s and supplies for a journey of any desired
duration. Starting in the Yosemite Valley, and leaving the park near the
carved cirques of Mount Lyell, the traveller will find the intervening
miles of the John Muir Trail a panorama of magnificence. Thousand Island
Lake, reflecting the glorious pyramid of Banner Peak, the Devil's
Postpile, a group of basaltic columns, far finer than Ireland's
celebrated Giant's Causeway, the Mono Valley, with its ancient volcano
split down through the middle so that all may see its vent and spreading
crater, are merely the more striking features of a progress of
spectacles to the north entrance of Roosevelt Park; this is at the
junction of the South Fork of the San Joaquin River and Piute Creek. The
principal eastern gateway is Kearsarge Pass, on the crest of the Sierra
a few miles north of Mount Whitney. The trail ascends from Independence,
where one also may comfortably outfit.

These four are, at this writing, the principal entrance gates, each
opening from points at which parties may be sure of securing horses,
equipment, and guides. But several other trails enter from the east,
south, southwest, and west sides. All of these in time will become, with
development, well travelled trails into the heart of the great
wilderness.

IV

Any description of the glories of the John Muir Trail from its entrance
into the park to its climax upon the summit of Mount Whitney far passes
the limits of a chapter. In time it will inspire a literature.

Approaching from Yosemite through the canyon of the San Joaquin, the
traveller swings around the north side of Mount Goddard, crosses
gorgeous Muir Pass, and enters the fringe of cirques and lakes which
borders the western edge of Sierra's crest from end to end. Through this
he winds his way southward, skirting lakes, crossing snow-fields,
encircling templed cirques, plunging into canyons, climbing divides,
rounding gigantic peaks, surprising views of sublimity, mounting ever
higher until he stands upon the shoulders of Mount Whitney. Dismounting
here, he scrambles up the few hundred feet of stiff climb which places
him on the summit, from which he looks out north, west, and south over
the most diversified high mountain landscape in America, and eastward
over the Sierra foothills to Death Valley, lowest land in the United
States.

No thrilling Alpine feat is the ascent of our loftiest summit. But those
who want to measure human strength and skill in t