Like the rye-field, I found the so-called desert of Mono blooming in a
high state of natural cultivation with the wild rose, cherry, aster, and
the delicate abronia; also innumerable gilias, phloxes, poppies, and
bush-compositae. I observed their gestures and the various expressions
of their corollas, inquiring how they could be so fresh and beautiful
out in this volcanic desert. They told as happy a life as any
plant-company I ever met, and seemed to enjoy even the hot sand and the
wind.
But the vegetation of the pass has been in great part destroyed, and the
same may be said of all the more accessible passes throughout the range.
Immense numbers of starving sheep and cattle have been driven through
them into Nevada, trampling the wild gardens and meadows almost out of
existence. The lofty walls are untouched by any foot, and the falls sing
on unchanged; but the sight of crushed flowers and stripped, bitten
bushes goes far toward destroying the charm of wildness.
The canon should be seen in winter. A good, strong traveler, who knows
the way and the weather, might easily make a safe excursion through it
from Yosemite Valley on snow-shoes during some tranquil time, when the
storms are hushed.
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