Through Our Unknown Southwest: The Wonderland of the United States—Little Known and Unappreciated—The Home of the Cliff Dweller and the Hopi, the Forest Ranger and the Navajo,—The Lure of the Painted DesertLaut, Agnes C.
History
Through Our Unknown Southwest: The Wonderland of the United States—Little Known and Unappreciated—The Home of the Cliff Dweller and the Hopi, the Forest Ranger and the Navajo,—The Lure of the Painted Desert
Laut, Agnes C.
Hopi Indians; Navajo Indians; Southwest, New -- Description and travel
This matter of proper preparation recalls a little English woman who
determined to train her boys and girls to be resourceful and independent
by taking them camping each summer in the forests of the Pacific Coast.
They were on a tramp one day twelve miles from camp when a heavy fog
blew in, and they lost themselves. That is not surprising when you
consider the big tree country. Two notches and one blaze mark the bounds
of the National Forests; one notch and one blaze, the trail; but they
had gone off the trail trout fishing. "If they had been good
path-finders, they could have found the way out by following the stream
down," remarked a critic of this little group to me; and a very apt
criticism it was from the safe vantage point of a study chair. How about
it, if when you came to follow the stream down, it chanced to cut
through a gorge you couldn't follow, with such a sheer fall of rock at
the sides and such a crisscross of big trees, house-high, that you were
driven back from the stream a mile or two? You would keep your
directions by sunlight? Maybe; but that big tree region is almost
impervious to sunlight; and when the fog blows in or the clouds blow
down thick as wool, you will need a pocket compass to keep the faintest
sense of direction. Compass signs of forest-lore fail here. There are
few flowers under the dense roofing to give you sense of east or west;
and you look in vain for the moss sign on the north bark of the tree.
All four sides are heavily mossed; and where the little Englishwoman
lost herself, they were in ferns to their necks.
"Weren't the kiddies afraid?" I asked.
"Not a bit! Bob got the trout ready; and Son made a big fire. We curled
ourselves up round it for the night; and I wish you could have seen the
children's delight when the clouds began to roll up below in the
morning. It was like a sea. The youngsters had never seen clouds take
fire from the sun coming up below. I want to tell you, too, that we put
out every spark of that fire before we left in the morning."
All of which conveys its own moral for the camper in the National
Forests.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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