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they climbed up to some new point of view every day。 I have never seen
such a universally tired out； frazzled； vitally exhausted； white…faced；
nervous community in my life as I did during our four days' stay in the
Valley。 Then probably they go away； and take a month to get over it； and
have queer residual impressions of the trip。 I should like to know what
those impressions really are。
Not but that Nature has done everything in her power to oblige them。
The things I am about to say are heresy； but I hold them true。
Yosemite is not as interesting nor as satisfying to me as some of the
other big box canons； like those of the Tehipite； the Kings in its branches；
or the Kaweah。 I will admit that its waterfalls are better。 Otherwise it
possesses no features which are not to be seen in its sister valleys。 And
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there is this difference。 In Yosemite everything is jumbled together；
apparently for the benefit of the tourist with a linen duster and but three
days' time at his disposal。 He can turn from the cliff…headland to the
dome； from the dome to the half dome； to the glacier formation； the
granite slide and all the rest of it； with hardly the necessity of stirring his
feet。 Nature has put samples of all her works here within reach of his
cataloguing vision。 Everything is crowded in together； like a row of
houses in forty…foot lots。 The mere things themselves are here in
profusion and wonder； but the appropriate spacing； the approach； the
surrounding of subordinate detail which should lead in artistic gradation to
the supreme feature these things； which are a real and essential part of
esthetic effect； are lacking utterly for want of room。 The place is not
natural scenery； it is a junk…shop； a storehouse； a sample…room wherein the
elements of natural scenery are to be viewed。 It is not an arrangement of
effects in accordance with the usual laws of landscape； but an abnormality；
a freak of Nature。
All these things are to be found elsewhere。 There are cliffs which to
the naked eye are as grand as El Capitan； domes； half domes； peaks as
noble as any to be seen in the Valley； sheer drops as breath…taking as that
from Glacier Point。 But in other places each of these is led up to
appropriately； and stands the central and satisfying feature to which all
other things look。 Then you journey on from your cliff； or whatever it
happens to be； until； at just the right distance； so that it gains from the
presence of its neighbor without losing from its proximity； a dome or a
pinnacle takes to itself the right of prominence。 I concede the waterfalls；
but in other respects I prefer the sister valleys。
That is not to say that one should not visit Yosemite； nor that one will
be disappointed。 It is grand beyond any possible human belief； and no
one； even a nerve…frazzled tourist； can gaze on it without the strongest
emotion。 Only it is not so intimately satisfying as it should be。 It is a
show。 You do not take it into your heart。 〃Whew！〃 you cry。 〃Isn't that
a wonder！〃 then after a moment； 〃Looks just like the photographs。 Up to
sample。 Now let's go。〃
As we descended the trail； we and the tourists aroused in each other a
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mutual interest。 One husband was trying to encourage his young and
handsome wife to go on。 She was beautifully dressed for the part in a
marvelous； becoming costume of whipcord short skirt； high laced
elkskin boots and the rest of it； but in all her magnificence she had sat
down on the ground； her back to the cliff； her legs across the trail； and was
so tired out that she could hardly muster interest enough to pull them in
out of the way of our horses' hoofs。 The man inquired anxiously of us
how far it was to the top。 Now it was a long distance to the top； but a
longer to the bottom； so we lied a lie that I am sure was immediately
forgiven us； and told them it was only a short climb。 I should have
offered them the use of Bullet； but Bullet had come far enough； and this
was only one of a dozen such cases。 In marked contrast was a jolly
white… haired clergyman of the bishop type who climbed vigorously and
hailed us with a shout。
The horses were decidedly unaccustomed to any such sights； and we
sometimes had our hands full getting them by on the narrow way。 The
trail was safe enough； but it did have an edge； and that edge jumped pretty
straight off。 It was interesting to observe how the tourists acted。 Some
of them were perfect fools； and we had more trouble with them than we
did with the horses。 They could not seem to get the notion into their
heads that all we wanted them to do was to get on the inside and stand still。
About half of them were terrified to death； so that at the crucial moment；
just as a horse was passing them； they had little fluttering panics that
called the beast's attention。 Most of the remainder tried to be bold and
help。 They reached out the hand of assistance toward the halter rope；
the astonished animal promptly snorted； tried to turn around； cannoned
against the next in line。 Then there was a mix…up。 Two tall clean…cut
well…bred looking girls of our slim patrician type offered us material
assistance。 They seemed to understand horses； and got out of the way in
the proper manner； did just the right thing； and made sensible suggestions。
I offer them my homage。
They spoke to us as though they had penetrated the disguise of long
travel； and could see we were not necessarily members of Burt Alvord's
gang。 This phase too of our descent became increasingly interesting to
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us； a species of gauge