Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1912-11-30


good, manly walk of twelve or
fifteen miles up hill that well
deserves the name, mountain? We
had started about mid-afternoon to
scale the heights preparatory to our
annual two weeks off," Twas dark
when we reached our chosen spot in
the San Antonio canyon. and it was
o'clock before we had completed all
arrangements for our good nights"
writes Alfred A. Berger in the Los
Angeles Times
BY the way, did you ever sleep out
under the trees with Gods vast blue
canopy for your roof, and the myriads
of stars twinkling and blinking at you
through the leaves, for your watch
lights? Did you ever experience
night in the forest with sweet-scented
pines perfuming the air, and with a
gushing, gurgling, laughing brook to
sing you away to dreamland? 1t is
wonderful beyond mere description.
All night long we dreamed sweet
di cams of mountains and forests and
things that are grand. We pictured in
our sleep the natural beauties which
surrounded us. But when morning
came with it's darting beams of sun
light casting mysterious shadows
among the towering trees. disclosing
nature in that COOL dewy freshness,
we took our first look upon our camp
ing ground.
The rivulet was more beautiful,
even, than we had pictured 1t in our
slumbers. 1t rushed and bubbled over
its rocky bed winding and twisting
down the mountainside, eager to do
fits share toward making the mighty
ocean, Just above our camp was
charming cataract, noisy and pictur-
esque. Still further above was a rus
tic foot bridge, and in the background
was the canyon wall with its growth
of timber and underbrush, the whole
blending together to make a sylvan
picture that would enthuse the most
Unconditional
The Big Event.
All the days and nights OF our So
journ were not greatly unlike the first.
We all felt happy up there in that
altitude. above "the petty rounds of
Irritating concerns and duties" And
we learned new lessons of brotherly
love from the birds and the gray
squirrels that frolicked in the tree
tops.
But the one big event of our expe-
dition was a trip to "Old Baldy"-that
ancient monument of the sunny south
west, and loftiest peak of the San
Gabriel range Eleven and hal.
thousand feet above the sea he rears
his barren head, high above the line
of vegetation, rendering himself rich
ly deserving of the descriptive name
he bears.
Taking provisions and blankets for
night in the wilderness, we loaded
them onto a pack mule. We also ap-
propriated a pair of donkeys--burros
is the California pronunciation-to
"spell" us in our unusual climb. Thus
fitted out, the procession started early
in the morning, carrying two can
teens of water and sufficient weapons
to protect us from such beasts as
crossed out path. Parenthetically. ]
would state that the weapons we used
most. however. were our walking
sticks, and the beasts we used them
on most were the poor beasts of bur-
den Speaking of burros-they were
I'LL TiSlt " CtlHlb 81 lOu6 dS Tie trail
was not too steep. But when it was
steep, then--dfd we ride? We did we'll
to get our little. long-eared brothers
along even when we walked
AT the limit of the timber we stop
ped to rest-and incidentally to
humor our inner man" with a few
munches of bread and beans-and wa
ter. All, did beans ever touch the
spot so exactly? Did bread ever sat
isfy so completely? Was water ever
sweeter? We had left the stream far
behind now, and the canteens held
our only hope of preservation until
we reached the snow line. For Old
Badly is one of those peaks with eter
nal snow. However. that is only In
the canyons facing the north. The
southern slopes are bare excepting In
winter
While our ''inRer man" was sajoy-