The Living Age; April 8, 1882; Littell
and Co,; Boston
From The Nineteenth Century.
(A British Publication)
The Yellowstone Geysers.
"WAL, sir, I tell you that that
thar Yellowstone Park and them Geysers is jest indescribable.
Yes, sir, that's what they are, sure," said all the packers,
teamsters, and prospectors we consulted on the subject. A
greater measure of truth characterized this statement than is
usually contained in eulogistic reports of scenery. We were
advised at Ogden that pack trains or wagons could be hired at
various points of the "Utah Northern " branch of the Union
Pacific Railway. In order to economize time my companion
preceded me, to contract for transport, whilst I remained in
Ogden to conclude arrangements in connection with the
commissariat department. These completed, I followed him. He met
me at Dillon with a history of woe. At so short a notice no
"outfits" were to be obtained anywhere but at this place, and
here the demands for them were exorbitant. No regard was taken
of current rates. We were looked upon as so much quartz to be
crushed and smelted. I ventured to expostulate with one
teamster:
“What you ask is absurd. It
would pay you in three weeks more than your outfit' cost."
“Oh, horses is dear in this
country!"
"Not as dear as that amounts
to."
“Wal, it ain't much for them as
has the means and wants to go in."
I am afraid, to use a miner's
expression, that we did not "pan out" quite so well as their
previous experiences of an English "prospect" led them to
anticipate. Eventually a little diplomacy secured us the
services of a Mormon teamster and his boy, a wagon, and twelve
mules and horses, on very moderate terms. We engaged a cook, and
with Dick (the guide we had brought from Ogden), the "outfit "
was complete.
Dick was an old soldier, and a
first-rate fellow. True, the Dillon whisky proveed almost too
much for him at starting, but ordinary poison would be a mild
beverage in comparison with it, and we were so glad that it did
not kill him outright that we excused his temporary
indisposition. Besides, even then he displayed the most charming
urbanity and the greatest anxiety to get under way.
"All I wants, Mr. —, is to make
a start,— to get away— beyond the pale of civilization as you
may say—beyond the (hic) pale," he would repeat, meditatively.
"Beyond the pail or the cask,
Dick?"
"Beyond the (hic) pale,"
replied Dick somewhat dubiously, after a long and thoughtful
pause.
Dick was energetic in his
endeavors to engage an "outfit"
"Say you, look here," he would
explain to a native ; " these 'ere men don't want none of your —
— snide outfits, but jest good bronchos and a wagon and strong
harness."
"Wal, can't yer find no
wagons?"
"Wagons! —! Wagons 'trough for
a whole army, you bet. But — — it, these fellows all propose to
make independent fortunes in a single day. Why, they want jest
as much to hire out one broncho for a week as 'll buy a whole
team."
Swearing is prevalent amongst
these fellows. Our teamster was rather gifted with talent in
this direction. He was to be heard at his best in the early
morning whilst engaged in catching the hobbled mules and horses.
Amongst the more harmless titles conferred by him on members of
our stud were the "yaller one-eyed cuss," "the private curse,"
"the bandy-legged, hobbling, contrary son of etc., etc.," here
following contumelious references to both the animal's remote
ancestors and immediate progenitors. But I do the man injustice.
It is impossible to render in its pristine vigor, upon paper,
the eloquence that distinguished his morning exhortation to the
mules- Frantic with rage, he usually concluded by imploring us
to assist him in hanging them or driving them into the river
with the view of drowning them. Brown, our cook, one of the
quietest, gentlest, and best old fellows in the world, rather
enjoyed the scene. The teamster criticised his cooking, an
insult that the meekest cook cannot forget.
"Yes," he said one day, as he
turned the antelope steaks in the frying-pan and listened to the
voice of the teamster softly swearing in the distance ; "yes,
Mormons always do swear ter'ble, and the women as well, and the
children too, and smoke. I guess they smokes more and stands for
the swearingest people as there is anywhere. And they're all
alike."
We took no tent, but trusted
entirely to fine weather and buffalo robes. For the first few
days the track lay through a gameless and uninteresting alkali
country.
Every one, myself excepted, was
disagreeably affected by the water. Even the dogs were unwell.
The dryness of the atmosphere was remarkable. Moist sugar became
as hard as rock; discharged powder left nothing but a little dry
dust in the guns, our lips cracked and our finger-nails grew so
brittle that it was impossible to pare without breaking them. As
we proceeded the scenery grew wild, and in places fine. On many
slopes the pine forests had been lightly swept by fire, and
skeleton trunks, from which the bark had fallen away, stood out
in ghostly array against the yellow, red, and russet
undergrowth, or looked with ascetic asperity on the bright belt
of light-leaved willow bushes whose boughs danced gaily in the
sunlight on the foot-hills.
At length we surmounted a low
divide leading from the Centennial Valley and caught our first
glimpse of Henry's Lake. In the purple haze of an autumnal
sunset it stretched out before us, and the ripples that dwelt
there, waked from their midday slumbers by the evening breeze,
sparkled and glittered and tossed and laughed whilst they
restlessly compared their blue and gold and violet reflections
and chased each round the shores of emerald islands out on the
silver bosom of the waters. Time was when only the sun came up
over the hills and looked in upon the solitude of this beautiful
sheet of water, dreaming its days away in the still heart of the
mountains. At most perchance an occasional Indian wandered
thither to hunt antelope on its grassy shores, wild fowl in its
reedy fringe, or spear by torchlight the noble trout that haunt
its crystal depths. Now it is in a fair way to become a "summer
resort." Already a log hotel has been tried there. Jam-pots and
empty meat-tins lie around it in profusion. Fortunately for some
reason it has been deserted. So the pelicans, the swans and
geese that dot the lake's wide surface, the ducks and flocks of
teal that sail there in fleets or skim in close order to and
fro, the grouse in the willow thickets, and the wary regiments
of antelope, have yet a respite of comparative security to
enjoy, before civilization drives them from their patrimony.
We frequently camped near a
trout stream. The trout, although proof against the persuasive
influence of the artificial fly, were generally amenable to the
seductions of the grasshopper, the butterfly, or grub. Dick's
disgust at fly-fishing, was amusing. One day B. lent him a rod
and I gave him some flies. He was absent about an hour, and then
returned with little more than the winch and the butt end of the
rod.
"Well, Piscator, what luck ?"
inquired B.
"Why, these here durned fish
don't piscate worth a cent. Guess I'll go and catch some
with a pole and a hopper or thar won't be any fish for supper."
The identification of trout was one of sundry points on which
the teamster and I begged to differ. Trout vary considerably in
markings in these mountain streams ; still a trout is
unmistakable.
"That's a pretty trout," said
I, one day.
"He ain't no trout. That thar's
a chub, that's what he is."
"How do you know that – from
observation?"
"No, chap he told me so the
other day."
"I should call it a trout."
"Wal, I reckon they call him a
chub down at the terminus[*],*
and the boys they know something there. Anyway he's a chub in
this country."
With this conclusive argument
Andrews always annihilated me. We were at issue upon several
questions of this and other natures. Only one, however,
threatened to result unpleasantly. Andrews had a boy. He was a
surly, flat-faced boy, with a nose like a red pill. His name was
Bud, or Buddy. The father thought all the world of Bud. Bud was
one of "the smartest boys in the States." (There are a good many
of them.) His proud spirit brooked no restraint. On all subjects
he was the best informed person in the party. He was twelve
years of age. He was also a Mormon. His education was complete.
He possessed, together, with great experience, implicit
self-reliance, a shot-gun, a rifle, and a racing pony. Bud at
once assumed command of the expedition. He seemed to labor under
an impression that we had come from England to accompany him.
When the track was well
travelled he would drive our spare stock a few yards ahead of
me, in order that I should be thoroughly annoyed with the dust.
This pleased him; but I was forced to insist on his taking his
pleasure in some other way. Bud declared that "he would be
dog-durned if he was a-going to run his interior (he called it
by some other name) out a-driving the stock any further ahead –
durned if he would." However, he was induced to change his mind;
and as the teamster expended all his courage in talking, and
collapsed the moment an opportunity was afforded him of
displaying his prowess, the matter was amicably settled.
Thenceforward Bud was a little more circumspect. He used to
over-eat himself. When just retribution overtook him, his
devoted parent, in an agony of fear, would declare his intention
of returning at once with his “outfit " to the terminus in quest
of a doctor. On two occasions we hung for a while with the
greatest anxiety upon Bud's languid responses to questions
regarding his health. And we questioned him as if we loved him.
We all doctored him too. Yet he lived! Evidently his
constitution was very strong. At any rate we had nothing in camp
that could make him die or even get worse. Once in a fit of
meddlesome benevolence I restrained his father from giving him a
powerful aperient for diarrhœa. It has been a source of regret
to me ever since, for though some months have elapsed since Bud
and I were comrades, my feelings towards him have undergone no
change.
Never allow a boy to accompany
a party of this kind, and, least of all, a Western frontier boy.
The patience with which an American will submit to insolence
from an ill-conditioned young cub of this kind is truly
marvellous, and utterly passes the comprehension of an
Englishman. Therefore, I say, on no account have anything to do
with a boy.
Those who dwell in the vicinity
of the Yellowstone National Park love enthusiastically to term
it Wonderland. Nor is it altogether without reason. Within its
boundaries (one hundred miles square) there are over ten
thousand active geysers, hot springs, fumaroles, solfataras,
salses, and boiling pools. Of these over two thousand are
confined in the small area comprising the upper and lower geyser
basins. Sulphur mountains, an obsidian mountain, a mud volcano,
and various other remarkable phenomena, add to the curiosity of
this extraordinary region. Some of the grandest, some of the
most grotesque scenery may be seen here, and the magnificent
falls, the interesting cascades, and the eccentric beauty of the
Grand Cañon may well challenge comparison with the world's most
picturesque features. To attempt an exhaustive description of
these marvels within the limits of letter-writing is impossible.
Equally difficult is it, amongst so much that merits attention,
to select that which is most noteworthy.
We will proceed at once towards
the upper geyser basin, passing en route the lower basin with
its so termed "paint-pots” or "cream-pots" — boiling vats of a
semi-silicious clay, which varies in color from creamy white to
pink or slate. The next point of interest is Hell's Half-Acre.
The pools here are at once the most impressive and beautiful in
the park. I turned aside twice to see them, once on my way to
the upper basin, and again on my return. On these occasions I
saw them under completely diverse aspects; for on the first day
a thunderstorm darkened the usually serene beauty of the sky.
They are situated near the bank of a river, in a desolate
expanse of white, formed by deposits from the numerous tiny
springs that bubble up on all sides. The first pool is of
comparative unimportance. The second, from which the
locality derives its name, considerably exceeds half an acre in
extent. It is but recently that it assumed its present
dimensions. These apparently are daily increasing ; and it bids
fair, if its devouring energies continue undiminished, to join
forces with its fellow pools, and form a lake some acres in
extent. Numerous cracks and fissures scallop the edges of the
yawning gulf, and indicate the direction of future
encroachments. It is with feelings not altogether devoid of
apprehension, therefore, that the stranger to these infernal
regions cautiously approaches to windward of the steam, to gaze
into the awesome abyss below him. The boiling hiss and roar of
many waters issues increasingly from its cavernous depths, but
heavy clouds of steam veil them from view, and the miniature
cliffs, all jagged and crumbling, that plunge precipitately down
into the sea of white, are speedily lost in its enveloping
folds. Anon the wind sweeps past, and a momentary glimpse is
obtainable, through a rift in the steam, of the perturbed and
seething surface of the water. It is a wonderful sight. Alone it
would repay the labor of the journey. And seen as I first saw
it, when thunder rolled overhead, and the broad heavens were
tilled from time to time with the glare of lightning, the
impressive character of the scene was enhanced.
Unlike Hell's Half-Acre, the
third and largest pool is brimful, and overflows its edges,
forming, with the minerals its waters contain in solution, a
succession of steps and tiny ledges which entirely surround it.
It is impossible to conceive anything more beautiful than the
brilliant coloring here presented. Its waters are of the purest,
brightest, cerulean blue, but near the shallow edges are
reflected the enclosing rocks, and the glorious blue is lost in
yellow, pale green, or red, whilst chemical deposits, in
exquisite arrangements, such as the genius of nature alone can
suggest, of écru and ivory, lemon and orange, buff, chocolate,
brown, pink, vermilion, bronze, and fawn, encircle the pool, or
paint with ribbon-like effect the tiny streams that trickle from
its overflow. Nor is this all. In the transparent curtain of
rising steam, as it is gently wafted across the pine-wood
landscape, a dim reflection of all these wondrous colors slowly
dissipating and melting into thin air, is distinctly visible.
The sleepy stillness, the appearance of profound depth, and the
moist brilliancy of the coloring, defy all efforts at
description. The brush of the greatest artist, the pen of the
finest writer, would alike be laid aside in despair, and the
genius of man perforce must bow before the power of nature, were
it tasked to convey in a faithful picture the fantastic beauty
of this unearthly scene.
We passed on through pine
forests, seared and blackened by recent fires, and through the
middle geyser basin, with its columns of steam, its
subterraneous rumblings, its hollow echoing of our horses'
trampling, its hissing craters and its bubbling springs, that
sometimes lay within a few feet of the track. Towards evening we
entered the upper basin. Imagine the head of a valley walled in
by sombre hills and threaded by a rushing stream. Patches of
desert white alternating with clumps of pine trees filled the
bottom. On all sides, issuing from amidst the foliage, dense
columns of steam rose up and towered into the heavens. The storm
had cleared, and the sun, sinking amidst gold and purple clouds,
shed a fiery glow through the trees upon the ridges, that caused
each twig, almost, I had said, each pine needle, to stand out
clearly in a fringe of delicate tracery against the sky. As we
crossed the stream and mounted the opposite bank, a vast
monument of steam, followed by a stream of water one hundred and
sixty feet high, shot up into the air at the further end of the
basin. "There goes Old Faithful," exclaimed Dick; "the only
reliable geyser in the park. You can always bet on seeing him
every sixty-five minutes."
Already encamped here we found
a party of twenty American ladies and gentlemen, who were
travelling through the park. They informed us that the Giantess
(perhaps the finest, but certainly the most capricious geyser of
all) was expected to play in the morning, and the Castle to
perform the next evening. There are nine principal geysers,
namely, the Giant, Giantess, Castle, Grand, Beehive, Comet, Fan,
Grotto, and Old Faithful. With exception of the Grotto, which
simply churns and makes a great uproar, one of these tremendous
fountains may be expected at any moment to cast a stream of
boiling water from one to two, or even three hundred feet into
the air.
All geysers have not the same
action, and most of them, in style of action, in the duration of
their eruptions, and in the intervals that elapse between them,
are apt individually to vary. Some play with labored pumping,
others throw a continuous stream, some wear themselves out in a
single effort, others subside only to recommence again
repeatedly. Thus an eruption may extend from two to twenty
minutes the approximate time occupied by the Grand ; or even to
one hour and twenty minutes — a period that the Giant has been
timed to play.
The colors that tinge the edges
of some craters, and stain the courses of the streams that they
send forth, are indescribably beautiful. The snowy whiteness of
the grounding is relieved by dainty buffs, pale pinks and
softest écrus, deep yellow shot with brown, orange streaked with
vermilion or straying into crimson, chocolate merging into
black, and interlined with lemon — by colors, in fact, run riot,
and all glistening wet beneath the clearest crystal water, that
in the centre of the crater deepens into the heavenliest blue.
From such brilliancy it is a relief to turn towards the sullen
hills of purple pines.
Extinct domes and craters,
overgrown with flourishing trees, or mounds still bare, and even
steaming, with otherwise only their immense size to indicate the
mighty power that formed them, are found here and there, amongst
those well known to be still active. Many craters are surrounded
by the skeleton trunks of trees that they have killed, and
which, under the action of their mineral waters, are rapidly
becoming petrified; whilst in the conflict betwixt desolation
and verdure, which, owing to the frequent variation of the
centres of action, is constantly in progress, the lowly
bunch-grass steals ground wherever it dare draw a blade.
Of all the geysers whose
eruptions we witnessed, the Grand was, I think, the most
interesting. It played each evening at a regular hour. We were
thus enabled to get comfortably into front seats, focus our
glasses, and discuss the programme, as it were, before the
performance commenced. This it did very abruptly, although the
activity displayed by a small vent-hole, and the furious
bubbling in another orifice connected with it, might be accepted
as premonitory symptoms. Suddenly, with a single prefatory
spurt, the Grand shot a vast stream of water over two hundred
feet into the air. For a few minutes this pressure was
maintained with unabated vigor, then it suddenly ceased, and the
waters shrank back out of sight in the cavernous hollow of the
crater. Meanwhile the vent and cauldron were still furiously
laboring, and subterraneous thunder shook the ground on which we
stood. After a minute's cessation, the geyser again burst forth
without warning, and with even greater violence. This continued
until nine successive pulsations had occurred. The latter
efforts, however, perceptibly diminished in grandeur.
It is impossible to conjure up
in words any idea of the majestic fury of the scene. The
maddened rush of scalding water bursting for a moment's freedom
from its mysterious captivity, the gigantic columns of dense
vapor, the clouds and clouds of lace-like falling spray or
diamond showers, the lance-tipped water-jets pennoned with puffs
of steam, the subterraneous reports, the wondrous effects of the
evening sun on the silver sheaf of water-spears that with
lightning rapidity flashed forth and vanished, broke and
reformed, and the rainbow that shone through the drifting masses
of gauzy mist, baffle entirely my powers of description. I could
only gaze and marvel. The packers and teamsters were right :
"the Yellowstone Park and them geysers is jest indescribable."
Over and over again was I forced to admit it, and not the least
heartily when looked down the dim valley at night and watched
the ghostly columns of gleaming vapor winding from amidst
impenetrable shadows and invading the silent heavens, or
listened to the ever recurring rush and splashing of those
mighty fountains breaking the stillness of the breathless hours.
Slightly removed from the main
group is one of lesser importance, containing, , however,
objects of considerable interest. Chief amongst these is the
Golconda spring. In some respects this is one of the most
striking features in the upper basin. It lies in the hollow of
banks that form an exact representation of an inverted
horseshoe. By tiny terraces, the creation of deposits contained
in its heavily charged waters, the stream issues from the frog
of the hoof and spreads over a large surface on its shallow
course to the river. There is a strange fascination in striving
to pierce the profound, pellucid and brilliant depths of this
extraordinary spring. Somewhat akin the feeling is to that which
impels us to gaze and gaze over some sheer, scarped precipice or
into some grand ravine. One could stand for hours there, tracing
the ivory cliffs bathed in sapphire circles, down, down, down,
to where the gleaming waters grow black and awesome, and the
creamy rocks contracting, lose their fantastic imagery and mass
in weird mystery, to form the gloomy portals of what seem the
fathomless abysses of another world.
As a game country the
Yellowstone Park is a mistake. You may kill a few antelope, an
occasional elk or deer; it would not be utterly impossible to
happen on a stray bear or bison; but to go there merely for game
is to court certain disappointment. Besides which, hunting is
restricted in the park. Beyond its boundaries good game
countries are easy of access; within them summer tourists have
scared away all the game. Nevertheless it is always possible to
kill enough birds and antelope to vary the camp fare. It is a
delightful climate and a glorious country for gipsying. I, at
least, never tire of riding through the cool dim pine woods and
grassy glades, where the chipmunk and squirrel curiously
reconnoitre you, and the odor of pine sap is heavy on the air,
where the breeze from without penetrates only in softened and
saddened murmurous tones, that in rising and falling seem to
come from so far away, to linger so short a while near you, and
to die away so very slowly in the unexplored aisles of the
forest. On you ride silently over a thick carpet of pine
needles, and smoke pipe after pipe whilst you travel lazily back
over the past and its scenes in thought. Anon you halt for a
while and chat to the wise-looking retriever "Shot," till the
wagon wheels are heard creaking in the distance and you pass on
again ahead of the party. Perchance the scene changes to some
stream-threaded valley, full of beaver-dams, near which a few
ducks are idly sailing in security. Here the pine yields place
to willow bushes or the ever-rustling quaking aspen, and the
chipmunk and squirrel are succeeded by gorgeous butterflies and
red-winged grasshoppers that spring away with noisy clapping
from every tuft of grass beneath your horses' hoofs. At night
round a blazing camp-fire Dick and old Brown, B. and I, sit
through many a pleasant hour chatting, till the flames wax low
and red and the vociferous snoring of the teamster warns us of
the time. Old Brown then "gets off" his last tale or joke, and
with a hearty good-night, we turn into luxurious couches of
springy pine tops and buffalo robes, where we sleep a la
belle étoile the unbroken sleep of a natural life. What
silver-lit skies spread above us, what a glorious blue their
shadowy depths embosom, and how exquisitely delicate is the
tracery of yonder pine bough betwixt us and the late-rising
moon! "Good-night, good-night," and "Shot" replies with a lazy
yawn as he coils himself up against my back and makes himself
comfortable also for the night.
F. FRANCIS.
[*] The "terminus" is any village on
the railway line that the speaker happens to frequent.
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