From The First Ridge We Crossed After
Leaving Canyon We Had A Singular View Of Range Beyond Range Cleft
By Deep Canyons, And Abounding In Elliptical Valleys, Richly
Grassed.
The slopes of all the hills, as far as one could see,
were waving with fine grass ready for the scythe, but the food of
wild animals only.
All these ridges are heavily timbered with
pitch pines, and where they come down on the grassy slopes they
look as if the trees had been arranged by a landscape gardener.
Far off, through an opening in a canyon, we saw the prairie
simulating the ocean. Far off, through an opening in another
direction, was the glistening outline of the Snowy Range. But
still, till we reached this place, it was monotonous, though
grand as a whole: a grey-green or buff-grey, with outbreaks of
brilliantly-colored rock, only varied by the black-green of
pines, which are not the stately pyramidal pines of the Sierra
Nevada, but much resemble the natural Scotch fir. Not many miles
from us is North Park, a great tract of land said to be rich in
gold, but those who have gone to "prospect" have seldom returned,
the region being the home of tribes of Indians who live in
perpetual hostility to the whites and to each other.
At this great height, and most artistically situated, we came
upon a rude log camp tenanted in winter by an elk hunter, but now
deserted. Chalmers without any scruple picked the padlock; we
lighted a fire, made some tea, and fried some bacon, and after
a good meal mounted again and started for Estes Park.
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