Right and left as we rode on there were great "islands" of granite, fifty to one hundred feet high, masses that either had been hurled from the heights above in some cataclysm, or planed to their present shape by long-forgotten glaciers. These granite masses alternate with flower and shrub-bestrewed meadows that once were glacial lakes. At times we found ourselves in a dense forest where the trees were ancient monarchs, whose solitudes had never been disturbed by stroke of ax, or grate of saw. Clumps of dogwood and chaparral of a dozen kinds confuse the tyro, and he loses all sense of direction. Only the instinct that makes a real mountain and forest guide could enable one successfully to navigate these overgrown wilds, for we were now wandering up a region where trails had been abandoned for years. Here and there, when we came to the rocky slopes "ducks"[[10]] in confusing variety were found but scarce a sign of a trail, and the "blazes" on the trees were more confusing than if we had been left to our own devices.
Yellow jackets' nests hung from many branches, and we were now and then pestered by the flying creatures themselves. Then we had a good laugh. Our pack-horse, Shoshone, got between two trees. His head could pass but his pack couldn't, and there he stood struggling to pull through. He couldn't do it, but stupidly he would not back up. Talk about horse-sense! A burro would have backed up in a minute, but most horses would struggle in such a place until they died.
[!-- Note Anchor 10 --] [Footnote 10: Ducks are small piles of stone so placed as to denote the course of the trail.]
Near here there came into sight a granite ridge between the Rubicon and Five Lake Creek. This grows higher until it becomes quite a mountain, between Five Lake Creek and Barker Creek. On the right McKinstry Peak (7918 feet) towered up, with its double top, leading the eye along a ridge of red granite rock to Red Peak.
About three miles up the canyon we found a number of rocky basins in the course of the Rubicon with water, eight, ten and more feet deep in them, temptingly suggesting a plunge. I didn't need much tempting, and as quickly as I could disrobe I had plunged in. What a cold, invigorating shock it was. There's nothing like such a plunge for thoroughly arousing one and sending the blood quickly coursing through his veins.
Nearby were great beds of brake-ferns, four and five feet high, groves of immense alders, sugar pines, some of which were fully eight feet through and the trunks of which were honeycombed with woodpecker holes. I saw and heard several woodpeckers at work. They had red top-knots, and the noise they made echoed through the woods more as if a sledge hammer had struck the tree than the bill of a bird. How they climb up the trunk of the trees, holding on in a mysterious fashion and moving head up or down, as they desire, with jerky little pulls, bobbing their heads as if emphasizing some remarks they were making to themselves.
And what ideal spots for camping-out we passed, shady trees, nearby meadows, to give abundant feed for the horses, the pure waters of the Rubicon close by, with scenery, trees, flowers, animals, birds—all the glory of nature—surrounding one with objects of delight, interest and study.
One large area was strewn with hundreds of thousands of the big long cones of the sugar pine. When one wishes to pack and ship home specimens of these and other cones, it is well to soak them in water. They then close up and carry safely, opening up as before, as they dry out.
Then we passed some giant "wind falls," mainly spruces. The roots of these monarchs of the forest had twined themselves around rocks of every size and shape, some of them massive bowlders, but when the storm came, the purchase, or leverage of the tall trees was so great that these heavy rock-masses were pulled out of place and lifted up as the trees crashed over to their fall.
Now we came to a stretch of perfect virgin forest. No ax, no saw, no log chutes, no wagons, no dragging of logs, no sign of the hand of man. Nature was the only woodsman, with her storms and winds, her snows and rains, to soften the soil and uproot her growing sons and daughters. There was confusion in places, even rude chaos, but in and through and above it all a cleanness, a sweetness, a purity, a grandeur, harmony, glory, beauty and majesty—all of which disappear when destroying man comes upon the scene.