When I first saw it I exclaimed: "Hell Hole? Then give me more of it," and instead of hastening on to other places of well-known charm, I insisted upon one day at least of complete rest to allow its perfection to "seep in" and become a part of my intimate inner life of remembrance.
It was under Bob Watson's efficient guidance I left Tahoe Tavern, for a five day trip. We took a pack-horse well laden with grub, utensils for cooking and our sleeping bags. Riding down the Truckee, up Bear Creek, past Deer Park Springs, I was struck more forcibly than ever before by the marvelous glacial phenomena in the amphitheater at the head of the canyon through a portion of which the trail passes, and also with the volcanic masses that rest upon the granite, mainly on the right hand side of the pass. Its first appearance shows a cap of from two hundred to three hundred feet in thickness; later on two other patches of it appear, the upper one presenting the granite and superposed granite on the same level, clearly indicating a channel of early erosion filled up by the later flow of volcanic matter.
Passing by Five Lakes and down Five Lake Creek to its junction with the canyon down which we had come from the Little American Valley, we were soon headed down the creek for the Rubicon. To the right towered Mt. Mildred (8400 feet), on the other side of which is Shank's Cove. Shank was a sheep-man who for years ran his sheep here during the summer, taking them down to the Sacramento Valley in winter. After passing several grassy meadows, cottonwood groves, and alder thickets we reached Bear Pen Creek, a rocky, bone-dry crossing, nine miles from the divide. To the left, Powder Horn Creek comes in, which heads on the northwestern slope of the ridge, on which, on the southern side, Barker Creek has its rise. It received this peculiar name from the fact that General Phipps, from whom Phipps Peak is named, was once chasing a bear, when suddenly the infuriated animal turned upon him, made a savage strike at him with his paw and succeeded in knocking the bottom out of his old-fashioned powder-horn.
Further down we came suddenly upon a hawk who had just captured a grouse, and taken off his head. As the bird dropped his prey on our approach we took it as a gift of the gods, and next morning, with two or three quail, it made an excellent breakfast for us.