按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
THE MOUNTAINS
THE MOUNTAINS
BY STEWART EDWARD WHITE
1
… Page 2…
THE MOUNTAINS
PREFACE
The author has followed a true sequence of events practically in all
particulars save in respect to the character of the Tenderfoot。 He is in one
sense fictitious； in another sense real。 He is real in that he is the
apotheosis of many tenderfeet； and that everything he does in this
narrative he has done at one time or another in the author's experience。
He is fictitious in the sense that he is in no way to be identified with the
third member of our party in the actual trip。
2
… Page 3…
THE MOUNTAINS
I
THE RIDGE TRAIL
Six trails lead to the main ridge。 They are all good trails； so that even
the casual tourist in the little Spanish…American town on the seacoast need
have nothing to fear from the ascent。 In some spots they contract to an
arm's length of space； outside of which limit they drop sheer away；
elsewhere they stand up on end； zigzag in lacets each more hair… raising
than the last； or fill to demoralization with loose boulders and shale。 A
fall on the part of your horse would mean a more than serious accident；
but Western horses do not fall。 The major premise stands： even the
casual tourist has no real reason for fear； however scared he may become。
Our favorite route to the main ridge was by a way called the Cold
Spring Trail。 We used to enjoy taking visitors up it； mainly because you
come on the top suddenly； without warning。 Then we collected remarks。
Everybody； even the most stolid； said something。
You rode three miles on the flat； two in the leafy and gradually
ascending creek…bed of a canon； a half
hour of laboring steepness in the overarching mountain lilac and laurel。
There you came to a great rock gateway which seemed the top of the
world。 At the gateway was a Bad Place where the ponies planted warily
their little hoofs； and the visitor played 〃eyes front；〃 and besought that his
mount should not stumble。
Beyond the gateway a lush level canon into which you plunged as into
a bath； then again the laboring trail； up and always up toward the blue
California sky； out of the lilacs； and laurels； and redwood chaparral into
the manzanita； the Spanish bayonet； the creamy yucca； and the fine
angular shale of the upper regions。 Beyond the apparent summit you
found always other summits yet to be climbed。 And all at once； like
thrusting your shoulders out of a hatchway； you looked over the top。
Then came the remarks。 Some swore softly； some uttered
appreciative ejaculation； some shouted aloud； some gasped； one man
uttered three times the word 〃Oh；〃once breathlessly； Oh！ once in
awakening appreciation； OH！ once in wild enthusiasm； OH！ Then
3
… Page 4…
THE MOUNTAINS
invariably they fell silent and looked。
For the ridge； ascending from seaward in a gradual coquetry of foot…
hills； broad low ranges； cross…systems； canons； little flats； and gentle
ravines； inland dropped off almost sheer to the river below。 And from
under your very feet rose； range after range； tier after tier； rank after rank；
in increasing crescendo of wonderful tinted mountains to the main crest of
the Coast Ranges； the blue distance； the mightiness of California's western
systems。 The eye followed them up and up； and farther and farther； with
the accumulating emotion of a wild rush on a toboggan。 There came a
point where the fact grew to be almost too big for the appreciation； just as
beyond a certain point speed seems to become unbearable。 It left you
breathless； wonder…stricken； awed。 You could do nothing but look； and
look； and look again； tongue… tied by the impossibility of doing justice to
what you felt。 And in the far distance； finally； your soul； grown big in a
moment； came to rest on the great precipices and pines of the greatest
mountains of all； close under the sky。
In a little； after the change had come to you； a change definite and
enduring； which left your inner processes forever different from what they
had been； you turned sharp to the west and rode five miles along the knife…
edge Ridge Trail to where Rattlesnake Canon led you down and back to
your accustomed environment。
To the left as you rode you saw； far on the horizon； rising to the height
of your eye； the mountains of the channel islands。 Then the deep
sapphire of the Pacific； fringed with the soft； unchanging white of the surf
and the yellow of the shore。 Then the town like a little map； and the lush
greens of the wide meadows； the fruit…groves； the lesser ranges all vivid；
fertile； brilliant； and pulsating with vitality。 You filled your senses with it；
steeped them in the beauty of it。 And at once； by a mere turn of the eyes；
from the almost crude insistence of the bright primary color of life； you
faced the tenuous azures of distance； the delicate mauves and amethysts；
the lilacs and saffrons of the arid country。
This was the wonder we never tired of seeing for ourselves； of
showing to others。 And often； academically； perhaps a little wistfully； as
one talks of something to be dreamed of but never enjoyed； we spoke of
4
… Page 5…
THE MOUNTAINS
how fine it would be to ride down into that land of mystery and
enchantment； to penetrate one after another the canons dimly outlined in
the shadows cast by the westering sun； to cross the mountains lying
outspread in easy grasp of the eye； to gain the distant blue Ridge； and see
with our own eyes what lay beyond。
For to its other attractions the prospect added that of impossibility； of
unattainableness。 These rides of ours were day rides。 We had to