The Book of the National ParksYard, Robert Sterling
History
The Book of the National Parks
Yard, Robert Sterling
National parks and reserves -- United States
The canyon cannot be considered apart from its river any more than a
geyser apart from its environment of hot spring and basin, and any
consideration of the Yellowstone River begins with its lake. As compared
with others of scenic celebrity, Yellowstone Lake is unremarkable. Its
shores are so low and the mountains of its southern border so flat and
unsuggestive that it curiously gives the impression of surface
altitude--curiously because it actually has the altitude; its surface is
more than seven thousand seven hundred feet above tide. If I have the
advertisement right, it is the highest water in the world that floats a
line of steamboats.
The lake is large, twenty miles north and south by fifteen miles east
and west; it is irregular with deep indentations. It is heavily wooded
to the water's edge. All its entering streams are small except the
Yellowstone River, which, from its source in the Absarokas just south of
the park boundary, enters the Southeast Arm through the lowland
wilderness home of the moose and the wild buffalo. The lake is the
popular resort of thousands of large white pelicans, its most
picturesque feature.
That part of the Yellowstone River which interests us emerges from the
lake at its most northerly point. It is here a broad swift stream of
some depth and great clarity, so swarming with trout that a half-dozen
or more usually may be seen upon its bottom at any glance from boat or
bridge. A number of boats usually are anchored above the bridge from
which anglers are successfully trailing artificial flies and spinners in
the fast current; and the bridge is usually lined with anglers who, in
spite of crude outfits, frequently hook good trout which they pull up by
main strength much as the phlegmatic patrons of excursion-steamers to
the Banks yank flopping cod from brine to basket on the top deck.
The last time I crossed the Fishing Bridge and paused to see the fun, a
woman whose face beamed with happiness held up a twenty-inch trout and
said:
"Just look! My husband caught this and he is seventy-six years old--last
month. It's the first fish he ever caught, for he was brought up in
Kansas, you know, where there isn't any fishing. My! but he's a proud
man! We're going to get the camp to cook it for us. He's gone now to
look for a board to draw its measurements to show the folks at home."
From here to the river's emergence from the park the fishing is not
crude. In fact, it taxes the most skilful angler's art to steer his
fighting trout through boiling rapids to the net. For very soon the
Yellowstone narrows and pitches down sharper slants to the climax of the
falls and the mighty canyon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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