The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1916-10-19


your back 10 presented a view such as
to enthrall and hold you for an entire
day-old Mount Hood at close range.
Its glaciers and the scanned sides of
! 900 feet deep precipices are as clear
cut as cameo held in your hand and
viewed through reading glass.
Straight lines form scar down some
almost vertical snowfield. These are
slides made by boulders of ton weight
picked up by some sudden avalanche.
From the elevation of Hood River,
Mount Hood, with the dying moonlight
on her snowfelds, seemed as ephemeral
to the party headed for her snowfields
as some ghost. The light of the moon
gave way to that of the rising sun.
and first the very tip was illuminated
with golden, pinkish halo, as though
the earth were some vast theatre and
a spotlight had been directed at this
point, while all the rest of the world
was in shadow. The sunlight, with a
speed almost possible to detect slowly
ascended from the summit to the base
of the mountain. and the great jagged
mass took on new tone and color. A
veil seemed to have been removed
from the mountain, and Hood stood
forth in violet hue. gradually turning
to amethystine fairly dazzling. Then
came the rosetints and as the sun rose
higher these were dispersed, and the
mountains. snow and glaciers took on
the whiteness of Italian marble.
The 28 mile ride to Cloud Cap Inn
ing. when the crisp air brings thrills
of exhilarati0n and causes one to make
a resolution never again to be lazy.
carries the participant through as
great diversity of scenes, perhaps as
may be found on any ride of equal
length in the world. Despite the early
hour. when one leaves Hood River, he
leaves behind the hustle of CONNER
cial world Eager to get their crops
to sales agency warehouses, Hood
River Valley orchardists are already
unloading their product at receiving
stations in the city and are awaiting
shipments of boxes. A mile out in the
country, come the scenes Of apple
harvest itself. The tent dwellings of
pickers are beginning to take on life.
Sleepy eyed men are washing in basins
at their tent doors, the smoke curls
up from breakfast stove fire at
ranch house. A milkmaid is seen busy
with her cows. The road is free to
you after a few miles out.
Then you reach the more remote Sec
tions. Birds are taking their morning
meals from the seeds of roadside
plants. A bluejay screams as you
dart by. Less than q mile from a
farmhouse a big bobcat hurries across
the highway and climbing leaning
tree blinks wonderingly at you. Then
you leave civilization, penetrating the
national forest. And the last five
miles of the road to Cloud Cap Inn
lies through virgin wilderness. The
trees are green, the upper branches
covered with short, gray moss pecul-
lar to the high attitudes. except for a
short stretch burned over probably
half century ago. Here the stumps
bleached by the SHOWS of half hun
dred years have caused the area to be
known as "The Ghost Forest. The
morning sunlight dances merrily
through the forest vistas, and at
intervals you catch sight of the daz-
cling sides of your goal. the snowfelds
of Mount Hood.
At Cloud Cap Inn you break into the
open, the very timber line is reached.
Here the frs give way to mountain
pines, windswept and gnarled. In
more protected spots, the nut bearing
pines may be seen lifting themselves
erect. and chipmunks and birds that
you perhaps do not know may be seen
quarreling and harvesting the crop.
much as you may buy in the market,
nuts that have come from the ridges
of the Rockies or down in old Mexico,
where the poems make a livlihood from
the sale of the pine seeds. En- route
you have seen the path of giant
cougar, where he crossed the road,
imbedding his mighty paws in the soft
earth. Off on a ridge, perhaps two
miles away, but to your vision in the
rarified atmosphere not 200 yards. Q
bear emerges in the open, he scratches
up a rotting log, stealing the cache of
winter nuts put there by some ener.
getic squirrel, the guide tells you.
You are only 28 miles from town and
yet as far removed to the wilds of
nature as is possible in the United
States.
3 Sunday Mr.. and Mrs. A. D. Moe, ac-
companied by their daughters. Frances
and Florence. and their guest of the
week end, Mrs. d. W. Wade, Of Wasco,
motored to Cloud Cap Inn. MIR. Moe
drove his big six cylinder REQ, which
took the long, steep grades with per-
feet ease. The party spent portion
of the day in the vicinity Of the Inn,
exploring the side of Eliot glacier and
viewing the surrounding country from
high points.
"I have never enjoyed any trip more
than that to Cloud Cap lnn," says Mrs.
Wade. "The panoramas from there
are wonderful. and the coloring of the
Upper Valley foliage, seen en- route,
is magnificent.
Mrs. Hidden Here Monday Night
Mrs. M. l.. T. Hidden, candidate for
the legislature from Multnomah county,
delivered an address here Monday night
in the interest of the Woodrow Wilson
campaign. The next local Wilson
League speaker will be Senator Geo.
Chamberlain, who will address the
other on the evening of Thursday, Oc-
tober 26.
Mrs Uidden was introduced nv I n