" ... I see it by an inward sense... "

15th, July, 2018

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Yosemite Trails

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In this excerpt Chase is headed up, into what is now the Ansel

Adams Wilderness, in the north-eastern High Sierra, after spending

the night at Silver Lake, where he " fished the stream ( Rush Creek )

with good success. The trout rose well to both fly and spoon, and were

of good size and mettle. " Chase, once removed from his native England,

shares with us a desire, at this point in the trip, for a change of weather:

" ... A south wind was blowing strongly, with a scent of rain in it, whereat

I somewhat rejoiced. Thus far the whole trip had been made in sunny weather

except for two or three spasmodic thunder-showers; and I longed for a day or two

of storm, or at least of cloud. so that wild scenery might receive the enhancement

of wild weather. " 

We will soon find out just how deep this yearning was, as we find Chase in a rare 

bite of fulsomeness, " ... as then came the blessed rain. " Chase's flight reveals he hasn't

forgotten his native land. It also belies his obvious  familiarity with the Bible as a veritable

 Psalm comes forth. It is a rare tack in Chase's writing, making it all the more sincere as this

man bears his soul. Further, and just as delightful, the ' flight ' focuses even more of our 

attention on what precedes and follows: Chase's evocative, descriptive prose, that transcends

mere narrative and paints the scene not only vivid in our imagination but we feel as if we are

there with him. 

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" I awoke to a glorious cloudy morning. Lowering vapors were lighted redly on their

fringes by a sun that struggled to raise an excited countenance above the opposite 

wall of mountains. Hardly an hour ahead of him the little thin moon was slipping

through the wrak as if she thought herself pursued. Evening primroses, like other

moons, gazed mildly down at me as I lay and watched the changes of the sky

reflected in the smooth-flowing river six feet away. The wind had ceased, and even
the aspens stirred not a leaf.

By seven o'clock we were on the trail. It led at first up the steep face of the western
mountain, among junipers and open brushwood, and close beside the fall.

The same area Chase describes above, in 2016.

photo: jim develyn

The lake lay leaden grey among the gloomy hills, and rain was already falling 

from the eastern clouds. The wind had risen again, and boomed softly in our

ears, mingling with the rush and roar of the fall. 

The ' fall ' Chase refers to; Rush Ck 

down to Silver Lake, 2016.

photo: jim develyn

It was a morning full of half-tone poetry and clear but not acute sensations.

I wonder whether I am singular in finding myself, as I always do, ten times as

much alive on a soft grey day, or even a hard grey one, as on a sunny blue one.

If I thought, I were a poet, or a painter - now I could do great work. 

And then came the blessed rain, driving down, driving down. Ah, welcome,

welcome! O wild, free spirit of my beloved Cumberland mountains. I feel thee

near! O friends, long departed, with whom I knew then, ye are near too! Now,

see, far off the sun is pouring down a grey-gold flood of light upon some lonely

lake, - I see it by an inward sense; nay, I am there. How still it is, and holy -

the vision of a vision. 

We rounded the head of the fall in a wild amphitheatre of castled cliffs that 

poured off into vast slopes of screes A few junipers huddled on the rocky 

ledges. The rain streamed fervently down. Our animals scrambled and 

staggered upwards with bitter complaints, but mercy there was none. As

we reached the crest the wind rushed heavily against us in angry surges

as though it would sweep us over the cliff, and flung the stinging rain

and hail level in our faces. 

Wild water, wild sky, wild earth, wild air, - it was superb, the pure 

drawn joy of life!

And here, in the neck of the pass, lay Lake Agnew, darkly, wildly beautiful.

Lake Agnew, 2016

photo: jim develyn

High mountains closed it in; at its head a long white torrent thundered

down over black ledges of slate; and over all crouched a sky shredded into

grey rain. Ever and anon the wind swooped screaming down, and the little

lake seemed to shrink and shiver like a terrified child. "

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*** (Definitions for the curious!) ***

      Wrack -  A mass of high, thick, fast-moving cloud.

Redly - Yes, this is a word..an adverb of red. 

Fulsomeness - Complimentary or flattering to an excessive degree.

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stock photo

A part of Chase's pined for

Cumberland Mountains,

England. 

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** And finally, here is Chase's dedication from his, " California Desert Trails. " **

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