit would hear his prayer, yet
he had been here for days and weeks in unavailing prayer and
waiting.
The afternoon was well-nigh spent and the heart of the young
brave had grown cold as stone. In his bitter despair he sprang
to his feet to defy the Great Spirit in whom he had trusted,
but ere he could utter the words his very soul stood still
for joy. Slowly rising from the center of the Lake, he saw the
ong. Circling high in the heavens, the monster swept now here,
now there, in search of prey. The young brave stood erect and
waited. When the ong was nearest he moved about slightly to
attract its notice. He had not long to wait. With a mighty
swoop, the bird dashed to earth, and as it arose, the young
brave was seen to be clasped fast in its talons. A great cry
of horror arose from the camp, but it was the sweetest note
the young brave had ever heard. The bird flew straight up into
the sky until Lake and forest and mountains seemed small and
dim. When it reached a great height it would drop its prey
into the Lake and let the current draw it to its nest.
Such was its custom, and for this the brave had prepared
by unwinding from his waist a long buckskin cord and tying
himself firmly to the ong's leg. The clumsy feet could not
grasp him so tightly as to prevent his movements. At last
the great feet opened wide, but the Indian did not fall. In a
mighty rage, the ong tried in vain to grasp him in his teeth,
but the strong web between the bird's toes sheltered him.
Again and again the bird tried to use his horrid teeth, and
each time his huge body would fall through the air in such
twistings and contortions that those who watched below stared
in bewilderment. But what the watchers could not see was that
every time the huge mouth opened to snap him, the young brave
hurled a handful of poisoned arrowheads into the mouth and
down the big throat, their sharp points cutting deep into the
unprotected flesh. The bird
tried to dislodge him by rubbing his feet together, but the
thong held firm. Now it plunged headlong into the Lake, but
its feet were so tied that it could not swim, and though it
lashed the waters into foam with its great wings, and though
the man was nearly drowned and wholly exhausted, the poison
caused the frightened bird such agony that it suddenly arose
and tried to escape by flying toward the center of the Lake.
The contest had lasted long and the darkness crept over the
Lake, and into the darkness the bird vanished.
The women had been long in their huts ere the council fire
was kindled and the warriors gravely seated themselves in its
circle. No such trifling event as the loss of a young brave
could be allowed to interfere with so important an event, and
from most of their minds he had vanished. It was not so very
unusual for the ong to claim a victim, and, besides, the youth
had been warned by his elders that he should not go hunting
alone as had been his habit of late.
But while the warriors were working themselves up into a fine
frenzy of eloquence in trying to remind the old chief of their
bygone deeds of daring, an Indian maiden was paddling a canoe
swiftly and silently toward the middle of the Lake. Nona,
the chief's daughter understood no more than the rest why her
lover had not been dropped into the Lake, nor why the ong had
acted so queerly, but she knew that she could die with her
lover. She took her own frail canoe because it was so light
and easy to row, though it was made for her when a girl, and
would scarcely support her weight now. It mattered nothing to
her if the water splashed over the sides; it mattered nothing
how she reached her lover. She kept saying his name over
softly to herself, "Tahoe! My darling Tahoe!"
When the council was finished, the women went to her hut to
bid her come and hear the decision her father was about to
render. The consternation caused by her disappearance lasted
until the rosy dawn tinged the Washoe peaks and disclosed to
the astounded tribe the body of the ong floating on the
waters above its nest, and beside it an empty canoe. In the
foreground, and gently approaching the shore was the strangest
craft that ever floated on water! It was
one of the great ong's wings, and the sail was the tip of the
other wing! Standing upon it, clasped in each other's arms,
were the young brave, Tahoe, and the daughter of the chief.
In the shouts of the tribe, shouts in which warriors and women
and children mingled their voices with that of the chief,
Tahoe was proclaimed the hero of heroes! The decision was
rendered, but the ong's nest remains, and the drowned never
rise in Lake Tahoe.
CHAPTER V
THE VARIOUS NAMES OF LAKE TAHOE
We have already seen that Frémont, the discoverer of Lake Tahoe, first
called it Lake Bonpland, after Humboldt's scientific co-traveler.
That name, however, never came in general use. When the great westward
emigration began it seemed naturally to be called by its Indian name,
Tahoe.
In _Innocents Abroad_ Mark Twain thus petulantly and humorously
expresses his dislike of the name, Tahoe, and sarcastically defines
its meaning.
"Sorrow and misfortune overtake the legislature that still
from year to year permits Tahoe to retain its unmusical
cognomen! Tahoe! It suggests no crystal waters, no picturesque
shores, no sublimity. Tahoe for a sea in the clouds; a sea
that has character, and asserts it in solemn calms, at times,
at times in savage storms; a sea, whose royal seclusion is
guarded by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty
fronts nine thousand feet above the level world; a sea
whose every aspect is impressive, whose belongings are all
beautiful, whose lonely majesty types the Deity!
"Tahoe means grasshoppers. It means grasshopper soup. It
is Indian, and suggestive of Indians. They say it is
Pi-ute--possibly it is Digger. I am satisfied it was named
by the Diggers--those degraded savages who roast their dead
relatives, then mix the human grease and ashes of bones with
tar, and 'gaum' it thick all over their heads and foreheads
and ears, and go caterwauling about the hills and call it
_mourning_. _These_ are the gentry that named the
Lake.
"People say that Tahoe means 'Silver Lake'--'Limpid
Water'--'Falling Leaf.' Bosh! It means grasshopper soup, the
favorite dish of the Digger tribe--and of the Pi-utes as well.
It isn't worth while, in these practical times, for people to
talk about Indian poetry--there never was any in them--except
in the Fenimore Cooper Indians. But _they_ are an extinct
tribe that never existed. I know the Noble Red Man. I have
camped with the Indians; I have been on the warpath with them,
taken part in the chase with them--for grasshoppers; helped
them steal cattle; I
have roamed with them, scalped them, had them for breakfast. I
would gladly eat the whole race if I had a chance.
"But I am growing unreliable."
With all due deference to the wisdom--as well as the humor--of Mark
Twain as applied to Lake Tahoe, I emphatically disagree with him as to
the Indians of the Tahoe region, and also as to the name of the Lake.
Tahoe is quite as good-sounding a name as Como, Lucerne, Katrine or
Lomond. A name, so long as it is euphonious, is pleasing or not, more
because of its associations than anything else. The genuine Indian,
as he was prior to the coming of the white man, was uncorrupted,
uncivilized, unvitiated, undemoralized, undiseased in body, mind and
soul, a nature-observer, nature-lover and nature-worshiper. He was
full of poetic conceptions and fired with a vivid imagination that
created stories to account for the existence of unusual, peculiar or
exceptional natural objects, that, in brilliancy of conception, daring
invention, striking ingenuity and vigor of detail _surpass_, or
at least equal, the best imaginative work of Kipling or _Mark Twain
himself_. It seems to me that his--the Indian's--name for this
Lake--Tahoe--is both euphonious and full of poetic and scientific
suggestion. It is poetic in that it expresses in a word the unequaled
height and purity of so large a body of water, and scientific in that
it is truthful and accurate.
But Frémont, the discoverer, evidently did not ask or seek to know its
Indian name. As stated elsewhere he erroneously conceived it to be the
headquarters of one of the forks of the American river, flowing into
the Sacramento, and he so depicts it on his map, giving to it the two
names "Mountain Lake" or "Lake Bonpland." But neither of these names
was acceptable and they practically dropped out of sight.
When the first actual determination of Tahoe's outlet through the
Truckee River was made is not definitely known, but its approximate
location was well enough established in 1853 to enable the official
map-maker of the new State of California to depict it with reasonable
accuracy, and, for some reason, to name it Lake Bigler, after John
Bigler, the third Governor of California.
Citizens are still living both in Nevada and California who well
remember when the Lake held this name, and the majority of people
undoubtedly used it until 1862. Officially, also, it was known as Lake
Bigler in 1862, for in the Nevada _Statutes_ there is recorded
an Act approved December 19, 1862, authorizing certain parties to
construct a railroad "to be known as the _Lake Bigler and Virginia
Railroad Co_., to commence at a point on the Kingsbury-McDonald
road known as the Kingsbury and McDonald Toll House, thence along the
southern and eastern shores of _Lake Bigler_, and in most direct
practical route, to the divide between Virginia City and Washoe Valley
on east side Washoe Lake, over and through the most practical pass
to Virginia City," and a further right to construct branch road from
Virginia to Carson City, Nevada.
In 1861, however, while Downey was Governor of California (he having
been elected Lieut. Governor, and taking the office on the resignation
of Governor Latham in January 1860), an attempt was made to change the
name from Bigler to the fanciful one of Tula Tulia, but fortunately it
failed and the old name remained in general use.
But in 1862 another effort was made in an entirely different direction
and this time with success. It was brought about through the work
of William Henry Knight, still living in Los Angeles, who has kindly
furnished the following account:
In the year 1859 I was the youngest member of an overland company
which crossed the plains and mountains from St. Joseph, Mo., to
California. Our train was in three divisions and consisted of
about twenty persons, and forty horses and mules.
One morning in the middle of August we left our camp at the
eastern base of the double summit of the Sierra Nevadas and
began our ascent. Mounted on my faithful steed, Old Pete, I
pushed on in advance of the caravan, in order to get the first
view of the already famous mountain lake, then known as Lake
Bigler. The road wound through the defile and around the
southern border of the Lake on the margin of which we camped
for two days.
As I approached the summit I turned from the main road and
followed a trail to the right which led to the top of a
bare rock overlooking the valley beyond and furnishing an
unobstructed view.
Thus my first view of that beautiful sheet of water was from a
projecting cliff 1000 feet above its surface, and it embraced
not only the entire outline of the Lake with its charming bays
and rocky headlands but also the magnificent forests of giant
pines and firs in which it was embosomed, and the dozen or
more lofty mountain peaks thrusting their white summits into
the sky at altitudes varying from 8000 to 11,000 feet above
sea level.
The view was, indeed, the most wonderful combination of
towering mountains, widespreading valley, gleaming lakes,
umbrageous forests, rugged buttresses of granite, flashing
streams, tumbling waterfalls, and overarching sky of deepest
cerulean hue--all blended into one perfect mosaic of the
beautiful, the picturesque, and the majestic, that mortal eye
ever rested upon.
No imagination can conceive the beauty, sublimity and
inspiration of that scene, especially to one who had for weary
months been traversing dusty, treeless and barren plains. The
contrast was overwhelming. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed
upon the fairy scene. I recall the entrancing picture to-day,
in all its splendid detail, so vividly was it photographed
upon my brain.
Since that hour I have crossed the continent ten times, over
various railway routes, visited most of the States of the
Union, and seven foreign countries, heard the testimony of
others whose travels have been world-wide, and I doubt if
another scene of equal enchantment exists on the face of the
globe.
In 1861, two years after my visit to Tahoe, I gathered the
data for compiling the first general map of the Pacific
States, which embraced the region from British Columbia to
Mexico, and from the Rocky Mountains to the coast. It was
ready for the engraver in February, 1862. I had instructed
the draughtsman, V. Wackenreuder, afterward connected with
the State Geological Survey, to omit the name of Lake Bigler,
which was on contemporary maps.
I invited John S. Hittell, editor of the _Alta
California_, a leading San Francisco daily, and Dr.
Henry DeGroot, writer on the _Evening Bulletin_ and
correspondent of the able _Sacramento Union_, to come
round to Bancroft's publishing house and inspect the map.
Dr. DeGroot had just returned from a visit to the Comstock
silver mines in the Washoe district of Western Nevada. He
suddenly turned to me and said: "Why, Knight, you have left
off the name of Lake Bigler." I remarked that many people had
expressed dissatisfaction with that name, bestowed in honor of
a Governor of California who had not distinguished himself by
any signal achievement, and I thought that now would be a good
time to select an appropriate name and fix it forever on that
beautiful sheet of water.
The suggestion met with favor, and several names were
proposed--Washington, Lincoln, then war President, Frémont, an
early explorer, and other historic names. I asked Dr. DeGroot
if he knew what the native Indians called the Lake.
He drew a memorandum from his pocket and read over a list of
Indian names local to that region, and exclaimed: "Here it is;
they call it 'Tahoe,' meaning 'big water,' or 'high water,' or
'water in a high place.' The word rhymes with Washoe."
I did not quite like the name at first mention, but its
significance was so striking that I asked if they--Hittell
and DeGroot--would favor its adoption and back it up with the
support of their newspapers, and they agreed to do so.
They advocated the adoption of the new name in their
respective journals, the country papers almost unanimously
fell into line, I inserted it on the map which bore my
name--William Henry Knight--as compiler, and which was
published by the Bancroft house in 1862.
I immediately wrote to the Land Office at Washington,
reported what I had done, and the sentiment that prevailed in
California, and requested the Federal official to substitute
the name of Tahoe for Bigler on the next annual map to be
issued by his office, and in all the printed matter of the
Department of the Interior thereafter. This was done.
But a curious thing happened. Nevada was under a territorial
government appointed by the Democratic administration of
President Buchanan. The Territorial Legislature was in session
when the subject was agitated by the California newspapers. A
young statesman of that body, thirsting for fame, rose to
his feet and in vociferous tones and with frenzied gestures,
denounced this high-handed action of California in changing
the name of that Lake without consulting the sister
commonwealth of Nevada, as, according to the map, half of
that noble sheet of water was in Nevada, and such action would
require joint jurisdiction. But his impassioned words were
wasted on the desert air of the Sagebrush State. He could not
muster enough votes to enact his indignation into a law,
and the calm surface of Lake Tahoe was unruffled by the
tempestuous commotion raging in legislative halls at Carson
City.
It was thus that the beautiful, euphonious, and significant
name of "Tahoe" was first placed on my own map, and
subsequently appeared on all other maps of the State, because
it was universally accepted as a fitting substitute for the
former name of "Bigler." A traveled writer refers to the Lake
and the name selected in these terms:
"Thus it was that we went to Lake Tahoe, the beautiful 'Big
Water' of the Washoe Indians--Tahoe with the indigo shade of
its waters emphasized by its snow-capped setting. The very
first glance lifts one's soul above the petty cares of the
lower valleys, and one feels the significance of the Indian
title--'Big Water'--not referring to size alone, but to the
greatness of influence, just as the all-pervading Power is the
'Big Spirit.'"
One would naturally think that there had been changes enough. But
no! In spite of the fact that the Federal government had accepted the
change to Tahoe, and that the popular usage had signified the general
approval of the name, the Hon. W.A. King, of Nevada County, during the
Governorship of Haight, in California, introduced into the assembly
a bill declaring that Lake Bigler should be "the official name of
the said lake and the only name to be regarded as legal in official
documents, deeds, conveyances, leases and other instruments of writing
to be placed on state or county records, or used in reports made by
state, county or municipal officers."
Historian Hittell thus comments on this: "The bill, which appears to
have been well modulated to the taste and feelings of the legislature,
went through with great success. It passed the Assembly on February
1, the Senate on February 7; and on February 10 it was approved by
the Governor. It remains a monument, if not to Bigler, at least to the
legislature that passed it; while the name of the Lake will doubtless
continue to be _Tahoe_ and its sometime former designation of
_Bigler_ be forgotten."
Now if Mark Twain really objected to the name Tahoe why did he not
join the Biglerites and insist upon the preservation of that name?
On the Centennial Map of 1876 it was named "Lake Bigler or Lake
Tahoe," showing that some one evidently was aware that, officially, it
was still _Lake Bigler_.
And so, in fact, it is to this date, as far as _official_ action
can make it so, and it is interesting to conjecture what the results
might be were some malicious person, or some "legal-minded stickler
for rigid adherence to the law," to bring suit against those whose
deeds, titles, leases, or other documents declare it to be Lake Tahoe.
CHAPTER VI
JOHN LE CONTE'S PHYSICAL STUDIES OF LAKE TAHOE
In certain numbers (November and December 1883 and January 1884) of
the _Overland Monthly_, Professor John Le Conte, of the State
University, Berkeley, California, presented the results of his
physical studies of Lake Tahoe in three elaborate chapters. From these
the following quotations of general interest are taken:
Hundreds of Alpine lakes of various sizes, with their clear,
deep, cold, emerald or azure waters, are embosomed among the
crags of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The most extensive, as
well as the most celebrated, of these bodies of fresh water is
Lake Tahoe.
This Lake, ... occupies an elevated valley at a point where
the Sierra Nevada divides into two ranges. It is, as it were,
ingulfed between two lofty and nearly parallel ridges, one
lying to the east and the other to the west. As the crest of
the principal range of the Sierra runs near the western margin
of this Lake, this valley is thrown on the eastern slope of
this great mountain system.
The boundary line between the States of California and Nevada
makes an angle of about 131 degrees in this Lake, near its
southern extremity, precisely at the intersection of the 39th
parallel of north latitude with the 120th meridian west from
Greenwich. Inasmuch as, north of this angle, this boundary
line follows the 120th meridian, which traverses the Lake
longitudinally from two to four miles from its eastern
shore-line, it follows that more than two-thirds of its area
falls within the jurisdiction of California, the remaining
third being within the boundary of Nevada. It is only within a
comparatively recent period that the geographical coordinates
of this Lake have been accurately determined.
Its greatest dimension deviates but slightly from a medium
line. Its maximum length is about 21.6 miles, and its greatest
width is about 12 miles. In consequence of the irregularity of
its outline, it is difficult to estimate its exact area; but
it cannot deviate much from 192 to 195 square miles.
The railroad surveys indicate that the elevation of the
surface of its waters above the level of the ocean is about
6247 feet.
Its drainage basin, including in this its own area, is
estimated to be about five hundred square miles. Probably more
than a hundred affluents of various capacities, deriving their
waters from the amphitheater of snow-clad mountains which
rise on all sides from 3000 to 4000 feet above its surface,
contribute their quota to supply this Lake. The largest of
these affluents is the Upper Truckee River, which falls into
its southern extremity.
The only outlet to the Lake is the Truckee River, which
carries the surplus waters from a point on its northwestern
shore out through a magnificent mountain gorge, thence
northeast, through the arid plains of Nevada, into Pyramid
Lake. This river in its tortuous course runs a distance of
over one hundred miles, and for about seventy miles (from
Truckee to Wadsworth) the Central Pacific Railroad follows its
windings. According to the railroad surveys, this river makes
the following descent:
_Fall_
_Distance Fall per Mile_
Lake Tahoe to Truckee 15 Miles 401 Ft. 28.64 Ft
Truckee to Boca 8 " 313 " 39.12 "
Boca to State Line 11 " 395 " 35.91 "
State Line to Verdi 5 " 211 " 42.21 "
Verdi to Reno 11 " 420 " 38.18 "
Reno to Vista 8 " 103 " 12.87 "
Vista to Clark's 12 " 141 " 11.75 "
Clark's to Wadsworth 15 " 186 " 12.40 "
Wadsworth to Pyramid Lake 18[1] " 187[1] " 10.39 "
______ _______ _______
Lake Tahoe to Pyramid Lake 103 " 2357 " 23.11 "
[Footnote 1: The elevation of Pyramid Lake above the sea-level
has never, as far as we know, been accurately determined.
Henry Gannet, in his _Lists of Elevation_ (4th ed.,
Washington, 1877, p. 143), gives its altitude above the sea as
4890 feet; and credits this number to the _Pacific Railroad
Reports_. But as this exact number appears in Frémont's
_Report of Exploring Expedition to Oregon and North
California in the Years 1843-44_. (Doc. No. 166, p. 217),
it is probable that the first rude and necessarily imperfect
estimate has been copied by subsequent authorities. This
number is evidently more than 800 feet too great; for the
railroad station at Wadsworth (about eighteen or twenty miles
from the lake), where the line of the railroad leaves the
banks of the Truckee River, is only 4077 feet above the
sea-level. So that these numbers would make Pyramid Lake 813
feet above the level of its affluent at Wadsworth; which,
of course, is impossible. Under this state of facts, I have
assumed the elevation of this lake to be 3890 feet.]
During the summer of 1873, the writer embraced the opportunity
afforded by a six weeks' sojourn on the shores of the Lake to
undertake some physical studies in relation to this largest of
the "gems of the Sierra." Furnished with a good sounding-line
and a self-registering thermometer, he was enabled to secure
some interesting and trustworthy physical results.
(1.) _Depth_. It is well known that considerable
diversity of opinion has prevailed in relation to the
actual depth of Lake Tahoe. Sensational newsmongers have
unhesitatingly asserted that, in some portions, it is
absolutely fathomless. It is needless to say that actual
soundings served to dispel or to rectify this popular
impression. The soundings indicated that there is a deep
subaqueous channel traversing the whole Lake in its greatest
dimension, or south and north. Beginning at the southern end,
near the Lake House, and advancing along the long axis of the
Lake directly north towards the Hot Springs at the northern
end--a distance of about eighteen miles--we have the following
depths:
_Station Depth in Feet Depth in Meters_
1 ............... 900 274.32
2 ............... 1385 422.14
3 ............... 1495 455.67
4 ............... 1500 457.19
5 ............... 1506 459.02
6 ............... 1540 469.38
7 ............... 1504 458.41
8 ............... 1600 487.67
9 ............... 1640 499.86
10 ............... 1645 501.39
These figures show that this lake exceeds in depth the deepest
of the Swiss lakes (the Lake of Geneva), which has a maximum
depth of 334 meters. On the Italian side of the Alps, however,
Lakes Maggiore and Como are said to have depths respectively
of 796.43 and 586.73 meters. These two lakes are so little
elevated above the sea that their bottoms are depressed 587
and 374 meters below the level of the Mediterranean.
(2.) _Relation of Temperature to Depth_. By means of
a self-registering thermometer (Six's) secured to the
sounding-line, a great number of observations were made on the
temperature of the water of the Lake at various depths and
in different portions of the same. These experiments were
executed between the 11th and 18th of August, 1873. The same
general results were obtained in all parts of the Lake. The
following table contains the abstract of the average results,
after correcting the thermometric indications by comparison
with a standard thermometer:
Obs. in Feet in Meters F. deg. in C._
1 ...... 0-Surface 0-Surface 67 19.44
2 ...... 50 15.24 63 17.22
3 ...... 100 30.48 55 12.78
4 ...... 150 45.72 50 10.00
5 ...... 200 60.96 48 8.89
6 ...... 250 76.20 47 8.33
7 ...... 300 91.44 46 7.78
8 ...... 330 (Bottom) 100.58 45.5 7.50
9 ...... 400 121.92 45 7.22
10 ...... 480 (Bottom) 146.30 44.5 6.94
11 ...... 500 152.40 44 6.67
12 ...... 600 182.88 43 6.11
13 ...... 772 (Bottom) 235.30 41 5.00
14 ...... 1506 (Bottom) 459.02 39.2 4.00
It will be seen from the foregoing numbers that the
temperature of the water decreases with increasing depth to
about 700 or 800 feet (213 or 244 meters), and below this
depth it remains sensibly the same down to 1506 feet (459
meters). This constant temperature which prevails at all
depths below say 250 meters is about 4 degrees Cent. (39.2
Fah.). This is precisely what might have been expected; for it
is a well established physical property of fresh water,
that it attains its maximum density at the above-indicated
temperature. In other words, a mass of fresh water at the
temperature of 4 deg. Cent. has a greater weight under a
given volume (that is, a cubic unit of it is heavier at this
temperature) than it is at any temperature either higher or
lower. Hence, when the ice-cold water of the snow-fed streams
of spring and summer reaches the Lake, it naturally tends to
sink as soon as its temperature rises to 4 deg. Cent.; and,
conversely, when winter sets in, as soon as the summer-heated
surface water is cooled to 4 deg., it tends to sink. Any
further rise of temperature of the surface water during the
warm season, or fall of temperature during the cold season,
alike produces expansion, and thus causes it to float on
the heavier water below; so that water at 4 deg. Cent.,
perpetually remains at the bottom, while the varying
temperature of the seasons and the penetration of the solar
heat only influence a surface stratum of about 250 meters in
thickness. It is evident that the continual outflow of water
from its shallow outlet cannot disturb the mass of liquid
occupying the deeper portions of the Lake. It thus results
that the temperature of the surface stratum of such bodies of
fresh water for a certain depth fluctuates with the climate
and with the seasons; but at the bottom of deep lakes it
undergoes little or no change throughout the year, and
approaches to that which corresponds to the maximum density of
fresh water.
(3.) _Why the Water does not freeze in Winter_. Residents
on the shore of Lake Tahoe testify that, with the exception
of shallow and detached portions, the water of the Lake never
freezes in the coldest winters. During the winter months, the
temperature of atmosphere about this Lake must fall as low,
probably, as 0 degrees Fah. (-17.78 deg. Cent.). According to
the observations of Dr. George M. Bourne, the
minimum temperature recorded during the winter of 1873-74 was
6 deg. Fah. (-14.44 deg. Cent.). As it is evident that during
the winter season the temperature of the air must frequently
remain for days, and perhaps weeks, far below the freezing
point of water, the fact that the water of the Lake does not
congeal has been regarded as an anomalous phenomenon. Some
persons imagine that this may be due to the existence of
subaqueous hot springs in the bed of the Lake--an opinion
which may seem to be fortified by the fact that hot springs do
occur at the northern extremity of the Lake. But there is
no evidence that the temperature of any considerable body of
water in the Lake is sensibly increased by such springs. Even
in the immediate vicinity of the hot springs (which have in
summer a maximum temperature of 55 deg. C. or 131 F.), the
supply of warm water is so limited that it exercises no
appreciable influence on the temperature of that portion of
the Lake. This is further corroborated by the fact that no
local fogs hang over this or any other portion of the Lake
during the winter which would most certainly be the case if
any considerable body of hot water found its way into the
Lake.
The true explanation of the phenomenon may, doubtless, be
found in the high specific heat of water, the great depth of
the Lake, and in the agitation of its waters by the strong
winds of winter. In relation to the influence of depth, it
is sufficient to remark that, before the conditions preceding
congelation can obtain, the whole mass of water--embracing a
stratum of 250 meters in thickness--must be cooled down to
4 deg. Cent.; for this must occur before the vertical
circulation is arrested and the colder water floats on the
surface. In consequence of the great specific heat of
water, to cool such a mass of the liquid through an average
temperature of 8 deg. Cent, requires a long time, and the cold
weather is over before it is accomplished. In the shallower
portions, the surface of the water may reach the temperature
of congelation, but the agitations due to the action of
strong winds soon breaks up the thin pellicle of ice, which is
quickly melted by the heat generated by the mechanical action
of the waves. Nevertheless, in shallow and detached portions
of the Lake, which are sheltered from the action of winds and
waves--as in Emerald Bay--ice several inches in thickness is
sometimes formed.
[Illustration: Lily Lake]
[Illustration: Cave Rock, Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods]
[Illustration: Clouds Over the Mountain, Lake Tahoe]
(4.) _Why Bodies of the Drowned do not Rise_. A number of
persons have been drowned in Lake Tahoe--some fourteen
between 1860 and 1874--and it is the uniform testimony of the
residents, that in no case, where the accident occurred in
deep water, were the bodies ever recovered. This striking fact
has caused wonder-seekers to propound the most extraordinary
theories to account for it. Thus one of them says, "The water
of the Lake is purity itself, but on account of the highly
rarified state of the air it is not very buoyant, and swimmers
find some little fatigue; or, in other words, they are
compelled to keep swimming all the time they are in the water;
and objects which float easily in other water sink here like
lead." Again he says, "Not a thing ever floats on the surface
of this Lake, save and except the boats which ply upon it."
It is scarcely necessary to remark that it is impossible that
the diminution of atmospheric pressure, due to an elevation
of 6250 feet (1905 meters) above the sea-level, could sensibly
affect the density of the water. In fact, the coefficient of
compressibility of this liquid is so small that the withdrawal
of the above indicated amount of pressure (about one-fifth
of an atmosphere) would not lower its density more than one
hundred-thousandth part! The truth is, that the specific
gravity is not lower than that of any other fresh water of
equal purity and corresponding temperature. It is not less
buoyant nor more difficult to swim in than any other fresh
water; and consequently the fact that the bodies of the
drowned do not rise to the surface cannot be accounted for by
ascribing marvelous properties to its waters.
The distribution of temperature with depth affords a natural
and satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon, and renders
entirely superfluous any assumption of extraordinary lightness
in the water. The true reason why the bodies of the drowned
do not rise to the surface is evidently owing to the fact that
when they sink into water which is only 4 deg. Cent. (7.2
deg. Fah.) above the freezing temperature, the gases usually
generated by decomposition are not produced in the intestines;
in other words, at this low temperature the
bodies do not become inflated, and therefore do not rise to
the surface. The same phenomenon would doubtless occur in
any other body of fresh water under similar physical
conditions.[2]
[Footnote 2: It should be noted that since 1874 there have been
remarkably few deaths from drowning in Lake Tahoe, and that the major
cases of those referred to by Dr. LeConte were of workmen and others
who were generally under the influence of intoxicants.]
(5.) _Transparency of the Water_. All visitors to this
beautiful Lake are struck with the extraordinary transparency
of the water. At a depth of 15 to 20 meters (49.21 to 65.62
feet), every object on the bottom--on a calm sunny day--is
seen with the greatest distinctness. On the 6th of September,
1873, the writer executed a series of experiments with the
view of testing the transparency of the water. A number of
other experiments were made August 28 and 29, under
less favorable conditions. By securing a white object of
considerable size--a horizontally adjusted dinner-plate
about 9.5 inches in diameter--to the sounding-line, it
was ascertained that (at noon) it was plainly visible at a
vertical depth of 33 meters, or 108.27 English feet. It must
be recollected that the light reaching the eye from such
submerged objects must have traversed a thickness of water
equal to at least twice the measured depth; in the above
case, it must have been at least 66 meters, or 216.54 feet.
Furthermore, when it is considered that the amount of
light regularly reflected from such a surface as that of a
dinner-plate, under large angles of incidence in relation
to the surface, is known to be a very small fraction of
the incident beam (probably not exceeding three or four per
cent.), it is evident that solar light must penetrate to
vastly greater depths in these pellucid waters.
Moreover, it is quite certain that if the experiments
in relation to the depths corresponding to the limit of
visibility of the submerged white disk had been executed in
winter instead of summer, much larger numbers would have been
obtained. For it is now well ascertained, by means of the
researches of Dr. F.A. Forel of Lausanne, that the waters of
Alpine lakes are decidedly more transparent in winter than in
summer. Indeed, it is reasonable that when the affluents of
such lakes are locked in the icy fetters of winter, much less
suspended matter is carried into them than in summer, when all
the sub-glacial streams are in active operation.
Professor Le Conte goes into this subject (as he later does into the
subject of the color of Lake Tahoe) somewhat exhaustively in a purely
scientific manner and in too great length for the purposes of this
chapter, hence the scientific or curious reader is referred to the
original articles for further information and discussion.
_Color of the Waters of Lake Tahoe_. One of the most
striking features of this charming mountain Lake is the
beautiful hues presented by its pellucid waters. On a calm,
clear, sunny day, wherever the depth is not less than from
fifty to sixty meters, to an observer floating above its
surface, the water assumes various shades of blue; from a
brilliant Cyan blue (greenish-blue) to the most magnificent
ultramarine blue or deep indigo blue. The shades of blue
increasing in darkness in the order of the colors of the
solar spectrum, are as follows: Cyan-blue (greenish blue),
Prussian-blue, Cobalt-blue, genuine ultramarine-blue, and
artificial ultramarine-blue (violet blue). While traversing
one portion of the Lake in a steamer, a lady endowed with a
remarkable natural appreciation and discrimination of shades
of color declared that the exact tint of the water at this
point was "Marie-Louise blue."
The waters of this Lake exhibit the most brilliant blueness
in the deep portions, which are remote from the fouling
influences of the sediment-bearing affluents, and the washings
of the shores. On a bright and calm day, when viewed in the
distance, it had the ultramarine hue; but when looked fair
down upon, it was of almost inky blackness--a solid dark
blue qualified by a trace of purple or violet. Under these
favorable conditions, the appearance presented was not unlike
that of the liquid in a vast natural dyeing-vat.
A clouded state of the sky, as was to be expected, produced
the well-known effects due to the diminished intensity of
light; the shades of blue became darker, and, in extreme
cases, almost black-blue. According to our observations,
the obscurations of the sky by the interposition of clouds
produced no other modifications of tints than those due to
a diminution of luminosity.
In places where the depth is comparatively small and the
bottom is visibly white, the water assumes various shades
of green; from a delicate apple-green to the most exquisite
emerald-green. Near the southern and western shores of the
Lake, the white, sandy bottom brings out the green tints very
strikingly. In the charming _cul-de-sac_ called "Emerald
Bay," it is remarkably conspicuous and exquisitely beautiful.
In places where the stratum of water covering white portions
of the bottom is only a few meters in thickness, the green hue
is not perceptible, unless viewed from such a distance that
the rays of light emitted obliquely from the white surface
have traversed a considerable thickness of the liquid before
reaching the eye of the observer.
The experiments with the submerged white dinner-plate,
in testing the transparency of the water, incidentally
manifested, to some extent, the influence of depth on the
color of the water. The white disk presented a bluish-green
tint at the depth of from nine to twelve meters; at about
fifteen meters it assumed a greenish-blue hue, and the blue
element increased in distinctness with augmenting depth,
until the disk became invisible or undistinguishable in the
surrounding mass of blue waters. The water intervening between
the white disk and the observer did not present the brilliant
and vivid green tint which characterized that which is seen in
the shallow portions of the Lake, where the bottom is white.
But this is not surprising, when we consider the small amount
of diffused light which can reach the eye from so limited a
surface of diffusion.
In studying the chromatic tints of these waters, a hollow
pasteboard cylinder, five or six centimeters in diameter, and
sixty or seventy centimeters in length, was sometimes employed
for the purpose of excluding the surface reflection and the
disturbances due to the small ripples on the water. When
quietly floating in a small row-boat, one end of this
exploring tube was plunged under the water, and the eye of
the observer at the other extremity received the rays of light
emanating from the deeper portions of the liquid. The light
thus reaching the eye presented essentially the same
variety of tints in the various portions of the Lake as those
which have been previously indicated.
Hence it appears that under various condition--such as depth,
purity, state of sky and color of bottom--the waters of this
Lake manifest nearly all the chromatic tints presented in
the solar spectrum between greenish-yellow and the darkest
ultramarine-blue, bordering upon black-blue.
It is well known that the waters of oceans and seas exhibit
similar gradations of chromatic hues in certain regions.
Navigators have been struck with the variety and richness of
tints presented, in certain portions, by the waters of the
Mediterranean Sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and
especially those of the Caribbean Sea. In some regions of the
oceans and seas, the green hues, and particularly those tinged
with yellow, are observed in comparatively deep waters, or, at
least, where the depths are sufficiently great to prevent
the bottom from being visible. But this phenomenon seems to
require the presence of a considerable amount of suspended
matter in the water. In no portion of Lake Tahoe did I observe
any of the green tints, except where the light-colored bottom
was visible. This was, probably, owing to the circumstance
that no considerable quantity of suspended matter existed in
any of the waters observed.
_Rhythmical Variations of Level in Lakes: or
"Seiches."_--As might be expected, the waters of Lake
Tahoe are subject to fluctuations of level, depending upon
the variable supplies furnished by its numerous affluents. In
mid-winter, when these streams are bound in icy fetters, the
level falls; while in the months of May and June, when the
snows of the amphitheater of mountain-slopes are melting most
rapidly, the level of the Lake rises, and a maximum amount
of water escapes through its outlet. According to the
observations of Capt. John McKinney, made at his residence
on the western shore of this Lake, the average seasonal
fluctuation of level is about 0.61 of a meter; but in extreme
seasons it sometimes amounts to 1.37 meters. The Lake of
Geneva, in like manner, is liable to fluctuations of level
amounting to from 1.95 to 2.60 meters, from the melting of the
Alpine snows.
But besides these variations of level due to the variable
quantities of water discharged into them by their affluents,
many lakes of moderate dimensions are liable to rhythmical
oscillations of level of short duration, which are, obviously,
but produced by fluctuations in the supply of water. It is to
this kind of species of variation of level that our attention
will be directed in the sequel.
This interesting phenomenon was first recognized in the Lake
of Geneva; but was subsequently found to be common to all
the Swiss lakes, as well as to those of Scotland. It is,
therefore, a general phenomenon, which may be observed in all
lakes of moderate dimensions. The inhabitants of the shores
of the Lake of Geneva have long designated this rhythmical
oscillation of the level of the water by the term of
_Seiche_; and this designation has been adopted by
scientific writers.
These _Seiches_ were first signalized in the Lake of
Geneva in 1730, by Fatio de Duillier, who ascribed them to the
checking of the flow of the waters of the Rhone on the shoal
near Geneva by the force of the wind at mid-day. Addison
and Jallabert, in 1742, supposed them to be caused by sudden
increments in the discharge of the affluents, due to the
augmentation in the amount of snow melted after mid-day; or
to the sudden increase in the flow of the Arve, checking
the outflow of water by the Rhone. Bertrand supposed that
electrified clouds might locally attract and elevate the
waters of the lake, and thus produce oscillations of level.
H.B. de Saussure, in 1799, attributed the phenomenon to rapid
local variations of atmospheric pressure on different parts
of the lake. J.P.E. Vaucher, in 1802 and 1804, adopted de
Saussure's explanation, and confirmed it by many excellent
observations. He, moreover, established that _Seiches_,
more or less considerable, occur in all the Swiss lakes; and
that they take place at all seasons of the year, and at all
times of the day; but, in general, more frequently in spring
and autumn. As regards the cause of the phenomenon, Vaucher
shows how rapid local alterations of atmospheric pressure
would produce oscillations in the level of the lake, and
compares them to the vibrations of a liquid in a recurved tube
or siphon. Finally, Arago maintained that _Seiches_ may
arise from various causes, and traced the analogy between them
and certain remarkable oscillations
of the sea, including those arising from earthquakes.
But physical science is indebted to Professor F.A. Forel, of
Lausanne, for the most complete and exhaustive investigation
in relation to the phenomena of _Seiches_. This
accomplished physicist began his researches in 1869, and has
continued them up to the present time. He has been able to
demonstrate that these rhythmical oscillations occur in nearly
all the Swiss Lakes (he studied the phenomena in nine of
them), and that they follow in all cases the same general
laws. Those of the Lake of Geneva have received the most
elaborate and prolonged investigation. In March, 1876, Forel
established a self-registering tide-gauge (_limni-metre
enregistreur_) on the northern shore of this lake, at
Morges; and, with the coöperation of P. Plantamour, another
one was installed in June, 1877, at Secheron, near the city
of Geneva, at the southern extremity. Since these dates,
these two instruments have, respectively, been registering
oscillations of the level of the water of the Lake of Geneva;
and they are so sensitive as to indicate the waves generated
by a steamer navigating the lake at a distance of ten or
fifteen kilometers.
From a most searching investigation of all the phenomena
presented by the _Seiches_ in the Swiss Lakes, Forel
deduces the conclusion that they are really movements of
steady uninodal oscillations (balanced undulations), in which
the whole mass of water in the lake rhythmically swings
from shore to shore. And, moreover, he shows that the water
oscillates according to the two principal dimensions of the
lake; thus, giving rise to longitudinal _Seiches_
and transverse _Seiches_. They occur in series of
tautochronous oscillations of decreasing amplitude; the first
wave produced by the action of a given cause having a maximum
amplitude.
_Causes_. The disturbances of hydrostatic equilibrium
which generate _Seiches_ may be produced by a variety of
causes. Among these, the following may be cited: (a) Sudden
local variations of atmospheric pressure on different parts of
the lake. (b) A descending wind, striking the surface of the
lake over a limited area, (c) Thunder-storms, hail-storms, and
water-spouts; and especially when the accompanying winds act
vertically. (d) The fall of a large avalanche, or of a
land-slide into the lake. (e) And lastly, earthquakes.
Observations show that the most frequent and evident of
these causes are variations of atmospheric pressure and local
storms. With regard to earthquake shocks as a cause of such
fluctuations of level, it is a singular and significant fact
that since Forel has established the delicate self-registering
apparatus on the shores of the Lake of Geneva, no less than
twelve earthquake shocks have been experienced in this portion
of Switzerland, and they have had no sensible influence on
these sensitive instruments. In fact, a little consideration
in relation to the character of such shocks renders it highly
improbable that such brief tremors of the earth's crust
could have been any agency in the generation of rhythmical
oscillations of the whole mass of water in the lake. Indeed,
it is very questionable whether any earthquake waves are ever
produced in the ocean, except when the sea-bottom undergoes a
permanent vertical displacement.
_Lake Tahoe_. From inquiries made of the inhabitants of
the shores of Lake Tahoe, I was not able to discover that any
rhythmical oscillations of the level of its waters have ever
been noticed. Some residents declared that they had observed
sudden fluctuations of level, which, from their suddenness,
they were disposed to ascribe to disturbances of the bottom of
the Lake due to volcanic agencies, although they were
unable to coordinate such oscillations with any earthquake
manifestations on the adjacent shores.
It is evident, however, that until arrangements are
consummated for recording systematic observations on the
variations of the level of this Lake, we cannot expect
that its _Seiches_ will be detected. Of course,
self-registering gauges would give the most satisfactory
results; but any graduated gauge, systematically observed,
would soon furnish evidence of the phenomenon. For the
longitudinal _Seiches_, "Hot Springs," at the northern
extremity of the Lake, or "Lake House," at the southern end,
would be eligible stations for gauges; and for the transverse
_Seiches_, Glenbrook, on the eastern shore, or Capt.
McKinney's on the western margin, would afford good stations.
As far as I am aware, true _Seiches_ have never been
observed in any of the American lakes. This fact is the more
remarkable from the circumstance that long-continued and
careful observations have been made on the fluctuations of
level of several of the large Canadian lakes, with the view of
testing the possible existence of lunar tides. Perhaps these
lakes may be too large to manifest the uninodal rhythmical
oscillations which have been so successfully studied by Forel
in the smaller lakes of Switzerland.[3]
Be this as it may, there can be no doubt that Lake Tahoe is a
body of water in all respects adapted for the manifestation of
this species of oscillation; and that, like the Swiss lakes,
it is subject to _Seiches_. Indeed, the far greater
simplicity in the configuration of the basin of Lake Tahoe
than that of the Lake of Geneva must render the phenomena much
less complicated in the former than in the latter.
Professor LeConte then gives his computations as to the probable
duration of the oscillations on Lake Tahoe, should they occur there.
[Footnote 3: It is proper to add that _Fluctuations of level in the
North American lakes_ have been noticed by various observers, from
the time of the Jesuit Fathers of the period of Marquette, in 1673,
down to the present epoch. Among those who have discussed this problem
may be mentioned in chronological order: Fra Marquette in 1673, Baron
La Hontan 1689, Charlevoix 1721, Carver 1766, Weld 1796, Major S.A.
Storrow 1817, Capt. Henry Whiting 1819, H.R. Schoolcraft 1820, Gen.
Dearborn 1826-29.]
CHAPTER VII
HOW LAKE TAHOE WAS FORMED
Lindgren, the geologist, affirms that after the Sierra Nevada range
was thrust up, high into the heavens, vast and long continued
erosion "planed down this range to a surface of comparatively gentle
topography." He claims that it must originally have been of great
height. Traces of this eroded range (Cretaceous) "still remain in
a number of flat-topped hills and ridges that rise above the later
tertiary surface. There is reason to believe that this planed-down
mountain range had a symmetrical structure, for somewhat to the east
of the present divide is a well-marked old crest line extending from
the Grizzly Peak Mountains on the north, in Plumas County, at least
as far south as Pyramid Peak, in Eldorado County. At sometime in
the later part of the Cretaceous period the first breaks took place,
changing the structure of the range from symmetrical to monoclinal and
outlining the present form of the Sierra Nevada."
This great disturbance he thinks, "was of a two-fold character,
consisting of the lifting up of a large area including at least a
part of the present Great Basin [Nevada and Utah] and a simultaneous
breaking and settling of the higher portions of the arch. Along the
eastern margin a system of fractures was thus outlined which toward
the close of the Tertiary was to be still further emphasized. The main
break probably extended from a point south of Mono Lake to Antelope
Valley and from Markleeville northward toward Sierra Valley. A large
part of the crust block to the west of this dislocation also sank
down. This sunken area is now indicated by Lake Tahoe and by its
northward continuation, Sierra Valley, separated from each other only
by masses of Tertiary lavas.... It is worthy of note that within the
area of the range no volcanic eruptions accompanied this subsidence."
He continues: "As a consequence of this uplift the erosive power of
the streams was rejuvenated, the Cretaceous surface of gentle outline
was dissected, and the rivers began to cut back behind the old divide,
carrying their heads nearly to the present crest line that separates
the slope of the Sierra from the depression of Lake Tahoe."
These rivers are the great gold bearing streams that caused the mining
excitement of 1849. They all head near the Tahoe region, and include
the Yuba, Feather, American, Mokelumne, Calaveras, Cataract, and
Tuolumne.
Here, then, were two crest lines--the old Cretaceous line of which the
Crystal Range immediately overlooking Desolation Valley on the west,
with Pyramid and Agassiz Peaks as its salient points,--and the new
Tertiary crest line, reaching somewhat irregularly from Honey Lake
in the north to Mono Lake in the south. At the north of Lake Tahoe,
"southwest of Reno, a large andesitic volcano poured forth lavas which
extend between the Truckee River Canyon and the Washoe Valley. In the
region extending northward from Lake Tahoe to Sierra Valley enormous
andesitic eruptions took place, and the products of these volcanoes
are now piled up as high mountains, among which Mount Pluto nearly
attains 9000 feet."
These are the volcanic lavas which united the two crests forming the
eastern and western borders of the Tahoe basin or depression, and
through which the Truckee River had in some way to find passage ere it
could discharge its waters into Pyramid Lake, resting in the bosom of
the Great Basin.
Here, then, we have the crude Tahoe basin ready for the reception
of water. This came from the snow and rainfall on its large and
mountainous drainage area, a hundred greater and lesser streams
directly and indirectly discharging their flow into its tremendous
gulf.
Its later topography has been materially modified by glacial action,
and this is fully discussed by Professor Joseph Le Conte in the
following chapter.
It should not be forgotten, however, that while Mt. Pluto was being
formed, other vast volcanic outpourings were taking place. Well back
to the west of the Tahoe region great volcanoes poured out rhyolite,
a massive rock of light gray to pink color and of fine grain, which
shows small crystals of quartz and sanidine in a streaky and glossy
ground mass. On the summits nearer to Tahoe the volcanic outflows were
of andesite, a rough and porous rock of dark gray to dark brown color.
Lindgren says: "By far the greater part of the andesite occurs in the
form of a tuffaceous breccia in numerous superimposed flows. These
breccias must have issued from fissures near the summit of the range
and were, either before their eruption or at the time of issue, mixed
with enormous quantities of water, forming mud flows sufficiently
fluid to spread down the slope for distances of fifty or sixty
miles. The derivation of the water and the exact mode of eruption are
difficult to determine.... Towards the summits the breccias gradually
lose their stratified character and become more firmly cemented. Over
large areas in the Truckee quadrangle the andesite masses consist of
breccias containing numerous dykes and necks of massive andesite....
"The andesite volcanoes were mainly located along the crest of the
Sierra, in fact, almost continuously from Thompson Peak, west of Honey
Lake, down to latitude 38° degrees 10'. Farther south the eruptions
diminished greatly in intensity.... Along the first summit of the
range west of Tahoe the greatest number of vents are found. Beginning
at Webber Lake on the north, they include Mount Lola, Castle Peak,
Mount Lincoln, Tinker Knob, Mount Mildred and Twin Peak. The andesite
masses here in places attain a thickness of 2000 feet. An interval
followed in the northern part of the Pyramid Peak quadrangle where no
important volcanoes were located, but they appear again in full force
in Alpine County. Round Top, attaining an elevation of 10,430 feet,
and the adjacent peaks, were the sources of the enormous flows which
covered a large part of Eldorado County. Still another volcanic
complex with many eruptive vents is that situated in the western part
of Alpine County, near Markleeville, which culminates in Highland Peak
and Raymond Peak, the former almost reaching 11,000 feet. The total
thickness of the volcanic flows in this locality is as much as 4000
feet."
It is to these breccias we owe the volcanic appearances in the Truckee
River Canyon, a few miles before reaching the Lake. There are several
layers of the andesites breccias at the head of Bear Creek Canyon,
above Deer Park Springs.
"None of the craters," says Lindgren, "of these volcanoes are
preserved, and at the time of their greatest activity they may have
reached a height of several thousand feet above the present summits."
CHAPTER VIII
THE GLACIAL HISTORY OF LAKE TAHOE
We have already seen in the preceding chapter how the great basin,
in which Lake Tahoe rests, was turned out in the rough from Nature's
workshop. It must now be smoothed down, its angularities removed, its
sharpest features eliminated, and soft and fertile banks prepared upon
which trees, shrubs, plants and flowers might spring forth to give
beauty to an otherwise naked and barren scene.
It is almost impossible for one to picture the Tahoe basin at this
time. There may have been water in it, or there may not. All the
great mountain peaks, most of them, perhaps, much higher by several
thousands of feet than at present, were rude, rough, jagged masses,
fresh from the factory of God. There was not a tree, not a shrub, not
a flower, not a blade of grass. No bird sang its cheering song, or
delighted the eye with its gorgeous plumage; not even a frog croaked,
a cicada rattled, or a serpent hissed. All was barren desolation,
fearful silence and ghastly newness.
What were the forces that produced so marvelous a change?
Snowflakes,--"flowers of the air",--as John Muir so poetically calls
them. They accomplished the work. Falling alone they could have done
nothing, but coming down in vast numbers, day after day, they piled
up and became a power. Snow forms glaciers, and glaciers are mighty
forces that create things.
[Illustration: Gilmore Lake, Pyramid Peak and the Crystal Range,
in winter, from summit of Mount Tallac]
[Illustration: Desolation Valley, Looking Toward Mosquito Pass]
[Illustration: Heather Lake, near Glen Alpine]
[Illustration: Susie Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]
Let us, if possible, stand and watch the Master Workman
doing the work that is to make this region our source of present
day joy. We will make the ascent and stand on the summit
of Pyramid Peak. This is now 10,020 feet above sea level,
rising almost sheer above Desolation Valley immediately at our feet.
The first thing that arrests the visitor's attention is the peculiar
shape of the peak upon which he stands, and of the whole of the
Crystal Range. Both east and west it is a great precipice, with a
razor-like edge, which seems to have been especially designed for
the purpose of arresting the clouds and snow blown over the mountain,
ranges of the High Sierras, and preventing their contents falling upon
the waste and thirsty, almost desert-areas of western Nevada, which
lie a few miles further east.
Whence do the rains and snow-storms come?
One hundred and fifty miles, a trifle more or less, to the westward
is the vast bosom of the Pacific Ocean. Its warm current is constantly
kissed by the fervid sun and its water allured, in the shape of mist
and fog, to ascend into the heavens above. Here it is gently wafted by
the steady ocean breezes over the land to the east. In the summer the
wind currents now and again swing the clouds thus formed northward,
and Oregon and Washington receive rain from the operation of the sun
upon the Pacific Ocean of the south. In June and July, however, the
Tahoe region sees occasional rains which clear the atmosphere, freshen
the flowers and trees, and give an added charm to everything. But in
the fall and winter the winds send the clouds more directly eastward,
and in crossing the Sierran summits the mist and fog become colder and
colder, until, when the clouds are arrested by the stern barriers
of the Crystal Range, and necessity compels them to discharge their
burden, they scatter snow so profusely that one who sees this region
only in the summer has no conception of its winter appearance. The
snow does not fall as in ordinary storms, but, in these altitudes, the
very heavens seem to press down, ladened with snow, and it falls in
sheets to a depth of five, ten, twenty, thirty and even more feet,
_on the level_.
Look now, however, at the western edge of the Crystal Range. It has
no "slopes." It is composed of a series of absolute precipices, on the
edge of one of which we stand. These precipices, and the razor edge,
are fortified and buttressed by arms which reach out westward and form
rude crescents, called by the French geologists _cirques_, for
here the snow lodges, and is packed to great density and solidity with
all the force, fervor and fury of the mountain winds.
But the snow does not fall alone on the western _cirques_. It
discharges with such prodigality, and the wind demands its release
with such precipitancy, that it lodges in equally vast masses on the
eastern slopes of the Crystal Range. For, while the eastern side
of this range is steep enough to be termed in general parlance
"precipitous," it has a decided slope when compared with the sheer
drop of the western side. Here the configuration and arrangement of
the rock-masses also have created a number of _cirques_, where
remnants of the winter's snow masses are yet to be seen. These snow
masses are baby glaciers, or snow being slowly manufactured into
glaciers, or, as some authorities think, _the remnants of the vast
glaciers that once covered this whole region_ with their heavy and
slowly-moving icy cap.
On the Tallac Range the snow fell heavily toward Desolation Valley,
but also on the steep and precipitous slopes that faced the north.
So also with the Angora Range. Its western exposure, however, is of
a fairly gentle slope, so that the snow was blown over to the eastern
side, where there are several precipitous _cirques_ of stupendous
size for the preservation of the accumulated and accumulating snow.
Now let us, in imagination, ascend in a balloon over this region and
hover there, seeking to reconstruct, by mental images, the appearance
it must have assumed and the action that took place in the ages long
ago.
Snow, thirty, fifty, one hundred or more feet deep lay, on the level,
and on the mountain slopes or in precipitous _cirques_ twice,
thrice, or ten times those depths. Snow thus packed together soon
changes its character. From the light airy flake, it becomes, in
masses, what the geologists term _névé_. This is a granular
snow, intermediate between snow and ice. A little lower down this
_névé_ is converted into true glacial ice-beds, which grow
longer, broader, deeper and thicker as the _névé_ presses down
from above.
Lay minds conceive of these great ice-beds of transformed snow as
inert, immovable bodies. They think the snow lies upon the surface of
the rocks or earth. The scientific observer knows better. By the very
inertia of its own vast and almost inconceivable weight the glacier is
compelled to move. Imagine the millions of millions of tons of ice of
these sloping masses, pressing down upon the hundreds of thousands of
tons of ice that lie below. Slowly the mass begins to move. But
all parts of it do not move with equal velocity. The center travels
quicker than the margins, and the velocity of the surface is greater
than that of the bottom. Naturally the velocity increases with the
slope, and when the ice begins to soften in the summer time its rate
of motion is increased.
But not only does the ice move. There have been other forces set in
motion as well as that of the ice. The fierce attacks of the storms,
the insidious forces of frost, of expansion and contraction, of
lightning, etc., have shattered and loosened vast masses of the
mountain summits. Some of these have weathered into toppling masses,
which required only a heavy wind or slight contractions to send them
from their uncertain bases onto the snow or ice beneath. And the other
causes mentioned all had their influences in breaking up the peaks
and ridges and depositing great jagged bowlders of rock in the
slowly-moving glaciers.
Little by little these masses of rock worked their way down lower into
the ice-bed. Sometime they must reach the bottom, yet, though
they rest upon granite, and granite would cleave to granite, the
irresistible pressure from above forces the ice and rock masses
forward. Thus the sharp-edged blocks of granite become the
_blades_ in the tools that are to help cut out the contours of
a world's surface. In other words the mass of glacial ice is the
grooving or smoothing _plane_, and the granite blocks, aided
by the ice, become the many and diverse blades in this vast and
irresistible tool. Some cut deep and square, others with flutings and
bevelings, or curves, but each helps in the great work of planing off,
in some way, the rocky masses over which they move. Hence it will
be seen that the grooving and marking, the fluting and beveling, the
planing and smoothing processes of the ice are materially aided and
abetted by the very hardness and weight of the granite and other rocks
it carries with it.
Now let Joseph LeConte take up the theme and give us of the rich
treasure-store of his knowledge and observation. In the _American
Journal of Science and Arts_, Third Series, for 1875, he discussed
the very field we are now interested in, and his fascinating and
illuminating explanations render the subject perfectly clear. Said he:
Last summer I had again an opportunity of examining the
pathways of some of the ancient glaciers of the Sierra. One
of the grandest of these is what I call the _Lake Valley
Glacier_.[1] Taking its rise in snow fountains among the
high peaks in the neighborhood of Silver Mountain, this great
glacier flowed northward down Lake Valley, and, gathering
tributaries from the summit ridges on either side of the valley,
but especially from the higher western summits, it filled the
basin of Lake Tahoe, forming a great "mer de glace," 50 miles
long, 15 miles wide, and at least 2000 feet deep, and finally
escaped northeastward to the plains. The outlets of this great
"mer de glace" are yet imperfectly known. A part of the ice
certainly escaped by Truckee Canyon (the present outlet of the
Lake); a part probably went over the northeastern margin of
the basin. My studies during the summer were confined to some
of the larger tributaries of this great glacier.
[Footnote 1: This is the name given by Dr. LeConte to the Basin in
which Lake Tahoe rests and including the meadow lands above Tallac.]
[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods, near Lake Tahoe,
Calif.]
[Illustration: Snow Bank, Desolation Valley, near Lake Tahoe]
[Illustration: Grass Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]
_Truckee Canyon and Donner Lake Glaciers_. I have said
that one of the outlets of the great "mer de glace" was by
the Truckee River Canyon. The stage road to Lake Tahoe runs in
this canyon for fifteen miles. In most parts of the canyon the
rocks are volcanic and crumbling, and therefore ill adapted
to retain glacial marks; yet in some places where the rock
is harder these marks are unmistakable. On my way to and from
Lake Tahoe, I observed that the Truckee Canyon glacier
was joined at the town of Truckee by a short but powerful
tributary, which, taking its rise in an immense rocky
amphitheater surrounding the head of Donner Lake, flowed
eastward. Donner Lake, which occupies the lower portion of
this amphitheater, was evidently formed by the down-flowing
of the ice from the steep slopes of the upper portion near the
_summit_. The stage road from Truckee to the summit runs
along the base of a _moraine_ close by the margin of
the lake on one side, while on the other side, along
the apparently almost perpendicular rocky face of the
amphitheater, 1000 feet above the surface of the lake, the
Central Pacific Railroad winds its fearful way to the same
place. In the upper portion of this amphitheater large patches
of snow still remain unmelted during the summer.
My examination of these two glaciers, however, was very
cursory. I hasten on, therefore, to others which I traced more
carefully.
Lake Tahoe lies countersunk on the very top of the Sierra.
This great range is here divided into two summit ridges,
between which lies a trough 50 miles long, 20 miles wide, and
3000 to 3500 feet deep. This trough is Lake Valley. Its lower
half is filled with the waters of Lake Tahoe.
The area of this Lake is about 250 square miles, its depth
1640 feet, and its altitude 6200 feet. It is certain that
during the fullness of glacial times this trough was a great
"mer de glace," receiving tributaries from all directions
except the north. But as the Glacial Period waned--as the
great "mer de glace" dwindled and melted away, and the lake
basin became occupied by water instead, the tributaries still
remained as separate glaciers flowing into the Lake. The
tracks of these lingering small glaciers are far more easily
traced and their records more easily read, than those of the
greater but more ancient glacier of which they were once but
the tributaries.
Of the two summit ridges mentioned above the western is the
higher. It bears the most snow _now_, and in glacial
times gave origin to the grandest glaciers. Again: the peaks
on both these summits rise higher and higher as we go toward
the upper or southern end of the Lake. Hence the largest
glaciers ran into the Lake at its _southwestern end_.
And, since the mountain slopes here are toward the northeast
and therefore the shadiest and coolest, here also the glaciers
have had the greatest vitality and lived the longest, and
have, therefore, left the plainest records. Doubtless, careful
examination would discover the pathways of glaciers running
into the Lake from the eastern summit also; but I failed to
detect any very clear traces of such, either on the eastern or
on the northern portion of the western side of the Lake; while
between the southwestern end and Sugar Pine Point, a distance
of only eight or ten miles, I saw distinctly the pathways of
five or six. North of Sugar Pine Point there are also several.
_They are all marked by moraine ridges running down from
the summits and projecting as points into the Lake_.
The pathways of three of these glaciers I studied somewhat
carefully, and after a few preliminary remarks, will describe
in some detail.
Mountains are the culminating points of the scenic grandeur
and beauty of the earth. They are so, because they are also
the culminating points of all geological agencies--igneous
agencies in mountain _formation_, aqueous agencies in
mountain _sculpture_. Now, I have already said that the
mountain peaks which stand above the Lake on
every side are highest at the southwestern end, where they
rise to the altitude of 3000 feet above the lake surface, or
between 9000 and 10,000 feet above the sea. Here, therefore,
ran in the greatest glaciers; here we find the profoundest
glacial sculpturings; and here also are clustered all the
finest beauties of this the most beautiful of mountain lakes.
I need only name Mount Tallac, Fallen Leaf Lake, Cascade Lake,
and Emerald Bay, all within three or four miles of each other
and of the Tallac House. These three exquisite little lakes
(for Emerald Bay is also almost a lake), nestled closely
against the loftiest peaks of the western summit ridge, are
all perfect examples of glacial lakes.
South of Lake Tahoe, Lake Valley extends for fifteen miles as
a plain, gently rising southward. At its lower end it is but
a few feet above the lake surface, covered with glacial drift
modified by water, and diversified, especially on its western
side, by débris ridges, the moraines of glaciers which
continued to flow into the valley or into the Lake long after
the main glacier, of which they were once tributaries, had
dried up. On approaching the south end of the Lake by steamer,
I had observed these long ridges, divined their meaning, and
determined on a closer acquaintance. While staying at the
Tallac House I repeatedly visited them and explored the
canyons down which their materials were brought. I proceed to
describe them.
_Fallen Leaf Lake Glacier_. Fallen Leaf Lake lies on the plain
of Lake Valley, about one and a half miles from Lake Tahoe, its
surface but a few feet above the level of the latter Lake[2];
but its bottom far, probably several hundred feet, below that
level. It is about three to three and one-half miles long and
one and one-fourth miles wide. From its upper end runs a canyon
bordered on either side by the highest peaks in this region. The
rocky walls of this canyon terminate on the east side at the
head of the lake, but on the west side, a little farther down.
The lake is bordered on each side by an admirably marked débris
ridge (moraine) three hundred feet high, four miles long, and
one and one-half to two miles apart. These moraines may be
traced back to the termination of the rocky ridges which bound
the canyon. On one side the moraine lies wholly on the plain; on
the other side its upper part lies against the slope of Mount
Tallac. Near the lower end of the lake a somewhat obscure branch
ridge comes off from each main ridge, and curving around it
forms an imperfect terminal moraine through which the outlet of
the lake breaks its way.
[Footnote 2: Professor Price informs me there is a difference of
eighty feet between the level of Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake.]
On ascending the canyon the glaciation is very conspicuous,
and becomes more and more beautiful at every step. From Glen
Alpine Springs upward it is the most perfect I have ever seen.
In some places the white rocky bottom of the canyon, for many
miles in extent, is smooth and polished and gently undulating,
like the surface of a glassy but billowy sea. The glaciation
is distinct also up the sides of the canyon 1000 feet above
its floor.
There can be no doubt, therefore, that a glacier once came
down this canyon filling it 1000 feet deep, scooped out Fallen
Leaf Lake just where it struck the plain and changed its angle
of slope, and pushed its snout four miles out on the level
plain, nearly to the present shores of Lake Tahoe, dropping
its débris on either side and thus forming a bed for itself.
In its subsequent retreat it seems to have rested its
snout some time at the lower end of Fallen Leaf Lake, and
accumulated there an imperfect terminal moraine.
_Cascade Lake Glacier_. Cascade Lake, like Fallen Leaf
Lake, is about one and one-half miles from Lake Tahoe, but,
unlike Fallen Leaf Lake, its discharge creek has considerable
fall, and the lake surface is, therefore, probably 100 feet
above the level of the greater lake. On either side of this
creek, from the very border of Lake Tahoe, runs a moraine
ridge up to the lake, and thence along each side of the lake
up to the rocky points which terminate the true mountain
canyon above the head of the lake. I have never anywhere seen
more perfectly defined moraines. I climbed over the larger
western moraine and found that it is partly merged into the
eastern moraine of Emerald Bay to form a medial at least
300 feet high, and of great breadth. From the surface of the
little lake the curving branches of the main moraine, meeting
below the lake to form a terminal moraine, are very distinct.
At the head of the lake there
is a perpendicular cliff over which the river precipitates
itself, forming a very pretty cascade of 100 feet or more. On
ascending the canyon above the head of the lake, for several
miles, I found, everywhere, over the lip of the precipice,
over the whole floor
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