September 19
SWINGING ROUND THE CIRCLE.
FORT KLAMATH, LAKE MAJESTY AND ROGUE RIVER FALLS.
Well, according to promise, after seeing the sights about Lake Majesty, enjoying the hospitality of the generous “boys in blue” at Fort Klamath, who have enrolled themselves as soldiers under the “banner of temperance,” and are now ready to set an example of morality both by precept and example for those who should themselves be the teachers and models, and enjoying many other pleasures and seeing sights too numerous to prelude my article by stating them, I am partly prepared to give them to the readers of the Sentinel, who have not had the exquisite pleasure or could not spare the time to take this trip and see for themselves.
Let me see, how shall I commence–by stating–? yes, now I have it! It was a very gusty morn somewhere between the 20th of August and middle of September (if you want the exact date call at the P.O. and our P.M. will give it) that fully prepared and equipped with the necessary apparatus for camping we started forth with bright anticipation of what we should see, fully determined to enjoy ourselves in the most approved style. With a hack that moved with a light and graceful motion, and a team that bore well on the bits, we headed for the mountains, took dinner at Madame Caldwell’s spring, and camped for the night at Keene Creek, where the kind thoughtfulness of Col. Mason furnished us a spare tent, for which our appreciation was felt if not fully expressed. The Colonel is superintending the construction of the Southern Oregon Wagon Road, and deserves great praise for the manner in which he is doing his work. The Green Spring hill, which has always been a terror to teamsters, being so steep and difficult of ascent, is now traversed by a safe and easy grace; also the descent to Keene Creek is no longer dreaded as of old–but our province is sightseeing, and following our present purpose we pause on the summit of the hill between Keene Creek and Green Spring and look back; our eyes are greeted by a very fine view of several ranges of mountains raising their lofty crests one above the other till far in the distance the dim outlines of the California Coast Range are traced by the eye of the traveler. Pilot Rock looms up grand and gloomy, as if it were a mighty sentinel to guard the pass of the Siskiyous. During the succeeding day nothing occurred to relieve the monotony of the unchanging scenery. The road for thirty miles traverses a densely timbered region seemingly almost level, and were it not for the rocky sections of road one now and then passes over, the traveler might slumber sweetly or indulge in daydreams and lose nothing by deigning the surroundings more than a passing glance. On the third day we got a first glance of Little Klamath Basin from a high bluff overlooking Klamath River. The day was smoky, and the view as as “through a glass darkly”; in the foreground was seen Klamath River winding its tortuous way through tule and marsh, smooth and placid as the bosom of the lake, seen in the dim distance resembling a huge mirror covered with a thick veil and reflecting the rays of the sun through a mist. The scene was one calculated to awaken the muses, or stir to action the soul of a poet.
With considerable reluctance we descended from the brow of the cliff, resumed our seats in the hack and were soon whirling along through a cloud of alkali dust, forced to refrain from commenting on the sudden change in the topography of the country or submit to a strangling dose of dust prescribed by Dame Earth and administered by the gentle zephyrs which kept us completely enveloped in its cloud. This basin, being well adapted to stock raising, is being rapidly filled up, and agriculture is carried on with a considerable degree of success. One great drawback is the water. Though there is an abundance of it, it is of a very poor quality, and people who have been in the habit of quaffing nature’s beverage as it comes “sparkling and bright” from the snow-covered heights of Ashland peaks almost famish ere reaching the pure aqua beyond.
We reached Linkville about three o’clock p.m., pitched camp above town, and in the cool shades of the evening my wife and I (for be it known that I am a married man now, and wouldn’t change places with the Czar of Russia, no sir! not much), well, as I was about to say, my wife and I accepted the kind invitation of our estimable friend H. M. Thatcher to take a boat ride, and soon we were gliding “o’er the waters blue,” and not until the song of birds had ceased and the small still hours of night were fast approaching did we moor “our little boat,” bid our friend a kind good night and repair to camp.
Linkville is situated on the bank of Link River at a point where the river loses its identity, merges into a beautiful little lake [and] is henceforth known as Klamath River. The surrounding country presents rather a barren, unproductive and uninviting appearance, but facts do not carry out the impression, and we find that nearly all the fruits, vegetables and grain peculiar to the latitude and climate are successfully produced. Messrs. Nurse & Miller are doing a good business in the mercantile line. Uncle George has in the past year erected a commodious and substantial hotel building and gets good patronage from many of the citizens of the place as well as from travelers and visitors. Linkville is peopled by a class of men who are not only devoted to business but are careful to make visitors feel at home and assist in heightening their enjoyment if they chance to be seeking pleasure.
Leaving Linkville for Fort Klamath, our road lay over a low range of hills, from the summit of which a fine view can be obtained of Link River Basin, Lost River, Little Klamath Lake, Klamath and Link rivers, Mount Shasta and Mount McLoughlin. Here the admirer of the beauties of nature may feast his eyes unto weariness. Our road for a distance of 9 miles from this point passes through a fine open forest of timber and descends to Big Klamath Lake by an easy grade. Here is a fine ranch, where, when he is at home, Captain Ferris’ (the proprietor) jolly face may be seen, and his clear ringing voice is always a pleasant welcome to his many friends. Here the Capt. tells me he raises an abundance of choice vegetables and feels confident that whatever he wishes from the soil he can produce. Looking from the balcony of his house a fine view of the lake is obtained.
One and a half miles from this place we arrive at a very rough piece of road known as Modoc Point, and he who wishes a thorough shaking, and a severe test of his temper and nervous system, I would advise to take a trip over Modoc Point. We succeeded in passing this terrible ordeal without any nervous injury and, remembering our trip to be a pleasure trip, refrained from the use of any expletives. We arrived at Williams River in time to fix up our camp by firelight. But my article is getting long, and to my readers I expect rather tedious, but as we are now just nearing the principal object of our visit, and that, for which I commenced this article to describe, I will conclude in the next issue by giving a few remarks on Fort Klamath and surroundings, and last but most important of all, Lake Majesty and Rogue River Falls.
C. B. WATSON.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, September 19, 1874, page 2
