The Great Cascade: A Pilgrimage to the Roar of Snoqualmie Falls

Having a male of spare time, three of us concluded to "wear it out" on the Snoqualmie, and make a trip up to the Falls. We started last Monday (July 9th) up the trail, preferring to walk rather than ride in a canoe.

The farmers were all working in the hay fields as far as we could see, and the scent of new-mown hay greeted us at every step. We took a canoe at Mr. Spurrell's place and went as far as Rocky Point for supper, after which we went by canoe to Albie's camp, at Duvall's Landing. Here we stayed over night.

Right here I would like to make a flight: if any druggist or chemist knows of any compound that is "sure death" to fleas, for the Lord's sake send a cargo to the logging camps on the Snoqualmie, and get your name up as a benefactor of the genus homo.

We had a pleasant chat with the boys, and after breakfast started on foot up the river. We passed Elwell's camp and several ranches, but did not stop, as every one was "making hay while the sun shone." At Boise's, Fredrickson's, Halvurson's, J. Morris' we noticed the work of practical farmers—comfortable dwellings and good farms. We stopped at Mr. Sam. Morris' place and the lady of the house gave us a feast of berries and milk.

Again we were compelled to acknowledge our weakness, for we fell in love with the beautiful flower gardens at each place. These people, living almost isolated from the so called "pleasures of society," show that they are no strangers to the comforts and luxuries of life, nor the thoughts of the beautiful in Nature, by their care of, and love for their homes. They have spared no time or labor to make their homes pleasant and comfortable and lovable. Leaving the older settled States to find homes with us, we are glad they have brought with them some, if not all the "notions" of the East.

From Mr. Morris' we passed on to J. Prenet's, Hilton's, Mose Morris' and J. Enthwistle's, who have ranches that will compare favorably with any in the Territory. Mr. Enthwistle has 60 acres cleared and under cultivation. He has six acres in hops, looking finely. Three quarters of a mile and we come to Tolt river, a stream about the size of Pill Chuck. A short distance from Tolt we came to Frank Dolan's camp, and then to Griffin's Prairie of about 100 acres.

It resembles Cochran's Prairie on the Skykomish. Next we came to Mr. Danieke's; stopped and were refreshed with a drink at nice cool milk. Here, again, we noticed a flower garden well kept and everything in good order. Two miles from here to Fall City. We passed more farms, all looking nicely, and finally we came to the school house, and saw the city across the river from it. We crossed and made the acquaintance of Mr. D. N. Taylor and family where we were hospitably entertained for the night.

Fall City consists of 1 store and dwelling house, with barns and out-buildings, fourteen in number. Wednesday morning we started for the Falls, three miles farther, passing Mr. Rufus Stearns' place, a beautiful location, we next came to Mr. Storey's and then to Mr. Allen's Sawmill and dwelling. No one but an enterprising, go-ahead man like Mr. Allen would have dared taking—building a sawmill almost under the Falls, fifty miles from steamboat communication. But he dared and his reward is sure.

After winding up the steep mountain side for half a mile, we began to feel the shaking of the earth, and hear the deep roar that told us we were nearing one of the grandest sights in the world—the home of the Niagara of the Pacific Coast. A feeling of awe seemed to steal over us, and we stood silently gazing at the beautiful sight. All the better part of man's nature must come to the surface as he looks on a scene like this grand, yet terrible one. One feels as if in the presence of that Great Architect, whose untiring hand and all-wise skill has planned and executed this and all that is noble, grand and good in Nature.

We were awakened from our musing by the exclamation, "Jerusalem, isn't that nice?" We were willing to acknowledge that we rather thought it was. We went above the Falls, waded down through the swift water and stood on the very brink of the precipice. We could look over into the seething, foamy mist below, 200 feet. The spray wet us through. Some of the boys even went so far as to cling to the rocks and let their feet hang in the water after it had started on its final leap.

We carved the name of Olive Lent Lodge, if best we could, on the extreme brink of the precipice, within a foot of the water. We stayed an hour or more above, and then went below the Falls. Pulling off our boots, we waded as far as possible, trying to get behind the sheet of water. The rocks were very slippery and we had all we could do to cling to them, and finally had to return, not being able to go back of the cataract. We had a good view of the rainbows, which are of the most brilliant colors and rest like a crown of jewels on Snoqualmie's brow.

Tired out, we returned to Mr. R. Stearns' and had dinner, after which we came back to Mr. Taylor's. We visited the school next day—perhaps, Mr. Editor, I am partial to schools, but as fine a school as this I think merits a word of praise. Miss M. G. Scott, of Oak Harbor, Whidbey Island, is teacher, and the school directors of the district have done wisely by choosing her as a competent person to have charge of their school, for her well regulated and orderly school fully demonstrates that she is a lady of experience, intellect and culture.

The school room is a little heaven of neatness, and teacher and pupils seem determined to make their term of school both pleasant and useful, as Miss Scott, in her kind and affable way is assisting her pupils to climb the steep, craggy, and to some almost impossible hill of science, while they, in return, show her that respect which is a sure sign of the success of a school. There were about twenty scholars present the day we visited them, and our visit will long be remembered by us with the kindest feelings, as one of the brightest days of life.

Friday morning we bade adieu to all our kind friends at Fall City, and after many a wish of a safe journey to us from them we started for Snohomish in a canoe. Calling in at Mr. Jennings', who insisted upon our staying to dinner; we were again greeted with that warm neighborly feeling which is characteristic of the whole souled, good hearted settlers of Puget Sound.

After dinner we slowly drifted down the crooked stream, taking pleasure in the many fine scenes around us, and were near Ford and Gifford's camp when the horn blew for supper. "That's too good a chance to be lost," says one, so ashore we went and were thoroughly interviewed by the members of the camp. Had supper and were off again and went as far as Clark and Wilbur's for the night.

Here we found another fun loving crew of men, headed by Clark and Wilbur; either of whom can post the boys should their stock of "deviltry" run out. After breakfast we again started in our canoes and turned around the heads of the Snoqualmie, so after that we were nearly dizzy, until we finally reached the broader noble majestic Snohomish. We stopped at Doty and Austin's camp for dinner.

If any one who is troubled with the "blues" will visit this camp, I will guarantee that after Doty and the rest of these mitchie loving "cusses," get through with them, they will be troubled with their blues no more. After dinner we were off again, and reached town at two o'clock that P.M.

I have never seen crops of all kinds look as finely as they do this year, the whole length of the river. Everything is flourishing, and unless...