Page:Motoring Magazine and Motor Life October 1913.djvu/6

A rocky, ragged rim. Remnants of a collapsed cove.

man Lodge on Pelican Bay, the distance is 69 miles, and these miles were such as to make us remember them always. Leaving Klamath Hot Springs, one shortly comes upon a steady uphill pull for ten miles. This is known as Dorris grade. The road surface is adobe, and is frightfully rough and unpleasant for the occupants of the car. After Dorris Grade comes virgin forests to Keno, where the country opens up and spreads out in rolling hills of scattered and sometimes scant verdure, continuing like this to Klamath Falls. All the way from the Falls to Harriman Lodge is "first speed" work over a grade that the speedometer registered as 25 per cent, and which is very rough and winding.

We were now within striking distance of the lake. Our progress had been ever upward until we were close to 6,000 feet above sea level. A start was made early the fifth day for the rim of the lake, which is 1,000 feet above the surface of the lake itself. In fact, so far down is it, and the descent so tiresome and onerous that few people indeed have the courage and inclination for the task. Attracted by the prospect of good fishing, however, we determined to descend, and did so, although the effort involved can hardly be considered commensurate with the

Engine still running with gallons of water aboard.

number of fish that one is allowed to catch. The limit set by the government is five; and in less than five minutes each one of us had that many, for here is one body of water where fishing can be really and truly called "good." Also, it is a most inspiring sight to view the surrounding sides of the lake, which tower precipitously upward in ragged battlement of rock of volcanic nature. The coloring is really the most astonishing effect to be seen. Nature alone knows how to blend colors or contrast them, and the attempts of artists for centuries to emulate her feat as a colorist has been, and no doubt always will be, a stimulus if not an incentive to artistic accomplishment.

Snow was met up with 39 miles from the Ledge on Pelican Bay. But the rim of the lake was drawing closer, so we plowed through it for several miles. Occasionally steep pitches appeared, where we found it necessary to throw the limbs and foliage of trees beneath the wheels to obtain traction. Most of the road from Pelican Bay to Crater Lake was reasonably good—that is to say, it wasn't at all bad, at least so bad as one might expect in that kind of wilderness. The pull on the motor, however, is a steady one, and careful and discreet driving is requisite, since the water in the radiator boils very easily in the high altitude, and most of the way the curves and turns—narrow themselves as to clearance—are flanked by most appalling precipices and denuded declivities. At Camp Arant, we