I was compelled to creep for miles on all fours, and in
following the bear-trails often found tufts of hair on the bushes where
they had forced themselves through.
For 100 feet or so above the fall the ascent was made possible only by
tough cushions of club-moss that clung to the rock. Above this the ridge
weathers away to a thin knife-blade for a few hundred yards, and thence
to the summit of the range it carries a bristly mane of chaparral. Here
and there small openings occur on rocky places, commanding fine views
across the cultivated valley to the ocean. These I found by the tracks
were favorite outlooks and resting-places for the wild animals--bears,
wolves, foxes, wildcats, etc.--which abound here, and would have to be
taken into account in the establishment of bee-ranches. In the deepest
thickets I found wood-rat villages--groups of huts four to six feet
high, built of sticks and leaves in rough, tapering piles, like musk-rat
cabins. I noticed a good many bees, too, most of them wild. The tame
honey-bees seemed languid and wing-weary, as if they had come all the
way up from the flowerless valley.
After reaching the summit I had time to make only a hasty survey of the
basin, now glowing in the sunset gold, before hastening down into one of
the tributary canons in search, of water.
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