reno has acquired a nation-wide fame for its “wide open” proclivities and we fear that much of the prosperity we saw on every hand may be due to its liberal though generally deprecated practices. the 1910 census gave the town a population of about ten thousand and if we allow a gain of as much as fifty per cent since then, it is still no more than a good-sized village so far as people are concerned. however this may be, its buildings, public and private, its streets and residences, its shops and hotels, would do credit to the average eastern town of from thirty to fifty thousand. one bank building we especially noted would not be out of place on fifth avenue and the courthouse, postoffice, the y. m. c. a. building, and the theaters are all out of the small-town class. on the ridge east of the river, surrounded by beautiful grounds, are numerous handsome residences built by old-time mining magnates, most of whom are now dead.
mining was the foundation of reno’s prosperity and it cuts considerable figure in the commerce of the town at present. the greater part58 of its business activity, however, is due to the rich farming country that surrounds the city, to the railroad machine shops, which employ over two thousand men, and to several minor manufacturing establishments which in the aggregate employ a considerable number of people. these are resources that may be common to many other live towns, but reno has several sources of income quite peculiar to itself that an indulgent state legislature, largely composed of renoans, has made possible by shrewd enactments. here it is still lawful to race horses as in the good old days with everything wide open and bookmakers galore. a solid month each year is devoted to the speed track, during which time the sportively inclined congregate in reno from all parts of the west and squander much ready cash in the town. prize fighting is also permitted and here it was that robert fitzsimmons plucked the laurel wreath from the classic brow of jim corbet before an appreciative audience of fifty thousand devotees of the manly art from every corner of the country.
but reno’s great specialty has been the loosening of the matrimonial tie—for a consideration—and many well-known and wealthy people became guests of the town for the six months’ period necessary to secure a divorce. yielding to outside public sentiment after awhile,59 the legislature extended the period of residence to one year, hoping, no doubt, to get credit for righteousness—and more cash from seekers after matrimonial freedom. it killed the infant industry, however; evidently the idle rich preferred to endure the tortures of unhappy married life rather than spend a year in reno, and they quit coming. the legislature hastened to restore the six-month clause in the statute and as a consequence the divorce mills are turning out fair grist again. our waitress at the hotel pointed out one or two bejeweled females who were “doing time” in reno to get rid of their incompatible mates, and declared that there was a considerable colony of both sexes in the town waiting for their papers. some authorities intimate that two thousand dollars is the minimum sum necessary for an outsider to secure a decree in a nevada court, but doubtless many of the multi-millionaires leave several times that sum behind them, for the citizens do their full duty in providing entertainment that will separate their guests from their cash.
it would hardly be expected that the prohibition wave now sweeping the west coast would be at all likely to cross the nevada line—in fact, at this writing nevada is the only state to contest with new jersey for the doubtful honor of being all wet, where even local option60 has not succeeded in getting a footing. the saloons of reno are numerous and palatial and doubtless contribute not a little to the comfort of those of the sporting fraternity who make the town their mecca. the only attempt at sumptuary legislation is an “anti-treat” law which insists that everyone must drink at his own expense. as to gambling, i was told that this pleasant pastime has been little interfered with since the old mining days, though it is not now conducted so openly except in connection with the races.
as the metropolis and center of population of the state, reno should logically be the capital, but this honor is held by carson, a village of five thousand people about twenty miles to the south. within a radius of fifty miles is grouped perhaps half the population of the state, which, with all its vast area of seventy-five thousand square miles, had but seventy-five thousand people according to the last census. no other state in the union has such vast areas of uninhabited desert, but the natives will strive to impress upon you that a great future is assured—all that is necessary to make this sagebrush country bloom like the rose is water, and water can be had from artesian wells almost anywhere in the nevada valleys.
however, it is quite outside my province to61 write a disquisition on the resources of nevada, and i have been dwelling on reno only because it seemed of unusual interest to me and was a stopping-place on our tour. our hotel, the riverside, is a huge red-brick structure standing directly on the banks of the truckee so that its windows overlook the swift stream, which moves so rapidly that it does not lose its clearness even in the town limits. we found the riverside fairly comfortable—it would have been still more so had we made reservations in advance—and its rates were very moderate as compared with the average western hotel of its class. reno occupies an important position in the motor world as a stopping-place on the lincoln highway and an outfitting station for much of the surrounding country. it has excellent garages with good repair facilities and its streets were thronged with cars of all degrees.
the next morning we took the road to the north out of the town roughly following the recently completed northern california & oregon railroad, which gives northeastern california and southern oregon an outlet to the southern pacific at reno. the twenty miles in nevada before reaching the california line gave us an opportunity to see first-hand some of the state’s resources of which they talked at reno. the road was unexpectedly good, smooth and62 free from dust, with gently rolling grades. the view was quite unobstructed and permitted speed ad libitum, keeping a sharp lookout, of course, for an occasional rough spot or sandy stretch. a more desolate country than that which stretched away on either hand would be hard to imagine. a wide valley, without even sagebrush or cactus to relieve its barrenness, was guarded on both sides by ranges of bleak, rugged hills which, near at hand, seemed more like vast cinder heaps than anything else. only the far distance was able to transform the scene and to lend something of “enchantment to the view,” softening the rough outlines with a violet haze and tinging the desert sands with hues of mauve and lavender. trees and shrubs there were none and there were scant indications of vegetation at any time of the year. at long intervals we passed little deserted ranch houses which indicated that some hopeful soul had once endeavored to develop the “resources” of the country, but had given up in despair and “of his name and race had left no token and no trace.” at one point we crossed dry lake, a vast, level saline deposit as hard and white and nearly as smooth as polished marble—an ideal auto race course.
our first town was doyle, a lonely little place of half a dozen buildings forty-eight miles north of reno. beyond here we entered long63 creek valley, our road climbing short, sharp pitches and winding about sandstone bluffs with stretches of heavy sand here and there. however, the country soon showed much improvement; there were well-tilled fields and frequent ranch houses, some of them surrounded by green lawns, beautified with flowers. orchards were common and we saw many apple and pear trees loaded with luscious-looking fruit. the road through this section was fair, though little had been done in the way of permanent improvement. there is only one long grade and when we reached the summit of the hills which it surmounts, we saw a circular valley before us with an irregular hazy-blue sheet of water in the center. somehow we had pictured the northeastern lakes in our minds as rivals of tahoe in beauty and color, but never was greater delusion than in the case of honey lake, which lay before us. it is a shallow, characterless expanse of shimmering water set in the midst of a great basin surrounded on all sides by naked hills. the shores are flat and marshy and entirely devoid of trees. it is redeemed from complete unattractiveness by a narrow ring of fertile and highly cultivated land from one to three miles wide that completely surrounds it, sloping upwards from the shore line to the hillsides. fronting the lake at frequent intervals are fairly prosperous-looking64 farmhouses in the midst of poplar and walnut groves. cattle raising appeared to be the chief industry, for we saw many herds grazing in the green meadows around the lake. the name, they told us, came from the honey-dew which gathers on the grasses in the vicinity. the lake was alive with wild fowl—ducks, mud hens, herons, and pelicans—but the frequent “no hunting” signs apprised the sportsman that he was not welcome here. the road runs entirely around the lake, but we chose the west side through milford, which was fair though very dusty; in wet weather it must be practically impassable for motor cars. in winter there is much snow here, the temperature going sometimes as low as fifteen or twenty degrees below zero, and the lake usually freezes quite solid. like all the lakes of this section, it is said to be gradually receding, due to the drain of numerous artesian irrigating wells.
fifteen miles beyond honey lake we came into susanville, where we planned to stop for the night. we had no very pleasant anticipations, to be sure, for the town was rated at one thousand people and we were resigned to put up with primitive accommodations without complaint. we experienced a pleasant surprise on entering the st. francis, a well-kept hotel where we found all modern conveniences. we narrowly missed65 being shut out because we failed to make reservations and we saw other would-be guests turned away later in the day.
susanville is the capital and metropolis of lassen, a county of vast extent but scant population. here and in modoc, the county to the north, the soil is of volcanic origin and mt. lassen, the only active volcano in the united states, is just beyond the hills to the west. serving as a center for such a wide tract of country, the town naturally outclasses places of a thousand people in more populous sections. it has better stores, theaters, garages, and hotels than are usually found in places of its size. the most pretentious residence stands at the head of the main street, a large, crotchety building which they told us was the home of the chief saloonkeeper, who runs a palatial bar down the street. north and west of the town the hills are covered with a magnificent pine forest—a favorite haunt, a local sportsman informed us, of deer and other game. he also told us that we would find a good road through the forest to eagle lake, some fifteen miles to the northwest, which he declared the equal of tahoe for scenic beauty. we had arrived in the town shortly after noon; there was still time to drive to eagle lake and the car was ordered forthwith.
we had proceeded but a little way when we66 came upon a force of men working upon the new state road which is to connect susanville with the pacific highway at red bluff, a distance of about one hundred miles, making this country far more accessible to the motorist than at the time of our visit. three or four miles out of the town we turned from the highway into the forest, following an excellent mountain road which climbs a steady but moderate grade for a distance of twelve miles. on either hand towered gigantic yellow pines, many of which were devoid of branches for a height of nearly one hundred feet. it was clear that a fire had swept through them not so very long ago, destroying the smaller trees and shrubbery and giving the forest a wonderfully cleaned-up appearance. it had apparently done little damage to the big trees, though some of the trunks were charred to a considerable height. some distance beyond the summit we saw the lake far below us, gleaming in the low afternoon sun and reminding us of a great gem set in the dark pines that crowd up to its shores. it was too late in the day to get much in color effects, but we agreed that eagle lake, lovely as it is, has no claim for comparison with tahoe. the shores of the lake abound with curious caves extending for miles underground, some filled with perpetual ice and others through which icy winds continually roar. many have67 never been fully explored and some of the strange phenomena have never been satisfactorily accounted for. the lake teems with trout and bass, affording far better sport for fishermen than the more frequented waters and its shores, still in their native wildness, offer ideal camping sites. returning to the town, we saw a wonderful sunset through the pines and from occasional points of vantage caught long vistas of wooded hills stretching away to the crimson sky.
the northbound road out of susanville climbs a barren hill range with grades up to fifteen per cent and there is scarcely a downward dip for over seven miles. not a tree or shrub obstructs the view from the long switchbacks and we had a magnificent panorama of the town and honey lake valley and the far-reaching wooded hills to the south and west. the road, though unimproved, was excellent and as volcanic rock is the base, it is probably good the year round except when snow prevails. it was not so good beyond the hillcrest; boulders began to crop out, making the descent to merrillville pretty rough. at the summit we ran into a fine forest of yellow pine, which continued for several miles. we then crossed stony, desolate hill ranges—one after another—alternating with basin-shaped valleys. in one of these valleys, thirty miles from susanville, is horse lake, an ugly, shallow sheet of water68 three or four miles long with barren, alkali-encrusted shores. a notice was posted by the roadside warning passersby that the water of the lake is poisonous and it certainly looked like it. the soil of some of the valleys looked as if it might be fertile if well watered, but the greater part of it was strewn with ragged volcanic rocks. there were occasional miserable little huts, apparently long deserted, which indicated that at some time a settler had endeavored to wring an existence from the inhospitable earth, and had given up in despair. a few of the more persistent were still engaged in the struggle, but there was little indication of prosperity.
beyond horse lake we climbed a second mighty hill range and from the summit beheld the madeline plains, a valley far larger than the ones we had passed. this wide level tract, comprising over one hundred square miles, is encircled by volcanic hills which, despite their ugliness and barrenness when viewed near at hand, faded away in the distance in a wild riot of coloring. lavender merged into purple and purple deepened to dark blue, which finally shrouded the hills from our view. farming in this valley appeared to be conducted more successfully, though there is as yet much unimproved land and none of the ranch houses or their surroundings showed signs of prosperity. madeline, on the69 edge of the plain, is a dilapidated village of a few dozen people and the big yellow wooden hotel seemed out of all proportion to any business it could hope for. beyond this for many miles the characteristics of the country continued much the same, hills and valleys alternating until we entered the pitt river valley, a dozen miles from alturas. here the country began to show considerable improvement, which gradually increased until we came into the town.
alturas, with about a thousand inhabitants, the capital of modoc county, is a good-looking town with a handsome courthouse of classic design and a modern high school building. it is the only place in the huge county that can be dignified by being called a town—for modoc, with its four thousand square miles of area, can muster only six thousand people, most of whom live in the narrow valleys between the volcanic hills or on the plain around the shores of goose lake. this section is at present quite inaccessible to motorists, but the new highway to be constructed from redding will do much to put the county in touch with the rest of the state.
out of alturas we followed a level and very good dirt road through a fair-looking farming section to davis creek at the lower end of goose lake, a distance of twenty-two miles. goose lake is the largest of the numerous lakes in this70 section—about thirty-five miles in extreme length by ten at its greatest width. the road closely follows its shores and beyond davis creek ascends a steep grade leading up the mountainside overlooking the lake and affording a glorious view of the fine sheet of water. we saw it from many angles and altitudes as we mounted up, each with its peculiar lighting and coloring—all beautiful and inspiring. we paused to contemplate the scene at a point from which nearly the whole lake was visible. it lay beneath us in the low afternoon sun, glistening blue and silver, the hill range running along the opposite shore wrapped in an indigo haze. the waters of goose lake have not the dark, changeful blue of tahoe, but seem more like the azure monotone of the sky, save where the sunlight threw its white beams across it from the west. its monotony of color is doubtless due to the fact that it is quite shallow, its depth in no place exceeding eighteen or twenty feet, while the average is probably not more than five or six feet. around it runs a belt of fertile farm land, broadest on the eastern side. there are many prosperous ranch houses at intervals and great numbers of thrifty-looking sheep and cattle grazed in the meadows which run down to the shore. the water for irrigating is largely drawn from the lake or artesian wells near by. this has71 caused a steady shrinkage in the lake and, indeed, may cause it to ultimately disappear, an event which the lover of the beautiful in natural scenery must earnestly deplore. for we all agreed that goose lake and its setting were very beautiful despite its unprepossessing name—and we recalled how narrowly tahoe escaped being stigmatized as lake bigler. a rose by any other name might smell as sweet, perhaps, but it does seem that tahoe would lose some of its glory if it bore the unmusical cognomen of the disloyal ante bellum governor.
from the summit of the grade we descended gradually through a fine pine forest to willow ranch and from there continued through the level farm lands skirting the shore to the village of new pine creek just across the oregon border. perhaps if we had been able to anticipate the fate awaiting us at lakeview we should have paused at the rather unattractive wooden hotel in this diminutive burg. in blissful ignorance, however, we dashed mile after mile over a fairly level but dusty road, expecting every moment to come in sight of lakeview. we had—i hardly know why—a preconceived notion of a picturesque little town overlooking the lake from a pine-covered bluff and a hotel in keeping with these imaginary surroundings, equipped with everything to bring peace and joy to the soul of72 the motorist after a rough, dusty run. the road left the lake and the lake gradually receded from view, and still no town; not until we had left the northernmost mud-puddle of goose lake six or seven miles behind us did we enter the unattractive, straggling village whose name had so excited our anticipations. we entered the principal hotel with serious misgivings and came out of it with the determination to pass the night in the car rather than to occupy the beds that the unkempt attendant offered us. i forbear farther comment because conditions change so rapidly in these western towns; before my book can be published a new management may turn a dirty, shabby-looking place into a clean, comfortable hotel. it has happened in several instances to my own knowledge and it may happen in lakeview, oregon.
a friendly native who appreciated our predicament told us that his people would take us in at their ranch house, some distance in the country, if we couldn’t find decent accommodations in the town. he directed us to another hotel, which was full, but the landlady bestirred herself and secured rooms in a private home where we were comfortably taken care of. our host was an old resident of the section—a local politician, ranch owner, and an enthusiastic hunter and fisherman. he informed us that the principal73 resource of the surrounding country was cattle and sheep raising, largely on government land, for which the owner of the stock pays a small annual fee. he declared that there was a fine chance for energetic young fellows to do well in this line and cited an irish boy of his acquaintance who had cleared six thousand dollars on sheep in the two years just past. the recent extension of the railway to lakeview, giving direct connection with the main line at reno, two hundred and forty-four miles distant, had given a great impetus to both farming and stock-raising in this section.
“why lakeview for a town from which it is impossible even to see the lake?” we asked.
“because the lake originally came up to the town,” he replied, “but it has been steadily receding until it is now six miles away.”
there is good fishing in the lake, which is stocked with rainbow trout, though our host declared he much preferred the sport afforded by the streams of the vicinity and some of the stories he told of his catches would certainly stir the blood of anyone addicted to the gentle art of ike walton. quite as good fortune awaits the hunter in the vicinity; deer, bear, and smaller game abound within easy distance of the town. the game laws of both california and oregon are so very stringent, he declared, that an outsider74 will do well to post himself thoroughly before undertaking a hunting expedition in either of these states.
leaving lakeview early in the morning, we thanked our hosts for their kindness in taking the strangers in—for their exceedingly modest charge showed that it was not done altogether for profit.
“only a little more than one hundred miles to klamath falls,” we were told, “but a rough, heavy road much of the way and a hard day’s run for any car”—all of which we speedily verified by personal experience. the hardest work came in the latter half of the run; for many miles out of lakeview we bowled along through a sagebrush country with widely scattered habitations and no sign of fellow-motorists. we followed a huge irrigation aqueduct, evidently nearing completion, for some distance and in one place, where it is carried on a high trestle across a valley, the road passes beneath it. the land looked fertile enough and no doubt if the water supply is adequate this irrigation project will change the appearance of things in this section before many years. we passed a pine-covered hill range with heavy and stony grades before reaching bly, the first village, nearly fifty miles from lakeview.
this is a trading station of a dozen or two buildings at the eastern boundary of the huge75 klamath indian reservation. for several miles we had been passing the noble red men with all kinds of conveyances—on horseback, in lumber wagons, spring wagons, carriages, and even two or three automobiles. most of them were well dressed in civilized store clothes, usually with a dash of color—a red bandanna or necktie or a sporty hat band—and their horses and equipment showed evidences of prosperity. many pleasantly saluted as they made way for us to pass and, altogether, they seemed far removed from the traditional painted savage of the old-time wild and woolly west. the storekeeper at bly said they were coming from an indian fair and all were returning sober so far as we could see. he said that many of them were well-to-do cattlemen and farmers and that he depended on them for most of his trade. we passed many of their farm cottages beyond bly and the lady of our party, who had once been connected with the indian service, interviewed one of the women—we were going to say “squaws” but it almost seems inappropriate. she was accorded the most courteous treatment by the occupants of the little cabin; her queries were answered in good english and she declared that everything about the place was clean and well-ordered.
“going to crater lake—what for?” she was asked. “we going to crater lake, too, next76 week for huckleberries, much huckleberries, at crater lake; indians all go there.”
several miles of level though rough and dusty road after leaving bly brought us to another heavily forested hill range with more steep and stony grades. we paused under a big pine to eat the lunch we had picked up in lakeview, congratulating ourselves on our foresight, for we were hungry and the wayside inn is wanting on this trail. we were truly in the wild at this point. no railroad comes within fifty miles; the nearest settler was many miles away—and that settler a klamath indian. at the foot of the long grade we came to a sluggish, green-tinted stream—lost river—which we followed nearly to our destination. they call it lost river since it vanishes from sight in the vast marshes of tule lake to the south.
the last twelve miles out of klamath falls were the most trying of a hard day’s run. the road bed was hidden in a foot of flour-like white limestone dust—deep enough to effectually hide the unmerciful chuck-holes and to make driving a blind chance. a snail’s pace—from the motorist’s point of view—was enforced. a dense gray dust cloud enveloped us and the stifling heat was unrelieved by the fresh breeze that a sharp pace always sets up. as if to make a test of the limits of our endurance, we were compelled to work77 our way through a herd of two thousand cattle that were being driven along the road. we know there were two thousand of them, for a local paper next day made mention of this particular herd and the number. those who have tried to pass a hundred cattle on a road fairly free from dust can imagine what we endured; those who have never passed cattle on a road can know nothing about it. when we finally worked our way out of the stifling dust cloud, it would have been difficult to recognize the race or color of the occupants of the car—we would surely have passed for anything but members of the caucasian race. as we rolled on to the broad, asphalted street leading into klamath falls, dust begrimed, everything—our faces, clothing, and baggage—was enveloped by a dirty gray film. it covered the car from the radiator to tail light—lay an inch deep on the running boards—and fell in heavy flakes from the wheels.
we had been assured of first-class accommodations in the town, but were not expecting such a splendid, metropolitan hotel as the white pelican; it seemed almost presumptuous for such grimy, besmirched individuals as ourselves to seek quarters in so cleanly and well-ordered a place. we were reassured, however, by a sign over the entrance, “automobile togs are fashionable at this hotel,” which seemed to indicate that78 others before us had been subject to similar misgivings and needed a little assurance of welcome on the part of the hotel people. in any event, no insinuating remarks or even smiles greeted our plight, and a light, airy, beautifully furnished room was assigned us with a perfectly appointed bath which afforded us every facility for removing such oregon real estate as still adhered to our persons. just how thorough our dust bath had been was shown by the fact that some of it penetrated our suit cases, though protected by an outer trunk and an oilcloth covering—a thing that had not previously happened during our tour.
after we had restored ourselves to the semblance of respectability with a bath and change of raiment, there was still time to walk about the town before dinner. it is built mainly along a broad, well-paved street and both public and private buildings are rather better than usual in towns of five thousand. the stores, shops, and theaters are above the average, the school buildings are handsome and substantial, and a new courthouse of imposing, classic design was nearing completion at a cost of a quarter of a million dollars. the chief source of the apparent prosperity of the town is the lumbering business with a pay roll of more than one hundred thousand dollars monthly. klamath falls is also the gateway79 to crater lake, to which the tide of travel is constantly increasing, and it lays claim itself to being something of a summer resort. the white pelican hotel, which, we were assured, cost nearly four hundred thousand dollars, is built over a mineral spring with a temperature near the boiling point and waters closely resembling carlsbad in mineral constituents. there are elaborate baths and a swimming pool in connection with the hotel and its beautiful appointments and excellent service make it a delightful home for any who wish to take advantage of the waters. motorists will find the white pelican garage, just across the street, quite the equal of the hotel for excellent service and up-to-date equipment. in fact, both hotel and garage would do credit to a place ten times the size of klamath falls. to be sure, klamath falls expects to be a place of ten times its present size in the somewhat indefinite future—several railroad projects are now under way which, when complete, will make accessible much more of the thirty-one billion feet of standing timber in the county and double the amount of productive irrigated land. all of which seems to justify the emphatic claims of the town’s chamber of commerce that “klamath falls is bound to grow, bound to grow on account of her great resources,80 timber, irrigated lands, water power, nature’s play ground (america’s switzerland) and railroad development!”
