Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway

by Effie Price Gladding

country and stopped for luncheon. Our host was a tall and powerfully built elderly ranchman in a blue jumper. A younger man lived with him and the two did their cooking and eating in a little log and stone house, near the main ranch house. He explained to us that he kept the little house because it was once a station on the Wells Fargo stage route. "Horace Greeley ate at this table when he came on his historic Western trip, and so I keep the place standing," he said. His young helper cooked our meal in the back room and our host served it in the front one. We had fried eggs, potatoes, pickles, cheese, bread, butter, and tea, and an appetizing cup cake cut in square pieces. I noticed a White House Cook Book lying on a little table near by. Our host was very hospitable. "Have some of them sweet pickles, folks." "Do we raise cattle here? You bet we do. I have had this ranch over thirty years." As we left him he warned us that we were now entering the "Great American Desert" and that we would have sixty miles of dry plain with very little undergrowth and with no water. He told us that if we got into trouble we should start a fire and "make a smoke." "I'll see you with my glasses" he said, "and drive to your rescue with gasoline and water." I had seen near the ranch house a clear, bubbling spring which doubtless gave its name to the ranch.

We assured him that we were well stocked with gasoline and that we had on our running board a standard oil can filled with water. When we were twenty miles away I could still see the ranch house, a tiny speck upon the horizon. At last we came to a well by the roadside which was marked "County well." The road, though somewhat bumpy, was in many places smooth and excellent, a sort of clay highway. Midway across the desert we met another car and exchanged greetings.

Late in the afternoon as we were climbing up a slight pass, a dust storm overtook us. The sky was overcast, the mountains and plain were blotted out, and we could only drive along slowly and endure the choking clouds of dust until the storm had swept by. It was blessed to come again into clear sunshine and to see the outlines of the mountains appearing once more. Once over the pass, we came into a great ranch valley and saw that we had left the bare plains behind us. We reached the Kanaka Ranch in time for supper and were assured that we could have lodging for the night. The Kanaka Ranch of eight thousand acres is the property of the Mormon church. It is under the charge of a young manager who looks after the Hawaiians (Kanaka meaning a South Sea Islander) who have been converted to the Mormon faith, and who have been brought to the ranch to work upon its acres and to make their homes there under the friendly shadow of the church's authority. The manager was a dignified young man with a pleasant wife and four dear little children. They gave us a most appetizing supper and breakfast. "The difference between your belief and ours," said our host to T., "is that you believe in a completed revelation. We believe in a continuous revelation."

I heard him talking very fluently in the Hawaiian tongue to some of his disciples who had come in for farm directions.

The next morning was wonderfully fresh and clear, a rain having fallen during the night. We had just a taste of what a rainy trip would be across country, as we slipped about on the greasy mud of the highway. One reason why our long journey was so ideal was because of the dry season. Day after day we came on over perfectly dry roads and under perfectly clear skies. Another advantage of our journey was that we were traveling East. Every afternoon the sun was behind us, to our great comfort; and the beautiful light fell on the plains and mountains ahead of us. No wonder that we loved to travel late in the afternoon and that we had to make a stern rule for ourselves to follow, to the effect that no matter how tempted we were, we would not travel after sunset.

By dint of creeping slowly along we passed the slippery stretches of road and enjoyed the fine open country with the mountains to the right and the farms to the left. After passing Grantsville we came by some large concentrators and smelters in the shadow of the mountain. Turning left we came around the shoulder of the mountain, and there to our left was Great Salt Lake, sparkling and blue-green in the morning light, a mountainous island in the middle of it. We could see the Casino at the end of the long pier at Saltair, a favorite resort for Salt Lake City people. We passed the miners' homes at Magna and Garfield, someone having written facetiously the sign "Mosquito Park" over the entrance to a swampy district with its little settlement of cottages. Now we came into a beautiful upland country with fine farms and every appearance of prosperity. Cottonwoods and tall poplars were seen everywhere on the landscape. They are very characteristic of this part of the country. They grow rapidly and the cottonwood sends its roots long distances in search of water. As we approached Salt Lake City, it appeared to us to be a green, wooded city extending down a long slope on the mountain side. The new State House towered high at the upper end of the slope against the background of lofty mountains, still snowy, which guard the city.

I was charmed with Salt Lake City. It has a beautiful situation, high and picturesque. Its streets are very wide and this gives a certain stateliness and air of hospitality to the town. It is laid out on a generous scale. Many of the residence streets have green stretches of flower-adorned park running through the center. The open lawns of the homelike homes, the broad streets, the residences of stone and brick, the masses of pink rambler roses climbing over them, all make a charming impression upon one. Then there are delightful excursions into the canyons of the great mountains near the city. We took such an excursion by electric car line, fourteen miles up into Immigration Canyon. This is the old trail along which the Mormons came in 1847. At the end of the line is a delightful hotel, the Pinecrest Inn. Had there been time we could have taken many more canyon trips.

"The Utah" is a beautiful hotel with every modern equipment. A great bee hive, the Mormon emblem, glows with light at night on top of the building. Of course we saw the Mormon tabernacle and walked about its splendid grounds. I was particularly interested in the "sea gull monument," designed by Brigham Young's grandson, and erected in memory of the sea gulls that saved the crops the first year of Mormon settlement by coming in flocks and eating the locusts that threatened to destroy everything green. We enjoyed the fine view from the State University buildings on the "bench" high above the town.

In Salt Lake City I purchased some "canyon shoes" of a famous manufacture, and later I found them admirable for heavy walking trips.