The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1892-08-22
BEAUTIES OF LAKE COUNTY.
Description of the Switzerland Of
America"
An Occasional Correspondent Goes
Into OBSTACLES Over the Grand
Scenery Around Lakeport.

From an Occasional Correspondent of the
RECoRD-USIoN.
How often have we heard of the rough
and thorny pathway we must travel DER
to reach the beauties of Paradise.
To obtain faint idea of the truth of
that old saying one need only make the
stage trip from Calistoga to Lakeport.
The end attained, however, compensates
for all previous trials and difficulties, for
In this land of mountains lakes and dales,
Ofsparkling streamlets and of fertile wales,
the most cynical will find little to criti-
cise-unless il be the absence of railroads.
Leaving Calistoga at noon we begin
gradual ascent, winding back and forth
on the mountain side for five miles. Be-
fore us lies the fertile Napa Valley, dot
ted with green vineyards and white
farmhouses. At our feet nestles the busy
little town Of CalistOga. On winds the
road, wide enough for one wagon only,
with here and there turnout where
teams pass each other. At one of these
we meet the freight teams, with their tink-
ling bells and heavy loads. on their way
to the railroad terminus. And now we
reach the summit and the Toll House.
Mine hostess-tall, gaunt and specialized,
with regular Yankee twang, comes
forth to greet several acquaintance.
AS the important mailbag is opened
eager faces cluster round, awaiting the
home news. There seems to be large
number OF people here intent on rest or
recreation. AS TO the latter diversion,
witness the young man yonder in lawn
tennis suit with ball and racket.
Away again. but downward now
hc ,rl ,l,.,lr 81 =,
bridges, until we reach Arcadia-a sum-
mer home for those who desire absolute
quiet.
Ola type entirely opposite to our friend
of the Toll House is the landlady of this
blissful retreat. Behold her, short, sharp
and neutrality-suspicious. itself. Beside
her, meekly receiving from her hands
mail-pouch and bundles, stands her
guide mon." The while, she keeps up a
rafting conversation with the driver.
"Wai, Mister Palmer, why don't yaou
make tue dust fly? Mister Brown, he
said he was in too much of hurry to
make the dust fly. Did the boy catch
any fish? Wal, | should say he did!
Catched big trout Yesterday. The boy,
he kin catch fish when nobuddy else
kim" And grasshoppers too" slyly
put in the driver.
After little more parleying, during
which we were subjected TO the stare OF
the missing kodak, we proceeded
on our Journey. Beside us rose the
mountains steep and forbidding; beneath
US lay deep ravines, their sides over
grown with dark and gloomy pines and
redwoods, silvery willows, majestic oak
and chestnut trees, glossy madronas and
manZanitas.
At 4 o'clock Middletown appears, and
weary and dusty we alight. Why this
town is SO called was a puzzle 10 US, for
only piphtaaI1 miles had vat bpn11 tray lod
and there still remained thirty-two long
and weary ones. After a short rest we
are packed into smaller stage. Snap goes
the whip, and Middletown is Thing of
the past
Away out in the forest, among the
murmuring pines, we pass solitary
temple OF knowledge" and hear the
busy hum of voices Of future Presidents.
The roads as we near the mountains
1--WE have been travelling over flat country
since leaving Middletown) are gray with
a kind of volcanic ashes, the hills being
themselves formed of such substances
Down into Cobb Valley along the banks
Of clear mountain stream. and over
fragrant marshlands, up again among tho
pines, and then with sudden curve we
descend into little pocket formed by
hills, in which lies Adams Springs.
Here we found several familiar Sacra-
mento faces, which seemed to give the
place an air Oh DOul6.
We were amused at the eagerneSs to
read the news contained in the previous
days paper. How sad to be one day be-
hind the rest Of the world But as the
stage runs only every other day that cam
not be prevented. a neat little hotel.
with the spring few steps away, and
several cottages across the road, seem TO
be Well filled with guests, While all
around are scattered the tents of Arab
camping parties. a change of horses,
and then twenty miles further The
smell OF smoke comes on the breeze, and
away in the distance light puffs rise from
the hillside. AS we drive around the
bend of hill a fantastic scene meets our
eyes. Tall trees are writing in the en-
brace of the Fire King. Some already lie
PROSTATE, as if worn out with useless
struggling. Here, a stately cedar is
ablaze from head to foot; there, long,
serpent-like line of fire marks what was
once a fence. Through miles of smoke
and flame the driver with steady hand
guides his horses until we have again
reached safety.
Eight O'clock finds US in Kelseyville,
of which the darkness presents us see
ing much. Happy but dusty and weary
mortals are we! Happy at the thought
that in another hour, our destination will
have been reached. Ten hours after
starting we see the first glimer of Lake
adieu to the rusty ,rumbing old stage. We
are, however, sorry to part with our cava-
lier, the stage driver, for of all men he is
the most solicitous and considerate. Could
our local conductors only take pattern
we should have models of kindness on
our lines.
AS l am writing, now before me, calm
and mirror like, lies ClearLake.
70 the right, bold in relief, stand Uncle
Sam locally SO called), or Nit. Konucti,
twenty-four hundred feet high. The
lava andsvolcanic formations found here
give rise to the belief that this is an extinct
volcano. Under it's shadow rests Soda
Bay, resort receiving its name from a
bubbling spring of sodo, rising fountain
like from the lake. Not far away is the
mission of the Indians, of which there are
many. Big Valley, with its fertile grain
fields and orchards, stretches along the
southeastern shore of the lake. Opposite
Soda Bay IS the large ranch of Mr.. Alter,
who thinks he has found the secret of
perpetual motion, and may some day
astonish the scientific world with his
'macheen."
Here too is the summer residence ofthe
late Captain Floyd, surrounded by
tropical trees and luXuriant vines, an
ideal Garden of Eden. At the wharf lies
the Whisper, the trimmest and smallest
steamer on the lake, which, since the
Captains death, has seen but little use as
the family does not live her. Directly
across the lake, the road to Bartletts can
be. seen winding over the mountains.
Steamers connect Lakeport and the lake
end of the road, the trip from here taking
just four hours.