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The Lure Of The Trail The Lure Of The Trail

The Lure Of The Trail
The trail's call depends not at all on your common sense. You know you are a fool for answering it; and yet you go. The comforts of civilization, to put the case on its lowest plane, are not lightly to be renounced: the ease of having your physical labor done for you; the joy of cultivated minds, of theatres, of books, of participation in the world's progress; these you leave behind you. And in exchange you enter a life where there is much long hard work of the hands--work that is really hard and long, so that no... Essays - Post by : insightful - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 2668

On Going Out On Going Out

On Going Out
The last few days of your stay in the wilderness you will be consumedly anxious to get out. It does not matter how much of a savage you are, how good a time you are having, or how long you have been away from civilization. Nor does it mean especially that you are glad to leave the wilds. Merely does it come about that you drift unconcernedly on the stream of days until you approach the brink of departure: then irresistibly the current hurries you into haste. The last day of your week's vacation; the last three of your... Essays - Post by : marketingtest - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1075

The Golden Trout The Golden Trout

The Golden Trout
After Farewell Gap, as has been hinted, the country changes utterly. Possibly that is why it is named Farewell Gap. The land is wild, weird, full of twisted trees, strangely colored rocks, fantastic formations, bleak mountains of slabs, volcanic cones, lava, dry powdery soil or loose shale, close-growing grasses, and strong winds. You feel yourself in an upper world beyond the normal only the freakish cold things of nature, elsewhere crowded out, find a home. Camp is under a lonely tree, none the less solitary from the fact that it has companions. The earth beneath is characteristic... Essays - Post by : Scott_Anson - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1554

On Cowboys On Cowboys

On Cowboys
Your cowboy is a species variously subdivided. If you happen to be traveled as to the wild countries, you will be able to recognize whence your chance acquaintance hails by the kind of saddle he rides, and the rigging of it; by the kind of rope he throws, and the method of the throwing; by the shape of hat he wears; by his twist of speech; even by the very manner of his riding. Your California "vaquero" from the Coast Ranges is as unlike as possible to your Texas cowman, and both differ from the Wyoming or South Dakota article.... Essays - Post by : Bruce_NewMedia - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1349

The Giant Forest The Giant Forest

The Giant Forest
Every one is familiar, at least by reputation and photograph, with the Big Trees of California. All have seen pictures of stage-coaches driving in passageways cut through the bodies of the trunks; of troops of cavalry ridden on the prostrate trees. No one but has heard of the dancing-floor or the dinner-table cut from a single cross-section; and probably few but have seen some of the fibrous bark of unbelievable thickness. The Mariposa, Calaveras, and Santa Cruz groves have become household names. The public at large, I imagine, meaning by that you and me and our neighbors, harbor an... Essays - Post by : cleodog - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3542

The Main Crest The Main Crest

The Main Crest
The traveler in the High Sierras generally keeps to the west of the main crest. Sometimes he approaches fairly to the foot of the last slope; sometimes he angles away and away even down to what finally seems to him a lower country,--to the pine mountains of only five or six thousand feet. But always to the left or right of him, according to whether he travels south or north, runs the rampart of the system, sometimes glittering with snow, sometimes formidable and rugged with splinters and spires of granite. He crosses spurs and tributary ranges as high,... Essays - Post by : tuamigo - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3432

The Valley The Valley

The Valley
Once upon a time I happened to be staying in a hotel room which had originally been part of a suite, but which was then cut off from the others by only a thin door through which sounds carried clearly. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening. The occupants of that next room came home. I heard the door open and close. Then the bed shrieked aloud as somebody fell heavily upon it. There breathed across the silence a deep restful sigh. "Mary," said a man's voice, "I'm mighty sorry I didn't join that Association for Artificial... Essays - Post by : fooyl - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1954

On The Wind At Night On The Wind At Night

On The Wind At Night
The winds were indeed abroad that night. They rattled our cabin, they shrieked in our eaves, they puffed down our chimney, scattering the ashes and leaving in the room a balloon of smoke as though a shell had burst. When we opened the door and stepped out, after our good-nights had been said, it caught at our hats and garments as though it had been lying in wait for us. To our eyes, fire-dazzled, the night seemed very dark. There would be a moon later, but at present even the stars seemed only so many pinpoints of dull... Essays - Post by : oursecurefuture - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3499

On Camp Cookery On Camp Cookery

On Camp Cookery
One morning I awoke a little before the others, and lay on my back staring up through the trees. It was not my day to cook. We were camped at the time only about sixty-five hundred feet high, and the weather was warm. Every sort of green thing grew very lush all about us, but our own little space was held dry and clear for us by the needles of two enormous red cedars some four feet in diameter. A variety of thoughts sifted through my mind as it followed lazily the shimmering filaments of loose spider-web... Essays - Post by : mthorne - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1862

Trout, Buckskin, And Prospectors Trout, Buckskin, And Prospectors

Trout, Buckskin, And Prospectors
As I have said, a river flows through the canon. It is a very good river with some riffles that can be waded down to the edges of black pools or white chutes of water; with appropriate big trees fallen slantwise into it to form deep holes; and with hurrying smooth stretches of some breadth. In all of these various places are rainbow trout. There is no use fishing until late afternoon. The clear sun of the high altitudes searches out mercilessly the bottom of the stream, throwing its miniature boulders, mountains, and valleys as plainly into relief as... Essays - Post by : dmayes - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1088

The Canon The Canon

The Canon
One day we tied our horses to three bushes, and walked on foot two hundred yards. Then we looked down. It was nearly four thousand feet down. Do you realize how far that is? There was a river meandering through olive-colored forests. It was so distant that it was light green and as narrow as a piece of tape. Here and there were rapids, but so remote that we could not distinguish the motion of them, only the color. The white resembled tiny dabs of cotton wool stuck on the tape. It turned and twisted,... Essays - Post by : alphanet1 - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1487

On Tenderfeet On Tenderfeet

On Tenderfeet
The tenderfoot is a queer beast. He makes more trouble than ants at a picnic, more work than a trespassing goat; he never sees anything, knows where anything is, remembers accurately your instructions, follows them if remembered, or is able to handle without awkwardness his large and pathetic hands and feet; he is always lost, always falling off or into things, always in difficulties; his articles of necessity are constantly being burned up or washed away or mislaid; he looks at you beamingly through great innocent eyes in the most chuckle-headed of manners; he exasperates you to within an inch... Essays - Post by : Jon_Heller - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 1730

On Seeing Deer On Seeing Deer

On Seeing Deer
Once I happened to be sitting out a dance with a tactful young girl of tender disposition who thought she should adapt her conversation to the one with whom she happened to be talking. Therefore she asked questions concerning out-of-doors. She knew nothing whatever about it, but she gave a very good imitation of one interested. For some occult reason people never seem to expect me to own evening clothes, or to know how to dance, or to be able to talk about anything civilized; in fact, most of them appear disappointed that I do not pull off... Essays - Post by : Tumbarumba - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3060

The Trail The Trail

The Trail
When you say "trail" to a Westerner, his eye lights up. This is because it means something to him. To another it may mean something entirely different, for the blessed word is of that rare and beautiful category which is at once of the widest significance and the most intimate privacy to him who utters it. To your mind leaps the picture of the dim forest-aisles and the murmurings of tree-top breezes; to him comes a vision of the wide dusty desert; to me, perhaps, a high wild country of wonder. To all of us it is the... Essays - Post by : wakeup - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 2145

The Pines The Pines

The Pines
I do not know exactly how to make you feel the charm of that first camp in the big country. Certainly I can never quite repeat it in my own experience. Remember that for two months we had grown accustomed to the brown of the California landscape, and that for over a week we had traveled in the Inferno. We had forgotten the look of green grass, of abundant water; almost had we forgotten the taste of cool air. So invariably had the trails been dusty, and the camping-places hard and exposed, that we had come subconsciously to... Essays - Post by : tonybhachu - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3853

The Foot-hills The Foot-hills

The Foot-hills
At once our spirits rose. We straightened in our saddles, we breathed deep, we joked. The country was scorched and sterile; the wagon-trail, almost paralleling the mountains themselves on a long easy slant toward the high country, was ankle-deep in dust; the ravines were still dry of water. But it was not the Inferno, and that one fact sufficed. After a while we crossed high above a river which dashed white water against black rocks, and so were happy. The country went on changing. The change was always imperceptible, as is growth, or the stealthy advance... Essays - Post by : BadOldBear - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3653

The Inferno The Inferno

The Inferno
For eight days we did penance, checking off the hours, meeting doggedly one after another the disagreeable things. We were bathed in heat; we inhaled it; it soaked into us until we seemed to radiate it like so many furnaces. A condition of thirst became the normal condition, to be only slightly mitigated by a few mouthfuls from zinc canteens of tepid water. Food had no attractions: even smoking did not taste good. Always the flat country stretched out before us. We could see far ahead a landmark which we would reach only by a morning's travel.... Essays - Post by : mserovey - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3424

The Coast Ranges The Coast Ranges

The Coast Ranges
At last, on the day appointed, we, with five horses, climbed the Cold Spring Trail to the ridge; and then, instead of turning to the left, we plunged down the zigzag lacets of the other side. That night we camped at Mono Canon, feeling ourselves strangely an integral part of the relief map we had looked upon so many times that almost we had come to consider its features as in miniature, not capacious for the accommodation of life-sized men. Here we remained a day while we rode the hills in search of Dinkey and Jenny, there pastured. We found Jenny... Essays - Post by : nable - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 2511

On How To Go About It On How To Go About It

On How To Go About It
One truth you must learn to accept, believe as a tenet of your faith, and act upon always. It is that your entire welfare depends on the condition of your horses. They must, as a consequence, receive always your first consideration. As long as they have rest and food, you are sure of getting along; as soon as they fail, you are reduced to difficulties. So absolute is this truth that it has passed into an idiom. When a Westerner wants to tell you that he lacks a thing, he informs you he is "afoot" for it.... Essays - Post by : elliott2 - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 3890

On Horses On Horses

On Horses
I really believe that you will find more variation of individual and interesting character in a given number of Western horses than in an equal number of the average men one meets on the street. Their whole education, from the time they run loose on the range until the time when, branded, corralled, broken, and saddled, they pick their way under guidance over a bad piece of trail, tends to develop their self-reliance. They learn to think for themselves. To begin with two misconceptions, merely by way of clearing the ground: the Western horse is generally designated as a... Essays - Post by : Truman - Date : August 2011 - Author : Stewart Edward White - Read : 2829