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With the exception of a few
spires and pinnacles, the South Dome is the only rock about the Valley that
is strictly inaccessible without artificial means, and its inaccessibility
is expressed in severe terms. Nevertheless many a mountaineer, gazing
admiringly, tried hard to invent a way to the top of its noble crown - all
in vain, until in the year 1875, George Anderson, an indomitable Scotchman,
undertook the adventure.
The side facing Tenaya Caņon
is an absolutely vertical precipice from the summit to a depth of about
sixteen hundred feet, and on the opposite side it is nearly vertical for
about as great a depth. The southwest side presents a very steep and finely
drawn curve from the top down a thousand feet or more, while on the
northeast, where it is united with the Clouds' Rest Ridge, one may easily
reach a point called the Saddle, about seven hundred feet below the summit.
From the Saddle the Dome rises in a graceful curve a few degrees too steep
for unaided climbing, besides being defended by overleaning ends of the
concentric dome layers of the granite.
A year or two before Anderson
gained the summit, John Conway, the master trail-builder of the Valley, and
his little sons, who climbed smooth rocks like lizards, made a bold effort
to reach the top by climbing barefooted up the grand curve with a rope which
they fastened at irregular intervals by means of eye-bolts driven into
joints of the rock. But finding that the upper part would require laborious
drilling, they abandoned the attempt, glad to escape from the dangerous
position they had reached, some three hundred feet above the Saddle.
Anderson began with Conway's old rope, which had been left in place, and
resolutely drilled his way to the top, inserting eye-bolts five to six feet
apart, and making his rope fast to each in succession, resting his feet on
the last bolt while he drilled a hole for the next above. Occasionally some
irregularity in the curve, or slight foothold, would enable him to climb a
few feet without a rope, which he would pass and begin drilling again, and
thus the whole work was accomplished in a few days. From this slender
beginning he proposed to construct a substantial stairway which he hoped to
complete in time for the next year's travel, but while busy getting out
timber for his stairway and dreaming of the wealth he hoped to gain from
tolls, he was taken sick and died all alone in his little cabin.
On the 10th of November,
after returning from a visit to Mount Shasta, a month or two after Anderson
had gained the summit, I made haste to the Dome, not only for the pleasure
of climbing, but to see what I might learn. The first winter storm clouds
had blossomed and the mountains and all the high points about the Valley
were mantled in fresh snow. I was, therefore, a little apprehensive of
danger from the slipperiness of the rope and the rock. Anderson himself
tried to prevent me from making the attempt, refusing to believe that any
one could climb his rope in the snow-muffled condition in which it then was.
Moreover, the sky was overcast and solemn snow clouds began to curl around
the summit, and my late experiences on icy Shasta came to mind. But
reflecting that I had matches in my pocket, and that I might find a little
firewood, I concluded that in case of a storm the night could be spent on.
the Dome without any suffering worth minding, no matter what the clouds
might bring forth I therefore pushed on and gained the top.
It was one of those brooding,
changeful days that come between the Indian summer and winter, when the leaf
colors have grown dim and the clouds come and go among the cliffs like
living creatures looking for work: now hovering aloft, now caressing rugged
rock brows with great gentleness, or, wandering afar over the tops of the
forests, touching the spires of fir and pine with their soft silken fringes
as if trying to tell the glad news of the coming of snow.
The first view was perfectly
glorious. A massive cloud of pure pearl luster, apparently as fixed and calm
as the meadows and groves in the shadow beneath it, was arched across the
Valley from wall to wall, one end resting on the grand abutment of El
Capitan, the other on Cathedral Rock. A little later, as I stood on the
tremendous verge overlooking Mirror Lake, a flock of smaller clouds, white
as snow, came from the north, trailing their downy skirts over the dark
forests, and entered the Valley with solemn god-like gestures through Indian
Caņon and over the North Dome and Royal Arches, moving swiftly, yet with
majestic deliberation. On they came, nearer and nearer, gathering and
massing beneath my feet and filling the Tenaya Caņon. Then the sun shone
free, lighting the pearly gray surface of the cloud-like sea and making it
glow. Gazing, admiring, I was startled to see for the first time the rare
optical phenomenon of the "Specter of the Brocken." My shadow, clearly
outlined, about half a mile long, lay upon this glorious white surface with
startling effect. I walked back and forth, waved my arms and struck all
sorts of attitudes, to see every slightest movement enormously exaggerated.
Considering that I have looked down so many times from mountaintops on seas
of all sorts of clouds, it seems strange that I should have seen the "Brocken
Specter" only this once. A grander surface and a grander standpoint,
however, could hardly have been found in all the Sierra.
After this grand show the
cloud sea rose higher, wreathing the Dome and submerging it for a short
time, making darkness like night, and I began to think of looking for a
campground in a cluster of dwarf pines. But soon the sun shone free again,
the clouds, sinking lower and lower, gradually vanished, leaving the Valley
with its Indian-summer colors apparently refreshed, while to the eastward
the summit peaks, clad in new snow, towered along the horizon in glorious
array.
Though apparently it is
perfectly bald, there are four clumps of pines growing on the summit,
representing three species, Pinus albicauus, P. contorta and P. ponderosa,
var. Jeffreyiall three, of course, repressed and storm-beaten. The alpine
spirea grows here also and blossoms profusely with potentilla, erigeron,
eriogonum, pentstemon, solidago, an interesting species of onion, and four
or five of grasses and sedges. None of these differs in any respect from
those of other summits of the same height, excepting the curious little
narrow-leaved, waxen-bulbed onion, which I had not seen elsewhere.
Notwithstanding the enthusiastic eagerness of tourists to reach the crown of
the Dome, the views of the Valley from this lofty standpoint are less
striking than from many other points comparatively low, chiefly on account
of the foreshortening effect produced by looking down from so great a
height. The North Dome is dwarfed almost beyond recognition, the grand
sculpture of the Royal Arches is scarcely noticeable, and the whole range of
walls on both sides seem comparatively low, especially when the Valley is
flooded with noon sunshine; while the Dome itself, the most sublime feature
of all the Yosemite views, is out of sight beneath one's feet. The view of
Little Yosemite Valley is very fine, though inferior to one obtained from
the base of the Starr King Cone, but the summit landscapes toward Mounts
Ritter, Lye!!, Dana, Conness, and the Merced group, are very effective and
complete.
No one has attempted to carry
out Anderson's plan of making the Dome accessible. For my part I should
prefer leaving it in pure wildness, though, after all, no great damage could
be done by tramping over it. The surface would be strewn with tin cans and
bottles, but the winter gales would blow the rubbish away. Avalanches might
strip off any sort of stairway or ladder that might be built. Blue jays and
Clark crows have trodden the Dome for many a day, and so have beetles and
chipmunks, and Tissiack would hardly be more "conquered" or spoiled should
man be added to her list of visitors. His louder scream and heavier
scrambling would not stir a line of her countenance.
When the sublime ice floods
of the glacial period poured down the flank of the range over what is now
Yosemite Valley, they were compelled to break through a dam of domes
extending across from Mount Starr King to North Dome; and as the period
began to draw near a close the shallowing ice currents were divided and the
South Dome was, perhaps, the first to emerge, burnished and shining like a
mirror above the surface of the icy sea; and though it has sustained the
wear and tear of the elements tens of thousands of years, it yet remains a
telling monument of the action of the great glaciers that brought it to
light. Its entire surface is still covered with glacial hieroglyphics whose
interpretation is the reward of all who devoutly study them. |
