OVER MOUNT WASHBURN TO THE FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE.

The Upper or Grand CaÑon of the Yellowstone extends from the mouth of Tower Creek to the foot of the Great Fall, a distance of twenty miles. It is impassable throughout its entire length, and accessible to the water's edge only at few points and by dint of severe labor. The trail ascends the divide between Tower Creek and the Yellowstone, skirting for six or eight miles the caÑon of Tower Creek. The ground rises rapidly and is much broken by creek-beds running parallel with the river. Following the highest ridges, the first explorers reached at last a point whence they could overlook the Grand CaÑon cleaving the slopes and breaking through the lofty mountain ranges in front. Here they caught their first glimpse of a phenomenon afterwards to become a familiar sight to them. Through the mountain gap formed by the caÑon, and on the interior slopes some twenty miles distant, an object appeared which drew a simultaneous expression of wonder from every one in the party. It was a column of steam, rising from the dense woods to the height of several hundred feet. They had all heard fabulous stories of this region, and were somewhat skeptical of appearances. At first it was pronounced a fire in the woods, but presently some one noticed that the vapor rose in regular puffs, as if expelled with a great force. Then conviction was forced upon them. It was, indeed, a great column of steam, puffing away on the lofty mountain side, with a roaring sound, audible at a long distance, even through the heavy forest. A hearty cheer rang out at this discovery, and they pressed onward with renewed enthusiasm.

The highest peak of this ridge was named by the first company who climbed it—Mount Washburn—in honor of their leader. The view from its summit is "grand beyond description;" yet some conception of its grandeur can be formed, let us hope, from the graphic review of its more striking features by Lieutenant Doane.

"Looking northward, the great plateau stretches away from the base of the mountain to the front and left with its innumerable groves and sparkling waters, a variegated landscape of surpassing beauty, bounded on its extreme verge by the caÑons of the Yellowstone. The pure atmosphere of this lofty region causes every outline of tree, rock, or lakelet to be visible with wonderful distinctness, and objects twenty miles away appear as if very near at hand. Still further to the left the snowy ranges on the headwaters of Gardiner's River stretch away to the westward, joining those on the head of the Gallatin, and forming, with the Elephant's Back, a continuous chain, bending constantly to the south, the rim of the Yellowstone Basin. On the verge of the horizon appear, like mole-hills in the distance, and far below, the white summits above the Gallatin Valley. These never thaw during the summer months, though several thousand feet lower than where we now stand upon the bare granite, and no snow visible near, save in the depths of shaded ravines. Beyond the plateau to the right front is the deep valley of the East Fork bearing away eastward, and still beyond, ragged volcanic peaks, heaped in inextricable confusion, as far as the limit of vision extends. On the east, close beneath our feet, yawns the immense gulf of the Grand CaÑon, cutting away the bases of two mountains in forcing a passage through the range. Its yellow walls divide the landscape nearly in a straight line to the junction of Warm Spring (Tower) Creek below. The ragged edges of the chasm are from two hundred to five hundred yards apart, its depth so profound that the river bed is nowhere visible. No sound reaches the ear from the bottom of the abyss; the sun's rays are reflected on the farther wall and then lost in the darkness below. The mind struggles and then falls back upon itself, despairing in the efforts to grasp by a single thought the idea of its immensity. Beyond, a gentle declivity, sloping from the summit of the broken range, extends to the limit of vision, a wilderness of unbroken pine forest.

"Turning southward, a new and strange scene bursts upon the view. Filling the whole field of vision, and with its boundaries in the verge of the horizon, lies the great volcanic basin of the Yellowstone—nearly circular in form, from fifty to seventy-five miles in diameter; and with a general depression of about 2,000 feet below the summits of the great ranges which form its outer rim. Mount Washburn lies in the point of the circumference, northeast from the centre of the basin; far away in the southwest, the three great Tetons on Snake River fill another space in the circle; connecting these two highest are crescent ranges, one westward and south, past Gardiner's River and the Gallatin, bounding the lower Madison, thence to the Jefferson and by the Snake River range to the Tetons; another eastward and south, a continuous range by the head of Rose Bud, inclosing the sources of the Snake, and joining the Tetons beyond. Between the south and west points, this vast circle is broken through in many places for the passage of the rivers; but a single glance at the interior slopes of the ranges shows that a former complete connection existed, and that the great basin has been one vast crater of a now extinct volcano. The nature of the rocks, the steepness and outline of the interior walls, together with other peculiarities to be mentioned hereafter, render this conclusion a certainty. The lowest point in this great amphitheatre lies directly in front of us, and about eight miles distant: a grassy valley, branching between low ridges, running from the river toward the centre of the basin. A small stream rises in this valley, breaking through the ridges to the west in a deep caÑon, and falling into the channel of the Yellowstone, which here bears in a northeast course, flowing in view as far as the confluence of the small stream, thence plunged into the Grand CaÑon, and hidden from sight. No falls can be seen, but their location is readily detected by the sudden disappearance of the river; beyond this open valley the basin appears to be filled with a succession of low, converging ridges, heavily timbered, and all of about an equal altitude.

"To the south appears a broad sheet of water—the Yellowstone Lake. Across the Grand CaÑon, on the slope of the great mountain wall, is the steam jet seen this morning; and in the next ravine beyond it are six more of inferior volume. Still farther south are others, to the number of perhaps twenty, and to the southwest more of them, scattered over the vast expanse of the basin, rising from behind the wooded hills in every direction. The view in this respect strongly resembles that from the Alleghanies, where they overlook iron and coal districts, with all their furnaces in active operation, save that one looks in vain here for the thrifty towns, country villas, steamboats, and railroad depots."

Does this picture seem overdrawn? The briefer and less enthusiastic description of Dr. Hayden confirms its truth, though he does not accept in full Lieutenant Doane's interpretation of it. He says, in his official report:

"The view from the summit of Mount Washburn is one of the finest I have ever seen, and although the atmosphere was somewhat obscured by smoke, yet an area of fifty to one hundred miles radius in every direction could be seen more or less distinctly. We caught the first glimpse of the great basin of the Yellowstone, with the lake, which reminded one much, from its bays, indentations, and surrounding mountains, of Great Salt Lake. To the south are the Tetons, rising high above all the rest, the monarchs of all they survey, with their summits covered with perpetual snow. To the southwest an immense area of dense pine forests extends for one hundred miles without a peak rising above the black, level mass. A little farther to the southwest and west are the Madison Mountains, a lofty, grand, snow-capped range, extending far to the northward. Nearer and in full view, to the west commence the bold peaks of the Gallatin Range, extending northward as far as the eye can reach. To the north we get a full view of the valley of the Yellowstone, with the lofty ranges that wall it in. Emigrant Peak, and the splendid group of mountains of which it is a part, can be clearly seen, and lose none of their marvellous beauty of outline, view them from what point we may. To the north and east the eye scans the most remarkable chaotic mass of peaks of the most rugged character, apparently without system, yet sending their jagged summits high up among the clouds. Farther distant are somewhat more regular ranges, snow-covered, probably the Big Horn. But with all this magnificent scenery around us from every side, the greatest beauty was the lake, in full view to the southeast, set like a gem amid the high mountains, which are literally bristling with peaks, many of them capped with snow. These are all of volcanic origin, and the fantastic shapes which many of them have assumed under the hand of time, called forth a variety of names from my party. There were two of them that represented the human profile so well that we called them the "Giant's Face "and "Old Man of the Mountain." These formed good landmarks for the topographer, for they were visible from every point of the basin."

As regards the geological character of the country seen from Mount Washburn, Dr. Hayden observes, in discussing the geology of the region:

"We may say, in brief, that the entire basin of the Yellowstone is volcanic. I am not prepared to pronounce it a crater, with a lake occupying the inner portion, while the mountains that surround the basin are the ruins of this great crater; but, at a period not very remote in the geological past, this whole country was a scene of wonderful volcanic activity. I regard the hot springs so abundant all over the valley as the last stages of this grand scene. Hot springs, geysers, etc., are so intimately connected with what we usually term volcanoes that their origin and action admit of the same explanation. Both undoubtedly form safety-valves or vents for the escape of the powerful forces that have been generated in the interior of the earth since the commencement of our present period; the true volcanic action has ceased, but the safety-valves are the thousands of hot springs all over this great area. I believe that the time of the greatest volcanic activity occurred during the Pliocene period—smoke, ashes, fragments of rock, and lava poured forth from thousands of orifices into the surrounding waters. Hundreds of cones were built up, fragments of which still remain; and around them were arranged by the water the dust and fragments of rock, the ejectamenta of these volcanoes, in the form of the conglomerate or breccia as we find it now. These orifices may have been of every possible form—rounded or oblong, mere fissures, perhaps, extending for miles, and building up their own crater rims as the hot springs build up their rounded, conical peaks or oblong mounds at the present time."

Leaving Mount Washburn, with its summit piles of basalt, and its precipitous slope scattered with agates and beautiful fragments of sardonyx, chalcedony, and malachite, let us descend to the valley.

The trail pursues a tortuous way to avoid the fallen timber and the dense groves of pine, descending the almost vertical inner sides of the rim of the Yellowstone Basin, to the valley of a small creek. Two or three miles down this stream is a hideous glen, filled with sulphurous vapor emitted from six or eight boiling springs of great size and activity. Mr. Langford says of this unsavory place:

"It looked like nothing earthly we had ever seen, and the pungent fumes which filled the atmosphere were not unaccompanied by a disagreeable sense of possible suffocation. Entering the basin cautiously, we found the entire surface of the earth covered with the incrusted sinter thrown from the springs. Jets of hot vapor were expelled through a hundred natural orifices with which it was pierced, and through every fracture made by passing over it. The springs themselves were as diabolical in appearance as the witches' caldron in Macbeth, and needed but the presence of Hecate and her weird band to realize that horrible creation of poetic fancy. They were all in a state of violent ebullition, throwing their liquid contents to the height of three or four feet. The largest had a basin twenty by forty feet in diameter. Its greenish-yellow water was covered with bubbles, which were constantly rising, bursting, and emitting sulphurous gas from various parts of its surface. The central spring seethed and bubbled like a boiling caldron. Fearful volumes of vapor were constantly escaping it. Near it was another, not so large, but more infernal in appearance. Its contents, of the consistency of paint, were in constant, noisy ebullition. A stick thrust into it, on being withdrawn, was coated with lead-colored slime a quarter of an inch in thickness. Nothing flows from this spring. Seemingly, it is boiling down. A fourth spring, which exhibited the same physical features, was partly covered by an overhanging ledge of rock. We tried to fathom it, but the bottom was beyond the reach of the longest pole we could find. Rocks cast into it increased the agitation of its waters. There were several other springs in the group, smaller in size, but presenting the same characteristics.

"The approach to them was unsafe, the incrustation surrounding them bending in many places beneath our weight,—and from the fractures thus created would ooze a sulphury slime of the consistency of mucilage. It was with great difficulty that we obtained specimens from the natural apertures with which the crust is filled,—a feat which was accomplished by one only of our party, who extended himself at full length upon that portion of the incrustation which yielded the least, but which was not sufficiently strong to bear his weight while in an upright position, and at imminent risk of sinking into the infernal mixture, rolled over and over to the edge of the opening, and with the crust slowly bending and sinking beneath him, hurriedly secured the coveted prize."

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"There was something so revolting in the general appearance of the springs and their surroundings—the foulness of the vapors, the infernal contents, the treacherous incrustation, the noisy ebullition, the general appearance of desolation, and the seclusion and wildness of the location—that, though awestruck, we were not unreluctant to continue our journey without making them a second visit."

Once more our amateur explorers had recourse to their western vocabulary, and bestowed on this unhappy locality the title, "Hell-broth Springs"—which, says the historian of the expedition, "fully expressed our appreciation of their character."

The following season this remarkable group of springs was thoroughly examined by the party under Dr. Hayden. That careful observer says:

"They are evidently diminishing in power, but the rims all around reveal the most powerful manifestations far back in the past. Sulphur, copper, alum, and soda cover the surface. There is also precipitated around the borders of some of the mud springs a white efflorescence, probably nitrate of potash. These springs are located on the side of the mountain, nearly 1,000 feet above the margin of the caÑon, but extend along into the level portions below.... One of these springs was bubbling quite briskly, but had a temperature of only 100°. Near it is a turbid spring of 170°. In the valley are a large number of turbid, mud, and boiling springs, with temperatures from 175° to 185°. There are a number of springs that issue from the side of the mountain, and the waters, gathering into one channel, flow into the Yellowstone, The number of frying or simmering springs is great. The ground in many places, for several yards in every direction, is perforated like a sieve, and the water bubbles by with a simmering noise. There is one huge boiling spring which deposits fine black mud all around the sides. The depth of the crater of this spring, its dark, gloomy appearance, and the tremendous force which it manifested in its operations, led us to name it the "Devil's Caldron." There are a large number of springs here, but no true geysers. It is plainly the last stages of what was once a most remarkable group. Extending across the caÑon on the opposite side of the Yellowstone, interrupted here and there, this group of springs extends for several miles, forming one of the largest deposits of silica, but only here and there are there signs of life. Many of the dead springs are mere basins, with a thick deposit of iron on the sides, lining the channel of the water that flows from them. These vary in temperature from 98° to 120°. The highest temperature was 192°. The steam-vents are very numerous, and the chimneys are lined with sulphur. Where the crust can be removed, we find the under side lined with the most delicate crystals of sulphur, which disappear like frost-work at the touch. Still there is a considerable amount of solid amorphous sulphur. The sulphur and the iron, with the vegetable matter which is always very abundant about the springs, give, through the almost infinite variety of shades, a most pleasing and striking picture. One of the mud springs, with a basin twenty by twenty-five feet, and six feet deep, is covered with large bubbles or puffs constantly bursting with a thud. There are a number of high hills in this vicinity entirely composed of the hot-spring deposits, at least nine-tenths silica, appearing snowy-white in the distance; one of the walls is 175 feet high, and another about 70 feet. They are now covered to a greater or less extent with pines. Steam is constantly issuing from vents around the base and from the sides of these hills. There is one lake 100 by 300 yards, with a number of bubbling and boiling springs rising to the surface. Near the shore is one of the sieve-springs, with a great number of small perforations, from which the water bubbles up with a simmering noise; temperature, 188°. This group really forms one of the great ruins."

A short day's march from Hell-broth Spring brings the traveller to a little stream flowing into the Yellowstone, between the upper and the lower fall. From its rapid and tumultuous flow, the first explorers called it Cascade Creek. Just before its union with the Yellowstone it traverses a gloomy gorge cut through a kind of volcanic sandstone, largely made up of fragments of obsidian and other igneous rocks cemented with volcanic ash. This rock is worn by the water into so many fantastic shapes and cavernous recesses, that—with their usual poverty of invention and tartarean taste—the first observers straightway gave the uncanny channel over to the Prince of Darkness, and dubbed it the Devil's Den. A mile below this gorge the stream flows over a series of ledges, making a cascade as beautiful as its previous course has been weird and ugly. There is first a fall of five feet, which is immediately succeeded by another of fifteen, into a pool as clear as amber, nestled beneath overarching rocks. Here the stream lingers as if half reluctant to continue its course, then gracefully emerges from the grotto, and, veiling the rocks down an abrupt descent of eighty-four feet, passes rapidly on to the Yellowstone. For a wonder, this charming fall has received a corresponding name—Crystal Cascade. An infinite variety of volcanic specimens, quartz, feldspar, mica, granites, lavas, basalts, composite crystals—in fact, everything, from asbestos to obsidian, is represented by fragments in the bed of this stream.

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At the foot of the gorge and on the margin of the Yellowstone stands a high promontory of concretionary lava, literally filled with volcanic butternuts. Many of these are loose, and can be taken out of the rock with the hand; broken open, they are invariably hollow, and lined with minute quartz crystals of various tints. This rare formation occurs frequently in the great basin.