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 Winter Sports 
 
 Huntington Lake 
 
 Lod^e 
 
 Geof^ge Wharton^ James 
 
WINTER SPORTS at 
 
 HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE 
 
 in the HIGH SIERRAS 
 
 The Story of tKe First Annual Ice and Snow Carnival 
 
 of the Commercial Club of Fresno 
 
 California 
 
 Si; GEORGE WHARTON JAMES 
 
 Pasadena, California 
 
 THE RADIANT LIFE PRESS 
 1Q16 
 

 Copyright 1916 
 
 by 
 
 EDITH E. FARNSWORTH 
 
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 ;V£2- 
 
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 '"CI.A431078 
 MAY 16 1916 
 
r 
 
 To tKe party of sixty-five members 
 of tKe 
 
 COMMERCIAL CLUB OF FRESNO 
 
 a party without a groucK, or a kicker 
 
 ■who made 
 
 Tke First Annual Ice and SnovJ Carnival 
 
 at 
 
 Huntington Lake 
 
 the great success it M?as 
 
 these pages are cordially dedicated 
 
 bi) fheir guest and friend 
 
 George Wharton James. 
 
List of Part}? 
 
 The Boosters of the Fresno Commercial Club 
 and their guests, who made up the party for the 
 First Annual Winter Carnival at Huntington Lake 
 Lodge : 
 
 FROM FRESNO 
 
 Anderson, Mr. and Mrs. B. M. 
 
 Anderson, Elmer A. 
 
 Bergh, S. W. 
 
 Hopkins, Dr. and Mrs. E. L. 
 
 Hopkins, Miss Evelyn 
 
 Buswell, J. M. 
 
 Chamberlain, Mrs. H. I. 
 
 Cooper, N. Ray 
 
 Compton, W. I. 
 
 Clausen, Walter Berten 
 
 Einstein, Mrs. Louis 
 
 Einstein, Miss Elsa 
 
 Einstein, Lesley 
 
 Einstein, Edwin 
 
 Epstein, Mr. and Mrs. Ben 
 
 Frutiger, Mrs. W. A. 
 
 Goodman, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. 
 
 Goodman, Miss Ruth 
 
 Hasselbach, Mr. and Mrs. A. 
 
 Jones, Hayden 
 
 Kutner, Mr. and Mrs. Louis 
 
 Laval, C. C. 
 
 Laval, Miss Lorraine 
 
 Leyden, E. A. 
 
 Matlock, Mr. and Mrs. W. L. 
 
 Meisenheimer, Miss B. 
 
 Miller, Miss Alice 
 
 Miller, Miss Margaret 
 
 Mitchell, Mr. and Mrs. W. D. 
 
 Nicholson, A. 
 
 Perraud, L. 
 
 Potter, Craig H. 
 
 Stewart, Mr. and Mrs. C. W. 
 
 Sunderland, Miss Netta 
 
 Swift, Miss Gertrude 
 
 Schubert, Mr. and Mrs. A. W. 
 
 Tilton, Harold 
 
 Thrane, Mr. and Mrs. R. 
 
 Walcott, Bert 
 
 Waterman, Mr. and Mrs. G. S. 
 
 Waterman, Miss Katharine 
 
 Waterman, Mr. and Mrs. J. G. 
 
 and son 
 Watson, G. Gaylord 
 Winning, Dr. and Mrs. W. P. 
 
 and son 
 
 FROM SELMA 
 Nash, Mr. and Mrs. W. G. 
 Scott, Mrs. L. D. 
 Scott, Miss Netta 
 Wright, Mr. and Mrs. F. B. 
 
 FROM MERCED 
 Smith, Dr. and Mrs. J. C. 
 Smith, Mr. and Mrs. E. E. 
 
 FROM CASCADA 
 Lawton, Mr. and Mrs. R. B. 
 Bemis, Dr. 
 
 FROM SAN FRANCISCO 
 Scott, J. J. 
 
 FROM LOS ANGELES 
 Munger, D. A. 
 
 FROM PASADENA 
 James, George Wharton 
 
 FROM COALING A 
 Peeler, Col. R. L. 
 
 FROM OAKLAND 
 Bundy, Miss M. 
 
 SNOW CARNIVAL COMMITTEE 
 
 J. M. Buswell, Chairman 
 F. E. Kidder L. W. Wilson 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 FOR centuries snow and rain have fallen on the 
 High Sierras of California making the rills, 
 brooklets, streams and rivers that, through- 
 out the year, pour forth their vivifying waters into 
 the heart of the thirsty valleys which lie toward the 
 Western Sea. Indians have roamed over these 
 High Sierras, have fished and bathed in these 
 waters, and there their usefulness seems to have 
 ended. But the resistless Anglo-Saxon invaded the 
 scene, first as trapper, then as miner, cattle-man, 
 lumberman, fisherman, lover of majestic scenery, 
 and finally as conservator of the mountain's natural 
 resources. Among other of these resources the 
 greatest was found to be the potentialities of the 
 waters for the development of electric energy. In 
 the far-away cities of the valleys, and even of regions 
 across other ranges of mountains were cities of rest- 
 less, energetic peoples demanding vast supplies of 
 electricity for lighting and heating their homes, 
 streets, stores, and markets, for driving their street- 
 cars, automobiles, machines and power plants. 
 
 Modern Science saw in the Sierran streams the 
 means of supplying these demands, hence it linked 
 hands with Capital to wrest from these snow-born 
 waters the electrical energy they contained. Roads 
 were engineered and built into the mountains, sites 
 for the erection of gigantic dams were chosen which 
 would impound great masses of these hitherto vag- 
 rant waters and thus create beautiful lakes in the 
 midst of scenic glories and wonders unsurpassed on 
 the face of the earth. Busy men came and blasted 
 great masses of granite from quarries created 
 
by the Eternal; then the roads were lined with steel 
 — man's track for the iron horse, — and soon loco- 
 motives and trains of cars were carrying men and 
 supplies for the more rapid prosecution of the work 
 in these once unknown mountain recesses. Like 
 magic the dams came into existence. Modern Alad- 
 dins flashed their lamps and buildings equivalent to 
 the palaces and temples of antiquity sprang up, in 
 which hydro-electric power-plants were stored; a 
 large lake five miles long and a mile broad ap- 
 peared; tons of steel for towers, and tons of 
 steel-cored aluminum cable for transmission lines 
 were supplied to the hordes of busy men, 
 who like never-resting ants cut wide pathways 
 through the trees, up and down canyons and ravines 
 that hitherto had felt only the tread of the foot of 
 panther, lynx, coyote or Indian. Cement bases for 
 great towers were laid; the steel beams arose in air; 
 the lines of cable were stretched up, down, across, 
 ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred and 
 fifty miles to far-away Los Angeles, the growing 
 metropolis of California of the South. In the mean- 
 time an 84-inch pipe, tapering down to 24 inches, 
 built to resist nine hundred pounds pressure, was 
 laid, reaching from the lake — which had already 
 been named after the chief capitalist Interested in 
 the project, Huntington Lake — twenty-one hundred 
 and three feet below to where the power-house 
 stood. Here were placed on solid granite founda- 
 tions four water-wheels, directly connected with 
 two generators of 42,500 horsepower. 
 
 When all was ready it remained to see If Nature 
 and Science had so far worked together that when 
 the water was allowed to come dashing down the 
 pipe upon the great wheels, they would generate the 
 power and transmit it to the eagerly awaiting sta- 
 tions In far-away Los Angeles. Many Innovations 
 had been ventured upon; great Interests were at 
 stake; Science and Commerce alike waited the fate- 
 ful moment with profound intentness. 
 

 a°. 
 
The signal was given, the waters flowed, the 
 wheels moved, the dynamos began to hum, the meters 
 began to show the development of power, and, 
 more wonderful than the magic of the past, in a few 
 moments, Los Angeles felt the thrill at the Sierra's 
 heart and began to blaze and burn and throb with 
 the transmitted energy. The miraculous was ac- 
 complished, and at once took its place as another 
 step in the upward climb of man to the stars. 
 
 Now entered another element upon the scene. 
 The newly-created Lake had given an added de- 
 light, charm and beauty to the solemn and inspiring 
 majesty of gigantic and snow-clad mountain peaks, 
 the dignity of heaven-aspiring trees, and the dainty 
 beauty of shrubs and flowers. Why not make it 
 possible for the business-weary men and women of 
 the cities of the plains to come hitherward and enjoy 
 all that Nature could here confer upon them. With 
 these men to decide is to accomplish, and in due 
 time Huntington Lake Lodge, a beautiful, artistic, 
 appropriate and commodious modern hotel sprang 
 into being under the pines, immediately overlooking 
 the Lake. It was opened July 4, 1915, and during 
 its first summer and fall season many guests came 
 to enjoy its delightful hospitality. But when win- 
 ter came — stern winter, with its frost and snow, its 
 storms and cold, the peoples of the valley fled to 
 their homes. For awhile it seemed that this hospit- 
 able Lodge would be deserted during the winter 
 months. Then people began to take fresh counsel. 
 Elsewhere in the world men and women, young men 
 and maidens found health, enjoyment, delight, 
 vigor and new life in the snow. Why not here? 
 These valleys were valleys of almost perpetual 
 summer. Here, close at hand, beneficient Nature 
 invited to the joys and blessings of winter. She 
 said: "Come to my snow-clad mountains, my 
 snow-laden trees, my snow-covered slopes. Come 
 to my winter play-ground. Come and be children 
 again, as you snow-ball each other, slide down my 
 
mountain sides, skate over my lakes, walk in your 
 snow-shoes and glide on your skis over my moun- 
 tain snow-fields. Come, and I will renew your 
 youth and send you back to your valley occupations 
 like giants refreshed with new wine." 
 
 The pages that follow record the story of the 
 first party to accept this invitation. It was one of 
 the perfect parties that show how happy man can 
 be with his brother when he desires to be. It was a 
 joyous and glorious contrast to the awful hell of 
 fierce war raging on the other side of the earth, for 
 while German and English, Austrian and French, 
 Pole and Slav were to be found in the party, there 
 were no other notes heard than those of kindness, of 
 helpfulness, of brotherliness, of love. Hence it has 
 been a joy to place on record the story of those do- 
 ings in which I was privileged to share. 
 
 Cascada, February 22, 1916. 
 
M 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MOUNTAINS OF THE SAN JOAQUIN 
 
 OUNTAINS vary as much as men. Some 
 are easy to reach, easily conquered, easily 
 understood, because they have easy ap- 
 proach, no steep ascents to climb, no fearfully pre- 
 cipitous gorges to cross, no raging torrents to ford, 
 no boulder-strewn passages to assay, no snow-clad 
 slopes to overcome, no dense undergrowth to cut 
 through. Others possess one or all of the qualities 
 or difficulties enumerated, with additional obstacles 
 of their own, which make their ascent achievements 
 of which men justifiably are proud. It Is one of the 
 glories of this century that men have been more 
 daring and successful than ever In scaling mountain 
 summits. Mountain climbers have ascended prac- 
 tically all the hitherto unknown peaks, and a woman, 
 Miss Annie Peck, has added her achievement as one 
 of the greatest of them all. 
 
 The California Sierra Nevadas are not as high 
 and Imposing as the Andes or the Himalayas, but 
 they are as distinctive, varied, wonderful, and In- 
 teresting. From Mt. Shasta In the north, to Mt. 
 Whitney In the south, they set forth variances that, 
 to those familiar with them, make them seem as 
 though the different areas could not belong to the 
 same range. There Is as much difference between 
 the Tahoe region, with Its Innumerable glacial lakes, 
 and the Shasta region, with Its fierce lava-flows, as 
 there Is between the Mt. Whitney region, or the 
 Mono_ region, and that of the San Joaquin. Kern 
 and Kings Rivers Canyons are wild, rugged gorges, 
 
 [1] 
 
but they are of an entirely different character from 
 the Yosemite or the Hetch-Hetchy. While there 
 are characteristics in our Sierras that are similar 
 throughout, these differentiations are what make 
 each region so attractive in its individual person- 
 ality. 
 
 Then, too, the motives that lead men to a con- 
 quering of mountain areas are as varied as are the 
 mountains themselves. Wherever timber is of reas- 
 onably easy access that in itself is a lure, as is shown 
 in the rapid denudation of the forests around Lake 
 Tahoe, for the supplying of the timber-needs of the 
 Virginia City and other mines, in Nevada; in the 
 vast lumbering interests now going on around Mt. 
 Shasta and elsewhere in the Sierras. On the other 
 hand, it was its purely scenic features that were the 
 chief and first inducements to the opening up of 
 roads into the Yosemite Valley. The trapping of 
 fur-bearing animals; mining; hunting; sheep-herd- 
 ing; cattle-raising; the impounding of mountain- 
 streams for irrigation purposes — these have taken 
 men in greater or lesser numbers into the moun- 
 tains. But it is only recently, since the modern 
 developments of electricity, that water, for the gen- 
 eration of electric power, has been the lure to lead 
 men to study every mountain gorge, every valley, 
 every detail of watershed, and to seek out the most 
 favorable locations for the establishment of dams, 
 reservoirs, and power-houses. 
 
 It Is to this latter feature that we owe the open- 
 ing up of the Sierras in the region of the San Joa- 
 quin River, as the next chapter will show. 
 
 The railway — first the Southern Pacific from 
 Fresno, in the heart of the San Joaquin Valley, to 
 El Prado, and then the San Joaquin and Eastern, 
 curving and climbing fifty-six miles to Cascada — 
 deposits you in the very heart of the range. For 
 miles one rides in sight of the San Joaquin River, 
 with its wide basin-like slopes. In one magnificent 
 [2] 
 
stretch It is shut in by the granite walls of its Grand 
 Canyon. Sublimity and grandeur, with picturesque- 
 ness and wide expanse, greet the eye on every hand, 
 but, from the first glimpse, until one is close at hand 
 to them, the towering and snow-covered peaks of 
 the High Sierras attract the attention. When one 
 reaches the end of the railway at Cascada he looks 
 back over the winding way he has come and then 
 turns to view the great power-house, from which 
 comes the hum and whir of the giant water-wheels 
 and motors; sees the incline cable railway rising 
 two thousand feet in direct ascent to six thousand 
 feet of length, and up which all the material for 
 the construction of the concrete dams was raised; 
 and then the great steel pipe — penstock they call it 
 — down which the water flows from the lake above 
 to make the water-wheels and motors hum. 
 
 Towering over all, and dominating the scene, is 
 a majestic mass of granite, some eighteen hundred 
 feet high, its crown smoothed and shaped by the 
 overflowing glaciers of a long-past age, reminding 
 one somewhat of the glacier-polished towers of the 
 Yosemite. This is named the Kerckhoff Dome, 
 after one of the associates of Mr. Huntington, in 
 Los Angeles. 
 
 The final touch is given by the little settlement of 
 Cascada, where the various employees of the power 
 plant have their homes, with accompanying store, 
 hotel, stables, school, etc. This is also a well- 
 known and popular starting-point for the summer 
 tramper in the mountains, hundreds of people com- 
 ing up from the valley to share its hospitality. 
 
 But we are desirous of reaching Huntington Lake 
 and the commodious Lodge that stands upon its 
 shore two thousand feet above, so, taking stage, 
 automobile, or Slerra-plane — according to the sea- 
 son — we speedily find ourselves winding along over 
 the four miles of well-engineered road that finally 
 brings us to the place of our heart's desire. Here, 
 
 [3] 
 
we wake up to a full realization of the glories of 
 the High Sierras. 
 
 At our feet lies the sparkling clear water of 
 Huntington Lake, made by damming the gorge 
 down which the mountain stream used to dash in 
 unrestrained exuberance. Nearly five miles long 
 and from a half to a full mile wide, it is one of the 
 crystal gems of the Sierras. Towering above it, to 
 the northeast, is the long, winding, jagged ridge of 
 Kaiser Crest, varying in height from 9,000 to 
 10,300 feet, where snow generally may be found a 
 large part of the year. What a glorious galaxy of 
 majestic peaks surrounds us. Shut-eye (8,358 feet), 
 and Little Shut-eye (8,353 feet), peaks that recall 
 Indian legends, are to the northwest, while Red 
 Mountain, Bear Butte, Chinese Peak, Tamarack 
 Mountain, are all close at hand. 
 
 Climb a little, to where, on Kaiser Crest, a clear 
 outlook is obtained in every direction, and then peak 
 after peak comes into view. Yonder to the north- 
 east are Pincushion Peak (9,817 feet), Sharktooth 
 Peak (11,630 feet), and Double Peak (10,637 
 feet), all huddled together, with Graveyard Peak 
 (11,584 feet), hustling them a trifle to the south- 
 east, and the ridge of the Silver Divide, with its 
 chief Silver Peak (11,497 feet), leading the eye 
 on to the mountains of the Big Four — the men of 
 power and genius, of indomitable will and energy, 
 who constructed the Central Pacific Railway over 
 the Sierras — Mt. Huntington (12,393 feet), Mt. 
 Crocker (12,448 feet), Mt. Stanford (12,826 feet), 
 and Mt. Hopkins (12,300 feet). Almost hiding 
 Mts. Crocker and Stanford is the Red and White 
 Mountain (12,646 feet), while beyond, just on the 
 borders of Mono and Inyo Counties, is an unnamed 
 peak towering 11,888 feet into the Sierran blue, 
 and still another, nearly as high (11,752 feet) a 
 little to the north. 
 
 Ranging southward, there come in succession Vol- 
 [4f 
 
canlcKnob (11,153 feet), Mt. Mills (13,352 feet), 
 Mt. Morgan (13,739 feet), Mt. Abbott (13,736 
 feet), Mt. Dade (13,635 feet), Mt. Gabb (13,701 
 feet), Mt. Hilgard (13,351 feet), and Bear Creek 
 Spine (13,702 feet), each one a monarch in its own 
 power and dominating personality. Yet even this 
 sublime group does not close the list, for nearer to 
 us, a little southward, are Mt. Hooper (12,322 
 feet), the Seven Gables, flanked by the Four Gables, 
 the latter nearly 13,000 feet in height; Mt. Senger 
 (12,253 feet), Turret Peak (12,060 feet), behind 
 which is the striking north and south ridge of The 
 Pinnacles (12,264 feet), while beyond them are 
 Pilot Knob (12,237 feet), Mt. Humphreys (13,972 
 feet) and Mt. Emerson (13,226 feet), with Pavilion 
 Dome (11,365 feet), well towards the south. Here 
 the Glacier Divide demands attention, and just 
 below, one after another, the trained eye descerns 
 Mt. Lamarck (13,202 feet), Mt. Wallace (13,701 
 feet). Emerald Peak (12,517 feet). The Hermit 
 (12,341 feet), Mt. Darwin (12,782 feet) , Mt. Spen- 
 cer (12,428 feet), Mt. Haeckel (over 12,000 feet), 
 Mt. McGee (12,966 feet), Mt. Huxley (13,124 
 feet), Mt. Fiske, Mt. Powell and Mt. Thompson, 
 all well up to the 13,000 feet mark. Even these do 
 not complete the roster, for a little further to the 
 south are Mt. Goddard (13,553 feet), Mt. Goode 
 (13,312 feet), Langille Peak (11,981 feet), Black- 
 cap Mt. (11,559 feet), Mt. Reinstein (12,595 
 feet), Scylla (12,943 feet), and Charybdis (12,935 
 feet). Peaks, with Finger Peak (12,401 feet). Blue 
 Canyon Peak (11,956 feet), Mt. Woodworth 
 (12,214 feet), and Devil's Crag (12,612 feet), 
 clustered together, still further to the south and east. 
 
 As one sees these snow-clad summits and the 
 clouds trailing out In delicate loveliness, as banners 
 of white light, from their stern solidity, or wreath- 
 ing them in half-hiding, half-revealing veiling, he 
 
 [5] 
 
can understand how they became to Joaquin Miller 
 the monuments of the California pioneers: 
 
 Worn victors, few and true, such clouds 
 As track God's trailing garment's hem 
 Where Shasta keeps shall be your shrouds, 
 And ye shall pass the stars in them. 
 Your tombs shall be while Time endures, 
 Such hearts as only Truth secures ; 
 Your everlasting monuments 
 Sierra's snow-topt battle tents. 
 
 And, to me, it is a soul-filling joy that man did 
 not erect these monuments. They are the work of 
 God, of Nature, of the great Creative Force, whose 
 manifestations of power ever keep man's mentality 
 engaged. It was appropriate that these sublime 
 peaks — rather than any man made monuments — 
 should be made to bear the names of those indus- 
 trious mental geniuses whose gigantic intellects were 
 devoted to a life-study of the handiworks of God, 
 seeking to explain them to their less-endowed broth- 
 ers. It was well that Huxley, Tyndall, Darwin, 
 Spencer, Fiske, Powell and the rest should be 
 recalled in this western land of striving for material 
 things, in order that their glorious example should 
 not be forgotten. 
 
 Then, too, who that has a soaring spirit, an adven- 
 turous soul, with strong physical body to match, does 
 not feel the stirring to climb such alluring summits? 
 Who would not rival the eagle and stand on the 
 highest peaks, looking off into space, obtaining 
 expansive views that the mediocre spirits of less 
 ambitious bodies may never see? How one's heart 
 thrills in reading Clarence King's "Ascent of Mt. 
 Tyndall," in his Mountaineering in the Sierra Ne- 
 vada, or John Muir's perilous climb up Mt. Ritter, 
 given in his Mountains of California. And how 
 one responds to the manliness these mountain heights 
 seem !o bring out. King tells, in his "Descent of 
 Mt. Tyndall," of a place where he and his com- 
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 On tJie Trail," Coing on a Camping-Out Trip near Huntington Lake 
 
 
 
 Lumber Flume, Rounding the Cliffs of the San Joaquin Sierra-S 
 
A Successful Hunter in the San Joaquin Sierras 
 
 
 "An Kxeiting Moment." Fishing in the San Joaquin Sierras 
 
panion, Cotter, came to an upward climb of forty 
 feet of smooth granite "which lay between us and 
 safety." Let me quote briefly: 
 
 As we tied ourselves together, I told Cotter to hold him- 
 self in readiness to jump down into one of the several crev- 
 ices riven into the rock a few inches in case I fell, and started 
 to climb up the wall, succeeding quite well for about twenty 
 feet. About two feet above mj' hands was a crack, which, 
 if my arms had been long enough to reach, would probably 
 have led me to the very top; but I judged it beyond my 
 powers, and, with great care, descended to the side of Cotter, 
 who believed that his superior length of arm would enable 
 him to make the reach. 
 
 I planted myself against the rock, and he started cau- 
 tiously up the wall. Looking down the glare front of ice, it 
 was not pleasant to consider at what velocity a slip would 
 send me to the bottom, or at what angle, and to what prob- 
 able depth, I should be projected into the ice-water. Indeed, 
 the idea of such a sudden bath was so annoying that I lifted 
 my eyes toward my companion. He reached my farthest 
 point without great difficulty, and made a bold spring for the 
 crack, reaching it without an inch to spare, and holding on 
 wholly with his fingers. He thus worked himself slowly 
 along the crack toward the top, at last getting his arms over 
 the brink, and gradually drawing his body up and out of 
 sight. It was the most splendid piece of slow gymnastics I 
 ever witnessed. For a moment he said nothing; but when 
 I asked if he was all right cheerfully repeated, "All right." 
 It was only a moment's work to send up the two knapsacks 
 and barometer, and receive again my end of the lasso. As I 
 tied it round my breast. Cotter said to me, in an easy, confi- 
 dent tone, "Don't be afraid to bear your weight." I made 
 up my mind, however, to make that climb without his aid, 
 and husbanded my strength as I climbed from crack to crack. 
 I got up without difficulty to my former point, rested there a 
 moment, hanging solely by my hands, gathered every pound 
 of strength and atom of will for the reach, then jerked 
 myself upward with a swing, just getting the tips of my 
 fingers into the crack. In an instant I had grasped it with 
 my right hand also. I felt the sinews of my fingers relax 
 a little, but the picture of the slope of ice and the blue lake 
 far below affected me so stronglv that I redoubled my grip, 
 
 [7] 
 
and climbed slowly along the crack until I reached the angle 
 and got one arm over the edge as Cotter had done. As I 
 rested my body upon the edge and looked up at Cotter, I 
 saw that, instead of a level top, he was sitting upon a smooth 
 roof-like slope, where the least pull would have dragged him 
 over the brink. He had no brace for his feet, nor hold for 
 his hands, but had seated himself calmly, with the rope tied 
 around his breast, knowing that my only safety lay in being 
 able to make the climb entirely unaided ; certain that the 
 least waver in his tone would have disheartened me, and 
 perhaps made it impossible. The shock I received on seeing 
 this affected me for a moment, but not enough to throw me 
 off my guard, and I climbed quickly over the edge. When 
 we had walked back out of danger we sat down upon the 
 granite for a rest. 
 
 In all my experience of mountaineering I have never 
 known an act of such real, profound courage as this of 
 Cotter's. It is one thing, in a moment of excitement, to 
 make a gallant leap, or hold one's nerves in the iron grasp of 
 will, but to coolly seat one's self in the door of death, and 
 silently listen for the fatal summons, and this all for a friend, 
 — for he might easily have cast loose the lasso and saved 
 himself, — requires as sublime a type of courage as I know. 
 
 There ! Who can read that and not have his own 
 heart nerved to a higher key of heroism? These 
 soaring peaks constantly remind me of this and 
 similar daring acts, and call me to deeds of which 
 before I should have been Incapable. 
 
 And these are the environment of Huntington 
 Lake Lodge. Is man not fortunate that such a sub- 
 lime playground has been made easily and readily 
 accessible to him? Even though he has no desire 
 to scale these peerless summits, they must have a 
 potent and deep influence over him; no one can 
 remain long In their noble presence unmoved and 
 uninfluenced. Therefore they are true upllfters of 
 humanity, pointers out of the higher way. 
 
 From the slopes of mountains like these the San 
 
 Joaquin River has Its origin. Glaciers, and beds of 
 
 Ice and snow, loading the shoulders and flanks of 
 
 granite peaks, pour their melting waters through a 
 
 [8] 
 
thousand lesser channels, until the river is born. The 
 San Joaquin has three distinct forks, known as the 
 West, Middle and South forks, the latter being the 
 longest and the most important. One of these, 
 together with the headwaters of Owen's River, and 
 important affluents of the Merced and Tuolumne, 
 all have their rise within a few miles of Mt. Ritter, 
 one of the giant Sierran family and from the summit 
 of which marvellously expansive views may be ob- 
 tained. These are described elsewhere, yet the 
 visitor to Huntington Lake Lodge should never for- 
 get that this, and all the peaks I have mentioned, are 
 within comparatively easy reach. 
 
 What a soul-stirring experience it is, after one has 
 climbed, step by step, with or without such danger- 
 ous and thrilling excitements as that quoted from 
 Clarence King, to stand on one of these sentinels of 
 our Golden State, and survey the landscape o'er. 
 The first impression of one unused to such sights is 
 of a bewilderment of the senses caused by the unex- 
 ampled grandeur, striking sublimity, and illimitable 
 expanse before him. His mind is baffled, confused, 
 crowded. There is too much to see, and he is too 
 unused to such a marvellous conglomeration of sub- 
 limity and grandeur to be able to analyse and focal- 
 ize. But after several such experiences, after he has 
 learned to separate and differentiate between the 
 peaks, to know the appearance of glaciers, and to see 
 the sun-kissed fountains bubbling forth as if eager to 
 form the rivers; when he can point out the upper 
 water-courses, and even now and again discern the 
 dashing waterfalls and cascades, and follow the 
 streams down below the timber-line, in their tortu- 
 ous and winding ways, to the far-away valley, little 
 by little the eternal harmonies of the mountains steal 
 into his soul. He sees their relation one to another 
 — the barrier peaks, holding the moisture-laden 
 clouds and demanding that they get rid of their 
 burdens, either in gently-falling snow or pelting rain; 
 
 [9] 
 
the great glacier beds accumulating during the cen- 
 turies and holding the moisture, the wooing power 
 of the sun, releasing the water drop by drop, in mil- 
 lions of millions of drops, until drops become rills, 
 and rills rivulets, rivulets grow into creeks, creeks 
 into brooks, brooks into streams, and streams into 
 rivers. These we can follow, part of the way with 
 the eye, the rest of the way in imagination, through 
 their wide watersheds, deep, rugged and rocky can- 
 yon deeps, into the blue distance of the western 
 valley, there to be distributed into irrigation canals, 
 over thousands of acres, where vines, peaches, apri- 
 cots, prunes, pears, pomegranates, oranges, lemons, 
 grapefruit and a thousand and one varieties of fruit 
 trees abound; where contented kine feed happily on 
 lush grasses and rich alfalfa, and where contented 
 men and women and happy children rejoice in the 
 gifts of God in this highly favored land. Here and 
 there, as at Huntington Lake, one sees where the 
 water is diverted and used for awhile for other pur- 
 poses, ere it is poured back again into its natural 
 channel. On the wings of imagination he flies over 
 the range, mile after mile, one hundred, two hun- 
 dred, nearly two hundred and fifty of them, strung 
 all the way, on skeleton steel towers, with heavy 
 aluminum cables, and he sees the power .of the 
 waterfall, the rush of the cascade, the dash of the 
 confined mountain torrent transformed by man's 
 genius and skill into electric energy, moving street- 
 cars, charging automobiles, raising and lowering 
 elevators laden with human freight, with bricks, 
 mortar, concrete, steel and other building material, 
 revolving electric fans, working sewing machines, 
 grindstones, and turning a thousand and one variety 
 of wheels all for the benefit, the profit, or the pleas- 
 ure of mankind. 
 
 Over in another direction he sees the water 
 diverted into a lumber flume, which winds and 
 curves, twists and squirms around the mountains' 
 
 [10] 
 
shoulders, down, down, down, over passes, lifted on 
 stilts over deep canyons and over level valleys, until 
 the terminus Is reached In some town by the railway. 
 He sees the lumber, cut from the trees of the giant 
 forests,-— which he Is only just now beginning to take 
 full cognizance of, — big, square timbers suitable for 
 bridge-bullding or uprights between stories; thick, 
 heavy planks; thin broad planks; planks and studs, 
 joists and beams of every kind, guided Into the V 
 shaped flume, and rapidly carried away on the bosom 
 of the water. He sees it on its winding and almost 
 silent course, until it reaches the terminus, where 
 the pliant water, hitherto used as a carrier, now 
 pours forth its vivifying flood for purposes of irriga- 
 tion, while the lumber is hauled out of the flume, 
 stacked up to dry, and then shipped by railway wher- 
 ever it Is needed to aid in furthering the march of 
 progress. 
 
 But the fisherman sees in these mountain streams 
 another kind of sight. His vision Imagines the 
 golden trout, the rainbow trout, the silver trout, the 
 cut-throats and the other finny creatures of dazzling 
 beauty, that rise to the fly of the skillful angler. He 
 gets his rod and reel, his flies and other dudeudiims, 
 puts on his long-hipped rubber boots and starts 
 forth. He makes his cast — but how shall I, an Igno- 
 rant tyro, dare attempt to tell what and how he does, 
 the excitement of the strike, the skilful handling of 
 his catch and the final landing on the bank? 
 
 And the hunter! He, too, sees visions. These 
 peaks don't mean so much to him, as the gray-green 
 slopes beneath; the woods, the forest, the dense 
 chaparral. There may be a bear found, once In a 
 while, on the heights, but his heart beats to the 
 thought of deer. His taste runs to venison steak, 
 broiled over a camp-fire and smothered In well-fried 
 onions, or to stew, made to simmer until everything 
 is as tender as scientific cooking can make it. 
 
 The tree lover sees his joy in the unequaled wealth 
 
 [11] 
 
of trees, and the botanist in the flowers, shrubs, 
 mosses and ferns that he is assured must abound 
 here, while the geologist sees the mysterious opera- 
 tions of the world's birth slowly unfold before him, 
 age by age, epoch by epoch, until he has recon- 
 structed the range in imagination from Its first incep- 
 tion in the bed of the primeval ocean, the slow 
 deposition upon the parent rock of the disintegrated 
 particles that have made sand-stone, lime-stone and 
 the like, the steady and persistent uplift through the 
 centuries, until it was no longer a submerged ridge, 
 but a series of elevated plateaus and peaks. Then 
 he visions the downfall of the snows of the glacial 
 epoch. He sees these beds accumulate until they 
 carry thousands, millions, billions of tons of the 
 fleecy particles, welded together by the heat of the 
 sun and their own attraction until they have formed 
 sheets of ice thousands of feet thick, and moving 
 with irresistible force and grinding power over these 
 once water-smothered mountain peaks. Centuries 
 rolled by, and the swing of the earth upon its axis 
 drove away the glaciers, but left the records of their 
 work. In the grinding of the domes and peaks, carv- 
 ing out of the gullies, ravines, gorges, canyons, val- 
 leys and lake beds. In which later, dainty, exquisite, 
 tree-surrounded, pure-watered lakes were born. 
 
 Then came fierce periods of earthquake and lava 
 flow. Great craters were formed on some of the 
 highest ridges and from them poured forth floods 
 of andesite and diorlte, crowning broad and wide 
 areas with their solid lava caps. When the storms 
 of later centuries burst upon these mountains, many 
 of the proudest peaks were humbled and brought 
 low, others that had received these lava caps were 
 able to withstand the fury of storm and decay. They 
 refused to yield, and then saw their once high-tower- 
 ing brothers gradually yield to the gnawing teeth of 
 time, until they were far below them in height, 
 
 [12] 
 
planed and smoothed, or split and fractured out of 
 all semblance to their original majesty. 
 
 Then came the beginning of our epoch, the age 
 when life was possible. The king of the hell of cold 
 had wreaked his will, with his glacier blanket, his 
 fierce winds and hails and storms upon the region; 
 had given way to the king of the hell of heat, who 
 had belched forth his flaming floods to destroy it; but 
 both had been subdued, and now the king of the 
 world of life held the scepter. 
 
 Trees sprang up on every hand, on the soil ground 
 from the rocks by the restless glaciers and deposited 
 in great lateral and terminal moraines, or washed 
 down by later floods to fill ice-polished areas of more 
 level surface. Insect life, reptilian life, bird life, 
 animal life began to appear, and as the sun shone 
 upon a world so peopled and made beautiful, man 
 was tempted to appear. 
 
 Then came California's prehistoric halcyon days, 
 the days of aboriginal peace and plenty — full of 
 peace because of its plenty, and all Nature seemed to 
 smile and rejoice in gladness. 
 
 Since then there have been many changes. The 
 Spaniard came, the Mexican, the American; the 
 aborigine has been thrust into the background, and 
 for good or evil, the power of the white man is in 
 the ascendency. He it is who has built the railway 
 to aid him In his plans; he it is who has created 
 Huntington Lake; he it is who converts its water- 
 power into electric-power; he it Is who carries that 
 power over the long miles to far-away Los Angeles. 
 He is the modern miracle-worker and the mountains 
 of the San Joaquin are become the scene of some of 
 the greatest of them. 
 
 [13] 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHERE LOS ANGELES' ELECTRICITY IS MADE 
 
 FEW laymen have any conception of the ter- 
 rific power of water, even in a small stream, 
 when brought under man's control from a 
 great height. Now and again he realizes the tremen- 
 dous power of the waves of the ocean in a storm, 
 when they beat upon some unprotected city, as at 
 Galveston, before the sea-wall was built; he sees the 
 devastating horror of a Johnstown flood, a cloud- 
 burst, or a tidal wave; but these are all the manifes- 
 tations of wild Nature, when unrestrained and un- 
 controlled. Just as man has harnessed the lightning 
 and made it obedient to his will, so has he now re- 
 duced the wild power of the water-courses to subjec- 
 tion. He builds dams and, so long as they stand the 
 pressure, they keep the fluid under control. Then, 
 in dark tubes, or through hewn tunnels, he conveys 
 the water to where it pours over tiny wheels, which 
 are thus made to revolve with wondrous speed, excite 
 electric energy into life, and then send its subtle, 
 though unseen, force hundreds of miles away over 
 the hitherto trackless mountains. 
 
 It is to one of the latest and greatest of these elec- 
 tric power development plants — the Pacific Light & 
 Power Co. — which supplies electricity to far-away 
 Los Angeles, that we owe the present facilities for 
 speedily reaching the heart of the mountains of the 
 San Joaquin. 
 
 Los Angeles is one of the marvel-cities of the 
 world for rapid growth. In less than forty years it 
 has jumped from a population of about 12,000 to 
 [14] 
 
In the Forest near Huntington Lake Lodge, in the San Joaquin Sierras 
 
 Leaving Huntington Lake Lodge for a Cam;)ing-()ut Trip in the 
 San Joaquin Sierras 
 
over 500,000. Its electric car system has kept pace 
 with the city's phenomenal bounds, and in addition, 
 it has established the most complete and modern 
 interurban electric system in the United States, if not 
 in the world, sending its trains of magnificent red 
 cars radiating in every direction, even to Redlands, 
 Riverside and San Bernardino, sixty to seventy miles 
 away. Besides this, its city streets and residences 
 are electrically lighted, and thousands of electric ap- 
 pliances and conveniences are in operation for the 
 benefit and comfort of its citizens. Hence it will be 
 seen that it was, necessarily, no small task to meet 
 the growing needs of Los Angeles for electric power. 
 When one company after another had exhausted its 
 resources, Mr. H. E. Huntington, who had prac- 
 tically acquired control of all the street railways, and 
 was the father of the new interurban system, deter- 
 mined to establish power plants in the San Joaquin 
 Sierras. Stone & Webster, of Boston, were given 
 the contract and ordered to speed the work. With 
 their well-known organization operations were begun 
 and so systematically urged that in less than two 
 years from the time the order was received, sixty- 
 seven miles of mountain railway were built; two in- 
 clined cable railways were in operation, each rising 
 2000 feet in 6000 feet of length; four concrete dams 
 were erected, thus creating Huntington Lake, nearly 
 five miles long by half a mile to a mile wide; two 
 power-houses and a sub-station were built and 
 equipped; five miles of 12-foot tunnel were bored 
 through the solid granite of the mountains; over 
 3000 skeleton steel towers were set over 240 miles 
 of mountain and desert, the 50-foot-wide way for 
 these also cleared of timber and brush for the whole 
 length ; and upon the towers were stretched fiv^e mil- 
 lion pounds of aluminum cable. This recital is a 
 story of modern magic. To have built the power- 
 houses alone, in the heart of New York, where all 
 the materials were at hand, would have been regard- 
 
 [15] 
 
ed as a great achievement fifty years ago. But to 
 go into the heart of a rugged range of mountains, 
 cut roads, build a railroad, transport supplies, and 
 erect them there, in what seemed inaccessible sites, is 
 nothing short of the miraculous. 
 
 The San Joaquin & Eastern Railway, therefore, 
 may truly be called an emergency railway. It was 
 built and equipped (the main line of 56 miles) in 
 157 days — five months. And only those who have 
 ridden over it can grasp the remarkable fact, for it 
 required the blasting of millions of tons of solid 
 granite, and it rises at a far higher gradient than any 
 other steam-propelled railway in the state, except 
 small portions of the Mt. Tamalpais scenic railway. 
 After the main S6 miles were built it was found nec- 
 essary to add 1 1 miles for pure construction pur- 
 poses. The equipment called for nine locomotives 
 and 112 cars. 
 
 The watershed that supplies Huntington Lake has 
 its greatest elevation in Kaiser Ridge, from 9000 to 
 nearly 11,000 feet above the sea. Its chief stream 
 has long borne the mountaineer's name of Big Creek, 
 which is one of the large affluents of the main stem 
 of the San Joaquin River. At an elevation of 7000 
 feet it flowed into a basin (now Huntington Lake), 
 and then spilled over, in a series of cascades and 
 waterfalls, into a precipitous canyon, dropping four 
 thousand feet in six miles before it joined the San 
 Joaquin. 
 
 To make this basin a permanent reservoir required 
 the erection of three of the concrete dams referred 
 to. Each one is built on solid granite foundations 
 and they are so constructed that fifty feet may be 
 added to their height when it is needed to store more 
 water for the development of more power. 
 
 At the lake the water is diverted from its natural 
 
 channel, through screens, into an intake tower, from 
 
 which it enters a 12-foot tunnel three-quarters of a 
 
 mile long. Connecting with the tunnel are two steel- 
 
 [16] 
 
pipe conduits, which come down the mountain side, 
 under the shadow of the Kerckhoff Dome, like giant 
 black caterpillars. These two are then divided into 
 four, each pipe 24 inches in diameter, and having a 
 thickness of 13/16 inches, made of the finest steel 
 known. Each of these pipes is able to resist a pres- 
 sure of 900 pounds to the square inch, and is tested 
 to double that capacity. These are known as the 
 penstocks, and as the water is ready to be delivered 
 to the water-wheel, each tube compresses until it is 
 but 26 inches in diameter, with a nozzle of 6^. 
 inches in diameter, through which the water dashes 
 at the velocity of 350 feet per second. 
 
 Few can realize the force with which the water, 
 with this 2000 feet of head, compressed through 
 these small nozzles, rushes forth. During the con- 
 struction period, before the wheels were in position, 
 each time the stream was turned on it cut down the 
 opposite mountain side as though it were powdered 
 sugar. The water-wheels are of the Pelton-Doble 
 (San Francisco) type, though they were made by 
 the Allis-Chalmers Co. Each wheel consists of nine- 
 teen double-scoop buckets, attached to a nickel-steel 
 disk, 97 inches in diameter. Each bucket is made of 
 the finest cast steel and weighs 225 pounds; the 
 bucket-weight of the nineteen, therefore, being 4275 
 pounds. But this is as nothing compared to the re- 
 sistant power of the revolving shaft upon which these 
 buckets are affixed. The pressure approximates 
 three hundred tons, such is the fearful power gener- 
 ated by the upright column of water flowing from 
 Huntington Lake. 
 
 When the water is turned on, the jets dash across 
 an open space of a few inches and then strike the 
 buckets. There is no shock, however, at this impact, 
 as the part of the bucket first touched is nearly par- 
 allel to the jet. The wheel is forced around, the 
 next bucket appears, and the next, and so on, in end- 
 less round. In its short course over the surface of 
 
 [17] 
 
the buckets the water Is brought almost to rest, and, 
 without pressure and velocity, falls Inert from the 
 wheel Into the tall-race. It Is In the bringing of the 
 water to rest and allowing It to drop from the buckets 
 that the genius of the inventors has been displayed. 
 Were the water to revolve with the buckets they 
 would soon become choked, as It were, and thus ma- 
 terially retard the speed. As It Is, the experts tell us 
 that fully 85 per cent of the potential energy is ac- 
 tually developed and delivered to the electric excltors, 
 or dynamos, with which the bucket-shaft Is linked. 
 
 When run at full speed the shaft revolves 375 
 times per minute, over sixty times a second, and if a 
 brake were not applied it would continue to revolve 
 for two hours after the power was shut off, such is 
 the perfection of the mechanism. 
 
 The two excltors are the nerve centers of the whole 
 plant. Each Is 18 feet in diameter and 8 feet wide, 
 and the pair develop practically 24,000 horse-power. 
 As a tyro stands and watches the great dynamos re- 
 volve, and realizes that here water energy is being 
 transformed Into the subtler electrical energy to the 
 extent of 17,500 kilowatts each. It almost staggers 
 his imagination to be told by the expert that the 
 mechanism is so delicate, so finely balanced, that the 
 governor reveals to the trained eye the stopping and 
 starting of every electric car on the streets of Los 
 Angeles, 240 miles away! It Is evident, then, that 
 the control of the pressure of the water must be ade- 
 quately provided for. Each wheel unit has two gov- 
 ernors, so that the maximum efficiency can be ob- 
 tained from the unit by using one or both runners, 
 according to the demand of the load. The size of 
 the water jet Is regulated by a needle valve controlled 
 by the governor, and excessive changes In the pipe- 
 line pressures are prevented by by-pass openings back 
 of the nozzles, also controlled by the governor. 
 
 The power Is generated at 6600 volts, which is 
 then passed into three transformers and raised to 
 [18] 
 
150,000 volts. Each of these transformers stands 
 eighteen feet high and is filled with 10,000 gallons of 
 oil of a coohng and insulating quality, so as to de- 
 stroy the tremendous heat generated in the trans- 
 forming process. Each tank weighs 90 tons, and 
 the oil Ts tested once a month to discover whether its 
 resistant properties are impaired, and also to find out 
 whether any moisture has crept in. If it is found 
 below standard, or moist, it is taken out and thor- 
 oughly filtered. 
 
 The power is now under the control of the switch- 
 man, and he sends a continuous flow of 150,000 volts 
 over the aluminum transmission lines direct to Los 
 Angeles, where, at the Eagle Rock sub-station step- 
 down transformers, condensers, compensators and 
 other controlling apparatus are installed. Received 
 at 150,000 volts, it is delivered over the city lines at 
 72,000 and 18,000 volts. This is the longest hne in 
 existence and operates at the highest voltage ever 
 used commercially, hence to the practical electrician 
 is one of the most interesting plants in the world. The 
 twin steel towers are erected on a right-of-way 150 
 feet wide, cut as straight as the crow flies from the 
 power-houses over mountains, valleys, desert and 
 plain, and they carry six cables an inch in diameter. 
 Without halt the subtle fluid leaps from the San Joa- 
 quin mountains to Los Angeles, and so perfect was 
 the planning that during the severe storms of 1914 
 and 1916 the system stood the test without a break, 
 giving continuous service, day and night, ever since 
 its installation. 
 
 Yet the story only begins here. When the water 
 from Huntington Lake races down the penstock, op- 
 erates the water-wheel, generates the electric power, 
 drops inert into the tail-race, it has done only the 
 first portion of its expected service. It now flows 
 into the Cascada reservoir, created by the erection 
 of Dam No. 4, 72 feet high and with a capacity suf- 
 ficient to operate Power Plant No. 2, four miles fur- 
 
 [19] 
 
ther down, for four hours. The respective elevations 
 are 4820 feet at Cascada and 2953 feet at plant No. 
 2. About 10 per cent added water flows into the 
 reservoir from Pitman and Snowslide creeks and 
 other smaller streams, and then, flowing through a 
 tunnel 12 feet in diameter, cut out of the solid gran- 
 ite of the mountain, 21,000 feet long, it flows to 
 generate about the same amount of power at plant 
 No. 2 as is produced at Cascada. Thus this one 
 stream of water, twice used, generates about 170,000 
 horse-power. 
 
 Such, however, is the growing demand for electric 
 power, that the completed plans of this system con- 
 template the erection of two more generating sta- 
 tions. No. 3 will be located near where Stevenson 
 Creek drops into the San Joaquin, and about four 
 miles beyond No. 2, reached through a granite tun- 
 nel. Its water supply will be augmented by the full 
 flow of the San Joaquin river, brought through a 
 tunnel twelve miles long, and the drop will be 1400 
 feet. Then a fourth plant will be erected further 
 down, with, possibly, an equal capacity, so that when 
 the entire system is installed it is not unreasonable to 
 suppose that fully 350,000 horse-power will be de- 
 veloped ready for transmission to Los Angeles or 
 elsewhere, as may be required. 
 
 The expenditures already made to date exceed the 
 sum of twenty-five million dollars, and the rude esti- 
 mates of the completed system, as outlined above, 
 call for near eighty millions. Thus do men today 
 play the game of life with millions, where a score of 
 years ago they deemed they were doing large things 
 with hundreds of thousands. 
 
 The system was designed as the result of combin- 
 ing the ideas of several engineers, notably the heads 
 of the Pacific Light & Power Co., Messrs. H. A. 
 Barre and Davis. The superintendent of the Big 
 Creek power-houses is R. B. Lawton, to whose kind- 
 ness I am indebted for the facts of this chapter. 
 [20] 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 FROM FRESNO TO HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE 
 
 FOR the first eighteen miles the ride is on the 
 Friant Branch of the Southern Pacific. In 
 February, 1916, when the Snow Carnival 
 was held, there had been a brief early hot spell in the 
 San Joaquin Valley, a kind of Indian summer, where 
 the temperature rose as high as 80 degrees. Then 
 came days of fog, which flowed in during the night 
 and did not lift until early afternoon, thus covering 
 the whole valley with its cooling, though somewhat 
 dreary, blanket. This fog followed us all the way 
 from Fresno to El Prado, where change was made to 
 the cars of the San Joaquin & Eastern Railway. This 
 latter is the railway of 56 miles, constructed and 
 equipped in 157 days, to further the establishment 
 of the hydro-electric power-plants described in the 
 preceding chapter. 
 
 From this point we began the ascent of the foot- 
 hills, dotted with live oaks, sycamores and cotton- 
 woods, many of the former heavy with bunches of 
 parasitic mistletoe. Soon the table-land region was 
 reached, reminding one forcefully of the volcanic 
 country so graphically described by Bret Harte in 
 his Twins of Table Motintain. This is a vast stony 
 level, upheaved far above the surrounding country — 
 the valleys traversed by our train — and capped by a 
 thick flow of solidified lava, which has prevented the 
 wear and tear of the storms of the ages from cutting 
 it down to the lower levels. The country having 
 been fairly level when the lava outpour occurred, it 
 now stands, parapetted and formidable, like a gi- 
 gantic and time-worn level-topped castle built in 
 
 [21] 
 
heroic days to house all the giant creatures of the 
 world. Although hi actual altitude these tables of 
 rock are far beneath the white peaks of snow of the 
 higher Sierras, their peculiar configuration seems tor 
 lift them up to the passionless region of the stars and 
 make them much higher than they really are. 
 
 The intervening valleys are fairly fertile and the 
 foothills attractive with the wealth of blossoms 
 springing up in the moist mould under the influence 
 of the sunshine, for the" fog is now behind and below 
 us, and the pure blue of the Sierran sky is shot 
 through with the brilliant rays of the sun. For 
 twenty-six miles we meander along until Auberry is 
 reached, at an elevation of 2050 feet. 
 
 Here we change engines, for from now on we 
 must climb up steeper grades, making more curves 
 and twists than are found in any other railway in 
 the world. In some places, too, the grade is as high 
 as 53^ per cent. The ordinary engine is not suitable 
 for this kind of railroading, so the Shay engines, 
 similar to those used to overcome the grades of Mt. 
 Tamalpais, are used. These are different from the 
 ordinary rod-and-piston-driven engines, in that the 
 power is applied by cogs to each of the six wheels of 
 the engine, hence, though they travel much slower, 
 they can overcome grades, hauling heavy loads im- 
 possible to the ordinary type of engine. 
 
 From now on there were no straight stretches. We 
 were on the curve practically every moment, winding 
 In and out of the rudely scalloped segments of the 
 mountain's shoulders. In and around, but ever up 
 and up, we climbed, until a full view of the valley of 
 the San Joaquin was presented. Its expansiveness 
 and gentle upslope are its chief characteristics. It 
 has none of the wild and picturesque, turbulent and 
 chaotic ruggedness of the eastern slopes of the Sier- 
 ras. Here the glaciers have ploughed their way 
 down and over an easy slope, leaving their mud and 
 debris deposits all the way down, to form fertile soil 
 [22] 
 
Wintertime at the Pacific Light and Power Corporation Plant No. I, 
 
 In the Sierra Planes on the Way from Cascada to Huntington Lake Lod; 
 
upon which giant pines, firs, tamaracks and spruces 
 now abound. 
 
 At Indian Mission we were greeted by Mono 
 Indian men, women and children, about 300 of them 
 residing here upon a small reserve, with a govern- 
 ment school and a mission chapel. Most of the el- 
 derly women are excellent basket-weavers, some of 
 their work being of the finest character in shape, 
 weave, color and striking design. 
 
 On and up we curved, in greater or lesser scallops, 
 until we reached the beautifully level Jose Basin, at 
 Webstone. This is one of the small, fertile valleys 
 of the Sierras, where grain, alfalfa and fruit grow in 
 abundance, and of rare quality. In the springtime 
 the whole area blossoms out into a million exquisite 
 Sierran wild flowers. It is the beginning of a botan- 
 ist's paradise, leading on into higher and richer fields 
 beyond. 
 
 Out again on the open mountain sides the train 
 carried us until we were almost directly over the 
 Grand Canyon of the San Joaquin. Here the river 
 is narrowed into a wild and rugged gorge of majestic 
 grandeur. Though it is 3200 feet below us, we can 
 hear, when our engine comes to rest for a few min- 
 utes at some watering tank, the sullen roar of its 
 flow, as it rages at being so confined between these 
 gigantic cliffs. For miles we have followed its more 
 open course, a mere ribbon of delicate jade, laid out 
 in the trough of an irregular shaped basin, the slopes 
 all leading the eye down to this meandering band of 
 color. Here and there white fringes line its edges, 
 or daggers of white shoot parallel with its course. 
 These are rapids, or cascades, over which the water 
 madly, ragingly, or sullenly roars. 
 
 For some time the glorious snow-capped peaks of 
 the Sierras had been in view, and their grandeur and 
 glory grew as we came nearer to them. The crests 
 of the ridges on our right were covered with pines, 
 swelling onward and upward in long mounting bil- 
 
 [23] 
 
lows, until they broke upon the pure blue of the sky. 
 Still higher, slopes and crests alike were covered with 
 pines and firs of great girth and height. We had 
 reached one of the timber treasures of the Sierra 
 National Forest, where nearly two billion feet of 
 lumber were recently sold. What wreckage and de- 
 struction will take place here when the lumber camps 
 are established and modern machinery and methods 
 are set in motion to fell these arboreal monarchs of 
 the Sierras, ignominiously drag them to the sawmills 
 and there rip them into merchantable lumber ! 
 
 At Dawn, 4562 feet of elevation, we enjoyed an 
 even more extended panorama than any that before 
 had been afforded us. The eye here sweeps over an 
 expanse of upwards of three hundred miles. Towards 
 the east the snowy Sierras stand in towering glory 
 over the vast forest stretches and the half-clothed 
 wilderness of the San Joaquin watershed, while in 
 the far-away western horizon are to be seen the deep 
 purple of the Coast range, beyond Avhich lies the Sun 
 Down Sea of Balboa. 
 
 On the extreme right of the panorama, looking 
 eastward, lies the Canyon of Big Creek, down which 
 waterfalls, cascades and rapids come dashing from 
 the basins above. Their foaming whiteness even now 
 attracts the eye. Here the end of the railway is 
 reached at Cascada, where the first of the giant power 
 stations is erected, and the monster dynamos create 
 their wondrous flow of electricity. Locating the spot, 
 and the dominant feature of the amphitheater, is the 
 granite mass of Kerckhoff Dome, towering 1800 feet 
 above the settlement, and leading the gaze to the 
 level stretch above, in which, under the snowy crags 
 of Kaiser Crest, Huntington Lake securely nestles in 
 blue serenity. 
 
 Three miles beyond Dawn, West Portal was 
 
 reached. Here is the present western terminus of the 
 
 power system; the end of the four-mile water tunnel. 
 
 Below us was Power House No. 2, and as we jour- 
 
 [24] 
 
neyed we caught glimpses of the great cable incline, 
 and the steel tubes of the giant penstock which con- 
 veys the water to the power-wheels. 
 
 Another five miles brought us to Cascada, whose 
 glorious waterfalls and cascades suggested the name 
 it now bears. At Stevenson Creek, two miles west of 
 Dawn, where we stopped for dinner, our ears and 
 eyes were charmed by the waterfalls, cascades, pools 
 and rapids of that dashing torrent, but now all the 
 rapture of Pitman Creek is ours. What music Na- 
 ture produces, and how soul-stirring it is when one 
 grows to understand it! Like the masterly composi- 
 tions of Beethoven, Mendelssohn or Wagner, one 
 must learn to comprehend them; and then, ah, then, 
 they sing of far-away western seas, of wooing sun- 
 shine, of ravishing, intoxicating rushes into the upper 
 air in the form of sea-mist, of wild storms blowing 
 the mist-clouds from western seas over fertile Cali- 
 fornia landscapes to the forbidding barriers of Sier- 
 ra's highest crests. Then they sing of fierce storms, 
 of dire cold, of icy blasts of winter, of the deluge of 
 snow brought upon these towering peaks; of its melt- 
 ing and massing until glacial beds were formed. 
 Then, again, the song changes to one of joy at sun- 
 shine and freedom. The sun's rays release the im- 
 prisoned seadrops; they are free again; they flow in 
 underground channels until they emerge into the 
 open, and then they sing separately and melodiously, 
 and jointly and harmoniously of their new-found 
 freedom. Merrily they dash along, murmuring and 
 babbling between the trees in their quieter flow, trum- 
 peting, blaring, cymballing and drumming when they 
 dash from ledge to ledge, or tootling, tinkling and 
 piping as they rush to and fro among the boulders. 
 
 While one's intellect is enthralled at the material 
 and scientific marvels of the great power-house, let 
 him not forget the natural and simple delights af- 
 forded eye and ear at Pitman Creek. 
 
 [25] 
 
Behind the power-house the cable Incline ascends 
 to the level of Kerckhoff Dome, where the upper rail- 
 road hauls supplies to the Lodge. The penstocks are 
 also located here. But passengers are not carried on 
 the incline; so, leaving the train, we take the stage or 
 automobile in summer-time, or Sierra-planes in win- 
 ter, and within an hour or so find ourselves in the 
 hospitable shelter of Huntington Lake Lodge, where 
 our real mountain pleasures are to begin. 
 
 [26] 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE IN SUMMER 
 
 FROM the terminus of the San Joaquin & East- 
 ern Railway at Cascada it is four miles, or 
 thereabout, to the Lodge. The road is well 
 engineered for stages and automobiles, but the strong 
 and athletic mountain-lover will ride horseback or 
 walk. In the former case he will soon sing, with 
 Edwin Markham: 
 
 I ride on the mountain tops, I ride; 
 I have found mj' life and am satisfied. 
 
 I am lifted elate — the skies expand : 
 
 I ride with the voices of waterfalls! 
 
 The road leads through an almost virgin forest, 
 where flowers of a thousand varieties charm the eye, 
 and mosses, ferns and liverworts lead the rider to 
 dismount and gaze upon scenes of fairy-like beauty. 
 Springs, cascades and waterfalls give rare life and 
 touches of nature-glory to the scene, as well as insur- 
 ing needful moisture to the flowers during the long 
 summer months. Pines, spruces, cedars, with occa- 
 sional quaking aspens, cottonwoods, sycamores, ma- 
 dronas, and manzanita make a rich forest. Now and 
 again richest vistas are afforded of long aisles of 
 glorious trees, terminating in the vault of the blue 
 horizon, or in the purple depths of the profound 
 valleys to the west. 
 
 Suddenly, through the trees, Huntington Lake ap- 
 pears. Though a made lake, it occupies the site of 
 an original Sierran lake, destroyed, mayhap, by earth- 
 
 [27] 
 
quake shock ages ago, or its outlets carved away by 
 long-forgotten glacial action. The three dams re- 
 cently erected have restored the barriers and now the 
 lake, four to five miles long and from a half to a 
 mile wide, is another permanent asset of beauty to 
 this region crowded with proofs that the Divine Cre- 
 ator is a lover of beauty. Rising from its very mar- 
 gin, towering trees point heavenward, rising in 
 billowy waves to the shoulders of the highest peaks, 
 where the timber-line ends and barren rock or snowy 
 crowns begin. In the first chapter I have given a 
 cursory survey of the extended mountain views ob- 
 tainable from any one of a score salient points around 
 the lake. 
 
 To provide for the creature comforts of the exact- 
 ing modern mountain traveler, Huntington Lake 
 Lodge has been erected, about 500 feet away from 
 the shore of the lake. It is a mountain structure, 
 Swiss in style, redolent of pine and fir, spruce and 
 tamarack, with an inviting hall in which a triumph 
 of stone-chimney construction has been achieved. 
 There is not a more delightful, cozy and comforta- 
 ble lounging room in America than is this hall, 
 winter or summer, when a genial crowd is gathered 
 together within its hospitable walls. 
 
 Even on summer nights an open fire is often grate- 
 ful and comforting, and in the winter its joyous 
 warmth is indispensable; but in every room an elec- 
 tric heater is provided, which, on the mere twisting 
 of a button, throws out its gratifying heat. With 
 the purest air of earth to breathe, the purest water 
 of God's own mountain distillation to drink, with 
 ten thousand balsamic odors and scents lading the 
 air and bringing delicious comfort to city-choked 
 lungs, what wonder that new and beautiful color 
 floods the cheeks, new springiness enters the walk, 
 clearness the brain, freedom the lungs, oxygen the 
 blood, and the whole being becomes radiant with 
 new life, vim, vigor and energy? 
 [28] 
 
To the hunter the whole region is one of allure- 
 ment. Small and large game of all varieties abound. 
 From the Lodge a score, two score, of trips may be 
 made, some nearby and easy, others farther away 
 and arduous, to the wilds of the higher and more 
 remote parts of the mountains. Here, during the 
 season, it is seldom that bear and deer may not be 
 found. Foxes, lynxes and wildcats also abound, 
 though, of course, the season for these Is the winter, 
 when their fur is at its best. 
 
 But it is particularly to the fisherman, the angler 
 for mountain trout and other gamey fish, that the 
 region makes its great appeal. Experts assert that 
 it is the most highly favored fishing locality in the 
 American world. This is but natural, on account 
 of the continuous flow of ice-cold water from the 
 thousands of springs, snowbanks and glaciers of the 
 multitudinous peaks, whose snowy crowns and icy 
 shoulder-capes are never melted. Brooks, streams, 
 rivers and lakes abound in rainbow, black-spotted. 
 Loch Levin, Eastern, and golden trout, together 
 with black bass. Scores of glacial lakes are within 
 easy reach of the Lodge, and the camper-out may 
 take his outfit, travel to a fresh angling spot daily, 
 and thus enjoy a full month of healthful delight, as 
 well as revelry in his chosen sport. For, since the 
 enlarged policy of the Department of the Interior, 
 in relation to our national parks and forests, came 
 into effect, miles and miles of trail have been built 
 in the Sierra National Forest, giving to any ordi- 
 narily healthful person easy access to every lake, 
 stream, creek and river in the region. 
 
 And to those who are "run down," overworked, 
 weary of the endless round of modern business life, 
 of society with its wearisome monotony and soul- 
 harrowing frivolities, what could be more beneficial 
 than to recuperate amid these glorious, majestic and 
 inspiring scenes? Here one soon gains serenity, 
 poise, strength and power. 
 
 [29] 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HUNTINGTON LAKE LODGE IN WINTER 
 
 WINTER at the Lodge begins "several miles 
 before you get there." On the occasion of 
 the Commercial Club's excrusion snow was 
 reached at Dawn, For a while the train was stopped 
 in order that the party might disembark and indulge 
 in a snow frolic. Many had never been in the snow 
 before, hence it was a new and unique experience. 
 
 At Cascada stages were taken for a mile or so, 
 and then change was made to' the snow-boats, or 
 Sierra planes, recently invented for the transporta- 
 tion of this party. It was found that the snow was 
 too soft and deep to allow the running of an ordi- 
 nary sleigh. The runners sank in, and even eight 
 horses could not pull the sleigh along. It was left, 
 therefore, to the inventive genius of Leonard L. 
 Ellis — popularly known as "Len" — to devise some 
 means of getting this party to the Lodge. After sev- 
 eral experiments he found that a strongly constructed 
 sled, shaped similarly to a rowboat, the bottom (on 
 the outside) covered with heavy zinc, and dragged 
 by four, five or six horses, driven tandem, would an- 
 swer the purpose. They were found to work admir- 
 ably, though the horses and mules, if they left the 
 beaten path, sank and floundered in the deep snow. 
 
 Through the deep drifts, which were sometimes 
 as deep as ten, fifteen, or even twenty feet, a tow- 
 path was maintained open to the summit, and over 
 this the party was taken in the Sierra planes, each 
 plane accommodating eight persons. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that the party came up 
 on three successive days, some on Friday, others Sat- 
 [30] 
 

One of the Dams at Huntington Lake, San Joaquin Sierras 
 
 Holding the Fort Against All Comers, First Annual Ice and Snow 
 Carnival, Huntington Lake 
 
urday, while the last arrivals were on Sunday. Each 
 day, on reaching the summit in the Sierra planes, a 
 terrific snow battle was imperative ere progress was 
 allowed. A snow fortress was built, manned the 
 first day by Mr. Munger and the winter residents of 
 the Lodge and its environs. The invaders fought 
 manfully, showing great aptitude in making and 
 throwing snowballs, considering the fact that so few 
 of them had ever done the like before. 
 
 The second day Hayden Jones, the new com- 
 mandant of Huntington Fort, determined to ambush 
 the newly arriving party, led by Messrs. George 
 Waterman and G. Gaylord Watson. As their planes 
 came merrily along they were suddenly attacked. 
 Showers of snowballs fell upon them as rapidly, if 
 not as fiercely, as German shells were rained upon 
 Verdun. Entirely surprised, they became ready vic- 
 tims to the fort defenders, who, rushing upon them, 
 overturned the planes and took everyone prisoner. 
 But though captured, the new contingent had re- 
 sourceful leaders. Rallying their mental powers 
 from the suddenness of the shock, they signaled to 
 their followers, who, falling upon their captors, ef- 
 fected their escape, keeping up the while the most 
 galling and destructive fire. Noses were hit, eyes 
 bunged up, ears filled, necks loaded with the fleecy 
 snow, and though the Hayden Jones forces fought 
 with the desperation of despair, they were overcome 
 by mere strength, as well as strategy, their fortress 
 largely demolished, and their valiant soldiers placed 
 hors dii combat, hors d'(ruvre, hoi-polloi, or Erin go 
 hragh — mainly Erin go bragh, which, being inter- 
 preted, means, put in the soup. 
 
 Words utterly fail to describe the dire conflict of 
 the following day. The two parties of the preceding 
 days had patched up a truce and united forces 
 against the hapless third-day group, who were sub- 
 jected to such a rain, hail and storm of fire when 
 they arrived as to make them feel as did the congre- 
 
 [31] 
 
gation of the negro preacher, when he emphatically 
 announced: "Bredderen, dere am but two roads — 
 one to hell, and de odder to perdition." They im- 
 mediately did as one of the preacher's auditors did, 
 viz., took to de woods until the defenders were lulled 
 into a sense of false security. Then, swooping down 
 upon them, with valor in every heart and prowess 
 in every arm, they made a clean sweep of outposts, 
 fortress and defenders. 
 
 These were the real beginnings of the frolics. 
 Everyone had to take his, her, baptism of snow. For 
 snow was everywhere. The Lake was buried deep in 
 ten, twenty feet of snow. Everywhere was snow. 
 As far as the eye could reach, to the summit of Kai- 
 ser's Peak, and beyond, for fifty and more miles, 
 looking northward and east, filling ravines and 
 gulches, and dropping from the walls of canyons in 
 white shroud-like drifts, fashioning the dividing 
 ridges into the likenesses of monstrous graves, hid- 
 ing the bases of giant pines, and completely covering 
 young trees and larches; rimming with porcelain the 
 bowl-like edges of the lake, and undulating in motion- 
 less white billows to the edge of the distant hori- 
 zon — so would Bret Harte have described the scene, 
 quoting from his Gabriel Conroy. Snow actually cov- 
 ered some of the lesser houses of the settlement, and 
 rose to the very eaves, and higher, of the great ware- 
 houses and stables. The Lodge was buried up to 
 and above the second-story windows, and tunnels 
 were dug to allow ingress and egress. The cottages 
 were buried like dog kennels, and could be entered 
 only through canyons tunneled in the snow. 
 
 This was the scene and these the conditions that 
 met the Fresno Commercial Club at Huntington 
 Lake on the occasion of the First Winter Carnival 
 and Sports. 
 
 [32] 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE WINTER CARNIVAL AT HUNTINGTON LAKE 
 
 PILOTED through the snow tunnels or run- 
 ways, the varnivalists reached the foyer of the 
 Lodge. Here blazing fires welcomed them, 
 and their eyes were delighted with the fir and spruce 
 adornments of the walls, beams and open ceiling of 
 the hall. The odors of the mountains were cham- 
 bered in the rooms, and thus the very spirit of the 
 High Sierras began immediately to flow into them. 
 Barely did they give themselves time to wash and 
 dress before they responded to thedinner call. There 
 were no laggards at any meal during the stay of the 
 party. Mountain air, in winter especially, is provoc- 
 ative of excellently sharp appetites, and none called 
 for high-balls, cock-tails, or the other "appetizers" 
 deemed so necessary to stimulate the jaded palates 
 of overfed city-dwellers in their regular habitats. 
 
 No sooner was the meal ended than the fun began. 
 The first order was to listen to the reading of the 
 rules, which had been framed expressly to meet the 
 requirements of this party. Some of these rules were 
 as follows : 
 
 This is a family party and it is expected that all avIU 
 radiate good cheer, kindly feeling, friendliness and jollity. 
 Wives are expected to speak to every husband except their 
 own, and no husband is allowed to dance with his own wife. 
 
 The management hereby gives notice that it positively 
 refuses to be responsible for diamond-set garters, diamond- 
 set nose rings and other precious stones of greater value than 
 Two Million Dollars per guest. 
 
 As none of our guests are less than multi-millionaires we 
 request that all use as good grammar as possible. 
 
 [33] 
 
All complaints must be made in person to the manage- 
 ment at the hour of Two A. M. on the crest of Dam No. 1, 
 two milfs away. It is possible that before the complaints 
 are adjusted both management and guests will have visited 
 several other dams in the neighborhood. 
 
 It is considered bad taste at this hotel to flavor your cof- 
 fee with Worcester Sauce. 
 
 Guests are requested not to find fault with the coffee as 
 we nev^er use any cheaper brand than Tarbuggle's, for which 
 we pay seven cents a pound. 
 
 It is respectfully requested by the management that guests 
 do not leave their false teeth on the tables. Trouble often- 
 times follows, owing to guests getting them mixed. 
 
 Ask for everything you don't see and the management 
 will see that you get it — in the neck. 
 
 Unmarried gentlemen are earnestly cautioned to be care- 
 ful against designing females. This is LEAP YEAR. 
 
 No lady is allowed to kiss her husband under the mistle- 
 toe. 
 
 A class will be formed daily for personal instruction in 
 mistletoe customs. It will meet in the hall each evening at 
 candlelight. Gentlemen desirous of receiving instructions 
 will kindly apply to the committee of education. Every 
 lady guest is chairman of that committee. 
 
 Lessons on the latest dances, the snowshoe trip, the ski 
 flop, the coyote lope, the rattlesnake wiggle and the chucka- 
 walla wallop can be obtained on application to the manage- 
 ment. 
 
 Guests who insist on stealing our red-hot stoves are re- 
 spectfully requested to wear gloves. We will not be respon- 
 sible for burns. 
 
 Ladies with cold feet are requested to leave them by the 
 open fire before they retire. 
 
 Parties of guests who w^ish to discuss the war will leave 
 daily at three A. M., one for Kaiser Crest, another for 
 King George Peak, and the third for Hell Hole. Those who 
 indulge in war talk in the hotel will immediately be banished 
 to the latter place. 
 
 The management respectfully requests that gentlemen 
 who are in the habit of jawing their wives refrain from 
 doing so after they have retired. The room partitions are 
 thin. 
 
 [34] 
 
The morning after our arrival I had the choice 
 set before me of skiing, snow-shoeing or toboggan- 
 ing. Twenty-five years before, I had gained some 
 trifling proficiency in the use of skis, but never since 
 had had opportunity to use them; so, Instinctively, I 
 leaned to the long, slim strips of wood with turned- 
 up toes and fastening straps in the center, and stood 
 while an obliging friend kindly adjusted them to my 
 feet. As soon as he gave the signal I felt peculiarly 
 and unfortunately clumsy. I was all feet, and I felt 
 it would be a great feat, indeed a pair of feet, to 
 make my feet do the simplest thing, thus hampered 
 by these seven-foot-long shoes. But I pushed out 
 onto the level snow, and soon the easy motion came 
 back to me. In snow-shoeing one lifts the foot as 
 clear of the snow as possible, and puts It down again, 
 as In ordinary walking; but in skiing the shoe Is slid 
 along over the snow. Only in soft snow, or ascend- 
 ing a slope, does one lift the ski from the surface. 
 It sounds easy enough when an expert tells you to 
 glide along over the snow. But snow Is not always 
 the same, neither are all surfaces as level as they 
 ought to be for a new beginner. After snow has 
 been partially melted and then frozen It is a very 
 different material from what It Is when soft and flaky. 
 It Is like ice, and the skis slip over it with a speed 
 and suddenness that are startling in the extreme — to 
 a tyro. Then, too, when one comes to an irregularity 
 in his pathway, as, for instance, where the snow has 
 partially melted around the trunk of a tree, all roads 
 seem to lead to that tree; for, do what one will, the 
 skis perversely slide forward, sideways, backward, 
 or all ways together, down the slope. It takes reso- 
 lution, courage, skill and strength to overcome these 
 perverse tendencies of the Inanimate skis. One 
 knows they are Inanimate, and therefore ought to be 
 perfectly under his control. He, the human, the 
 mental being, reveling In the power of thought over 
 mere material substance, ought to be able to go as he 
 
 [35] 
 
wills, where he wills, how he wills, and when he wills. 
 But, inanimate or not, the skis seem to be the sub- 
 jects of demoniac possession. The most will-full just 
 have to go the way the skis go. I've willed again 
 and again, but all to no purpose. In plain, simple 
 English, the skis just ran away with me, and I had 
 to stand on them and submit. It was humiliating, of 
 course, but evidently necessary to my training, my 
 mental and moral discipline — possibly my physical 
 discipline. I was told it would be a great strain upon 
 my ankles, big toes, the calves and thighs, but, except 
 on the toes — which I will explain later — I found the 
 strain to be on my torso, but mainly on my mind. I 
 was all the time wondering where I was going next, 
 where I should fall, when, how, and how much it 
 would hurt. For I fell again and again, sometimes 
 forwards, even alighting on my elbow, face, and 
 nose; oftener backwards, dropping in such sudden, 
 unceremonious and forceful fashion that I felt as if 
 a piledriver had suddenly reversed and had thrust 
 my spinal column through the roof of my skull. 
 Strain on my legs? Not a bit of it. At the end of 
 the week I hadn't a lame muscle down there any- 
 where, while my elbows were skinned, my face 
 scraped, my nose peeled, my feelings hurt, my spine 
 jarred from pole to pole, and my torso strained from 
 center to circumference, and every muscle of back, 
 chest and abdomen as lame as unusual exercise could 
 make them. My big toes, too, either because they 
 were big, extra big, or merely because they would 
 not, could not, should not, ought not, might not, or 
 did not bend completely over, seemed especially to 
 attract the attention of those perverse skis. Every 
 time I went down the difficulty was to get up. No 
 matter how I fell — forward, backward, sideways, 
 circularly, or spirally — there was but one way, so it 
 seemed to me, that I could get up. That was: I, 
 to roll ov^er until my skis were not penetrating the 
 air in a heavenward direction; II, to get the flat of 
 [36] 
 
them — the underside — down upon the snow. Now, 
 to do this, when one was flat upon the snow, was a 
 task that required judgment, ability, dexterity and a 
 certain amount of unusual juggling with one's body, 
 legs and feet, that, to say the least, didn't come easy. 
 First one side of the body was brought under control, 
 and one ski was properly placed. Then came the 
 crux, the test, the final demonstration of ability. 
 Bending forward on the firmly planted ski, one lifted 
 the other half of his body Into line, and flipped, 
 flapped, flopped, or just merely dropped his ski flat- 
 side down on the snow, and by dint of careful and 
 skillful balancing arose to his feet. It was during 
 these falling, straightening over and getting-up proc- 
 esses that one felt as If his feet were all big toes. The 
 strain on them was tremendous, and though It is now 
 over two weeks since the experience, my big toes yet 
 ache and feel sore around the joints whenever they 
 hear the word "skis." 
 
 But falling and getting up again was part of the 
 game. The air was pure, cold, delicious and invig- 
 orating. One's lungs expanded In the exercise. The 
 whole body, brain, mind and Imagination were exhila- 
 rated, oxygenated, healthfully stimulated, and one's 
 sense of beauty constantly quickened and aroused, de- 
 lighted and satisfied by the snow-laden trees around. 
 What did a few tumbles matter? Who cared? After 
 each fall I got up again, sometimes after quite a little 
 rest, sprawling on my back, feet wildly waving in air 
 and looking strangely peculiar, or peculiarly strange, 
 with those long and unfamiliar attachments to them. 
 
 But It was when I tried to slide downhill that I 
 awoke to the treacheries, the meannesses, the lurking 
 dangers of Inanimate things. I saw a small knoll a 
 little distance away. It was rounded, smooth, and of 
 not too steep approach. From one side of It a gentle 
 slope, apparently without pitfalls, led the eye down 
 toward the lake. Here was an Ideal spot for the ed- 
 ucation of my ski-sliding, or gliding, or tobogganing, 
 
 [37] 
 
or sledding, or whatever they call it, experiences. 
 With patience and care, caution and awkward bal- 
 ancing I succeeded in scaling the height. It didn't 
 look much, but it felt like a mountain while I ascend- 
 ed. Cautiously — nay, I might almost say, stealthily — 
 I worked my way around and looked down the slope, 
 into the far-away level below. Dare I dare? Of 
 course, I had to — I must! So, inching along until 
 my weight was on the slope, down I went, gaining in 
 speed and losing in confidence. Alas! twenty or 
 thirty feet ahead was a double-track, transverse to 
 the course I was now so recklessly pursuing. It 
 looked like a wagon road through the snow. The 
 woodchoppers had made it, dragging in a log on 
 their sled. But its ruts were deep, and how was I 
 to cross? I didn't have anything to say about it. My 
 thinking was neither quick enough nor of any avail. 
 The skis, the stiffer snow, the force of gravity, the 
 forces of nature totally uncontrolled and uncontrol- 
 able — as far as I was concerned — were recklessly 
 hurling me toward death, destruction, or disaster. I 
 didn't know which it would be. Long, long, long 
 before all these things I have written could have 
 been put upon paper, the shock came. Of course, I 
 can laugh at it now, but then — then — ah ! it seemed 
 terrible. I lost my balance on the first rut, was wildly 
 gesticulating with all the arms and legs a man ought 
 to have, before I struck the second, and then, rude 
 and ribald spectators would undoubtedly have 
 laughed themselves silly as I flopped, jerked, floun- 
 dered into the deep snow. How thankful I am that 
 it was deep, also soft! Those facts mitigated my 
 grief, also the shock. 
 
 But it took me several minutes to get up again, 
 and more to decide that I was not dead, or at least 
 seriously hurt. I would try It again. I did so. I 
 fell less harshly this time. Once more. A little 
 easier than before. Then I instinctively stooped 
 over and leaned forward when I came to the ruts, 
 [38] 
 

 Skiing Down tlie Hillside of the Island, Huntington Lake 
 Winter Carnival 
 
 Snow Shoeing and Skiing Party going out to Inspiration Point from 
 Huntington Lake Lodge 
 
Spectators at a Game of Tennis on Snow Shoes in Ten Feet of Snow 
 
 A Xovel (Janip of Tennis, Snow Shoes for Rackets 
 Pine Cones for Balls 
 
and, joyful triumph ! I went over without losing my 
 balance, slid a quarter of a mile, and felt prouder 
 than did Napoleon after he had crossed the Rubicon, 
 the Alps, the Pyramids or whichever or whatever it 
 was he did cross. 
 
 I now began to feel reckless, and just about this 
 time Mr. Clendenning, the snow-sports expert of 
 Huntington Lodge, came along, and induced me to 
 climb a real mountain on the other side of the lake. 
 They tell me now it was only a goodly hill — but 
 truth demands that I record my own impressions. 
 To me it looked like a mountain; my legs and lungs 
 said it was a mountain when I spiraled around it to 
 reach its summit; and my eyes confirmed their judg- 
 ment when they gazed upon that awfully long and 
 steep slope which led the eye down to the flat and 
 deeply snow-covered surface of the lake beneath. 
 
 Would I dare venture to slide down there? It 
 seemed like a rude courting of death ! But others 
 had been seduced by Clendenning's dulcet tones, as 
 well as myself, and one doesn't like to play the cow- 
 ard before another's watching eyes. Rather dare 
 and fall, and be laughed at, than sneak away, fall 
 anyhow, and be sneered at, as well as laughed at. 
 
 So "Here goes!" I cried, and down the slope I 
 shot. Yes, shot is the proper word. I didn't glide 
 far, though that was what I started out, and fully 
 intended, to do. I think I know now how a shot 
 feels when it leaves a gun. It goes out quickly, but 
 easily, at first. Then as it feels the friction of the 
 air on its surface it begins to roll, to tumble, to 
 rock, and sway — going ahead rapidly all the while — 
 until it strikes its billet. So it was with me. I 
 glided, glid, or glode for quite a number of yards; 
 then, as my speed increased, I swayed, swid, or 
 swode, and finally fell, fill, or fode, and at once chaos 
 reigned. First my head was in the lead, then my 
 feet, with the skis wildly waving in air, then I went 
 broadside, with the right hand in front, only to 
 
 [39] 
 
roll over the next moment, and present my left side 
 to the cold air, which I materially increased in tem- 
 perature as I shot through it. 
 
 This was "coming it a little rough," but others 
 followed. Mr. Walcott rode his skis like a bird, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. J. G. Waterman had fewer falls 
 than I. So we kept at it, and others joined us, until 
 our mountainside was alive with those who were 
 speedily going down, slowly coming up, or rolling, 
 tumbling or falling one way or the other, while 
 the trees above shook off their snow in amazement 
 and delight at the shouts of merriment, jollity, 
 mock terror and affected fear which arose on every 
 hand. 
 
 Talk about unadulterated delight! Here we 
 were. Most of us men and women from the city, 
 unused to rude participation in Nature's winter de- 
 lights on mountain heights, yet already in deep and 
 profound sympathy with them, and enjoying them 
 to the full. 
 
 Snow-shoeing I did not enjoy as much as skiing, 
 though many of the party preferred the Indians' 
 method of going over the snow than that of the 
 Norwegians. 
 
 But everybody "went in for" the toboggan. 
 There was scarcely a member of the party, old, 
 young, middle-aged, frivolous, dignified, with whis- 
 kers or without, who did not take the plunge down 
 the slippery hillside. Two parallel courses had been 
 prepared. A gang of men worked for hours, dig- 
 ging the slides of the proper width, and smoothing 
 down the snow to overcome the bumps and irregular- 
 ities of the hillside. At the foot of the hill the course 
 shot straight out onto the frozen snow-covered 
 Huntington Lake, and the path was cut out as far 
 as it was deemed any toboggan would be able to ride. 
 A return path was beaten, or dug, on the side of 
 each slide, with snow steps up the steepest part of 
 the hill. A score or more of light, modern, tobog- 
 [40] 
 
Snow Shoeing and Skiing Party at Inspiration I'oint 
 
 The Start of one of the Toboggan Races, First Annual Ice and Snow 
 Carnival, Huntington Lake Lodge 
 
Riding "Belly-Bumper" Down the Toboggan, First Ice and Snow 
 Carnival, Huntington Lake Lodge 
 
 The Start of the Standing Race Down the Toboggan, at Huntington 
 Lake, in the Sierras of the San Joaquin 
 
gans were provided, and after a few prelirnlnary 
 rides were taken by the workmen and others, it was 
 declared they were duly ready for the crowd. 
 
 The first evening after dinner was over, out we 
 poured. To some, the sport brought back their days 
 of childhood, and they were ready to go down sittmg, 
 alone, with three or more "laced" together, or alone 
 "belly-bumper." The men who made the slide were 
 "on-to their job." The first dash was smooth, even, 
 and without bumps. Then, as the speed increased 
 the difficulties began. A slight bump was encoun- 
 tered, which jumped one up in an unaccountable 
 manner, and before one had settled down again, he 
 struck a series of them, which made him think of 
 the rise and fall of a boat on the waves at sea. But 
 here it was the rider that rose and fell, and he knew 
 it by the unceremonious way the sled underneath 
 him had of rising and falling at the time he was fall- 
 and rising. Jolts! jerks! bumps! — any amount of 
 them. But this was not all. Sometimes the "bloom- 
 in' " sled refused to be steered; perhaps it was that 
 the steerer didn't understand his business. Anyhow 
 it tried to run up the bank. If it succeeded over it 
 went and the rider, or the crowd, were tumbled into 
 the snow, with greater or lesser force, according to 
 the rate of speed which had been attained. If, on 
 the other hand, the steerer could right the sled, one 
 merely swayed to and fro, enough almost to lose 
 his balance — not quite — and the scraping of the 
 sled on the side of the slide filled the air with snow, 
 fiercely driven into his face. 
 
 I soon came to the conclusion that for myself I 
 would attempt no steering; I would let the sled go 
 as it would. It was a good policy. It went without 
 trouble every time, and, of course, I gained a great 
 reputation for my transcendent skill as a toboggan- 
 ist. (I've long contended that many reputations rest 
 upon just as solid a foundation as this) . 
 
 [41] 
 
The following morning everybody was out — some 
 even before, but all after, breakfast. This was 
 called an introduction frolic, in which every member 
 of the party was introduced to the snow. The intro- 
 duction in most part was accomplished by the women 
 who, settling upon the persons to be introduced, 
 pounced upon and buried them in the snow, battling 
 them until they were assured the victim had really 
 learned just what snow was. 
 
 Then each went his own way, some to ski, others 
 to toboggan, others to snow-shoe. But each evening, 
 after dinner, saw the crowd at the double toboggan 
 slide, and singles, doubles, trebles, and quadruples 
 went down as fast as was possible. Half way down 
 the slide a watchman stood with a lantern to give the 
 signal when the course was clear, and a director at 
 the starting-point alone was permitted to give the 
 word Go ! Thus all possibility of accident was elimi- 
 nated, that is as far as end-on collisions were con- 
 cerned. But upsets, overturns, rollings in the snow 
 — they were the joy of life ! No one felt really happy 
 until he had had the sensation of being bumped up 
 and down, and then rudely flung or rolled out of the 
 sled into the deep snow. What fun it was ! What 
 shoutings, yellings, laughings, and mock weepings at 
 disaster. The women were just as ready as the men; 
 sometimes more so, and they took their tumbles as 
 philosophically, merrily, and uncomplainingly. 
 
 Great fun was caused by a dog, belonging to Mr. 
 D. J. Pease, one of the employees of the Power 
 Company. This dog entered into the fun as heartily 
 as anyone there. Mr. Pease's little daughter had 
 provided the dog with a harness, and he pulled her 
 sled to and fro with evident pleasure. Several times, 
 however, the party started out when he was not har- 
 nessed, and then, with his young mistress hanging on 
 to his tail, thus providing traction, he bounded along 
 as happy as any of the two-footed participants in the 
 
 [42] 
 
carnival, radiantly and noisily proud to be in such 
 excellent company. 
 
 Early Sunday afternoon a snow-storm started and 
 beginning with light flurries, it soon increased to 
 great intensity though unaccompanied by winds. Re- 
 clothing the giant pines and firs with great branch- 
 fulls of the sheening white, the storm added great 
 picturesqueness, and although the fall was heavy, the 
 mildness of the temperature offered no hardship to 
 even those unaccustomed to snow or the high alti- 
 tude. 
 
 Monday was the big day of the carnival, all of the 
 excursionists assembling for the great frolic pro- 
 gram. After a general snowball, the crowd dis- 
 persed as usual, a large group, however, going out on 
 skis and snow-shoes to Inspiration Point. This is an 
 outlook point, close to the summit of the Kerckhoff 
 Dome, at the head of the Cable Incline of 2000 feet 
 descent to Cascada, and affording a wonderful out- 
 look over Big Creek Basin and Amphitheater, the 
 Grand Canyon of the San Joaquin, to the foothills 
 and the far-away San Joaquin Valley, and even be- 
 yond, to the purple mountains of the Coast Range. 
 
 Then came ski races down the mountain slope of 
 the Island, and much fun was caused by the misad- 
 ventures of those who, like the author, often were 
 unable to preserve their balance. 
 
 Just before lunch a unique game was called. Four 
 tennis "fiends" were determined to have a game. The 
 tennis court was buried in eight feet of snow, and 
 only some two feet of the fence was above the sur- 
 face. Upon snowshoes and with snowshoes for 
 racquets, the game was played, with sugar-pine cones 
 for tennis balls. 
 
 After lunch, however, came the final frolics at the 
 toboggan slides. The heavy fall of snow during the 
 night had improved the course, deepened the snow, 
 and covered the hard, slippery surface of the past 
 
 [43] 
 
days so that it did not seem quite as hard to fall upon. 
 Speed and distance contests soon were in order, and 
 one after another, the pairs of combatants shot down 
 the slide, cheered by their respective fans. There 
 were no speed cops to menace or measure with a limit, 
 and with each slide the track became slicker, until the 
 toboggans drove down the incline like the wind in a 
 gale. 
 
 At this point I felt myself urged to "start some- 
 thing." Coming up after a particularly exciting ride, 
 after listening to the brags of the youngsters, my 
 fighting blood grew warm, perhaps hot, and I flung 
 out a challenge to ride any youngster or oldster of the 
 party, both for speed and distance. From Mr. 
 Walter Berten Clausen's account of this contest, in 
 the Fresno Republican, I extract a portion of the fol- 
 lowing description : 
 
 Dr. George Wharton James, a Sierra author-naturalist 
 of fame, furnished much life to the party, and in the con- 
 test he, despite his age — some three score years — challenged 
 the excursionists for a speed contest on the slide. Elmer A. 
 Anderson, one of the keenest tobogganists, volunteered. The 
 race was on. 
 
 Starter, judge and referee were appointed, and it is even 
 believed that bets of peanuts, doughnuts, chewing gum and 
 candy were placed on the event. Anyhow, there was an 
 abundance of good-natured partisanship, and when the starter 
 gave the signal "Go!" the spectators cheered and yelled 
 heartily, Down the slide the contestants shot, the whiskers 
 of Dr. James flowing behind him on each side. Almost im- 
 mediately the contestants seemed to reach the base of the 
 slide, and then, as they raced out over the level the partisans 
 above cheered first one and then the other, while the sleds 
 came to a stop, and it was seen the veteran of the Sierras had 
 won by over a length. 
 
 On their return to the starting point Dr. James was 
 loudly cheered as victor, and Mr. Anderson equally so on 
 account of the brave effort he had made. Then, suddenly, 
 someone suggested that, because he had lost, Anderson should 
 be rolled in the snow. There are alwa3'S willing hands at 
 
 [44] 
 
After a Snow- Storm at Head of the Toboggan Slide, 
 Huntington Lake Winter Sports 
 
 Klmer A. Anderson Accepting (leorge Wharton James's Challenge ti 
 Race down the Toboggan at Huntington Lake Winter Sports 
 
such a party for a little "rough-housing," so, in a twinkling, 
 the defeated tobogganer was seized and thrown headlong 
 into the soft snow, while a dozen ready assistants, male and 
 female, pretty nearly buried and smothered him. But Ander- 
 son is something of an athlete, as two or three of those who 
 attacked him soon discovered. With skill and strength he 
 seized them one after another, in spite of the general attack 
 made upon him, and hurled them ten feet away. Thus the 
 high revelry went on. 
 
 Bye and bj'e one enthusiast challenged another to ride 
 "bareback standing." It had seemed to some of the more 
 timid that it was risky enough to go down the steep slide 
 "belly bumper," or sitting, but to go standing "took away 
 their breath." Yet a bold spirit accepted Mr. Walcott's 
 challenge, and in a few moments, when all was ready, the 
 signal was given to start. Walcott went off like a shot, 
 standing upright, and riding his wooden steed like an experi- 
 enced circus performer, but Mr. 's sled would not 
 
 behave. For all the world like a bucking and unruly bronco 
 it shot first to one side, and tried to climb the bank, then the 
 other, making its rider perform such funny antics that every- 
 one laughed until his sides ached, then, suddenly, Walcott, 
 nearly at the bottom of the slide, and his competitor near the 
 top were bucked off their sleds, thrown into the air and tum- 
 bled over and over in the snow. 
 
 Then someone dared Dr. James to ride "standing." The 
 dare was accepted at once, and a challenge given for a com- 
 petitive rider. One was immediately found and the two 
 started off fairly well, but James had not gone far before he 
 was thrown head-over-heels, while his competitor kept his 
 feet, only to be thrown fiercely a little farther down the 
 slide. James, however, recovered his sled, gained a quick 
 seat hold, shot down the incline and across the level, thus 
 winning the race. 
 
 These were but a few of the exciting events and 
 are recorded In detail to show how the old became 
 young again In the glorious winter surroundings of 
 Huntington Lake. 
 
 And who shall tell of the fun In the social hall each 
 evening, when the great open fire roared Itself red In 
 the face of the giant throat of a chimney? Chestnut 
 
 [45] 
 
roasting, corn popping, apple baking, singing and 
 dancing obtained until a late hour. The author was 
 called upon to tell folk-tales of the Indians who used 
 to make their summer homes in these mountains, and 
 his "How the Karoks Got Fire" will doubtless long 
 be remembered. 
 
 On Tuesday morning, February 22, the party re- 
 turned home, without a single complaint, kick, 
 grouch, or note of discontent. All felt satisfied with 
 his, her, winter experiences, and assured that even 
 these few days had given new health, strength and 
 vigor. So, unanimously, the party agreed that, if 
 possible, it would come again, in the summer to see 
 this glorious region in its summer garb, and then 
 the following winter to renew their enjoyments dur- 
 ing this, the First Annual Winter Carnival at Hunt- 
 ington Lake. 
 
 [46] 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 MOVIES IN THE SNOW 
 
 THEATERS may come and theaters may go, 
 In this our Twentieth Century, but the 
 Movies go on for ever. Like the poor they 
 are ever with us. And movies, too, are not always 
 merely what they seem. In other words, they may 
 appear to give a mere story, — a novel In action, — 
 yet they may, at the same time, be a most effective 
 piece of advertising of some region of country under 
 such conditions that It Is desirous to set before the 
 minds of the people. 
 
 It was with this latter thought In view, that the 
 movlng-plcture camera of Claude C. Laval, of 
 Fresno, the skilful and talented artist, whose beau- 
 tiful pictures Illustrate this book, accompanied the 
 "Boosters" of the Fresno Commercial Club, on their 
 first annual snow carnival at Huntington Lake. Mr. 
 Laval was the writer of the scenario, the director, 
 and, assisted by Oliver Kehrlein, the maker of the 
 movies. The subject was The Ubiquitous Mother- 
 in-Law, with the following cast of characters: 
 
 Mother-in-law Miss Netta Sunderland 
 
 Affinity Mr. B. M. Anderson 
 
 Young Wife Miss Lorraine Laval 
 
 Husband Mr. Ray Cooper 
 
 Laborer on Hand Car Mr. Leon Perraud 
 
 Some of the scenes were laid In Fresno, at Roed- 
 Ing Park, but the snow and mountain scenes were 
 taken along the line of the San Joaquin & Eastern 
 R. R., and at the Sports of the Winter Carnival at 
 Huntington Lake Lodge. 
 
 [47] 
 
The making of the movies afforded as much fun, 
 possibly more, to the Fresno party, as they will to 
 the many thousands who, doubtless, will see them on 
 the screen. Some of the scenes were uproariously 
 absurd and ridiculous. The outline of the "plot" 
 was somewhat as follows : 
 
 A young couple is seen seated on a bench in a gar- 
 den talking over plans for their trip to the Snow Car- 
 nival at Huntington Lake. They have visions of 
 what they expect to see and do. The young man 
 shows his wife the proposed trip on map, tracing 
 out the route with the R. R. tickets. He folds up 
 the map and rises from the bench, when he discovers 
 that his mother-in-law and her affinity have been spy- 
 ing on them. He registers a determination that she 
 shall not accompany them. They board the train. 
 Just as the train disappears around a curve, mother- 
 in-law and affinity appear on platform too late. 
 They have missed the train. Navvy is seen pumping 
 a hand-car. Mother-in-law rushes over, pushes 
 laborer out of the way, and boards hand-car. Affin- 
 ity stands flabergasted for a moment, then draws a 
 "gun" from hip-pocket, proceeds to take an "injec- 
 tion," when Immediately he becomes all alive and 
 races after the hand-car. He jumps aboard, and the 
 two go racing after the train. In the meantime the 
 young people are enjoying the scenery. The hand- 
 car catches up with train, and mother-in-law and her 
 companion clambor over the rear platform. They 
 are spied doing so by young people who make their 
 escape by climbing to top of coach. The pursuers 
 go through car, disturbing all the boosters, looking 
 for the young people, but are unable to find them. 
 Crossing to the forward coach the affinity's head Is 
 bumped by the foot of the young husband, who is 
 sitting on the roof with his feet hanging over. Re- 
 joicing in their discovery the two scramble up on the 
 roof and a hot argument ensues, which is settled by 
 the son-in-law agreeing that mother-in-law mav go 
 [48] 
 
along. Everything is now serene until Cascada is 
 reached. Here the young man assists his wife from 
 the train, and the couple are gazing around at the 
 scenic wonders when mother-in-law grabs the son by 
 the shoulder, and jerking him back, hands him all the 
 suitcases, and taking the young wife by the arm, 
 starts for the stage. This action is not made more 
 agreeable by the affinity who "kids" the son-in-law, 
 as they follow ! 
 
 Now the scenes of the Snow Carnival are shown, 
 the party indulging in skiing, snowshoeing, toboggan- 
 ing, etc. Suddenly the mother-in-law and her affinity 
 appear at the top of the slide, accompanied by the 
 young couple. The young man assists his wife onto 
 the sled and is taking his place behind her, when 
 mother-in-law's attention is drawn to them by the 
 affinity. She grabs the son-in-law, pushes him off in 
 the snow and takes his place, the affinity starting them 
 down the hill and jumping aboard, leaving the young 
 man at the top in a rage. On their return, the hus- 
 band starts in to browbeat his young wife about 
 mother-in-law butting in all the time. In the mean- 
 while mother-in-law insists she is going to take a ride 
 by herself. Affinity agrees, peels off his coat, and 
 gives the sled a start. In turning around to wave 
 goodbye to her affinity, mother-in-law's fingers be- 
 come entangled in a loose thread of the jersey. The 
 sled having started, the jersey rapidly unravels, while 
 the young people look on and laugh at the predica- 
 ment of the affinity, who, standing there admiring his 
 lady-love, does not realize what is happening until he 
 discovers the young people convulsed in laughter. 
 Then, looking down, and seeing his jersey disappear- 
 
 *WhiIe many members of the party saw the taking of this por- 
 tion of the scene, few were aware how this "trick" is done. To 
 "movie" artists it is a common event. To produce the desired ef- 
 fect upon the screen the films, showing the unraveling, are merely 
 reversed, — run the wrong way on — and the trick is done, the mar- 
 velous happens, the sled comes up the hill, and the yarn reknits 
 itself. 
 
 [49] 
 
ing, he immediately grasps the yarn and begins pull- 
 ing the sled back up the slide, his jersey reknltting up 
 all the while.* In the meantime the young man has 
 an idea to get even, so taking a shovel and accompa- 
 nied by the young wife, they proceed to the foot of 
 the slide and dig a pitfall in the snow. At the same 
 time mother-in-law and her affinity have an argument 
 at the top of the slide, which is finally settled. She 
 proceeds to take another ride, her sled, of course, 
 dashing into the pit dug by the young people who are 
 hidden close by looking on. The affinity, at the top 
 of the slide, is horrified at his darling's disappear- 
 ance, and proceeds to run pell-mell down the slide to 
 her assistance and digs her out of the snow. She, 
 in her anger, believing her accident was due to his 
 carelessness, pushes him into the pit. The laughter 
 of the young people draws her attention to them, 
 and it dawns upon her that they are guilty ones. Re- 
 lenting towards her lover, she goes to the pit, drags 
 him out and they proceed out of the scene arm in 
 arm, with the young people following, poking fun 
 at them. A little later they appear in front of the 
 snow fortress. As no one is in sight, love-making is 
 in order. The young people approach unseen 
 mimicking them, when, all of a sudden, heads appear 
 above the fort, look and behold! the boosters have 
 been watching them. A chase ensues, the four people 
 finally finding refuge behind a pile of snow near a 
 cabin. Here they wait awhile; then they look out 
 to see If their tormentors are still after them. Find- 
 ing the coast clear, they congratulate each other on 
 their escape, and everybody is happy. 
 
 Even to the staider members of the party, the 
 rude horse-play of this "plot," was a source of con- 
 siderable fun. It gave them a glance "behind the 
 scenes," and at the same time revealed how a fool- 
 ish thread of a story might be used to show to thou- 
 sands of people the delights of the winter in the 
 fascinating region of Huntington Lake Lodge, 
 [50] 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 017 135 061 P#