Bridal Veil Fall,

Indian name Po-ho-no, meaning, "The Spirit of the Evil Wind." The fall is over nine hundred feet high, and of indescribable beauty. The stream which forms it has an average width of some sixty-five feet at the edge of the cliff where it breaks over the brink. It is narrower in summer and wider in winter. For six hundred and thirty feet the stream leaps clear of the cliff in one unbroken fall. Thence it rushes down the steep slope of broken rocks in a confusion of intermingled cascades nearly three hundred feet more.

The varying pressure of the changeful wind causes a veil-like waving, swaying and fluttering, which readily suggests the obviously fitting and most appropriate name.

What could a bride be made of, Who would wear a veil like this?

No sooner asked than answered, She must be "Maid o' the Mist."

This fall presents its greatest beauty in May or June when the volume of water is not too great. The situation of Pohono, added to its intrinsic beauty, waving a welcome as the tourist enters and fluttering a farewell as he leaves, make it the universal favorite.

Ladies especially love to linger at its foot, feasting their eyes with its marvelous and changeful beauty, and delighting their hearts with the delicious suggestiveness of its most appropriate name. The honeymoon can nowhere be more fittingly or happily spent than within sight of Pohono.

Half a mile further the cliff rounds outward and swells upward into an enormous double, rocky bastion, the

Cathedral Rocks.

Two thousand six hundred and sixty feet above the valley. Indian name, Po-see-nah Choock-kah, meaning a large store or h.o.a.rd of acorns. From certain points of sight the form of these rocks readily suggests the outline of a dilapidated Gothic cathedral. Only the superior grandeur of Tu-toch-ah-nu-lah and the South Dome, prevent this rock from greater fame. Outside of Yosemite it would quickly attain a world-wide celebrity.

Just beyond these rocks the cliff bears away to the southeast and sends up two slender, graceful pinnacles of splintered granite, rising five hundred feet above the main wall, which supports them. These are the

Cathedral Spires.

Their summits are twenty-four hundred feet above the valley. Seen from the northeast, a mile distant, these spires appear symmetrical, of equal height, squarely hewn and rising above the edge of the cliff behind, exactly like two towers of a Gothic cathedral. One who doubts the appropriateness of their name, has only to view them from this point, whence a single glance will end his skepticism. Beyond the spires the wall runs southeasterly a quarter of a mile, then curves through an easterly and northerly sweep into a north and south line.

The whole sweep forms a sort of precipitous coast with its rocky headlands, inclosing the valley between like an emerald bay. Beyond this bay the rocky wall gradually curves again, and resumes its easterly trend. An eighth of a mile further brings us to

The Fissure.

This is a cleft or split in the rock, running back southeasterly at nearly a right angle with the face of the cliff. It is one thousand feet deep, five feet wide at the top and front, and grows gradually narrower as it extends downward and backward into the mountain.

Several boulders have fallen into it and lodged at different depths.

A third of a mile east of this fissure, and a mile and three quarters from the Cathedral Rocks, another rocky promontory projects northwesterly, like a huge b.u.t.tress, a third of a mile into the valley, crowned with a lofty granite obelisk, three hundred feet thick, and standing straight up twelve hundred feet above the giant cliff which supports it. This is the famous

Sentinel Rock,

so named from its resemblance to a gigantic watchtower or signal station, for which, the legends say, the Indians formerly used it. The Indian name was Loya. Its top is three thousand and forty-three feet above the river at its foot. The sides show plainly-marked perpendicular cleavages in the granite.

Although so steep in front and at the sides, a strong grasp, a sure foot, a cool nerve and a calm head can safely climb it from the rear, that is, the southwest side. At least they have done so more than once, and planted a flag to wave in triumph from its summit. By the unanimous and unquestioned verdict of all tourists, this rock is one of the grandest and most beautiful even in Yosemite itself. Its striking prominence has made it a favorite subject with all artists who have visited the valley.

Three quarters of a mile southeast of the sentinel tower, half a mile back from the brink of the precipice, and partially or totally hidden by it, according as the spectator stands nearer to or farther from the foot of the cliff, the

Sentinel Dome

lifts its hemispherical bulk four thousand one hundred and fifty feet.

This is one of the most regularly formed of all of the peculiar dome-like peaks about the valley. The Indian name was Loy-e-ma. A horseman can reach the very summit by a trail up the eastern slope, and enjoy a most extensive view as his reward. From this dome, the profile of the South Dome and strongly marked moraines of the Too-loo-le-wack Canon appear to better advantage than from any other point.

A mile east of Sentinel Rock the face of the cliff becomes less precipitous, bends sharply around to the south, and thence back towards the southwest, forming an angular and sloping rocky bluff known as

Glacier Rock,

called by the Indians, Oo-woo-yoo-wah, which means, the "Great Rock of the Elk." The story has it that during one of the expeditions of troops into the valley, a party of soldiers, searching for Indians, undertook to climb this rock, and while, slowly and with great labor, working their way up its smooth and steep slope, the hunted red men suddenly appeared upon its summit, and began to roll large stones down upon them. These came thundering down with terrific noise and frightful speed. The pale faces turned and fled with headlong haste, but the destructive missiles smote several of them with instant death.

From the point of Glacier Rock one has a fine view of the valley. All the domes, with the Yosemite, Vernal and Nevada Falls are plainly visible thence.

For nearly a mile southeast of Glacier Rock the cliff becomes steeper and more precipitous, forming the western wall of a wild, rough canon, stretching away southeasterly for nearly a mile. Over the cliff at the head of this canon the south fork of the Merced plunges six hundred feet in the

Illilouette Fall.

This is also called the Too-loo-le-wack, or Too-lool-we-ack Fall. The meaning of either of these Indian names is not certainly given.

Cunningham, one of the oldest and best guides of the valley, calls the canon and the fall at the head of it, the El-lil-o-wit. The tourist who attempts this canon must leave all hoofs behind, and, falling back to first principles, depend entirely upon his own understanding.

Among the enormous ma.s.ses of rock which obstruct it, several extensive fissures and romantic caverns furnish additional stimulus to the wonder-loving pedestrian. As General Coulter says: "rough is no name for it." It is one of the wildest places imaginable. Few tourists accomplish it, but those who do are amply repaid.

From the foot of the Il-lil-ou-ette Canon make your way directly east, clamber along half a mile, or let your horse do it for you, then bear away to the right, slightly south of east, and you find yourself entering the canon of the main Merced itself. Now pick your way carefully along, and, as soon as you feel sufficiently sure of your foothold, look about you, and look ahead. Did you ever see finer boulder-scenery in your life? Stop under the sheltering lee of this huge, church-like boulder, and don the oiled or rubber suit which awaits your hire. You can get on without it, but the spray will quickly wet you into a

"Dem'd damp, moist and disagreeable body,"

if you try it.

Now take a stout stick, a deep breath, hold firmly on to both and plunge st.u.r.dily along the ascending trail. The deepest, richest and greenest of moss lines the narrow foot-path on either hand. Look quickly; enjoy it while you may, for presently you find breath and sight nearly taken away together by heavy spray-gusts, rushing, wind-driven, down the canon. Catching the intervals between, and catching your breath at the same time, you lift your nearly blinded eyes to the

Vernal Fall,

four hundred and fifty feet high, one hundred feet wide, and from three to five feet deep where it breaks over the square-cut edge of the solid granite beneath. The name Vernal was given it on account of the greenness of its water as it plunges over the brink, as well as to distinguish it from the very white fall a mile above. The Indian name was Pi-wy-ack, which is differently translated to mean "a shower of crystals," or "the cataract of diamonds."

This fall pours in one solid unbroken sheet of emerald green, flecked and fringed with creamy foam, and filling the whole canon below with a thick, and fine and ceaseless spray, which keeps its moss, and gra.s.s and foliage of a rich, deep green nowhere surpa.s.sed in nature. This spray also combines with the sunshine to develop another and a marvelous beauty. At almost any point along the trail for several rods below the fall, the visitor who is climbing in the morning has only to turn square about to find himself glorified by an exquisitely beautiful circular rainbow surrounding his head like a halo. This rainbow forms a complete circle of so small a diameter that the tourist who views it for the first time involuntarily stretches out his hands to grasp it.

The path is wet and slippery, and the ladder-stairs which carry one up the right-hand face of the cliff, just at the south edge of the fall, are steep and tiresome. But good oil or rubber suits keep out the wet, a good restful pause now and then keeps in the breath, while careful stepping and firm holding on rob the steepness and slipperiness of all their real danger. Scores of ladies go up and come down every season without accident or harmful fatigue.

Arrived at the top of the singularly square-cut granite cliff, we turn to the left, walk to the very edge of the stream and the brink of the fall, and gaze into the misty chasm in which the foot of the fall disappears. One need not fear to do so, for nature, as if with special forethought for the gratification of future guests, has provided a remarkable parapet of solid granite running along the very edge of the brink for several yards south of the fall, just breast high, and looking as if made on purpose for timid tourists to lean over, and gaze with fearless safety into the seething chasm in whose foaming depths the foot of the cataract shrouds itself in impenetrable mist.

This ceaseless mistiness makes it almost impossible to estimate or calculate the exact height of the fall with any satisfactory accuracy.

Another variable element which enters into all conjectures of its height is the fact that the rock on which it strikes slopes sharply down for upwards of a hundred and sixty feet. Hence in late spring or early summer, when the volume and velocity of the river are greatest, the water, shooting further out, falls at the very base of this slope, and gives the fall a height of four hundred and seventy-five or even five hundred feet in May or June. In October, on the other hand, when the stream is at its lowest, the water, falling straight down, strikes upon the top of this slope, a hundred and sixty or seventy-five feet above its base, and thus diminishes the height of the fall by just that amount.

In its volume, this fall resembles Niagara more than any other in the valley. In width, of course, it falls far below, but its height is more than three times as great. It also resembles Niagara in its greatening on the gaze with each successive visit. In its approaches, in its surroundings, and in itself, the Vernal fall surpa.s.ses expectation and fully satisfies desire.

Half a mile above the Vernal is a small but beautiful gem of a little fall, called the

Kachoomah,

or Wild Cat Fall. The reason of the name is obvious to one standing a hundred feet below, and noting how the impetuous stream, breaking over the sharp edge of a huge transverse boulder, dashes against the sloping side of another; lying angularly across; and is thrown, or seems to spring, diagonally across towards the northern bank, readily, though roughly, suggesting the sudden side-spring of the animal for whom the observing red man named it.