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Take a Hike THE TRIP TO OLD MOUNT PITT
Looming above the surrounding hills, the highest point in the Cascades in Southern Oregon, Mount Pitt [Mount McLoughlin]
stands a challenge to the outdoor man and seems to call him to come and
lift himself out of the humdrum of every day and find breadth of vision
from the mountaintop. Responding to the call of the mountain, three of
us went forth to conquer, and upon the "Glorious Fourth" we ate our
dinner upon the summit of the mountain.Interesting Story of the Climb to Southern Oregon's Highest Peak  Leaving Central Point upon the afternoon of the second, we drove to Brownsboro that night. The next day saw us climbing the grades upward to the mountain. Passing the McAllister's Springs at noon, we traveled over a wagon trail from there on to the head of Fish Lake. The road has been but partly cleared since the snows of winter brought the trees and snags across it, and in many places [it] is still difficult for a team. Fish Lake proved an ideal camping ground in many ways; plenty of grass for the horses and clear cold water with a camp in the heavy timber go far to make it ideal. The one great drawback is the flies and mosquitoes which abound at this time of the year. Camping there on the night of the third, we prepared for an early start up the mountain. Saturday dawned foggy, with the mountain hid in a veil of cloud. Leaving camp, we traveled the trail toward Fourmile Lake for perhaps two miles, when we found a ridge which looked promising and we left the trail and began the climb. Before we had proceeded a great way we entered the brush. It was the writer's first experience with "buck brush," and he now has a better conception of the hardships of travel in the brush than he ever had before. After passing the brush the timber was open with an easy ascent, making fine going. In fact, with the exception of the brush, the travel was good all the way to the timber line. After several miles of comparatively easy climbing we began to find more rock. Ledges and outcroppings on either side illustrated what lay before us. The grade increased so that it became necessary to zigzag along the face of the bluff. The first snow now appeared in the hollows, at first but a trace, but soon apparently in substantial drifts. As we approached the timber line, the mountain became more rough in appearance and the going increased in difficulty. One feature of mountain climbing is that as you become more tired the way grows more difficult as though the monarch of the hills resented your presence upon his summit. We were now upon the east side of the mountain, having gone around from the south end of it in our climbing. Looking to the south the mighty Shasta lifted its head in splendor, the only peak in sight which was above us. To the east the lakes of Klamath County began to appear. As we ascended, at every rest we could see more of these lakes until the whole country appeared to be dotted with the blue of distant water. Facing the hardest part of our climb, we gave all of our attention to the mountain. Working still more to the east we came out upon the main ridge leading up to the rim which is the summit of the mountain. To the north of us lay the snow fields glistening in the light air. Looking across we could see the crags which mark the north side of the mountain. As we ascended, at one point, marking the eastern limit of the rim there burst upon us a view that is unequaled anywhere else upon the mountain. At our feet the rock falls away in a precipice to the snow field. Across the snow rose the crags, great upstanding pinnacles of rock. High up to the left or west is the peak which marks the summit proper, its outlines indistinct in the cloud. Take a picture of the Matterhorn in the European Alps and you can form some idea of the beauty and grandeur of the view across the snow. Far below us the snow field fanned out and ended upon the rocks; far above us the summit showed indistinct in the clouds which the wind was whipping across the mountain; in front of us were crags and pinnacles of rock, their dark surface in brilliant contrast to the white snow. This one view well repays anyone for the entire climb of the mountain, and it can be secured in no other way. From this point the final climb is one which taxes the breath and measures the strength of a man. Up at an angle of 45 degrees and more, over volcanic rock, working around sharp points, ever climbing on a narrow ridge, not much time is taken in viewing the scenery; the one thought is to complete the climb. You think the summit is just ahead and behold it is still beyond you. You think that the next point is the summit surely, but it is not so. But at last the final spurt is made, the final ascent is ended, and the summit is reached. In one particular the mountain fulfills the promise made from here; the summit is a point. Not more than 15 feet in diameter at the top, it is composed of a pile of lava rock, thrown together by some great convulsion of nature. Hidden away in the rocks there is a metal box in which souvenirs of various kinds have been left, and wherein there is the book where you register, giving your name and the date of your ascent. In a metal tube two fine maps of the surrounding country are to be found. The register is full of names, and curious indeed are the mementoes left in the box. Hairpins give evidence of the fair sex, pipes and tobacco of the sterner one, empty and loaded cartridge shells, anything and everything is to be found in this box. As to the view from the summit, to the south and east and partly to the north we were able to see, but the west was shrouded in fog, greatly to our disappointment. The Klamath lakes and valley, Mount Shasta and surrounding hills, and once, as the clouds lifted, Mt. Scott and the rim of Crater Lake was to be seen. The wind was blowing very strongly and it was as cold as January so we did not linger long, but descended a short distance and found a shelter from the wind in the rocks where we ate our dinner and washed it down with snow water. The descent was uneventful. We came down the south side of the mountain, sliding through the shale and coasting where there was snow, making as nearly a straight line to camp as the country would allow. We reached it at five p.m., having been absent eleven hours and a half. Breaking camp, we made a start on our homeward journey, arriving Central Point Sunday evening at ten o'clock, tired 'tis true, but well satisfied with our trip. Central Point Herald, July 16, 1914, page 1
BOYS MAKE TRIP TO ROXY ANN
Saturday, July 25th, the boys'
class of the Methodist Sunday school known as the Knights of Methodist
started from the church at nine o'clock to take a "hike" to the hills.
In the party were eight of the boys of the class, each one carrying his
lunch. Starting toward the creek, they hiked across the fields in the
direction of Roxy Ann. The hill seemed to be farther away as they
continued toward it, but undaunted they went on. The sun was hot, the
way dusty and often they stopped at farmhouses for a drink. Before many
miles were covered some of the number began to drag, but the will was
there and they would not give in. After three hours of hot, dusty
travel the party stopped for lunch at a dry camp on the slope of the
hill. Here two of the boys, Rhuland Anderson and Albert Hicken, elected
to remain while the rest, after but a short stop, began the ascent to
the summit. For some distance a trail was followed, and then we left
the trail to follow the pipeline which we discovered in the hope of
finding some water, for all were feeling the need of a drink.
Disappointment was in store, however, for the spring at the head of the
pipeline was dry. Starting from there on as direct a line as permitted,
the boys scrambled over rocks and through brush to the melodious cry of
one of their number, "I want water." All the boys seemed to be in the
I.W.W. class as far as that went. Suddenly the leader gave a shout; a
trickle of water was discovered in a little draw. It was only a little
and was dirty, so that under ordinary circumstances it would not have
been drinkable, but the boys could hardly be gotten away from it so
thirsty had they become.Rev. Creesy and Eight Boys of the Methodist Sunday School Make Long Hike to the Hills  Central Point Herald, August 6, 1914, page 1 PLEASURE TRIP TO TABLE ROCK
On March 27th, the eight grade
class of the Central Point Public School went on a picnic trip to Table
Rock. Each member of the class wrote a story describing the trip.
Prizes were given by the teacher for the first three best stories.
Beulah Wright won the first, John Dunlap second, and William Lyons
third prize.Eighth Grade Take a Trip to Table Rock and Write a Story of the Trip. Beulah Wright Won First Prize. The following is Beulah's story: Central Point, Oregon.
Central Point Herald, May 20, 1915, page 1March 29, 1915
Dear Lois:
I wish you were here now, for it is lovely. It is picnicking time here now, and that is the time I like best. The wheat is just peeping above the ground, the orchards are blooming, and a lovely view of the valley with all its splendor can be obtained from the surrounding mountains. One mountain of particular interest is Table Rock, because it takes a place in the history of Rogue River Valley. It is said that in the pioneer days, a band of settlers fought a battle with some Indians on top of the rock and the red men were driven over the edge. I always shudder when that story is related; just think of being hurled one thousand feet through space and then probably find yourself (if you are not dead) in a bed of thorns! [There is not a particle of truth in this familiar and intractable story. Veterans of the Rogue Valley Indian wars are recorded attempting to debunk the tale at least as far back as the 1880s.] This picturesque rock is one mile square and, as I have already told you, one thousand feet high. It was on this rock that my class decided to go for a picnic last Saturday, but when the day came the sun had hidden its face from view, and it looked as if we were not going to have a picnic, but by nine o'clock we decided to run the risk of getting wet, and our merry party climbed into the wagon and away we went! Our route lay beside blossoming orchards and green fields, which made the ride very pleasant. I agree with Stevenson in saying, "The world is so full of a number of things, I am sure we should all be as happy as kings." It is about nine miles to the rock, and traveling through the country I have described made the ride very interesting.  After crossing the bridge, the road was steep as we were nearing the rock, and we soon had to get out and walk, leaving the horses at a nearby farmhouse. We had to carry the lunch after that, but not very far, for we soon found a nice shady nook, by the river, where we ate our lunch. It was a nice cozy spot, with plenty of trees and grass, where the river made a little bay. After exploring our picnic grounds we started to get the lunch ready. A fire was built, and two sticks were stuck in the ground on each side of the fire with another one across those sticks upon which we placed the chocolate to boil. Meanwhile we girls spread the cloth and unpacked the lunch. We ate and ate and ate, but finally we finished and started on our way to the rock, carrying oranges with us to eat when we reached the summit. Before we started on our upward climb we gathered up what remained of our lunch and put it in a safe place to eat when we returned. Jeanette, Marie and I took off our skirts and climbed the mountain with our bloomers and middies on, which was very much easier and a great deal more fun. Up and up we climbed, but still we did not reach the summit. We traveled over grass, sand and through brush, but the most interesting of all were the large beds of rock. It's fun to walk over them, and they are laid so closely, loosely together that if you are not careful you might loosen a great many of them and they would all come tumbling down at once. When we were almost at the top we stopped to rest at a place where two large rocks stood up side by side with only a narrow pass between. As the rocks were moss-covered we climbed upon them and they made a very comfortable seat. We rested a few minutes and then started upon our climb again. After going a little ways we came to a small ravine, went up here and then, behold! We were on Table Rock. I was surprised to find that it didn't look as I expected it would, with a flat surface of solid rock, and hardly any trees, but instead the ground was quite rough in some places; where there were no rocks the ground was quite soft, and when it rains you mire about six inches; there is also some shrubs and several trees on the rock, though they cannot be seen from the valley. As soon as we reached the rock we crossed over to the south side to get a better view of the valley, and as our teacher, Mr. Atwood, had his field glasses with him, we could see the surrounding towns of Medford, Ashland and Jacksonville. We viewed the country, ate oranges, threw rocks over the edge of the mountain (one of the girls threw one over that reached the base in four seconds), and altogether spent a very pleasant hour on Table Rock. After awhile Mr. Atwood suggested going down the rock, but although we followed reluctantly, we were soon glad we came, for it began to rain just as we reached the base of the rock. We came down on the south side of the rock where we found a narrow (almost perpendicular) pass. It was really funny to see us coming down that narrow pass, the wind blowing the dust into our faces, each one trying to get down as fast as possible, and thus knocking rocks on the one in front of him. I was hit with two or three of them and know how it feels. Finally we reached the bottom, but not, however, without an accident. Jeanette was standing at the base of the rock watching some of the others descend; she luckily saw the rock coming and leaned her head against the rock, but she did not escape it altogether, for it grazed the top of her head. Although the wound was not serious it bled a great deal, and they thought she was going to faint when it first hit her. We were now at the bottom of Table Rock but not nearly to our camping place, and as it was raining we wanted to get there as quickly as possible. We started hurriedly forth and kept together better than we did when coming up the mountain. When we entered the brush we lost sight of the others, and though we spent some time trying to find them, we could not, so we started out to find the way ourselves. After fruitlessly searching for the path, we decided to take the way leading to the river and then follow the river path to our camp. This we did, picking all the flowers along the way, and as it had now stopped raining and the sun was shining brightly, this was a pleasant occupation. When we made our belated appearance they were ready to eat. After we had finished eating, we put out our fire and, carrying our flowers, walked slowly over the hills to where the horses were waiting for us. We climbed into the wagon and started for home. The horses, however, were not as tired as we were and they sped merrily onward. We reached home at 6 o'clock, just as the sun was setting over the western hills. We were tired but happy, and some of us are still suffering from poison oak, but the fun we had made up for it, don't you think so? Your loving friend, JEAN BROWN. GRIZZLIES' HIKE TO BALDY'S SUMMIT MOST ENJOYABLE
Undaunted by
threatening weather conditions, a good-sized group of Medford Grizzlies
yesterday made the ascent of Baldy, the foothill to the east of
Phoenix. The trip was made on foot from Main and Central streets to the
summit, and then down the opposite slope to Phoenix, a total distance
of about fourteen miles. At Phoenix a bus awaited the travelers for the
home stretch. The first lap ended in a natural park 400 feet from
Baldy's summit, which has been dubbed by the Grizzlies Camp Hi Jinks.
There luncheon was spread and huge pots of the far-famed Grizzly coffee
was brewed over the campfire. Appetites sharpened by the tang of the
morning air and by the stimulating exercise were finally appeased, and
after an hour of relaxation the final ascent of the summit was made.
From this lofty height the hikers were rewarded with such a magnificent
panorama of the valley as is rarely surpassed.
The descent led through a region of intense geological interest, the marvelous caves and natural stone castles of Quigley Rocks being explored and examined. Credit for the success of the day's outing is largely due to the efforts of the committee, Mr. and Mrs. McKee and Mr. and Mrs. Bunce. Yesterday's trip was in a measure a warming up for the conquest of Grizzly Peak, to be made next Sunday. All members are required to attain this height to qualify for full membership in the Grizzly Society. All are urgently invited to swell the crowd on this occasion, and those interested may communicate with the chairman of the committee for that trip, Cole Holmes. Medford Mail Tribune, May 22, 1916 Last revised October 9, 2009 |
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