YELLOWSTONE Early History of Yellowstone National Park and Its Relation to National Park Policies

To the Editor of the Herald:

This beautiful body of water is situated in the extreme northwest corner of Wyoming, and, with its tributaries and sister lakes of smaller dimensions, is entirely cut off from all access from any portion of that Territory by the impassable and eternally snow-clad range of the Wind River Range of mountains. Hence the propriety that the Territorial lines be so readjusted that Montana should embrace all that lake region west of the Wind River Range, a matter in which we hope our citizens will soon move to accomplish, as well as to secure, its future appropriation to the public use.

The lake was often visited by others before our party reached it on September 3, but never before had any party attempted a thorough exploration of its entire shore line, or had any correct idea of its shape, tributaries, or dimensions. The point where we first struck the lake was about 3 miles southeast of the point where the river leaves it and near the mouth of a small stream that flows from a sulphur basin to the east. Around the mouth of this stream is a broad, low, swampy bottom which we found much difficulty in crossing. Having crossed this bottom, we first caught the inspiriting sight of the broad lake's surface over the top of a high sand ridge, which the waters have heaped up as a breastwork, and crowned with an abattis of sagebrush. There is always something exhilarating in the sight of waters, and in the fervor of our excitement at the first glimpse of the lake we dashed away without thought of train or camp and very little regarding intervening obstacles till we reined up our horses on the very edge of the waters. A noble sight spread out before us. White-crested waters of marine proportions were chasing each other over the watery plain, breaking with a monotonous dirge along a beach of soft, clean, sparkling sand, which ran away to the southeast in a line as straight as an arrow's flight for a full mile in length. About the mouth of the little stream that we had just crossed were numerous shallows and bars, which were covered by the acre with ducks, geese, huge white-breasted cranes, and long-beaked pelicans, while the solitary albatross, or sea gull, circled above our heads with a saucy look that drew many a random shot and cost one, at least, its life. The country generally around the lake is densely timbered, but at this point where we first reached it there was an open shore for 2 miles or more, terminating in a bold, rocky ledge that rises perpendicularly about 150 feet above the water, and from its forward position affording a fine view of a large portion of the lake. Before sunset of the first day I had traced several miles of the lake beach alone, gathered many curious specimens of watery mechanism, and in spite of the high-rolling waters had bagged four of as handsome trout as ever kindled the enthusiasm of a genuine disciple of Isaac Walton.

The wonderful beauty of the lake had wrought a charm over almost the entire party, and around the evening camp fire we voted to traverse the entire lake shore, Hauser and Smith only voting a halfway "no." We would build a raft, raise a blanket sail, and visit the wooded islands; we would visit every nook and corner, and find the favorite haunts of the waterfowls; we would pile high our rude water craft with trout and game, and dot the entire beach with the glowing embers sputtering under the weight of broiling brant and crisping fish. Many of these fine, rich, fancy pictures fell far short of realization, and still they figured in the original resolve, and as they disappeared one by one they left the first vote unrescinded and not one ever hesitated or proposed to back out. Our attempt at raft building was such an utter and ignominious failure that the subject was dropped by mutual consent. The wind was always from the wrong direction, the waves rolled unnecessarily high, the water was evidently deep and unmistakably cold, the islands distant, and the logs altogether too much inclined to slip their cables and strike out in their individual capacity. The toil of a day was the wreck of a few moments, and we hushed our disgust with the glad reflection that we had never got away on it, and quit the subject by promising ourselves to bring an India-rubber boat when we came again. Other fancies more nearly approached realization, and still I retain no distinct recollection of frequent feasts on broiled duck, for which none were to blame but ourselves. My individual taste led me to fishing, and I venture that none of the party dare complain that they did not have all the fine trout that their several appetites and capacities could provide storage for. Indeed, I feel in gratitude bound to bear testimony that for fine fish, and solid, satisfying fun, there is no body of water under the sun more attractive to the ambitious fisherman than the Yellowstone Lake. While upon the subject of fishing, allow me to relate one or two instances of personal experience. One day, after the loss of our comrade, and when rations were getting short, I was deputed to lay in a stock of fish to eke our scanty larder on our homeward journey. Proud of this tribute to my piscatory skill, I endeavored under some difficulties, to justify the expectations of my companions, and in about two hours, while the waves were comparatively quiet, I strewed the beach with about 50 beauties, not one of which would weigh less than 2 pounds, while the average weight was about 3 pounds. Another incident, illustrative of the proximity of hot springs rather than of trouting: Near the southwest corner of the lake is a large basin of exceedingly hot springs. These springs cover a large field. Some are in the very margin of the lake, while others rise under the lake and indicate their locality by steam and ebullition upon the lake's surface when the waves are not too uneasy. One spring of large size, unfathomable depth, sending out a continuous stream of at least 50 inches of scalding water, is still separated from the cool water of the lake by a rocky partition, not more than a foot thick in places. I returned along the narrow rim of this partition, and catching sight of some expectant trout lying in easy reach, I solicited their attention to a transfixed grasshopper, and meeting an early and energetic response, I attempted to land my prize beyond the spring, but unfortunately for the fish, he escaped the hook to plunge into this boiling spring. As soon as possible I relieved the agonized creature by throwing him out with my pole, and though his contortions were not fully ended, his skin came off and he had all the appearance of being boiled through. The incident, though excusable as an incident, was too shocking to repeat

We noted it as a singular fact that we saw no other fish than trout in the lake, and no small fish of any sort. There was a wide contrast in the color of the meat of these trout. While most of them were as richly red as salmon, others were quite white; and as a frank confession is good for the soul, we will relieve our own by confessing that some at our very last camp on the lake were found to he wormy.

At our first camp we ascertained the altitude of the lake to be 8,337 feet above the sea level. We found that water boiled at so low a temperature as to sensibly prolong the operation of cooking while the warmest days were sure to be checkmated by chilly nights. In spite of the many hot springs and fire rents in the region of the lake, the altitude renders it certain that winter comes early and tarries late; in fact, it is almost always in sight, and liable to drop in any day.

We made one camp on the east shore, and did not find as much trouble as anticipated in making our way, sometimes on the beach, but more by following game trails through the timber, generally in sight of the lake. During this first day of travel we rounded one large eastern bay, at the southern extremity of which was a rocky point, from which was issuing many columns of sulphurous vapor from crevices in the rock, as seen across the lake, in early morning. This point had looked like some busy factory town with steam works in full play. The portions of the beach that we traversed the first day on the eastern shore were remarkably rich in curiosities. Here were clay, slate layers, wrought by the cunning and tireless waves into cups and saucers, and bowls and slender pestles, and some well-turned specimens of a human foot and leg. But in many respects the most singular beach was opposite our second camp, named by us "Cornelian Beach," from the many fine specimens of these stones found here. But what attracted my attention still more was a portion of the beach composed of stones as large and round as cannon balls, nearly all appearing of uniform size. The material seemed to be a dark red sandstone. A little further on the size diminishes to that of canister and grape shot. I have no recollection of having seen anything similar in my life. It looked like the abandoned stores of some Cyclopean arsenal.

Near the southeast corner of the lake the Yellowstone River flows into it with about one-half the volume that flows out, and the distance between the inlet and outlet is about 25 miles. Above the lake the Yellowstone River has a course of many miles along the base of the Wind River Range of mountains, which are hurled in eternal snows.

Langford and Doane report having seen, 30 miles up the valley, two columns of steam, apparently 500 feet in height. This report, received at the time with uncivil incredulity, received so much subsequent confirmation that we afterwards regretted our folly in not ascertaining the truth.

I think a more confirmed set of skeptics never went out into the wilderness than those who composed our party, and never was a party more completely surprised and captivated with the wonders of nature.

The south shore of the lake is very irregular. It is cut up by several long promontories—two of them mountains of considerable height, running out for several miles, inclosing arms of the lake like fingers reaching in after more space. The most graphic map of the lake that I could present my readers would be the human hand with fingers extended and spread apart as much as possible. The main portion of the lake is the northern, which would represent the flat of the hand. There is a large southwest bay, nearly cut off, that would represent the thumb, while there are about the same number of narrow southern inlets as there are fingers on the hand. The southern shore is an almost impenetrable timbered wilderness, through which we toiled and swore our way, coming out after several days tattered and torn, ragged, bleeding, and sullen. We had lost one of our company and only wondered that we had not lost all of them. Future generations may find on this south shore hallowed grounds, but it was soundly and sorely cursed by us.

At the southwest corner of the lake is a large region of wonderful hot springs that deserve more space in portrayal than now remains at my disposal.

CORNELIUS HEDGES.

(Helena (Mont.) Daily Herald, November 9, 1870.)