قراءة كتاب To Geyserland Union Pacific-Oregon Short Line Railroads to the Yellowstone National Park
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To Geyserland Union Pacific-Oregon Short Line Railroads to the Yellowstone National Park
To Geyserland
UNION PACIFIC—OREGON SHORT LINE RAILROADS TO THE YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK
Connecting with Transcontinental Trains from all points East and West thence through the Park by the four-horse Concord coaches of the
M-Y STAGE COMPANY
GEYSERLAND
Where in confusion canyons and mountains and swift running rivers with painted banks abound, and elk and deer, buffalo and bear range through the wilds unterrified by man and gun, and tall, straight pines in almost unbroken forests plant their feet in a tangle of down-timber that centuries were required to produce; where in the earth there are vents through which roar and rush at exact intervals columns of boiling water, sometimes more than two hundred feet high, or in which painted mud blubbers and spurts; where pools by thousands at scalding heat boil and murmur; where under one's feet is felt the hollow of the earth and through hundreds of holes of unfathomable depth come deep growls of Nature in her confinement; where dyes have been daubed in delirium on hillsides and river's brink; where a canyon gashes the earth thousands of feet through colors so vivid and varied that no record can write them down; where one of the highest navigable lakes in the world washes the feet of mountains that hold aloft the snows through every month of the year; where the supernal and the infernal are blended in a harmony that only Infinitude can produce, and every miracle of Creation has been worked; where one can be lost in a wilderness as long as he will and come face to face with almost every form of creative eccentricity—there is Geyserland.
The Way in and Out
Yellowstone National Park is reached via the Union Pacific and its connection, the Oregon Short Line, the New and Direct Route, over one stem from Kansas City and Leavenworth, and over another from Council Bluffs and Omaha. By way of the latter you cross the Missouri River over a magnificent steel bridge and traverse the "Lane Cut Off," a splendid illustration of modern railroad construction. If you journey over the stem from Kansas City, your way leads through a succession of thriving cities and towns amid the finest farming region of the West, and through beautiful Denver, through Cheyenne, thence through Wyoming, and a portion of Utah, to Ogden, from which point Salt Lake City, 37 miles distant, is reached.
The Cascades of the Firehole River, and Hayden Valley between Yellowstone Lake and the Falls. larger
Leaving the central system of transcontinental lines, access to the Park is had in a night by way of the Oregon Short Line Railroad from Salt Lake City, Ogden, or Pocatello to the station, Yellowstone, Montana, at the western border, nineteen miles from the Fountain Hotel.
All along this route are strewn stretches of delightful scenery, and fields of rare fertility; but these things the tourist does not see—he awakens for breakfast at Yellowstone, and an hour thereafter is following the course of the beautiful Madison, well on his way into the Park and to the wonders that there await him.
The Scenery
As a whole, the scenery of the Park is restful and satisfying. What it lacks in the stupendous it makes up in softness of coloring and the gentle undulations that lead gradually to the massive mountains. The green of the pines, lightened and darkened here and there with the shades of different species, is everywhere. The waters of the rivers are dimmed by the shadows; the cascades have a glimmer and sparkle quite their own, and now and then peep out in the sweeps of the distance, little lakes that shimmer in the sun. Vagrant clouds of steam, signs of the geysers and boiling springs, are seen all over the landscape, especially in the early morning when a little of the night frost still lingers in the air. Many grotesque shapes are taken on by the rocks, and there is hardly a spring or pool that does not suggest its name by its form. From the Lake Hotel can be seen facing skyward, the profile of a human face so perfect it has long been called "The Sleeping Giant." Yellowstone Lake is a marvel of beauty; the dense forest comes down to its shores, little dots of islands sprinkle its surface, its waters are crystal clear away into the deep, and under the kiss of the sun the face of the sea takes on a glory altogether splendid.
Coaching in the Park
The stage coach, the old-fashioned one with the lofty seat for the driver and the boot and the thorough-brace, the rocking-cradle vehicle that served so well when civilization was beating its way westward fifty years ago, holds the first right-of-way through the Park. Driven from use almost everywhere else by the iron horse, it has found safe refuge there, and neither the railways nor the automobiles can enter to oppose it.
A good half of the pleasures of the tour is found in the coaching. To watch for the coming of the stage at the door of the Inn where the baggage is piled, and the porters and bell boys stand expectant—to hear the clatter of the wheels, the sound of hoofs, and to see the gaily harnessed horses in conscious pride swing the coach gracefully under the Porte Cochere—to be wheeled over the winding, dustless roads at ten miles an hour behind prancing leaders and wheelers—to be garbed as you please without thought of style or detail—to breathe air distilled among the fragrant pines—to be touched by breezes that fan your cheek and dishevel your
