Siskiyou Union High School - White and Gold Yearbook (Weed, CA)

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A FAVORITE BOOK First Prize Esmy V xl HE MOUN'.l'Al.NS OF CALIFORNIA, by John Muir, is one of the most wonderful books that have ever been written about our Califor- nia mountains. Their rough, rugged beauty, he tells us, is due to the fact that they are still comparatively new. The glacial ice melted late here, and there are still a great number of smaller glaciers. There are about five thousand of them, and they melt at a higher altitude than the eleven hundred large glaciers of the Alps. Our largest ones are in the northern part of the state, but Muir found one in Merced County of which he could see the struc- ture. The snow in the mountains usually falls in large Hakes early in the Year, but when the gales are blowing, the snow is broken into a fine dust. Muir speaks of a very unusual sight he saw in the Sierras-that of fallen snow being driven so high in the air and over such a wide area, that with the sun shining on it, it resembled a huge silver banner. He said that he had never seen such a spectacle anywhere else. Our lakes are all glacial, for they were ground out of the solid rock by the slow, sure movements of the Great Glacier. Wfhen these are Hrst being formed, they are desolate rock-bound pools, whose only beauty is their deep blue and green coloring. VVhen the rock begins to change to soil, they are bordered by Bowers, trees, and many other sorts of vegetation, but all the time the hue sediment which is formed in the lakes themselves, or which is carried to them by the mountain streams, is slowly filling them up, and eventually the lake vanishes. Occasionally a small lake is completely demolished by some great avalanche, but usually, these great masses of snow, ice and rock splash harm- lessly into the larger lakes and remain as they are until spring. Our mountain forests are our pride. VVe have in them nearly every variety of coniferous tree beside oaks, a few maples, and other hard-wood trees. Among the coniferous trees are the Douglas fir, nut pine, pinus tuberculus, yellow pine, white pine, dwarf pine, sugar pine, silver fir, juniper, and most important of all, the sequoia, a tree peculiar to California. It grows to giant proportions-some are as much as three hundred feet high-and lives to a ripe old age. The mountain streams are very low in the summer, but a few hours of rain heavy enough to make a flood in itself, will melt enough snow to make another oneg so we have great Hoods during the winter, for our streams aren't large enough to carry such quantities of water. Speaking of our heavy rains, Muir wrote a description of a storm he wit- nessed from one of the taller trees, in a Way to give the most hardened excite- ment-seeker a thrill. He admitted himself that he never enjoyed anything quite so much as that storm. The rain poured down in torrents while the wind howled through the trees. Now and then the noise would be pierced by the l24l i GENERAL LITERARY SECTION

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MADMAN'S GOLD First Prize Poem Out of the waste at the 1l10011'S first peep, Into the glow of my desert Ere, Strode a man with a great red beard That shone in the light like copper wire. His eyes were dark and cavernous, And they shone with an insane light 5 And the teeth he bared in a friendly snarl XVere streaked like a windy night. I smiled my greeting across the fire And bade him find a seat. But he roared at me in a mighty voice, Give me something to eat ! So I got him a meal from my slender stores And a drink from my one canteen, And he told me a tale of a mining claim And a mountain of gold he'd seen: Of a mountain of gold that seemed to rise From out of the great sand dunes And of a thousand howling, whirling demons That danced to their devilish tunes. As we made our beds in the desert sand, Sharing the blankets we had, I suddenly knew why he looked so queer. He was raving, staring mad! I watched him well 'til he went to sleep NVearing a placid smileg I meant to watch him all that night, And I did for a little while. The sun was glaring when I awoke, And my visitor was gone. My hopes were high as I followed his trail, But the tracks led on and on. I found his body at a poison spring, Half-buried in the sand, And a bag of gold, like a blasted hope, Wfas clutched in his rigid hand. All this occurred in the long ago W'hen I was young and hold. But I still can hear, in spite of the years, A nIadman's muttered Gold. JOHN SMITH '28-Fort jones. GENERAL LITERARY SECTION L23

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crack of lightning as it struck and the crash of some great tree as it went down. Of course, these brittle old pines-or other trees that cou1dn't bend over- took many young trees with them, so Muir felt rather sad when, after the storm had died, he looked at the havoc wrought, even though the clouds had blown away and the forest looked clean and refreshed. Of the many animals that roam the high Sierras, Muir's favorites were the Douglas squirrel and the mountain sheep. He says the squirrel is good com- pany for a lonely man because it is a bright, happy, little chatter box. The sheepjhe says, are related to the big horns of the Rocky Mountains, but they are much more intelligent and agile than their cousins. They resemble, in fact, the mountain goats rather than the sheep. A whole chapter seems a lot of space to give to one little bird, but that is just what Muir devotes to the water ouzel, a plain brown bird which hovers around water falls all its life. It sings winter and summer alike, and Muir says he has seen the species as far north as Alaska. Muir says, too, that California is the greatest bee country in the world, particularly the upland meadows which are covered by a profusion of flowers. Lower down, there are white sage, deer brush, clover and other flowers and shrubs that make good honey. A start has been made already, but he thinks that the business will grow to much greater proportions before long, if the sheep evil becomes no -worse. Is not this a pleasant picture of our mountains, this picture which Muir gives us in my favorite book? SHIRLEY CARTER '28-Yreka. PALS XV e have been pals together, In sunshine and in shade, Since first beneath the pine trees, As children we played. Now coldness clutches at my heart, And a cloud is o'er my brow, Long were we pals together, Shall a light word part us now? Laughter has fled thy lips, And sorrow glooms thy brow, VVe have been gay together, Shall a light word part us now? MYRTLE WALKER '30-Weed High School. GENERAL LITERARY SECTION l251