The Lake and the
Sky
BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES (1915)
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INTRODUCTION
California is proving itself more and more the wonderland of the United States.
Its hosts of annual visitors are increasing with marvelous rapidity; its
population is growing by accretions from the other states faster than any other
section in the civilized world. The reasons are not far to seek. They may be
summarized in five words, viz., climate, topography, healthfulness,
productiveness and all-around liveableness.
Its
climate is already a catch word to the nations; its healthfulness is attested by
the thousands who have come here sick and almost hopeless and who are now
rugged, robust and happy; its productiveness is demonstrated by the millions of
dollars its citizens annually receive for the thousands of car-loads (one might
almost say train-loads) of oranges, lemons, grape-fruit, walnuts, almonds,
peaches, figs, apricots, onions, potatoes, asparagus and other fruits of its
soil; and its all-around home qualities are best evidenced by the growth, in two
or three decades, of scores of towns from a merely nominal population to five,
ten, twenty, forty or fifty thousand, and of the cities of San Francisco, Los
Angeles and Oakland to metropolises, the two former already claiming populations
of half a million or thereabouts.
As far as its topography, its scenic qualities, are concerned, the world of
tourists already has rendered any argument upon that line unnecessary. It is
already beginning to rival Switzerland, though that Alpine land has crowded
populations within a day's journey to draw from. One has but to name Monterey,
the Mt. Shasta region, Los Angeles, San Diego and Coronado, the Yosemite, Lake
Tahoe, the Big Trees, the King and Kern River Divide, Mono Lake and a score of
other scenic regions in California to start tongues to wagging over interesting
reminiscences, whether it be in London, Paris, Berlin, Madrid or Petrograd.
Books galore are being published to make California's charms better known, and
it has long seemed strange to me that no book has been published on Lake Tahoe
and its surrounding country of mountains, forests, glacial valleys, lakes and
canyons, for I am confident that in one or two decades from now its circle of
admirers and regular visitors will include people from all over the civilized
world, all of whom will declare that it is incomparable as a lake resort, and
that its infinite variety of charm, delight and healthful allurement can never
adequately be told.
Discovered by the "Pathfinder" Frémont; described in the early days of
California history and literature by John Le Conte, Mark Twain, Thomas Starr
King, Ben C. Truman, and later by John Vance Cheney and others; for countless
centuries the fishing haunt of the peaceable Nevada Washoes, who first called it
Tahoe—High or Clear Water—and of the California Monos; the home of many of their
interesting legends and folk-lore tales; occasionally the scene of fierce
conflicts between the defending Indians and those who would drive them away, it
early became the object of the jealous and inconsequent squabbling of
politicians. Its discoverer had named it Mountain Lake, or Lake Bonpland, the
latter name after the traveling and exploring companion of Baron von Humboldt,
whose name is retained in the Humboldt River of Nevada, but when the first
reasonably accurate survey of its shores was made, John Bigler was the occupant
of the gubernatorial chair of the State of California and it was named after
him. Then, later, for purely political reasons, it was changed to Tahoe, and
finally back to Bigler, which name it still officially retains, though of the
thousands who visit it annually but a very small proportion have ever heard that
such a name was applied to it.
In turn, soon after its discovery, Tahoe became the scene of a mining excitement
that failed to "pan out," the home of vast logging and lumber operations and the
objective point to which several famous "Knights of the Lash" drove world-noted
men and women in swinging Concord coaches. In summer it is the haunt of Nature's
most dainty, glorious, and alluring picturesqueness; in winter the abode, during
some days, of the Storm King with his cohorts of hosts of clouds, filled with
rain, hail, sleet and snow, of fierce winds, of dread lightnings, of majestic
displays of rudest power. Suddenly, after having covered peak and slope, meadow
and shore, with snow to a depth of six, eight, ten or more feet, the Storm King
retires and Solus again reigns supreme. And then! ah, then is the time to see
Lake Tahoe and its surrounding country. The placid summer views are exquisite
and soul-stirring, but what of Tahoe now?
The days and nights are free from wind and frost, the sun tempers the cold and
every hour is an exhilaration. The American people have not yet learned, as have
the Europeans in the Alps, the marvelous delights and stimulations of the winter
in such a place as Lake Tahoe. But they will learn in time, and though a prophet
is generally without honor in his own country, I will assume a role not
altogether foreign, and venture the assertion that I shall live to see the day
when winter visitors to Lake Tahoe will number more than those who will visit it
throughout the whole of the year (1914) in which I write. One of the surprises
often expressed by those I have met here who have wintered in the Alps is that
no provision is made for hotel accommodation during the winter at Lake Tahoe.
To return, however, to the charms of Tahoe that are already known to many
thousands. Within the last two or three decades it has become the increasingly
popular Mecca of the hunter, sportsman, and fisherman; the natural haunt of the
thoughtful and studious lover of God's great and varied out-of-doors, and, since
fashionable hotels were built, the chosen resort of many thousands of the
wealthy, pleasure-loving and luxurious. What wonder that there should be a
growing desire on the part of the citizens of the United States—and especially
of California and Nevada—together with well-informed travelers from all parts of
the world, for larger knowledge and fuller information about Lake Tahoe than has
hitherto been available.
To meet this laudable desire has been my chief incitement in the preparation of
the following pages, but I should be untrue to my own devotion to Lake Tahoe,
which has extended over a period of more than thirty years, were I to ignore the
influence the Lake's beauty has had over me, and the urge it has placed within
me. Realizing and feeling these emotions I have constantly asked with Edward
Rowland Sill:
What can I for such a world give back again?
And my only answer has been, and is, this:
Could I only hint the beauty—
Some least shadow of the beauty,
Unto men!
In looking over the files of more of less ephemeral literature, as well as the
records of the explorations of early days, I have been astonished at the rich
treasures of scientific and descriptive literature that have Lake Tahoe as their
object. Not the least service this unpretentious volume will accomplish is the
gathering together of these little-known jewels.
It will be noticed that I have used the word Sierran rather than Alpine
throughout these pages. Why not? Why should the writer, describing the majestic,
the glorious, the sublime of the later-formed mountain ranges of earth,
designate them by a term coined for another and far-away range?
I would have the reader, however, be careful to pronounce it accurately. It is
not Sy-eer-an, but See-ehr-ran, almost as if one were advising another to
"See Aaron," the brother of Moses.
Tahoe is not Teh-o,
nor is it Tah-ho, nor Tah-o. The Washoe Indians, from whom we get the name,
pronounce it as if it were one syllable Tao, like a Chinese name, the "a" having
the broad sound ah of the Continent.
Likewise Tallac is not pronounced with the accent on the last syllable (as is
generally heard), but Tal['x]-ac.
While these niceties of pronunciation are not of vast importance, they preserve
to us the intonations of the original inhabitants, who, as far as we know, were
the first human beings to gaze upon the face of this ever-glorious and beautiful
Lake.
When Mark Twain
and Thomas Starr King visited Tahoe it was largely in its primitive wildness,
though logging operations for the securing of timber for the mines of Virginia
City had been going on for some time and had led to the settlement at Glenbrook
(where four great saw mills were in constant operation so long as weather
permitted), and the stage-road from Placerville to Virginia City demanded
stopping-stations, as Myers, Yanks, Rowlands and Lakeside.
But to-day, while the commercial operations have largely ceased, the scenic
attractions of Lake Tahoe and its region have justified the erection of over
twenty resorts and camps, at least two of them rivaling in extent and
elaborateness of plant any of the gigantic resort hotels of either the Atlantic
or Pacific coasts, the others varying in size and degree, according to the class
of patronage they seek.
That these provisions for the entertainment of travelers, yearly visitors, and
health seekers will speedily increase with the years there can be no doubt, for
there is but one Lake Tahoe, and its lovers will ultimately be legion. Already,
also, it has begun to assert itself as a place of summer residence.
Fifteen years ago private residences on Lake Tahoe might have been enumerated on
the fingers of the two hands; now they number as many hundreds, and the sound of
the hammer and saw is constantly heard, and dainty villas, bungalows, cottages,
and rustic homes are springing up as if by magic.
Then Lake Tahoe was comparatively hard to reach. Now, the trains of the Southern
Pacific and the Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company deposit one on the
very edge of the Lake easier and with less personal exertion than is required to
go to and from any large metropolitan hotel in one city to a similar hotel in
another city.
