Fig. 111FIG. 111.—ORANGE ORCHARDS CLOSE UNDER SNOW-CAPPED PEAKSHighlands, California
Highlands, California
The north and south mountain ranges not only make the interior hotter than it would otherwise be, but rob it of much of the moisture which it should receive. The winter storms coming in from the ocean find the cool mountains lying across their path and quickly part with a large proportion of their moisture. Where the coast mountains are low, as is the case with a great part of California and of Oregon, more of the moisture passes on to the next line of mountains, the Sierra Nevada-Cascade Range, the western slope of which is well watered. In the region of the Columbia the Cascade Range is also low, and the storms, which often follow one another in quick succession, sweep across the Columbia plateau and over the Rocky Mountains. Farther south, not only are the storms fewer in number, but the mountains are very much higher, so that the desert basins of the lower Colorado and Death Valley region are extremely dry. One can in imagination stand upon the summit of the Sierra Nevada mountains, and upon the one hand look down upon barren valleys of vast extent, broken by mountains almost as barren, where nothing can be grown except by means of irrigation; and upon the other side, toward the coast, see a country plentifully visited by rain, and either covered with forests or given over to farming and fruit-raising.
The Rocky Mountains form the eastern barrier which the storms encounter. Their summits are very high and are covered with deep snow during the winter. East of these mountains lie the Great Plains, where the precipitation is light until we go far enough toward the Mississippi Valley to reach the influence of the moist air currents from the Gulf of Mexico. Many storms originate over the region of the Gulf of California, particularly in the late summer, and supplement to some extent the light winter storms of Arizona and New Mexico.
The storms of which we have been speaking are known as cyclones. This term does not refer to the local storms which occur in the Mississippi Valley and are frequently so destructive, but to great disturbances of the air. Sometimes the column of whirling air is more than a thousand miles in diameter. The air in a cyclone is circling and at the same time rising, so that the motion is spiral. If you will study an eddy in a stream of water, you will get an idea of the nature of the motion, except that in the case of the water eddy the movement is downward. The motion of the particles in the dust-whirls which all have seen moving across the fields near noon on warm summer days illustrate the movement of the air in one of these great storms. The direction of the air in a cyclone is opposite to that of the hands of a clock.
When the wind comes up from a southerly point, when high, thin clouds, gradually growing thicken, spread over the sky, and the barometer begins to fall, then it is known that a storm is corning. If one will learn to watch the clouds and the winds carefully he may become able to predict a storm with almost as much certainty as if he had a barometer. This instrument registers the pressure of the air, which is always less within the area of a storm, because then the air is rising. So when the barometer falls we may always know that a storm is approaching.
The greater number of the storms which occur in the central and northern United States come in from the Pacific Ocean in the latitude of Washington. Continuing east or southeast they reach the Mississippi Valley, and then turn northeastward toward the St. Lawrence Valley. In the summer months there are few storms, and they very rarely reach as far south as California. As winter approaches the storms become more frequent and severe, and move farther and farther south until the whole land as far as Mexico receives a wetting.
Upon the Pacific coast there is often very little warning of the coming of a storm, but in the Middle and Eastern States they may frequently be predicted several days in advance. With the passing of one of these storms the temperature falls rapidly, and this lowering of temperature, together with the fierce wind, gives rise upon the Great Plains to "blizzards" or "northers." These storms endanger the lives of both men and animals.
At different times in the year, particularly in winter, spring, and early summer, warm, dry winds occur. Those winds which sweep down from the heights of the Rocky Mountains and quickly melt the snows are known as "chinooks." The hot north and east winds of California often do great damage to growing crops.
Now let us sum up briefly the factors which have together produced the climatic features of the Pacific slope.
(1) Ordinarily the factor of the greatest importance is latitude. We should expect that Seattle would have a much colder climate than San Diego because it receives the sun's rays more slantingly.
(2) The influence of latitude is greatly modified by the temperate winds blowing from the Pacific, so that places far separated in latitude differ but little in average temperature, their summers being cooler and their winters warmer than we should expect them to be.
(3) The storms pass over the land with the general easterly movement of the air. The largest number pass east across the northern portion of the United States. The farther south we go the fewer are the storms and the less the rainfall. Along the coast of Washington the annual rainfall is nearly one hundred inches. At San Diego it is only about ten inches.
(4) The position of the mountain ranges causes the influence of the ocean on the air to be lost within a short distance toward the interior of the continent, so that the extremes of temperature rapidly become greater. The position of the mountains also affects the rainfall of the interior. Since a large proportion of the moisture is condensed upon their ocean slopes, the climate of each succeeding range toward the interior becomes more dry and desert-like. While in some of the lowlands thus cut off from the ocean the climate is extremely arid, yet the country is relieved from utter barrenness through the presence of mountain peaks and ranges, which often condense considerable moisture.
Fig. 112FIG. 112.—SCENE IN FORESTS OF WASHINGTONShowing spruce and cedar
Showing spruce and cedar
(5) The higher a region is above the sea, the colder the climate. The summit of a high mountain and the valley at its base may be in the same latitude, and yet one may possess an arctic climate while the other has a sub-tropical one.
The heavy rainfall in western Washington, Oregon, and northern California results in dense forests. To the south, the rainfall upon the lowlands is not sufficient to produce forests, but as it is greater upon the mountains, trees thrive upon their sides. The elevation at which trees will grow becomes higher and higher as we go into the more desert regions, until in northern Arizona it is found to be above six thousand feet. The high plateaus are generally treeless, but are covered with such shrubs as greasewood and sage-brush.
We see now that our climate is the product of many factors. It frequently varies greatly in places only a few miles distant from each other. Consequently there may be a great variety of productions and industries in one small area, while in other regions the climate and productions are almost unchanged for hundreds of miles.
Travellers from the Eastern States who visit New Mexico for the first time are attracted by many unusual sights. There are the interesting little donkeys, the low adobe houses of the native Mexicans, and the water ditches winding through the gardens and fields, which are divided into squares by low ridges of earth.
If the fields are seen in the winter time, when dry and barren, the meaning of their checkered appearance is not at first clear, but in the spring and summer one is not long in finding out all about them. When the time comes to sow the seed, water is turned into these squares from the ditches which traverse the valleys, and one square at a time is filled until the ground in each is thoroughly soaked. Afterward, when the ground has dried enough to be easily worked, the crop is put in. The seeds soon sprout under the influence of the warm sun, and the land becomes green with growing plants. The same method of moistening the ground is used for the orchards and vineyards.
What is the use of all this work? Why not wait for the rains to come and wet the earth, as the farmer does in the eastern United States? The Mexicans, who have tilled these valleys for more than two hundred years, ought certainly to have learned in all that time how to get the best returns. You may be sure that they would not water the ground in this way if it were not necessary. The fact is that over a large portion of the western half of the United States it does not rain enough to enable the farmer to grow his crops. The climate is generally very different from that of the Middle and Eastern States.
When the Mexicans moved northward into the valley of the Rio Grande River, into Arizona and California, they found a climate similar in many respects to that at home, and soon learned that it was necessary to water the land artificially in order to make it productive. Though in many places sufficient rain fell, yet the heaviest rainfall came in the late summer or winter, when the plants needed it less, while the spring and summer were long and dry. The Mexicans were not the first to practise watering the land, if we may judge from the ruins of ancient ditches constructed by the primitive Indian inhabitants. It is evident that they too made use of water in this manner for the growing of their corn and squashes.
This turning of water upon the land to make it productive is termed "irrigation." The work is performed in different ways, as we shall see later. Irrigation is now carried on through all portions of the United States where the rainfall is light and streams of water are available.
To one who has lived in a country where there is plenty of rain, it seems to involve a great deal of work to prepare the land and to conduct water to it. One may feel pity for the farmer who has to support himself in this manner in so barren a country. I am sure, however, that if any such person will stop to think, he will remember times when in his own fertile home the expected rain did not come, and the vegetation wilted and dried up. He may have become discouraged because of a number of "dry years," but probably never thought that he had the means at hand to make up, at least in part, for the shortcomings of Nature, in sending too much rain one year, and another year too little.
Fig. 113FIG. 113.—WATER-WHEEL FOR LIFTING WATER FOR IRRIGATION, VIRGIN RIVER, SOUTHERN UTAH
It would doubtless have paid such a farmer many fold to have been prepared at the coming of a dry year to turn the water from a neighboring stream over his lands. This process would have involved a good deal of labor; but how the plants would have rejoiced, and how abundantly they would have repaid him for the extra trouble!
The showers come without regard to the time when growing things need them most, but with irrigation the crops are independent of the weather. The farmer may be sure that, if he prepares the ground properly and sows the seed, the returns will be all that he can wish. In many localities several crops may be raised in a year by this method where otherwise only one would grow.
Now let us see how the water is taken from the streams and what are the different methods employed to distribute it over the land. Almost every valley is traversed by a stream, great or small. It may be a river, with a large volume of water, or a creek which completely dries up during the long, rainless summers of the West.
Fig. 114FIG. 114.—GARDEN IRRIGATION, LAS CRUCES, NEW MEXICO
In rare cases the stream may flow upon a built-up channel which is as high as the valley, but usually it is sunken below the level of the floor of the valley, and enclosed by banks of greater or less height. How is the water to be sent over the land? Where the current is swift you may sometimes see a slowly turning water-wheel, having at the ends of the spokes little cups, which dip up the water as the wheel revolves and pour it into a flume that runs back over the land. At some places engines are used to pump the water from the stream and lift it to the desired height.
Fig. 115FIG. 115.—IRRIGATING AN ALFALFA FIELD, ARIZONA
Generally, however, another method is employed: the water is taken out of the stream in an artificial channel dug in the earth. But in order to get the water at a sufficient height to make it flow over the fields, it is necessary to start a ditch or canal at a favorable point some distance up the stream, perhaps miles from the garden.
The ditch is made with a slope just sufficient for the water to flow. The slope must be less than that of the river from which the water is taken, so as to carry the stream, at last, high enough to cover the lands to be irrigated.
Visit almost any valley in the West where agriculture or fruit-growing is being carried on, and you will at once notice the lines of the ditches, apparently level, as they wind around the hillsides. At convenient distances there are gates to let out the water for the orchards and fields.
The ground may be moistened in different ways. The first method is that employed by the Mexicans, who, if we except the Cliff Dwellers, were the first to introduce irrigation into our country. This consists in dividing the land into squares by embankments and allowing the water to flood each in succession. The method is known as irrigation by checks, and can be used conveniently only upon nearly level land.
In many orchards a series of shallow furrows is ploughed between the rows of trees, and the water is allowed to flow down these until the soil is thoroughly soaked. In alfalfa fields the water is often turned upon the upper end and permitted to work its way across until it reaches the lower edge, soaking the ground as it goes. The slopes must in every case be so gentle that the current will not be strong enough to carry away the soil.
Once in every two to four weeks throughout the spring and summer, the exact period depending upon the rapidity with which the ground dries, the wetting is repeated. If the soil is light the water must be turned on more often and a larger supply is required.
It frequently happens that the stream from which the water is taken so nearly dries up in the summer, when the water is most needed, that the cultivated lands suffer severely. During the winter little if any irrigation is necessary, but at that time the streams are so full that they frequently run over their banks and do great damage.
How to preserve the water thus going to waste and have it at hand for summer use has been an important problem in regions where every particle of water is valuable. Study of the question has led to the examination of the streams with reference to the building of reservoirs to hold back the flood waters. A reservoir may be formed of a natural lake in the mountains in which the stream rises, by placing a dam across its outlet and so making it hold more water. If this cannot be done, a narrow place in the cañon of the stream is selected, above which there is a broad valley. At such a place the dam which is built across the cañon is held firmly in place by the walls of rock upon each side, and an artificial lake or reservoir is made. Ditches lead away from this reservoir, and by means of gates the water is supplied when and where it is needed.
Fig. 116FIG. 116.—SWEETWATER RESERVOIR, NEAR SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
The streams which furnish the water for irrigation in the arid region rise in mountains with steep rocky slopes, and until the water issues from these mountains it is confined to cañons with bottoms of solid rock, so that no water is lost except by evaporation.
After the streams emerge from the cañons upon the long, gentle slopes of gravel and soil which lie all about the bases of the mountains, they begin immediately to sink into the porous material. They frequently disappear entirely before they have flowed many miles. Some of this water can be brought to the surface again by digging wells and constructing pumping plants, but the greater part is lost to the thirsty land.
To prevent the water from sinking into the gravel, ditches lined with cement are often made to carry it from the cañons to the points where it is needed. Sometimes iron pipes or wooden flumes are used in place of the ditches.
What a transformation irrigation makes in the dry and desert-like valleys of the West! Land which under Nature's treatment supports only a scanty growth of sagebrush or greasewood, and over which a few half-starved cattle have roamed, becomes, when irrigated, covered with green fields and neat homes, while sleek, well-fed herds graze upon the rich alfalfa. Ten acres of irrigated land will in many places support a family, where without irrigation a square mile would not have sufficed.
One might suppose that the soil of these naturally barren valleys was poor, but such is not the case. The ground did not lack plant food, but merely the water to make this food available. With plenty of water the most luxuriant vegetation is produced. The soil is, indeed, frequently richer than in well-watered regions, for a lavish supply of water carries away a portion of the plant food.
In some places, where the land is almost level and the soil is filled with large quantities of soluble materials, such as soda and salt, keeping the ground moist through irrigation brings these substances to the surface in such quantities as to injure and sometimes kill the vegetation. In order that such lands may be successfully cultivated, the salts have to be either neutralized or washed away.
Fig. 117FIG. 117.—IRRIGATING DITCH, NEAR PHOENIX, ARIZONA
Many of the rivers of the West carry large quantities of silt in suspension, which fills the ditches and causes a great deal of trouble; but when the silt is deposited over the surface it adds continually to the richness of the land.
The full development of irrigation will mean a great increase in the population and wealth of all the Western States.
This old earth has to be consulted upon every occasion. It is a silent partner in all our undertakings. We sometimes think that we come and go as we please, but a little thought convinces us that we are not really so free.
The traveller must take account of the slopes of the land. It is much easier for him to follow a valley and cross a mountain range through a low spot, although his course be very crooked, than it is to make a "bee line" for his destination. The farmer, in choosing his home and the kind of produce which he will raise, has to consult the soil and climate. He cannot expect to grow grain where the soil is poor and dry, or grow apples where the late spring frosts kill the buds. The miner knows that he cannot expect to find gold veins in the valleys, where the rocks are deeply covered by the soil, and so he turns his steps toward the mountains, where Nature has made his work easy by lifting up the rocks and exposing them to his view.
Routes of commerce and trade are governed by geographic, and to a certain extent by climatic, conditions. Shallow streams with rapids and waterfalls obstruct navigation. The absence of harbors along a given coast makes it difficult for ships to take and discharge cargoes. Railroads cannot be constructed unless long and expensive surveys have first been made to determine the route which Nature has made the easiest between two given points.
The character of the climate and geographic features of a given country determine whether it shall become noted for agricultural productions, mining industries, manufactures, or commerce. The locations of the cities and towns and the roads connecting them depend upon geographic conditions. There is not an occupation of any importance in which people engage at any particular place that is not dependent in large degree for its success upon the conditions which Nature has imposed upon that place.
A city will not grow up at a given point unless the geographic conditions are favorable. There must be some natural reason to induce people to gather in large numbers in one place. At one spot there are facilities for manufacturing, such as water-power and coal, and easy means of communication with other parts of the world. At another, the only reason for the growth of a city is the existence of rich mines. A third place may be conveniently located in the midst of a rich agricultural region, where it is easy to bring in supplies and ship out the products of the soil.
A study of the founding and growth of some of the cities of the West, and particularly of the Pacific slope, will bring out many interesting facts.
San Francisco is the metropolis of the Pacific; its population will soon reach half a million. If we look back seventy-five years we find San Francisco an unimportant Mexican military post and the seat of one of the smaller missions. Monterey, the capital of the province of California and one of the two leading towns (Los Angeles being the other), apparently had all the advantages in the race for supremacy.
In date of discovery (1603) Monterey Bay has the advantage of more than one hundred and fifty years over San Francisco Bay. It is difficult to understand why the different navigators who sailed north along the coast failed to discover California's most magnificent bay. Sir Francis Drake went by it, evidently not seeing the narrow opening between the headlands now known as the Golden Gate. Vizcaino, after discovering Monterey Bay, also passed by and anchored where Drake had stopped, in a little bay now called Drake's Bay, a few miles north of San Francisco Bay.
After the founding of San Diego, in 1769, a party started overland for Monterey, but by reason of the peculiar position of the bay they passed it unknowingly, and by accident came upon the body of water which has since been of so great importance to the commercial life of California. Monterey Bay in time lost its importance, partly because it was not thoroughly protected from the storms, and partly from the lack of easy communication with the rest of the state.
Immediately after the acquisition of California and the discovery of gold, the advantages of San Francisco Bay began to be appreciated, and the little Mexican town grew rapidly. The narrow entrance to the bay, which had for so long a time delayed its discovery, completely protected it from the storms, while its long arms opened across the coast mountains directly into the important valleys of the interior. Ocean vessels could go up the bay and through the Strait of Carquinez, while river boats could be used for many miles farther. After the discovery of gold, ships from all parts of the world found ample room and shelter in San Francisco Bay; and the incoming miners, going by the water routes to Marysville, Sacramento, and Stockton, easily reached the gold-bearing gravels of the Sierra Nevada streams.
With the exception of southern California and a portion of the northern coast, almost all the agricultural and mineral resources of California are directly tributary to San Francisco. This place is naturally the centre of home trade, of foreign commerce, and of population.
Fig. 118FIG. 118.—SAN FRANCISCO BAYFormed by the sinking of the land and flooding of a river valley
Formed by the sinking of the land and flooding of a river valley
Nature failed to supply San Francisco with one essential advantage, namely, cheap power for manufacturing. There is no water-power near and but little coal in the state. Since the coal has to be shipped in from distant points, its high price has impeded manufacturing. But now it appears that San Francisco is not so badly off after all, for important deposits of petroleum have been discovered in the central and southern portions of California; and besides, processes have been invented for transforming the unlimited water-power of the mountain streams into electric energy, and transmitting this power to all the cities about the bay.
The early Spaniards founded the pueblo of Los Angeles in its present location, because at this point the Los Angeles River carried an abundance of pure water which could be led out in ditches to irrigate the fertile bottom lands in the vicinity. Partly because it became a railroad centre, and partly because it is surrounded by rich valleys, Los Angeles has grown with great rapidity and now stands next to San Francisco in size among California cities.
San Diego, which has a harbor next in importance to that of San Francisco, has grown more slowly, because of the greater difficulty in developing water systems for irrigation, and because access is not so easy on account of the enclosing mountains. However, it must in time become the second commercial city of the state.
Mountain barriers make travel from one portion of California to another somewhat difficult. Mountains separate San Francisco and the Great Valley of California from all other portions of the continent. Nature seems to have planned here a little empire all by itself. But engineering skill in the construction of railroads has overcome the barrier upon the north which separates California from Oregon. The Sierra Nevada range upon the east has been crossed at Donner Pass, and upon the south an outlet has been found through the Tehachapi Pass.
In the state of Oregon, the city of Portland ranks first in importance. Why did not Astoria or Fort Vancouver develop into the metropolis of the Columbia basin?
Astoria, which was founded in the early part of the last century, has a spacious and well-protected harbor, but it has no large tributary agricultural valleys. Moreover, the greater number of deep-water ships pass it by, and go as far up the Columbia as possible to take on their loads of grain.
Fort Vancouver, on the site of the old Hudson Bay trading post, is practically at the head of deep-water navigation upon the Columbia, but there seems to be no particular reason why trade should centre here, and this town also has been left behind in the march of progress.
The earliest settlements in western Oregon were made upon the Willamette River, which drains a large and extremely fertile valley. Near the point at which this river joins the Columbia, the city of Portland sprang up. This town occupies an ideal position. It is accessible for deep sea vessels, and has communication by river boats with the Willamette Valley and the upper Columbia River.
In the eighteenth century, when sailors were looking for a passage across the northern portion of the continent, an opening was found extending into the land between Vancouver Island and Cape Flattery. It was at first thought that this was the desired waterway, but various navigators, among them Vancouver, explored the body of water into which the Strait of Fuca opened, only to find that every branch and inlet terminated in the land. Puget Sound is nearly enclosed by water and is so large as really to form an inland sea. Its long arms reach out in three directions among the most heavily timbered valleys and mountain slopes of the United States.
The cities of Puget Sound had a later start than most of the other cities of the Pacific coast, for this portion of the old Oregon territory was for a long time claimed by the English, and during that period was peopled only by Indians and trappers. In 1846 the present boundary was established, and Puget Sound passed into the possession of the United States.
Because of the dense forests, agriculture could not play an important part in the development of the sound region for some time. Lumbering was naturally the leading occupation. This industry could be carried on all the more advantageously because of the innumerable inlets penetrating the land.
The advantages of Puget Sound for foreign commerce began to be evident, but the Cascade Range stood in the way of railroads from the eastward. Although it was a comparatively easy task to build a railroad north from Portland, yet the sound region did not begin to grow rapidly until, after careful surveys, two railroads finally found passes through the Cascade Range so as to reach tide-water. As in other places, when the necessity for overcoming them arose, the obstacles which Nature had interposed were found not to be so troublesome as was at first supposed. Now the once formidable range has been tunnelled and will no longer form a serious barrier between the interior portion of Washington and the coast.
Tacoma, Seattle, and Everett have grown up on the sound as important commercial and manufacturing cities, and will, on account of their favorable situation, receive their share of the commerce of the Pacific. The cities of the sound are particularly well situated for intercourse and commerce with Alaska and northeastern Asia.
These cities are also well situated for manufacturing, because coal and wood are plentiful and consequently cheap, but they have not in their immediate vicinity so extensive agricultural valleys as the Willamette and the Great Valley of California. The lumberman must be supplanted by the farmer and fruit-grower before the slopes about Puget Sound can be fully developed.
The natural outlet for the great wheat-fields of central Washington is by way of the Columbia River to the ocean, but the tunnelling of the Cascades partly diverts their products to the sound region.
Fig. 119FIG. 119.—FALLS OF SPOKANE RIVERLocation of the city of Spokane
Location of the city of Spokane
The city of Spokane, in eastern Washington, clearly illustrates the control which physical features exert upon the settlements and industries of men. The Spokane River, soon after issuing from Cœur d'Alene Lake, flows out over the volcanic plains of Washington. In the course of a few miles it descends into a shallow cañon by a series of cascades and waterfalls. The water-power furnished by these falls has determined the position and growth of Spokane. The falls brought sawmills and manufacturing plants, and these in turn brought people and railroads. The city has become a great commercial centre for all the region round about. The extensive and rich mineral district upon the north, extending even into British Columbia, finds its most convenient source of supplies at Spokane. East of the city is the Cœur d'Alene mining region, while south and west are large areas devoted to the cultivation of fruit and grain.
Fig. 120FIG. 120.—VIRGINIA CITY, NEVADASupported entirely by mining
Supported entirely by mining
The city of Great Falls, Montana, in the Missouri River basin, is destined to become a great industrial centre, because of the presence of unlimited water-power afforded by the Great Falls of the Missouri River. No other reason would lead to the growth of a settlement at this particular spot, for boundless plains extend about it in every direction.
Fig. 121FIG. 121.—BUTTE, MONTANAA city of smelters
A city of smelters
The mining cities of the West, such as Butte, Virginia City, and Leadville, illustrate the growth of important centres of population in the vicinity of large deposits of minerals. In the case of these cities, as well as many others, there are no agricultural resources in the surrounding country to support the people gathered together here. Nearly all their food has to be shipped hundreds of miles. Cities supported by mining are less likely to be permanent than those supported by an agricultural community, by commerce, or by manufacturing.
No other coniferous forests in the world can compare with those covering the western slope of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges. They are remarkable both for the number of species and for the size of the trees. The moderate temperature and the moist winds from the Pacific seem to offer the conditions which are best suited to the growth of cone-bearing trees.
As we go northward along the coast, or ascend the mountain slopes, we find the climate growing cooler and cooler. With this changing climate the species of conifers change, for each has become accustomed to certain conditions of temperature and moisture, which it must have in order to thrive.
The Sierra Nevada is the most continuous lofty range of mountains in North America. From the great valley at its western base to the crest of the range the distance is about sixty miles. Because of the great height of the mountains, there is found within these few miles every variety of climate between the sub-tropical atmosphere of the valley, where oranges ripen to perfection, and the arctic cold of the summits, where little or no vegetation can live.
Thus, by climbing a single mountain range, we may experience all kinds of climate, and have an opportunity to observe the different forms of plant life such as we could not otherwise obtain without a journey of several thousand miles.
Fig. 122FIG. 122.—FOREST BELT OF THE FOOT-HILLS, SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS
Passing through the groves of valley oak, and beyond the orange orchards at the foot of the mountains, we reach the foot-hills and begin to ascend. Several species of oak are found upon the hillsides and in the valleys, while mingled with them in many places appear such shrubs as the California lilac, chamiso, and manzanita. Where the soil is too poor or the slopes too steep for the trees, these shrubs, commonly called "chaparral," are massed together in almost impenetrable thickets.
The first of the coniferous trees which we meet is an odd-looking one known as the digger pine. Instead of having a single straight trunk it divides a short distance above the ground into many branches. The large cones are armed with long hooked spines, so that they must be handled rather carefully, but when opened they are found to be filled with nutritious nuts. These nuts were an important source of food for the Indians who once inhabited the foot-hills. Now the Indians are gone, but the nuts are not wasted, if one may judge by the fragments of the cones with which the squirrels strew the ground.
Fig. 123FIG. 123.—THE DIGGER PINE
The road climbs the foot-hills by many turns and windings through cañons and up and down ridges. At an elevation of about two thousand feet specimens of the yellow pine appear. The trees increase in size and grow more closely together as we ascend. We soon find ourselves in the edge of the forest belt which extends unbroken northward to the arctic zone, and upward to the line of almost perpetual snow.
The yellow pine, so named from the color of the bark, sometimes attains a diameter of six feet, but does not form so dense forests as we shall find higher on the mountains. The rays of the warm sun, reaching down between the trees to the carpet of needles and "bear clover," draw out their spicy fragrance. The yellow pine, although it does not afford as good a quality of lumber as some of the other pines, is one of our most important trees because of its wide distribution through nearly all mountains of the West. It has a much wider range in elevation than most trees, one variety reaching upward nearly to the timber line.
Fig. 124FIG. 124.—A YELLOW PINE FOREST
After getting well into the yellow pine forest, we soon come upon other trees that contend with the pines for a footing upon the slopes and for a bit of the sunshine. Among these the black oaks deserve special mention, for in places they form dense groves upon the ridges. The cedars, with their rich brown bark and flat, drooping branches, are easily recognized. As these trees grow old they become gnarled and knotty and very picturesque.
Fig. 125FIG. 125.—SUGAR PINE
We first meet that "king of pines," the sugar pine, upon the more shaded mountain slopes. Although higher up, on barren, rocky ridges, this tree grows to noble size, yet it cannot withstand heat and dryness. Our attention may be first called to the sugar pine by the slender cones, ten to fifteen inches in length, which are scattered over the ground. Then, as we look up to see whence the cones come, our eyes light upon the smooth trunks, often over six feet in diameter and reaching up one hundred and fifty feet before the branches appear. From the ends of the long, drooping branches hang slender green cones. The name of this pine is derived from the fact that a white sugar gathers in little bunches at the spots where the trunk has been injured. This sugar is pleasant to the taste and somewhat medicinal.
Fig. 126FIG. 126.—ZONE OF THE FIR FOREST, SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS
The wood of the sugar pine, which is white and fine-grained, is of greater value commercially than that of any of the other pines. This fact leads the shake-maker and lumberman to seek out the noble tree and mark it for destruction. The sugar pine, when once destroyed in a given locality, rarely replaces itself, as it is crowded out by the more vigorous conifers.
Scattered through the forests of yellow pine, cedar, and sugar pine is the Douglas spruce, commonly known in the market as the Oregon pine. This is the most important forest tree in Oregon and Washington. It often grows to a height of three hundred feet, and forms dense forests for hundreds of miles along the base and western slope of the Cascade Range. In Washington it is found growing down to the sea-level, but in the Sierra Nevada the requisite moisture for its growth is not found much below an elevation of four thousand feet.
As we go upward the pines become fewer and the firs and "Big Trees" take their places. The Big Trees are found in scattered groves, at an elevation of five thousand to eight thousand feet, for a distance of two hundred and fifty miles along the slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The Sequoia, as the genus is called, which also includes the redwood of the Coast ranges, is in many respects the most remarkable of all our coniferous trees.
Fig. 127FIG. 127.—THE BIG TREE FOREST IN THE SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS
After travelling through forests made up of other trees of great size it is difficult at first to appreciate the magnitude of the Big Trees. Rising from a swelling base, which is sometimes thirty feet in diameter, the symmetrical trunk reaches up and up, finally terminating in a top three hundred to three hundred and fifty feet above the ground. Their size, their reddish-brown bark, and their small cones, clearly distinguish these trees. Great holes have been burned in many of them, and in the hollows thus formed men have made for themselves comfortable living rooms. In one of the southern groves a fallen hollow tree has been used as a cabin.
The Big Trees and redwoods are the last surviving species of a genus which was once widely distributed over the earth. The ancestry of the Sequoia can be traced farther back than that of any of the other living conifers. Impressions of cones and small stems with needles attached belonging to the Sequoia have been found in the oldest rocks of the Coast ranges of California. These cones and stems were washed into some muddy estuary and there buried, millions of years ago. The mud inclosing them was compressed and hardened, and finally changed to slate. This was at last exposed upon the surface through the uplifting of a mountain range and the work of erosion.
Some of the groves of the Big Trees have been included in government parks and reservations, but others are being cut as rapidly as possible by the lumbermen. The redwood of the Coast ranges is not easily killed, for it sprouts from the stump, and will in the course of time form forests again; but the Big Trees rarely replace themselves when a grove has been cut down. These trees are so few in number and of such remarkable interest that they should be spared the fate of the common forest tree.
It would make you feel sad to visit one of the groves and see, as I did, a fallen giant, fully thirty feet in diameter, lying split open upon the ground. This tree was so large that, in order that it might be handled at all, powder had to be used to blast it in pieces. The tree was knotty, and according to the lumbermen, of little value, and might as well have been left. What excuse is there for the wanton destruction of a noble tree like this one? It must have stood from five thousand to six thousand years. It was a mighty tree at the beginning of the Christian era, and was growing, a strong tree, when our ancestors were the rudest savages in the wilds of Europe.
But we must not remain among the Big Trees, for the forests extend much farther up the mountains. The most important tree of the upper forest belt is the fir, which is found growing from five thousand to nearly nine thousand feet above sea-level. It is one of the most graceful of the conifers. Sometimes these trees reach a height of two hundred and fifty feet and form dense forests with little undergrowth. The branches make the soft, fragrant beds which so rest and delight the tired mountain climber. Here and there about the springs and at the heads of the streamlets the firs appear to stand back, making room for green meadows brightened with a profusion of flowers.
Fig. 128FIG. 128.—ALPINE HEMLOCKS
The tamarack, or lodge-pole pine, is sometimes found at about the same elevation as the firs, but seems to prefer the moist lands about the meadows and the bottoms of the narrow valleys. This tree is widely distributed at high altitudes all over our Western mountains.
Continuing our climb toward the alpine regions, we reach an elevation where the trees begin to show the effects of the winter storms. The fact that life is not so easy as it is farther down the slopes is apparent from the gnarled and stunted trunks. Here are the alpine hemlocks, dwarf pines, and junipers.
The juniper somewhat resembles the cedar, but has a short, thick trunk. Near the timber line this tree grows but a few feet high and becomes exceedingly gnarled. It seems to like the most exposed and rocky places, but in truth, like many another form of plant life, it has become accustomed to such locations because it cannot successfully compete with other trees in happier ones.
Most weird and picturesque of all are the dwarf white pines, growing upon the extensive mountain shoulders and ridges at a height of ten thousand to eleven thousand five hundred feet above the sea. Since an arctic climate surrounds them for nine months in the year, their growth is very slow. Their short, gnarled trunks and branches are twisted into all sorts of fantastic shapes. When, after struggling with the cold and the storms, the trees at last die, they do not quickly decay and fall, but continue to stand for many years.
These trees become smaller and smaller in size until at the extreme timber line they are almost prostrate upon the ground. In many cases they rise only three or four feet, and have the appearance of shrubs rather than trees. Still above them, however, there are rocky slopes and snow-banks reaching to an elevation of over fourteen thousand feet. If we examine these upper slopes carefully we shall find that they are not utterly devoid of life, but that certain plants have been able to obtain a foothold upon them. In sheltered nooks there are little shrubs and lichens. In some places among the rocks, beneath overhanging snow-banks, beautiful flowers spring up at the coming of the late summer, blossom, mature their seeds, and die with the return of the winter cold.