The Carson daily appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1865-1870, 1868-08-27
Scenery Along the Line of the Central
Pacific Railroad.
The San Francisco Times says of

| On leaving the summit tunnel tne Stean
is almost shut off, and the train glides genrl,
and smoothly down the Eastern slope. Or
emerging from the tunnl the line bears t,
the right, skirting the terraced slope of Don
ner Mountain. and in few moments bring
ing into view scene, the beauty ofwich i:
| almost beyond description. \ thousand fee
| beneath rs, on our left hand, lie, Donnel
Lake, hemmed in by mighty hills on every
side. Immediately below u> Is "A small area
of level plain, dotted with building, which
seem, in the distance, no larger than tiny
models of Swiss cottages sold for mantel or
naments. The level sheetof water lies he
yond, rejecting in its uur,.iil-d surface the
huge trees which cover the mountain sides
down to lis very brink, and through the pure
air white columns of steam arise, from a
dozen busy saw mills, buried in the dense
forest far away. Here and there upon the
lake a little boat Is seen, but these sml II
craft almost lost i'll the extent of the
view, and appear no larger than chips, fl rat
ing lazily. The road here is cut out of the
mountain side. and it has been necessary to
tunnel the hill extensively. Between the
Summit and Coidstream we pass seven ;un-
nels, the shortest of which is 100 feet, aud
the longest S63 feet in extent. We are de-
sccndiug at the rate OF ninety feet the mile,
at this time. Now we pass around the
mountain, and run along the length of Don
ner Lake, still far above it. On our right
hand the hill rises abruptly, the unmelted
SHOWS showing near and clear along its sides.
Beautiful cascades leap and dash from the
summit, fiDging their spray almost into the
windows of the cars glide past them.
At times we come upon the remnants of a
grea, drift, in some hollow below the road.
In oae place the remains of an avalanche
may still be seen. A huge mass of snow,
many feet in thickness, buried under SUI
perincumbent stratum of earth and trees.
Protected thus from the suns heat, it has
not melted, nor will it melt, but there re-
main until next winters SHOWS arrive, to re-
fresh and restore its purity. On the lower
side OF the hill we pass many huts and shan
ties rude structures, built of bnnghs and
fern branches, and loosely covered in with
thin boards. These are the camps of the
!oGgers and working parties, who swarm
along this portion of the road, and whose
axes are busy from dawn to sunset, cutting
ties for the line that is rushing eastward far
in advance. Still descending, we pass Cold
stream, $3.50 feet above the sea, and ,lrese Mt
" arrive at Truckee, on the river Of that
name, at the foot of Donner Valley, ll9
il.l.-s from SacfamcntJ, and 1850 feet nigh.
TIE TRUCKEE VALLEY.
Tie village of TruCkee Is most charming
" situated at the eastern end of bonner
Lake, on comparatively level space, amid
heavy timber. A large number of sawni!Is
are in fall work in the neiehborh0od, and
the warm air vibrates with the slumberous
hum Of the machinery. The iruckee river
here comes into view, and 1t Is through the
gorge in the mountains which it has worn
that the road passes, thus escaping the sec
ond summit of the Sierras. The Truckee,
2 bo hlr NH int /
ance first, is turbulent little river, and
bears no affinity to its muddy brethren on
the western side of the mountains. The
American river, seen from distance, resen-
bles yellow snake, winding its way through
the green meadows !; but the Truckee's |
waters are pure and limpid, and it dashes |
spark lingly over a rocky bed, breaking ever
and anon into flashes of white foam, and |
eddy ing and circling in hot haste about the
black rocks that obstruct its course.
We follow the Truckee now into its Mead |
1ws, an extensive plain, a5ounding in good
and verdant with tall grasses. AT |
er passing a small station called Doca, we
inter- two more tunnels, the last on the line
These are respectively l6S and 80 feet in
ength. As we proceed, the country, which
las for a hort distance been almost acricul-
irai in lis aspect, begins TO change again.
md gradually assumes j rJchicr and more
terile Appearance. Sill, in the immediate
icinity OF the river /. is pleasant enough,
nd at times we come upon parties of log
ers underwriting to raft timber down the
apid stream. This, with such river as the
,ruckec. is no easy task, and the hardy men
mo attempt, it risk, and sometimes loose,
heir lives, beng carried from their footing,
,hirled away, and sucked under BY the swift
urrent.
THE SAGE BRUSH.
We have passed, in company with the
rawling, rushing, Tuning Truekee, through
Ieasant meadows, where the heavy grass
rows green and thick; over rocky passes,
etween which the stream dashes ncisily,
urling its waters angrily against the craggy
des; by the margin of barren places where
le trees grow dYarfed and stunted, as if de-
ressed too much by the melancholy silence
nd dreariness of their surroundings. to take
rot heartily, or push their branches forth ,
it'll any life or vi igor. We have glided
trough long lines ofIow rolling hills, on the ,
des of which no green thing shows itself,
I'D upon which no human hahitation can be ,
zen. Ard SO We come to Verdi. 143 miles ,
ON Sacramento, and the last station where ,
we shall acscry anything pleasant OR beau
full. Thence we roll onward through a 8
,untry that becomes drearier and more de- 8
-essing at every mile. i he river itself, so =
park ling and brilliant, cratic and lively, !;
1t nGw, has caught the tone Of gloom which !
,rvades the district and moves sulleniy be- +,
1een low and marshy banks. The bright !;
Id variously hued flowers which erstwhile
,ckeG It's margin, and lent a charm to the
c,uresque scenery which its waters evliven-
|, have given place to beds of tall rushes, a
h;ch snnf tho hanks like lpDrous blOsches