Chris Enss's Blog - Posts Tagged "yosemite"
Guardian of Yosemite
It’s a double giveaway! Enter now to win two books! Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen and the new book More Tales Behind the Tombstones: More Deaths and Burials of the Old West's Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen.
On December 27, 1902, the woman many historians referred to as the “Guardian of Yosemite National Park” passed away. According to the December 29, 1902, edition of the Fort Wayne Evening Sentinel, “Mrs. Fremont was a remarkable woman, to whom the territory west of the Mississippi River owes more than to any other person perhaps in the country. She helped bring about the preservation of more than twelve-hundred square miles of land in Northern California known as Yosemite. She wielded an influence second to but few statesmen of her generation.”
Jessie Anne Benton Fremont was born on May 31, 1824, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Her father, Thomas Hart Benton was an ambitious man who went from farming into politics and eventually became a United States senator from Missouri (and great-uncle of 20th century muralist Thomas Hart Benton). Jessie visited Washington, D.C., often as a child and met with such luminaries as President Andrew Jackson and Congressman Davy Crockett.
Jessie and her sister, Elizabeth, attended the capital’s leading girl’s boarding school, alongside the daughters of other political leaders and wealthy business owners. It was for that very reason Jessie disliked school. “There was no end to the conceit, the assumption, the class distinction there,” she wrote in her memoirs. In addition to the lines drawn between the children of various social standings, Jessie felt the studies were not challenging to her. “I was miserable in the narrow, elitist atmosphere. I learned nothing there,” she recalled in her journal. The best thing about attending school was the opportunity it afforded her to meet John Fremont, the man who would become her husband.
To learn more about Jessie Fremont and others like her who left their mark on the American West read Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen and More Tales Behind the Tombstones: More Deaths and Burials of the Old West's Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen.
On December 27, 1902, the woman many historians referred to as the “Guardian of Yosemite National Park” passed away. According to the December 29, 1902, edition of the Fort Wayne Evening Sentinel, “Mrs. Fremont was a remarkable woman, to whom the territory west of the Mississippi River owes more than to any other person perhaps in the country. She helped bring about the preservation of more than twelve-hundred square miles of land in Northern California known as Yosemite. She wielded an influence second to but few statesmen of her generation.”
Jessie Anne Benton Fremont was born on May 31, 1824, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Her father, Thomas Hart Benton was an ambitious man who went from farming into politics and eventually became a United States senator from Missouri (and great-uncle of 20th century muralist Thomas Hart Benton). Jessie visited Washington, D.C., often as a child and met with such luminaries as President Andrew Jackson and Congressman Davy Crockett.
Jessie and her sister, Elizabeth, attended the capital’s leading girl’s boarding school, alongside the daughters of other political leaders and wealthy business owners. It was for that very reason Jessie disliked school. “There was no end to the conceit, the assumption, the class distinction there,” she wrote in her memoirs. In addition to the lines drawn between the children of various social standings, Jessie felt the studies were not challenging to her. “I was miserable in the narrow, elitist atmosphere. I learned nothing there,” she recalled in her journal. The best thing about attending school was the opportunity it afforded her to meet John Fremont, the man who would become her husband.
To learn more about Jessie Fremont and others like her who left their mark on the American West read Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen and More Tales Behind the Tombstones: More Deaths and Burials of the Old West's Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen.
Clare Hodges - A Ranger in Yosemite
Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Twenty-seven-year-old Clare Hodges gently urged her chestnut roan through a thicket of trees and brush. The horse’s hooves barely made a sound as it walked over a thick carpet of pine needles and maple leaves. Bright streams of sunlight filtered through the branches of sequoias and spilled onto the ground with brilliant intensity. A light breeze escorted rider and her ride out of the forest and deposited them at the edge of a massive emerald meadow. Jagged lofty peaks waited on the other side of the grassy area, and above it all was a cloudless, deep blue sky, verging on the color of Indigo.1
Clare surveyed Yosemite’s Kings River Canyon carefully. A park ranger for all of two months, patrolling the spectacular setting was part of her job since signing on with the National Park Service in late spring 1918. An article in the June 1, 1919, edition of the Lima, Ohio, newspaper The Lima News, reported that Clare’s love for the mountains prompted her to pursue a profession as a park ranger and that “the beauty of the region made the work a pleasure.”2
One of the many duties Clare had as a park ranger was to routinely scrutinize the bold peak of Mount Hutchings (a 10,758 foot peak overlooking Kings River Canyon) for rock climbers in trouble and the floor below the summit for hikers who had lost their way. She never encountered anyone in such a dire predicament. As she studied the vast area “the spray from the fifty foot waterfall over the steep mountain would fall on my face,” Clare recalled later in her life. “The water made a beautiful fan of foam that spread out in a turbulent, eddying mass into the roaring river below.” Apart from the herds of mule deer, eagles, a few cougars, curious chipmunks, and wolves, Clare rarely encountered any living inhabitants in her daily routine. “My life as a ranger is not as wild and woolly as it sounds,” she told The Lima News.3
To learn more about Clare Hodges and the women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Twenty-seven-year-old Clare Hodges gently urged her chestnut roan through a thicket of trees and brush. The horse’s hooves barely made a sound as it walked over a thick carpet of pine needles and maple leaves. Bright streams of sunlight filtered through the branches of sequoias and spilled onto the ground with brilliant intensity. A light breeze escorted rider and her ride out of the forest and deposited them at the edge of a massive emerald meadow. Jagged lofty peaks waited on the other side of the grassy area, and above it all was a cloudless, deep blue sky, verging on the color of Indigo.1
Clare surveyed Yosemite’s Kings River Canyon carefully. A park ranger for all of two months, patrolling the spectacular setting was part of her job since signing on with the National Park Service in late spring 1918. An article in the June 1, 1919, edition of the Lima, Ohio, newspaper The Lima News, reported that Clare’s love for the mountains prompted her to pursue a profession as a park ranger and that “the beauty of the region made the work a pleasure.”2
One of the many duties Clare had as a park ranger was to routinely scrutinize the bold peak of Mount Hutchings (a 10,758 foot peak overlooking Kings River Canyon) for rock climbers in trouble and the floor below the summit for hikers who had lost their way. She never encountered anyone in such a dire predicament. As she studied the vast area “the spray from the fifty foot waterfall over the steep mountain would fall on my face,” Clare recalled later in her life. “The water made a beautiful fan of foam that spread out in a turbulent, eddying mass into the roaring river below.” Apart from the herds of mule deer, eagles, a few cougars, curious chipmunks, and wolves, Clare rarely encountered any living inhabitants in her daily routine. “My life as a ranger is not as wild and woolly as it sounds,” she told The Lima News.3
To learn more about Clare Hodges and the women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Isabella Logan Leidig - An Inn Keeper in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park. Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Nature writer and conservationist John Muir sat alone at a table in the Leidig Hotel in Yosemite, patiently waiting for the breakfast he ordered to be served. He was a tall, gangly, bearded man deeply focused on a stack of geological surveys in front of him. The hotel kitchen doors swung open and appetizing aroma filled the dining area. Unable to concentrate on his work, John breathed in a cacophony of seasonings and spices and licked his lips.1
Isabella Logan Leidig proceeded out of the kitchen carrying a tray of delicious dishes and set them on John’s table. A trail of flavorful smells followed after the carefully prepared food. Isabella placed the meal on the table as John stuffed a cloth napkin in the front part of his shirt and readied his knife and fork. He was served venison, ham and eggs, catfish, and the house specialty, mutton. Using a recipe she acquired from her native home in Scotland, Isabella’s mutton was made with pearl barley, carrots, thyme, and a touch of cider. Fresh soda scones (flat bread cooked in a skillet) accompanied the lamb. John washed the meal down with a tall glass of milk and finished it off with a bowl of strawberry ice cream. After happily paying his tab the satisfied customer left the establishment with a promise that he would be back again and soon.2
Isabella’s superb culinary and hospitality skills combined with the location of the hotel made the business an ideal spot for visitors to Yosemite Valley to stay in 1869.3 According to the July 20, 1871 edition of the Mariposa Weekly Gazette, four of the five prominent hotels in Yosemite boasted “culinary artists who bent over hot wood ranges and brought forth memorable meals.” “Of the four hotel keeper’s wives whose cooking and housekeeping efforts, in a large measure, made their husband’s enterprise successful, Isabella Leidig was one.”4
Isabella was known by friends and guests who patronized the Leidig Hotel as a stunning, dark-eyed woman. In 1863 she met George Frederick Leidig, a twenty-five-year-old mine hoist operator living in Princeton, California. The two quickly fell in love and eloped to San Francisco. Popular Gold Rush singer and actress Lotta Crabtree serenaded Isabella and George at the church where they were wed.5
George was a short, stout, ambitious German who wanted more for himself and his wife than life in the mining industry. When he was offered the chance to work in the Yosemite Valley on a section of land homesteaded by his friend John C. Lamon he jumped at the chance. On July 1, 1864, President Abraham Lincoln signed a bill that would preserve Yosemite and the Big Tree Grove. Lamon, as well as four other men at various locations throughout the valley, was asked to vacate the property but they refused. Lamon argued that since he had resided on the land since 1856 it was legally his. Until the matter could be settled in court, he wanted to farm and cultivate the one-hundred-sixty acres of land he had claimed as his own and add cottages and a hotel to the scenic spot he called home. He wanted George to aid him in his effort, to develop the land, build and manage the hotel.6
To learn more about Isabella Logan Leidig and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park. Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Nature writer and conservationist John Muir sat alone at a table in the Leidig Hotel in Yosemite, patiently waiting for the breakfast he ordered to be served. He was a tall, gangly, bearded man deeply focused on a stack of geological surveys in front of him. The hotel kitchen doors swung open and appetizing aroma filled the dining area. Unable to concentrate on his work, John breathed in a cacophony of seasonings and spices and licked his lips.1
Isabella Logan Leidig proceeded out of the kitchen carrying a tray of delicious dishes and set them on John’s table. A trail of flavorful smells followed after the carefully prepared food. Isabella placed the meal on the table as John stuffed a cloth napkin in the front part of his shirt and readied his knife and fork. He was served venison, ham and eggs, catfish, and the house specialty, mutton. Using a recipe she acquired from her native home in Scotland, Isabella’s mutton was made with pearl barley, carrots, thyme, and a touch of cider. Fresh soda scones (flat bread cooked in a skillet) accompanied the lamb. John washed the meal down with a tall glass of milk and finished it off with a bowl of strawberry ice cream. After happily paying his tab the satisfied customer left the establishment with a promise that he would be back again and soon.2
Isabella’s superb culinary and hospitality skills combined with the location of the hotel made the business an ideal spot for visitors to Yosemite Valley to stay in 1869.3 According to the July 20, 1871 edition of the Mariposa Weekly Gazette, four of the five prominent hotels in Yosemite boasted “culinary artists who bent over hot wood ranges and brought forth memorable meals.” “Of the four hotel keeper’s wives whose cooking and housekeeping efforts, in a large measure, made their husband’s enterprise successful, Isabella Leidig was one.”4
Isabella was known by friends and guests who patronized the Leidig Hotel as a stunning, dark-eyed woman. In 1863 she met George Frederick Leidig, a twenty-five-year-old mine hoist operator living in Princeton, California. The two quickly fell in love and eloped to San Francisco. Popular Gold Rush singer and actress Lotta Crabtree serenaded Isabella and George at the church where they were wed.5
George was a short, stout, ambitious German who wanted more for himself and his wife than life in the mining industry. When he was offered the chance to work in the Yosemite Valley on a section of land homesteaded by his friend John C. Lamon he jumped at the chance. On July 1, 1864, President Abraham Lincoln signed a bill that would preserve Yosemite and the Big Tree Grove. Lamon, as well as four other men at various locations throughout the valley, was asked to vacate the property but they refused. Lamon argued that since he had resided on the land since 1856 it was legally his. Until the matter could be settled in court, he wanted to farm and cultivate the one-hundred-sixty acres of land he had claimed as his own and add cottages and a hotel to the scenic spot he called home. He wanted George to aid him in his effort, to develop the land, build and manage the hotel.6
To learn more about Isabella Logan Leidig and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
Elizabeth Pershing: A Journalist in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park. Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Twenty-four-year-old Lizzie K. Pershing stood at the base of Yosemite’s South Dome staring up at the mountain. A cold, stiff wind traveled across the rock with such force she struggled to keep her balance. She pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders and rubbed her gloved hand over the smooth stone. It was October 8, 1876, and Lizzie was still pondering the climb up the precipice, which was considered at the time to be the largest and highest in the world.1
Standing at the fork of the upper valley South Dome is a solid, rocky loaf six thousand feet above the ground. To Lizzie it appeared as though a powerful hand cut away the eastern half of the mountain, leaving a sheer cliff over a mile in height.
According to the July 24, 1860, edition of the Milwaukee, Wisconsin, newspaper The Daily Sentinel, the first person to climb South Dome was a Scottish sailor and blacksmith named George Anderson, and he did so in 1859. George was a skilled outdoorsman who later built a house near the saddle of the dome. During the summer of 1876 he began the difficult task of constructing a staircase of a thousand steps up the dome. He had hoped to have an elevator running by the start of fall in 1876 as well as a steam car that would carry passengers up the almost perpendicular walls. His dream was never realized.2
Since George first tackled the ascent to the top of South Dome, Lizzie and other visitors to the spot had gazed in wonder at the spikes driven into the rock by hardy spirits who had repeatedly endeavored to scale it. The shreds of rope dangling in the wind told the story of their failure. Sheep had been spotted browsing on the hitherto-inaccessible peak. How they got there was a mystery. “They had plenty of grass to eat,” Lizzie contemplated in her memoirs, “but no water, only the dew that fell on the dome at night.”3
Lizzie made the South Dome climb using gear comprised of ropes, harnesses, steal hooks, sturdy boots, and gloves. She carefully studied the method George used to take on the climb. She also read notes written by naturalist John Muir about George’s trek. Prior to George’s climb most Yosemite explorers such as Josiah Whitney insisted the mountain would “never be trod by human foot.”4
“[George] Anderson began with Conway’s old rope,” John, a Yosemite Valley resident who had attempted to climb South Dome but was forced to abandon the effort when it became too hard and dangerous, wrote in his book the Treasures of Yosemite, “which had been left in place, and resolutely drilled his way to the top, inserting eye-bolts five or six feet apart, and fastening his rope fast to each in succession, resting his feet on the last bolt while he drilled a hole for the next above. Occasionally, some irregularity in the curve, or slight foothold, would enable him to climb a few feet without the rope, which he would pass and begin drilling again….”5
To learn more about Elizabeth Pershing and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park. Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Twenty-four-year-old Lizzie K. Pershing stood at the base of Yosemite’s South Dome staring up at the mountain. A cold, stiff wind traveled across the rock with such force she struggled to keep her balance. She pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders and rubbed her gloved hand over the smooth stone. It was October 8, 1876, and Lizzie was still pondering the climb up the precipice, which was considered at the time to be the largest and highest in the world.1
Standing at the fork of the upper valley South Dome is a solid, rocky loaf six thousand feet above the ground. To Lizzie it appeared as though a powerful hand cut away the eastern half of the mountain, leaving a sheer cliff over a mile in height.
According to the July 24, 1860, edition of the Milwaukee, Wisconsin, newspaper The Daily Sentinel, the first person to climb South Dome was a Scottish sailor and blacksmith named George Anderson, and he did so in 1859. George was a skilled outdoorsman who later built a house near the saddle of the dome. During the summer of 1876 he began the difficult task of constructing a staircase of a thousand steps up the dome. He had hoped to have an elevator running by the start of fall in 1876 as well as a steam car that would carry passengers up the almost perpendicular walls. His dream was never realized.2
Since George first tackled the ascent to the top of South Dome, Lizzie and other visitors to the spot had gazed in wonder at the spikes driven into the rock by hardy spirits who had repeatedly endeavored to scale it. The shreds of rope dangling in the wind told the story of their failure. Sheep had been spotted browsing on the hitherto-inaccessible peak. How they got there was a mystery. “They had plenty of grass to eat,” Lizzie contemplated in her memoirs, “but no water, only the dew that fell on the dome at night.”3
Lizzie made the South Dome climb using gear comprised of ropes, harnesses, steal hooks, sturdy boots, and gloves. She carefully studied the method George used to take on the climb. She also read notes written by naturalist John Muir about George’s trek. Prior to George’s climb most Yosemite explorers such as Josiah Whitney insisted the mountain would “never be trod by human foot.”4
“[George] Anderson began with Conway’s old rope,” John, a Yosemite Valley resident who had attempted to climb South Dome but was forced to abandon the effort when it became too hard and dangerous, wrote in his book the Treasures of Yosemite, “which had been left in place, and resolutely drilled his way to the top, inserting eye-bolts five or six feet apart, and fastening his rope fast to each in succession, resting his feet on the last bolt while he drilled a hole for the next above. Occasionally, some irregularity in the curve, or slight foothold, would enable him to climb a few feet without the rope, which he would pass and begin drilling again….”5
To learn more about Elizabeth Pershing and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
A Debutant in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Yosemite’s Half Dome, the hooded monk in stone, brooding over its eastern end, rises thousands of feet from the ground below, so high that its summit is wreathed in clouds. In October 1876, three men scaled the mountain face slowly working their way to the top. All were dressed in woolen caps and trousers, thick coats and gloves, and leather boots. Scotsman George Anderson, a former sailor and carpenter working in Yosemite Valley as a blacksmith and surveyor, led the way up the massive rock. The confident manner in which he ascended the mountain suggested he was a seasoned climber. Author Julius Birge followed closely behind George, his face a mask of strained concentration and worry that confirmed he was a novice at climbing.
Occasional gusts of wind tried to knock the men off balance, but they persevered, finding finger hold after finger hold, and finally pulling themselves onto a ledge at the top. The second adventure seeker with the party proceeded behind him trying to regain his strength.1
Resting on the summit, the men stared out over the valley admiring the scenic grandeur. Yosemite Valley had an average width of half a mile. The great walls of the canyons all around them were seamed by water-worn fissures, down which rivers leapt, thundered, churned, and sang with all possible variations and expressions of sound.2
In his memoirs entitled Awakening in the Desert published in 1912, Julius described the process of arriving at the top of Half Dome. “Anderson had spent the summer drilling holes into the granite face of the upper cliff,” he wrote. “Driving in it iron pins with ropes attached. Two or three were tempted to scale with the aid of these ropes the heights which are nearly a perpendicular mile. I, too, was inclined to make the venture. It was a dizzy but inspiring ascent.”3
After more than an hour at Half Dome’s Summit, catching his breath and preparing himself for the desert, Julius found an unusual item on the rocks. “I discovered on its barren surface a lady’s bracelet,” he recalled in his book. “On showing it to Anderson, he said: You are the third party who has made this ascent. I pulled up a young woman recently but she never mentioned any loss except for nausea. Returning to Merced, I observed a vigorous, young woman wearing a bracelet similar to the one I found. The lady proved to be Miss Sally Dutcher of San Francisco, who admitted to the loss and thankfully accepted the missing ornament. A letter to me from Galen Clark (Yosemite resident, businessman, and explorer) stated that he assisted in Miss Dutcher’s ascent, Anderson preceding with a rope around his waist connecting with Miss Dutcher; also that she was certainly the first and possibly the last woman who made the ascent.”4
Although the exact date is not known, Sarah Louisa Dutcher was the first woman to make her way to the top of Half Dome. Historians believe the intrepid young woman accomplished the feat in 1875.5
According to James Hutchings, a British journalist who traveled to Yosemite and wrote about his experiences, “Miss S.L. Dutcher was the first lady that ever stood upon the mountain. George Anderson was one of the first human beings to ascend Half Dome and his efforts made it possible for others to follow.” “In preparation for the climb,” James wrote in his memoirs, “Anderson’s next efforts were directed toward placing and securely fastening a good, soft rope to the eye-bolts, so others could climb up and enjoy the inimitable view, and one that has not its counterpart on earth. Four English gentlemen, then sojourning in the valley and learning of Mr. Anderson’s feat, were induced to duplicate his intrepid example. A day or two afterwards, Sarah Dutcher, with the courage of a heroine, accomplished it.”6
To learn more about Sally Dutcher and Lady Jane Franklin and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
Yosemite’s Half Dome, the hooded monk in stone, brooding over its eastern end, rises thousands of feet from the ground below, so high that its summit is wreathed in clouds. In October 1876, three men scaled the mountain face slowly working their way to the top. All were dressed in woolen caps and trousers, thick coats and gloves, and leather boots. Scotsman George Anderson, a former sailor and carpenter working in Yosemite Valley as a blacksmith and surveyor, led the way up the massive rock. The confident manner in which he ascended the mountain suggested he was a seasoned climber. Author Julius Birge followed closely behind George, his face a mask of strained concentration and worry that confirmed he was a novice at climbing.
Occasional gusts of wind tried to knock the men off balance, but they persevered, finding finger hold after finger hold, and finally pulling themselves onto a ledge at the top. The second adventure seeker with the party proceeded behind him trying to regain his strength.1
Resting on the summit, the men stared out over the valley admiring the scenic grandeur. Yosemite Valley had an average width of half a mile. The great walls of the canyons all around them were seamed by water-worn fissures, down which rivers leapt, thundered, churned, and sang with all possible variations and expressions of sound.2
In his memoirs entitled Awakening in the Desert published in 1912, Julius described the process of arriving at the top of Half Dome. “Anderson had spent the summer drilling holes into the granite face of the upper cliff,” he wrote. “Driving in it iron pins with ropes attached. Two or three were tempted to scale with the aid of these ropes the heights which are nearly a perpendicular mile. I, too, was inclined to make the venture. It was a dizzy but inspiring ascent.”3
After more than an hour at Half Dome’s Summit, catching his breath and preparing himself for the desert, Julius found an unusual item on the rocks. “I discovered on its barren surface a lady’s bracelet,” he recalled in his book. “On showing it to Anderson, he said: You are the third party who has made this ascent. I pulled up a young woman recently but she never mentioned any loss except for nausea. Returning to Merced, I observed a vigorous, young woman wearing a bracelet similar to the one I found. The lady proved to be Miss Sally Dutcher of San Francisco, who admitted to the loss and thankfully accepted the missing ornament. A letter to me from Galen Clark (Yosemite resident, businessman, and explorer) stated that he assisted in Miss Dutcher’s ascent, Anderson preceding with a rope around his waist connecting with Miss Dutcher; also that she was certainly the first and possibly the last woman who made the ascent.”4
Although the exact date is not known, Sarah Louisa Dutcher was the first woman to make her way to the top of Half Dome. Historians believe the intrepid young woman accomplished the feat in 1875.5
According to James Hutchings, a British journalist who traveled to Yosemite and wrote about his experiences, “Miss S.L. Dutcher was the first lady that ever stood upon the mountain. George Anderson was one of the first human beings to ascend Half Dome and his efforts made it possible for others to follow.” “In preparation for the climb,” James wrote in his memoirs, “Anderson’s next efforts were directed toward placing and securely fastening a good, soft rope to the eye-bolts, so others could climb up and enjoy the inimitable view, and one that has not its counterpart on earth. Four English gentlemen, then sojourning in the valley and learning of Mr. Anderson’s feat, were induced to duplicate his intrepid example. A day or two afterwards, Sarah Dutcher, with the courage of a heroine, accomplished it.”6
To learn more about Sally Dutcher and Lady Jane Franklin and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Louisa Strentzel Muir: A Concort in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The light from a spectacular full moon spilled into the windows of the parlor at the Strentzel Ranch near the town of Martinez in the Alhambra Valley in California. The room was filled to overflowing with well-dressed guests, owners and operators of farms in the area and their wives and family. All eyes were on Louisa “Louie” Wanda Strentzel, a petite, thirty-one-year-old woman playing a piano. No one spoke as the melancholy tune she offered filled the air. Louie played well and had a voice to match the exceptional talent demonstrated. Midway through the mesmerizing performance, forty-year- old John Muir, an explorer and naturalist from Wisconsin, quietly entered the home and stood in the shadow of the door leading into the parlor. With the exception of a quiet greeting from Strentzel family friend Mrs. Jeanne Carr, his presence went largely unnoticed.1
John’s eyes were transfixed on Louie. She had high cheek bones, a firm mouth, and clear, gray eyes. He gazed at her with an unfathomable look of admiration and longing. At the conclusion of her song the gathering enthusiastically applauded. John followed suit as he ventured into the light. It was June 1, 1878.2
This was not the first time he had seen Louie. The two had been introduced in 1874 in Oakland at a meeting of homesteaders and farmers organized by her father, horticulturist Dr. John Strentzel. John and Louie had many friends in common, and many agreed they would make the perfect couple. Jeanne Carr had tried in vain to arrange a date between John and Louie, but John always had travel plans that conflicted with a rendezvous. In April 1875 Jeanne sent Louie a message letting her known that the “chronic wanderer,” as John was often referred to, could not be distracted from an expedition to the Cascade Range in Siskiyou County, California. “You see how I am snubbed in trying to get John Muir to accompany me to your house this week,” Jeanne wrote Louie. “Mount Shasta was in opposition and easily worth the choice.” Jeanne would not be defeated, however. She was convinced the two had so much in common their paths were bound to pass eventually and forever.3
Louie Strentzel was born in Texas in 1847. She was an only child and according to Louie and John’s daughter, Helen, “she was a devoted daughter and a great comfort to her parents in their later years.” Her father, a Polish physician who fled to American in 1840 to escape being drafted into the Russian Army, settled in the southwest near the city now known as Dallas. In 1849, he left Texas for California. Strentzel moved his wife and child to the Alhambra Valley north of Oakland. He purchased several hundred acres of land and began educating himself on how to grow various crops. According to the May 5, 1974, edition of the Joplin, Missouri, newspaper the Joplin Grove, the main product at the Strentzel farm was peaches.4
Louie inherited her father’s love of plants and flowers. In addition to her affection for growing things, she was interested in astronomy, poetry, and music. She was extremely bright and excelled at her studies at Miss Adkins’ Young Ladies Seminary in Benicia. Louie became a music scholar while in attendance at the seminary, and her teachers boasted that she had a bright future ahead of her as a concert pianist if she so chose. Once she graduated in 1864 she decided to return home to the ranch in Martinez and focus on fruit ranching and hybridizing.5
The stunning and talented Louie was not only the pride of the family, but according to the January 5, 1975, edition of the Long Beach, California, newspaper the Independent Press Telegram, “she was known widely for the grace with which she dispensed the generous hospitality of the Strentzel household.”6
John Muir was a frequent guest at the Strentzel homestead. He enjoyed conversing with Dr. Strentzel about his trek from Texas to California. Strentzel had been the medical advisor for a wagon train of pioneers called the Clarkesville train. He kept a journal of his travels and happily shared the experience with John. The Spanish name for the Alhambra Valley where the Strentzel’s settled was “Canada de la Hombre.” The English translation being Valley of Hunger.
To learn more about Louisa Strentzel Muir
and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park.
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The light from a spectacular full moon spilled into the windows of the parlor at the Strentzel Ranch near the town of Martinez in the Alhambra Valley in California. The room was filled to overflowing with well-dressed guests, owners and operators of farms in the area and their wives and family. All eyes were on Louisa “Louie” Wanda Strentzel, a petite, thirty-one-year-old woman playing a piano. No one spoke as the melancholy tune she offered filled the air. Louie played well and had a voice to match the exceptional talent demonstrated. Midway through the mesmerizing performance, forty-year- old John Muir, an explorer and naturalist from Wisconsin, quietly entered the home and stood in the shadow of the door leading into the parlor. With the exception of a quiet greeting from Strentzel family friend Mrs. Jeanne Carr, his presence went largely unnoticed.1
John’s eyes were transfixed on Louie. She had high cheek bones, a firm mouth, and clear, gray eyes. He gazed at her with an unfathomable look of admiration and longing. At the conclusion of her song the gathering enthusiastically applauded. John followed suit as he ventured into the light. It was June 1, 1878.2
This was not the first time he had seen Louie. The two had been introduced in 1874 in Oakland at a meeting of homesteaders and farmers organized by her father, horticulturist Dr. John Strentzel. John and Louie had many friends in common, and many agreed they would make the perfect couple. Jeanne Carr had tried in vain to arrange a date between John and Louie, but John always had travel plans that conflicted with a rendezvous. In April 1875 Jeanne sent Louie a message letting her known that the “chronic wanderer,” as John was often referred to, could not be distracted from an expedition to the Cascade Range in Siskiyou County, California. “You see how I am snubbed in trying to get John Muir to accompany me to your house this week,” Jeanne wrote Louie. “Mount Shasta was in opposition and easily worth the choice.” Jeanne would not be defeated, however. She was convinced the two had so much in common their paths were bound to pass eventually and forever.3
Louie Strentzel was born in Texas in 1847. She was an only child and according to Louie and John’s daughter, Helen, “she was a devoted daughter and a great comfort to her parents in their later years.” Her father, a Polish physician who fled to American in 1840 to escape being drafted into the Russian Army, settled in the southwest near the city now known as Dallas. In 1849, he left Texas for California. Strentzel moved his wife and child to the Alhambra Valley north of Oakland. He purchased several hundred acres of land and began educating himself on how to grow various crops. According to the May 5, 1974, edition of the Joplin, Missouri, newspaper the Joplin Grove, the main product at the Strentzel farm was peaches.4
Louie inherited her father’s love of plants and flowers. In addition to her affection for growing things, she was interested in astronomy, poetry, and music. She was extremely bright and excelled at her studies at Miss Adkins’ Young Ladies Seminary in Benicia. Louie became a music scholar while in attendance at the seminary, and her teachers boasted that she had a bright future ahead of her as a concert pianist if she so chose. Once she graduated in 1864 she decided to return home to the ranch in Martinez and focus on fruit ranching and hybridizing.5
The stunning and talented Louie was not only the pride of the family, but according to the January 5, 1975, edition of the Long Beach, California, newspaper the Independent Press Telegram, “she was known widely for the grace with which she dispensed the generous hospitality of the Strentzel household.”6
John Muir was a frequent guest at the Strentzel homestead. He enjoyed conversing with Dr. Strentzel about his trek from Texas to California. Strentzel had been the medical advisor for a wagon train of pioneers called the Clarkesville train. He kept a journal of his travels and happily shared the experience with John. The Spanish name for the Alhambra Valley where the Strentzel’s settled was “Canada de la Hombre.” The English translation being Valley of Hunger.
To learn more about Louisa Strentzel Muir
and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park.
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
A Consort in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The light from a spectacular full moon spilled into the windows of the parlor at the Strentzel Ranch near the town of Martinez in the Alhambra Valley in California. The room was filled to overflowing with well-dressed guests, owners and operators of farms in the area and their wives and family. All eyes were on Louisa “Louie” Wanda Strentzel, a petite, thirty-one-year-old woman playing a piano. No one spoke as the melancholy tune she offered filled the air. Louie played well and had a voice to match the exceptional talent demonstrated. Midway through the mesmerizing performance, forty-year- old John Muir, an explorer and naturalist from Wisconsin, quietly entered the home and stood in the shadow of the door leading into the parlor. With the exception of a quiet greeting from Strentzel family friend Mrs. Jeanne Carr, his presence went largely unnoticed.1
John’s eyes were transfixed on Louie. She had high cheek bones, a firm mouth, and clear, gray eyes. He gazed at her with an unfathomable look of admiration and longing. At the conclusion of her song the gathering enthusiastically applauded. John followed suit as he ventured into the light. It was June 1, 1878.2
This was not the first time he had seen Louie. The two had been introduced in 1874 in Oakland at a meeting of homesteaders and farmers organized by her father, horticulturist Dr. John Strentzel. John and Louie had many friends in common, and many agreed they would make the perfect couple. Jeanne Carr had tried in vain to arrange a date between John and Louie, but John always had travel plans that conflicted with a rendezvous. In April 1875 Jeanne sent Louie a message letting her known that the “chronic wanderer,” as John was often referred to, could not be distracted from an expedition to the Cascade Range in Siskiyou County, California. “You see how I am snubbed in trying to get John Muir to accompany me to your house this week,” Jeanne wrote Louie. “Mount Shasta was in opposition and easily worth the choice.” Jeanne would not be defeated, however. She was convinced the two had so much in common their paths were bound to pass eventually and forever.3
To learn more about Florence Louisa Strentzel Muir
and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The light from a spectacular full moon spilled into the windows of the parlor at the Strentzel Ranch near the town of Martinez in the Alhambra Valley in California. The room was filled to overflowing with well-dressed guests, owners and operators of farms in the area and their wives and family. All eyes were on Louisa “Louie” Wanda Strentzel, a petite, thirty-one-year-old woman playing a piano. No one spoke as the melancholy tune she offered filled the air. Louie played well and had a voice to match the exceptional talent demonstrated. Midway through the mesmerizing performance, forty-year- old John Muir, an explorer and naturalist from Wisconsin, quietly entered the home and stood in the shadow of the door leading into the parlor. With the exception of a quiet greeting from Strentzel family friend Mrs. Jeanne Carr, his presence went largely unnoticed.1
John’s eyes were transfixed on Louie. She had high cheek bones, a firm mouth, and clear, gray eyes. He gazed at her with an unfathomable look of admiration and longing. At the conclusion of her song the gathering enthusiastically applauded. John followed suit as he ventured into the light. It was June 1, 1878.2
This was not the first time he had seen Louie. The two had been introduced in 1874 in Oakland at a meeting of homesteaders and farmers organized by her father, horticulturist Dr. John Strentzel. John and Louie had many friends in common, and many agreed they would make the perfect couple. Jeanne Carr had tried in vain to arrange a date between John and Louie, but John always had travel plans that conflicted with a rendezvous. In April 1875 Jeanne sent Louie a message letting her known that the “chronic wanderer,” as John was often referred to, could not be distracted from an expedition to the Cascade Range in Siskiyou County, California. “You see how I am snubbed in trying to get John Muir to accompany me to your house this week,” Jeanne wrote Louie. “Mount Shasta was in opposition and easily worth the choice.” Jeanne would not be defeated, however. She was convinced the two had so much in common their paths were bound to pass eventually and forever.3
To learn more about Florence Louisa Strentzel Muir
and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
Visit www.chrisenss.com for more information.
A Bride in Yosemite
Enter now for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
At the turn of the century Yosemite Valley, in particular the area known as Bridalveil Falls, was referred to as the “show place of the Sierras.” Artists from every medium thought the falls cascading down more than six hundred feet of rock wall into the valley to be so beautiful that it was considered selfish for anyone who looked on the splendor of the setting not to share the pleasure with others using whatever talent they were given. Among the many famous guests who visited the most prominent waterfall in the Yosemite Valley were General Ulysses S. Grant, Horace Greely, General William T. Sherman, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Naturalist John Muir entreated the public to visit the spot often. According to his memoirs he challenged park patrons to “climb the mountains and get their good tidings.” He assured them that “nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine into trees.”1
It’s not unusual that couples chose the stunning Bridal Veil Falls as the backdrop for their nuptials. The first bride to plan her wedding at the spot was a prominent young woman from Los Angeles. According to the August 6, 1901, edition of the newspaper The Boston Globe, the ceremony was “so incredible it defied description and started a trend in civil unions held at the majestic National Park.” The momentous occasion highlighted in The Boston Globe article was duplicated by hundreds of betrothed couples in the early 1900s. “With a mighty altar and the generous diapason of an incomparable waterfall furnishing the melody of a bridal march Miss Annie Ripley of Los Angeles and Henry C. Best of San Francisco were wed in the valley a few days ago,” The Boston Globe article continued. “It was the first marriage ceremony performed in Yosemite, and for solemnity and picturesqueness it was surpassingly notable.”2
One hundred guests of the bride and groom were present and walked with them over trails and under trees to the place where the water crashed upon the rocks beneath the towering cliffs on either side of Bridalveil. “The day was a superb one and the scene one of matchless beauty,” The Boston Globe article continued3
“Miss Ripley was prettily attired in a mountain costumes and the man who was to be made her husband had set aside the customary garments and wore camping attire as well. Their look was fitting for the setting.
To learn more about Annie Ripley, Elizabeth Fry, and Sara Haight and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
At the turn of the century Yosemite Valley, in particular the area known as Bridalveil Falls, was referred to as the “show place of the Sierras.” Artists from every medium thought the falls cascading down more than six hundred feet of rock wall into the valley to be so beautiful that it was considered selfish for anyone who looked on the splendor of the setting not to share the pleasure with others using whatever talent they were given. Among the many famous guests who visited the most prominent waterfall in the Yosemite Valley were General Ulysses S. Grant, Horace Greely, General William T. Sherman, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Naturalist John Muir entreated the public to visit the spot often. According to his memoirs he challenged park patrons to “climb the mountains and get their good tidings.” He assured them that “nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine into trees.”1
It’s not unusual that couples chose the stunning Bridal Veil Falls as the backdrop for their nuptials. The first bride to plan her wedding at the spot was a prominent young woman from Los Angeles. According to the August 6, 1901, edition of the newspaper The Boston Globe, the ceremony was “so incredible it defied description and started a trend in civil unions held at the majestic National Park.” The momentous occasion highlighted in The Boston Globe article was duplicated by hundreds of betrothed couples in the early 1900s. “With a mighty altar and the generous diapason of an incomparable waterfall furnishing the melody of a bridal march Miss Annie Ripley of Los Angeles and Henry C. Best of San Francisco were wed in the valley a few days ago,” The Boston Globe article continued. “It was the first marriage ceremony performed in Yosemite, and for solemnity and picturesqueness it was surpassingly notable.”2
One hundred guests of the bride and groom were present and walked with them over trails and under trees to the place where the water crashed upon the rocks beneath the towering cliffs on either side of Bridalveil. “The day was a superb one and the scene one of matchless beauty,” The Boston Globe article continued3
“Miss Ripley was prettily attired in a mountain costumes and the man who was to be made her husband had set aside the customary garments and wore camping attire as well. Their look was fitting for the setting.
To learn more about Annie Ripley, Elizabeth Fry, and Sara Haight and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park
An Indian in Yosemite
Last chance to enter for a chance to win the book
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The dark clouds that hovered over a crude trail in Yosemite Valley in May 1899 broke loose with a torrent of rain that nearly knocked Paiute Indian Maggie “Ta-bu-ce” Howard and her fourteen-year-old niece, May Tom, off the rocky path where they walked. Mighty claps of thunder echoed around the majestic granite walls of Yosemite Falls, and huge boulders shook from the sound. A powerful wind charged down the mountain and tossed leaves, twigs, and brush into the air. Maggie and May Tom hurried to an outcropping of craggy rocks and huddled underneath them. Lightning flashed violently, and the wind raged on without ceasing. It was as if the sky just beyond their crude shelter was in an angry pursuit to destroy them.1
As soon as the rain eased a bit, the pair raced toward a grove of trees, and it was there they made camp. The following morning they had planned to travel to their home in Indian Village along the Merced River. In spite of the wind and continual rain, Maggie and May Tom eventually managed to fall asleep. Their uneasy slumber was interrupted sometime in the night by a massive pine tree that blew over on them. May Tom was killed instantly. Maggie’s collar bone was broken; the bones in her right leg were fractured, and her ankles and feet were severely injured.2
When the two didn’t arrive home the evening of the storm worried relatives had gone in search of Maggie and her niece. They were heartbroken by what they saw. May Tom’s mother and brothers took her body back to the valley where they lived, and Maggie was transported to a doctor. He set her bones in casts that extended over most of her frame. She was unable to move until the bones mended in late August. Maggie couldn’t recall anything after the tree hit her, but the lifetime limp she acquired as a result of her injury served as a reminder of the events leading up to the tragedy.3
Naturalist and explorer John Muir referred to the storms that occurred at Yosemite as “not easily borne.” Maggie was in complete agreement. According to the June 3, 1910, edition of the Hayward, California, newspaper the Hayward Daily Review, it is estimated that Maggie “Ta-bu-ce” Howard was born in 1867 at Mono Lake thirteen miles east of Yosemite Valley. She was a Paiute Indian and her name Ta-bu-ce meant “grass nut” or “sweet-root.” Her father, Joaquin Sam or Kosana as his tribe called him, was a medicine man who made frequent trips to Yosemite to gather acorns and pinon nuts. He would bring them home to Maggie’s mother who would grind them into meat to use to make bread. Kosana passed away at the age of eighty while en route home from Yosemite Valley. A snowstorm overtook the group of Indians he was traveling with, and they were unable to make it over the Sierra Mountains before Kosana died from exposure. He was buried near what is now the Yosemite Museum.4
To learn more about Maggie Howard and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park.
Visit www.chrisenss.com
High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park Celebrate the 126th anniversary of Yosemite!
The dark clouds that hovered over a crude trail in Yosemite Valley in May 1899 broke loose with a torrent of rain that nearly knocked Paiute Indian Maggie “Ta-bu-ce” Howard and her fourteen-year-old niece, May Tom, off the rocky path where they walked. Mighty claps of thunder echoed around the majestic granite walls of Yosemite Falls, and huge boulders shook from the sound. A powerful wind charged down the mountain and tossed leaves, twigs, and brush into the air. Maggie and May Tom hurried to an outcropping of craggy rocks and huddled underneath them. Lightning flashed violently, and the wind raged on without ceasing. It was as if the sky just beyond their crude shelter was in an angry pursuit to destroy them.1
As soon as the rain eased a bit, the pair raced toward a grove of trees, and it was there they made camp. The following morning they had planned to travel to their home in Indian Village along the Merced River. In spite of the wind and continual rain, Maggie and May Tom eventually managed to fall asleep. Their uneasy slumber was interrupted sometime in the night by a massive pine tree that blew over on them. May Tom was killed instantly. Maggie’s collar bone was broken; the bones in her right leg were fractured, and her ankles and feet were severely injured.2
When the two didn’t arrive home the evening of the storm worried relatives had gone in search of Maggie and her niece. They were heartbroken by what they saw. May Tom’s mother and brothers took her body back to the valley where they lived, and Maggie was transported to a doctor. He set her bones in casts that extended over most of her frame. She was unable to move until the bones mended in late August. Maggie couldn’t recall anything after the tree hit her, but the lifetime limp she acquired as a result of her injury served as a reminder of the events leading up to the tragedy.3
Naturalist and explorer John Muir referred to the storms that occurred at Yosemite as “not easily borne.” Maggie was in complete agreement. According to the June 3, 1910, edition of the Hayward, California, newspaper the Hayward Daily Review, it is estimated that Maggie “Ta-bu-ce” Howard was born in 1867 at Mono Lake thirteen miles east of Yosemite Valley. She was a Paiute Indian and her name Ta-bu-ce meant “grass nut” or “sweet-root.” Her father, Joaquin Sam or Kosana as his tribe called him, was a medicine man who made frequent trips to Yosemite to gather acorns and pinon nuts. He would bring them home to Maggie’s mother who would grind them into meat to use to make bread. Kosana passed away at the age of eighty while en route home from Yosemite Valley. A snowstorm overtook the group of Indians he was traveling with, and they were unable to make it over the Sierra Mountains before Kosana died from exposure. He was buried near what is now the Yosemite Museum.4
To learn more about Maggie Howard and the other women who helped make Yosemite a National Park read High Country Women: Pioneers of Yosemite National Park.
Visit www.chrisenss.com
