OUR OREGON LETTER.
EDITOR REPUBLICAN:–The long contemplated trip to Crater Lake has been made. Rev. M. J. Jenkins of Grants Pass, Rev. H. Gould of Dallas, Mr. F. B. Sackett of Jefferson and myself, the same quartet that visited old Mt. Hood two years ago, made the trip by team, returning to Eugene the 12th inst., having been gone twenty-two days, and traveling over 500 miles. Three of us left here on the morning of July 20th and drove 175 miles to Grants Pass, where we picked up Jenkins and continued the trip. Several places on our route are worthy of description, but I want to use the space you may grant me in describing Crater Lake, mainly. In the Wolf Creek Mountains, between here and Grants Pass, we saw men constructing a 16-mile mining ditch to convey water from Grave Creek to the Leland & Lewis mines, which are said to be very rich, and are to be operated by hydraulic “giant.” A spur of mountain over which we passed was being tunneled through for 600 feet. From Grants Pass to Crater Lake, the distance is 102 miles, the route lying along the north fork of the Rogue River. About 75 miles from Grants Pass we camped over Sunday, at the Falls. For about a mile the river is very rough with falls. It falls one foot in three. The south bank of the river at this point is a solid wall of perpendicular rock, 200 feet high. About a half mile below our camp, Mill Creek falls over a precipice into Rogue River, a distance of 184 ft., sheer drop. A little below this is another smaller stream falling over the wall, making a very beautiful, gauzy-like falls, which we took the liberty of christening “Bridal Veil Falls.” Further on the river are “Gramp Gorge,” the “Natural Bridge” and the “Hole in the Ground,” places of great interest, which I will not take space to describe. Leaving the Ft. Klamath road, we had a steep climb of miles to reach the rim of the lake. We camped overnight and made the climb the next morning, making a cache of part of our provisions. Being anxious to see the wonderful lake I left the wagon and struck out through the woods in the direction that would soonest take us there, not following the winding trail up which the wagon went. In a dark canyon about halfway up I ran on to two young cougars, and not having a gun with me I did not care to molest them, lest the old mother might pounce upon me from the thick branches of a tree–I pushed on up the canyon, which was full of snow, and was the first of the party to stand on the rim of the lake–a wonderful sight it was! When the team came up we pitched our tent right on the rim at an altitude of 8228 feet above the sea, with great patches of snow all about us. In the immediate foreground to the north lies the lake with its twenty-odd miles of ragged cliffs, standing abruptly from the water’s edge, the surface of the water being 2000 feet below us and being in some places more than [1,996] feet deep, according to the soundings by the United States Geological Survey party in 1886, and recorded Major C. E. Dutton and Capt. Diller. This wonderful lake is about 7½ miles long by 5½ miles wide. To the left, and about three miles from our tent is Wizard Island, which is a cone of volcanic rock and cinders, 845 feet high from the surface of the water. At the top of this cone is the Witch’s Cauldron, or crater, which is 475 feet in diameter and 100 feet deep. In the south half of this hole there is a great snow bank, extending from the very rim to the bottom. Beyond, and forming a part of the west wall of the lake, stands Llao Rock, solemn, grim and grand, 2228 feet perpendicular; still to the north stands Mt. Thielsen, the lightning rod of the Cascades. Just to the east of the lake is snow-covered Mt. Scott, while near our camp on the east is a high cliff, known as Cathedral Rock. To the south the scene is varied by a wide range of mountaintops, stretching far away to California, chief among which is snow-capped and beautiful Mt. Pitt. Just to the left the rough mountain view is changed to a charming plain, in the midst of which is a broad expanse of water, which proves to be Klamath Lake, about 30 miles away. After enjoying the transporting scene for a time, we concluded to find the trail and make the descent of the cliff to the water’s edge. Taking our alpenstocks we ventured down the zigzag trail, which consists of steps cut in the rock, “tacking” back and forth to make the descent as easy as possible. The distance down to the water at this point is nearly 2000 feet, vertical measurement. We saw a notice on the trail, reading, “At Work on Trail,” and about two-thirds of the way down we came to [the] picks and drills of Messrs. Stubbs & Peterman, owners of the only two boats on the lake. They were improving the trail, hoping that more visitors to the lake would descend to the water, so they would get the usual “4 bits” to row each one to the island and back, which is cheap enough, considering that it takes 40 minutes to pull across. They will not rent their boats, but will row parties wherever they wish to go, at reasonable charges. Reaching the water in safety we were soon speeding over the deep blue water to the island. This beautiful sheet of water, of an ultramarine blue, graduating into turquoise green at its edge, set in a mountaintop and encircled by such stupendous cliffs, forms a picture, which, in grandeur and beauty, is rarely equaled and I am sure never surpassed. We landed at the southeast side of the island, and while our boatmen with two boats waited, we climbed to the top. The cone is so steep and shelly that the ascent is very difficult. From the rim of this cone the beauty and majesty of of the scene are indescribable. Ordinarily the water is very still and mirror-like, reflecting an inverted image of the surrounding cliffs in detail. But sometimes, when the wind blows hard, it becomes, as our old boatman expressed it, “middlin’ lumpy.” Passing to the left we walk around the rim of this crater, pausing now and then to roll great rocks down the precipitous sides, watching them bound and crash down to the water. On the east side [of] the crater we found the record book of the Mazamas which we examined and then wrote the record of our trip. Passing on around to the south, or where we started, we one by one slid down the snow bank some 200 or 250 feet, and stood in the bottom of what was the last smoking chimney of a once-mighty volcano. Professor Winchell says that Oregon, Washington, California and Nevada constitute the greatest volcanic region in the world, and that Oregon is almost wholly volcanic. Now if the Pacific Coast is the greatest volcanic region m the world, and Oregon is [on] the coast, and Crater Lake is the remains of the greatest volcano in Oregon, it follows that this wonderful lake is the mouth of the largest volcano in the world. If you can, just imagine a vast mountain, 5 by 7 miles through, at an elevation of 8000 feet, with top removed and the inside hollowed out to a depth of more than 4000 feet with perpendicular sides and filled half full of the clearest, purest water in the world; then place a round island in one end 845 feet high, then dig a circular hole tapering to the center, like a funnel, 100 feet deep and 475 feet in diameter, and you have a representation of this most remarkable lake in the world. What an immense mountain it must have been, ages upon ages ago, when long before the hot breath of a volcano soiled its hoary head, standing as a proud monarch, with its feet upon the earth and its head in the heavens, it towered far above the mountain ranges, and looked far down upon the snowy peaks of Hood and Shasta, and snuffed the air far beyond the reach of Mt. Everest. Carrying the slope on up at the usual angle of the snow mountain to the apex, it must have been a peak, from 20,000 to 25,000 feet high. Then streams of fire began to shoot forth, and great seas of lava were hurled upon the earth. At last the very foundation gave way and sank forever from sight, leaving a great, black, smoking chasm, which succeeding ages filled with pure, fresh water, giving to our day and generation one of the most beautiful lakes within the vision of man.
Leaving Crater Lake we next went to old Ft. Klamath, where Capt. Jack, Boston Charley, Black Jim and Old Schonchin, chiefs in the Modoc outbreak, in which General Canby was murdered, were hung on Oct. 3rd, 1873. At Ft. Klamath we got our mail which brought the sad news of the death of Professor McClure, of the State University at Eugene. Professor McClure was killed on Cowlitz Glacier, Mt. Rainier, July 29, at 11 o’clock at night, by slipping and falling 300 feet, striking on a moraine of rock and bounding 40 feet. This saddened me greatly, as the Professor was a personal friend of mine. To tell of these old buildings, of the Klamath Indian Agency, and the remainder of our trip, I must write another article.
Respectfully,
J. T. ABBETT.
EUGENE, OR., Aug. 19, 1897.
Warren Republican, Williamsport, Indiana, September 2, 1897, page 4
PDF of the original newspaper:
williamsport-warren-republican-sep-02-1897-p-4
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