e walker, or the horseback rider may have easy
access, are many and varied. In all there are not less than forty
peaks, each of which is well worth a trip, each presenting some
feature of its own that renders its personality worth cultivating.

In this and other chapters, I present my own experiences as
illustrative to give the general reader an idea of what may be
expected if he (or she) is induced to try one of the chief delights of
a sojourn in this scenic region.

WATSON'S PEAK AND LAKE

Leaving Tahoe Tavern, crossing the bridge to Tahoe City, the trail
leaves the main road on the left about a mile and a half further on,
passing the horse pasture on the right. Near Tahoe City is the Free
Camping Ground owned by the Transportation Company. This has a mile
frontage overlooking the Lake, and scores of people habitually avail
themselves of the privilege, bringing their own outfits with them, as,
at present, there are no arrangements made for renting tents and the
needed furnishings to outsiders.

The slope up which the trail now ascends with gradual rise is covered
with variegated chaparral, making a beautiful mountain carpet and
cushion _for the eye_. To the foot and body it is entangling
and annoying, placing an effectual barrier before any but the most
strenuous, athletic and determined of men.

Now the white firs, with their white bark, and the red-barked yellow
pines begin to appear. They accompany us all the rest of the way to
the peak and lake.

Soon we cross Burton Creek, a mere creek except during the
snow-melting or rain-falling time. It empties into Carnelian Bay.
Burton was one of the old-timers who owned the Island ranch near the
Lake shore, and who came to the Tahoe region at the time of the Squaw
Valley mining excitement. When the "bottom fell out" of that he did
a variety of things to earn a living, one of which was to cut bunch
grass from Lake Valley and bring it on mules over the pass that bears
his name, boat it across to Lakeside at the south end of the Lake, on
the Placerville and Virginia City stage-road, and there sell it to the
stage station. Hay thus gathered was worth in those days from $80 to
$100 per ton.

About two and a half miles from the Tavern we come to a wood road,
which is followed for half a mile. Years ago all these slopes were
denuded of their valuable timber, which was "chuted" down to the Lake
and then towed across to the sawmills at Glenbrook. The remnants
are now be