Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1900-07-12
EDITORIAL LETTER.
North Pacific Coast and its Cities.

Leaving Butte we ran northwest for
many hours down the Clarke Fork of
the Columbia river. 1t is a beautiful
stream, at times gentle, again rapid and
dashing, always pure, blue and glisten-
ing. Much of the way it has on each
side rugged mountains some of which
reach to the snow line. Some delight
full mountain retreats are along here,
Fishing, boating and hunting are good.
Entering Idaho we are within about
forty miles of the British line. Here the
sun doesn't set till nearly nine o'clock,
we are 80 far north and are also near
the west line of mountain time. As we
bend around the north shore Of Lake
Pend d'Oreilla we are treated to some Of
the prettiest mountain scenery of the
continent. The snow capped mountains
hem in the clear waters Of the lake and
light and color play gloriously among
them.
Soon we are speeding across the half
arid plains Of eastern Washington.
Water seems to be the great need of the
country. Running northwest from
Pasco we follow up the picturesque
Yakami valley and canyon. The snow
covered peaks of Mt. Adams and Mt.
Rainier are in plain sight to the left,
though forty to sixty miles away. Climb
ing higher we cross the Cascade range IN
tunnel nearly two miles long and are
surrounded by rugged and picturesque
scenery. The road doubles and bends
around the mountains like the coils Of a
serpent.
As soon as we are over the Cascade
range we behold transformation in
nature. Vegetation is bountiful and
beautiful because of the abundance OF
rain. As we proceed on down the slopes
and through the wonderful groves OF
pines one is reminded that Here are
the forests primeval" The tremendous
growth of vegetation is constant
wonder. The pines run up to height
of $50 feet or more and the pine logs OF
four feet in diameter and forty or fifty
feet long are common.
Running south from Tacoma and
reaching the great Columbia River close
to where it seeks the ocean our train is
run aboard a ponderously big ferry
boat and conveyed to the other side
Here indeed we are in the land of '"The
continuous woods where rolls the
Oregon and hears no sound save his own
dashings." Recalling this 1 asked a
fellow passenger who lived at Portland
what Bryant meant when he said "where
rolls the Oregon" when there was no
Oregon, and he replied he didn't know
but at once returned the prediction that
Bryan would not carry a single coast
state this year.
Portland is busy and growing city of
about 100000 inhabitants. 1t has more
varieties of trees and OF roses than 1
have ever seen elsewhere. Roses bloom
there outdoors the year around. The
hot, dry aid dusty season that plaques
the southern California country doesn't
bother Portland much. The temperature
is quite uniform, not getting very hot
nor cold. The currents of the great
ocean washing these shores equalize
them. But as if for fear of getting too
many good things in one place with no
bad ones, nature threw in discom-
fort by sending dismal fogs and rains
so continuously at some times Of the
year that people long for the dry
atmosphere and clear sunlight. The
dampness that makes the ferns grow
luxuriantly and beautifully in every
nook, and makes the roses and trees
everywhere as pretty as a park, makes
the moses grow on the house roofs and
makes clammy dampness hang around
everywhere.
/ spent one day down at Astoria, the
old town founded by John Jacob Astor
near the mouth of the Columbia soon
after the Lewis & Clark expedition. 1t
is almost exclusively fisherman's town
and is very interesting to one raised on
the pralries. The long lines of docks,
the fishermen's boats, the narrow streets
of the old town, the talk Of the sea, the
rise and fall of the tides and the work Of
the people were to me filled with
strangeness and wonder. / then ran on
down twenty miles farther to the sea
side and went on to the beach and
watched the breakers come in, and
listened to the never ceasing roar OF
old ocean. L ran up and down the
smooth and beaten beach, picked
up pretty shells, took in the vastness OF
the scene and for awhile at least entire
ly forgot the exacting duties in a news
paper Office and the petty controversies
OF county politics.
A day at Tacoma, boat ride on
Pugets Sound from that place to Seattle
finished my visit at the coast. The
beauties of that boat ride cannot be
described. The boat ran at the rate Of
eighteen miles an hour. The water
much of the time was as smooth as glass
and in the sunlight with the dark
mountains for background, gave rehec-
tons with brilliant and delicate tints.
A few times the lofty snow covered Mt.
Rainier was reflected on the waters
bosom like big and shining jewel. In