Northern Pacific Railroad in Washington, 1888

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From Wonderland, or, the Pacific Northwest and Alaska with a Description of the Country Traversed by the Northern Pacific Railroad by John Hyde, 1888.

From the lower end of Lake Pend d'Oreille, the Clark's Fork River, which forms its outlet, runs away northwestward to meet the Columbia. The railroad, which has likewise been running northwestward since leaving Livingston, now takes a southwestward sweep, which carries it, first of all, through a dense forest, containing but few settlements, and little that is of special interest, except the beautiful Lake Cocolala, a long but narrow sheet of water on the north side of the track. The first place of importance is Rathdrum, one of the best points on the line both for game and fish, having three lakes—Hayden Lake, Spirit Lake and Fish Lake—within ten miles, as well as a dense forest to the east, south and northwest. Priest Lake, fifty miles north, was visited during 1887 by various eastern and other sportsmen, who, in addition to an abundance of fish, were rewarded also with grouse, pheasants, black and white-tailed deer, caribou and bear.

Nine miles west of Rathdrum, the line leaves the Panhandle of Idaho and enters Washington Territory, to which that northern projection of the former Territory will probably, at no distant day, be annexed. Near this point, the forest, which has closely hemmed in the line on both sides, recedes, leaving a fine open space. In a half-hearted sort of way, however, it again approaches the track, but almost immediately there is spread out before the traveler the great Spokane plain. Two miles west of Trent, the Spokane River, the outlet of Lake Coeur d'Alene, comes in from the south, and after making a broad sweep on the right side of the track once more approaches the railroad, which it finally leaves for that sinuous rocky channel which has given to the flourishing little city on its banks the well-known name it bears.

Spokane Falls, whatever it may have been in ante-railroad days, has always been a bright and promising little city since the great transcontinental highway over which we are traveling first reached it. But it has been promising in the magnificence and diversity of the capabilities of the country naturally tributary to it, rather than in actual enterprise or the evidences of rapid growth, until quite recently, when it has received an impetus that has made it the most rapidly growing town between Lake Superior and Puget Sound. Travelers by rail, seeing nothing of its great falls, and being in entire ignorance of the vast wheat country and the seven rich mining districts soon to pour their wealth into its lap, have been wont to inquire whether it was supposed that beauty of situation was of itself sufficient to make a large and substantial town. Everyone, however, who was acquainted with the capabilities of the surrounding country knew that it was only a question of time when Spokane Falls would become a flourishing city, and their predictions are being verified even sooner than they expected.

While it is more particularly with regard to its claims upon the attention of the tourist that we have to deal in these pages, its growing importance as a commercial and manufacturing centre cannot be altogether overlooked. The first may be summed up in a brief reference to its beautiful situation, upon a gravel plateau, sloping gently towards the river, overlooked by pine-clad hills with lofty mountain ranges in the far distance, and to those great falls where the river, divided by basaltic islands into three distinct streams, curving towards each other and pouring their floods into a common basin, comes surging and foaming to make its final plunge of sixty- five feet into the deep chasm below.

These falls are undoubtedly the key to that commercial supremacy which the city is most assuredly destined to exercise over a wide area of country. While the well-known Falls of St. Anthony, at Minneapolis, represent a force of 135,000 horse power, those of the Spokane represent one of 216,000 horse power, utilizable with equal facility at all seasons of the year.

Two branch lines have already been built from points on the main line within a few miles of Spokane Falls, one of them furnishing direct communication with the Cœur d'Alene mining district, and the other with the Palouse wheat country. Other branches are in contemplation—one northward to the Colville mines, and another westward into the Big Bend country. So rapid and of such importance have been the recent developments in the Colville district, as also in the Salmon River and other mining districts still further north, that the summer of 1888 will probably witness the construction of at least the former of these projected lines.

The Cœur d'Alene branch, already in operation, leaves the main line at Hauser Junction, nineteen miles east of Spokane Falls. Even should the tourist take no particular interest in that wonderful development of mineral wealth which is taking place in the Cœur d'Alene region, he will still do well to take a short trip into the district, if only for the sake of the beautiful scenery it affords, and the delightful sail on Lake Cœur d'Alene which the excursion includes.

The Cœur d'Alene branch passes Fort Sherman, long known as Fort Cœur d'Alene, and recently renamed in honor of Gen. W. T. Sherman, who first selected its site. Its terminus is Coeur d'Alene City, situated at the outlet of a lake that even rivals in the beauty of its waters and the grandeur of its mountain scenery the more accessible Pend D'Oreille, while its conveniences for boating and fishing are equally good. A well-appointed steamer makes round trips daily, except Sunday, during the season, between Cœur d'Alene City and Mission, where the Jesuit Fathers began, many years ago, an excellent work among the Indians of the district, which they have continued with marked success down to the present time. From Mission, the narrow-gauge railway of the Cœur d'Alene Railway and Navigation Company will convey the tourist to Wardner, one of the most important centres of the mining district, and destined, as already stated, to have a branch connecting it with the Northern Pacific Railroad at Thompson Falls, in the near future. This trip is in every way a delightful one, and unless the tourist is absolutely satiated with lake and mountain scenery, he should on no account fail to make it a part of his programme.

Equally worthy of the observant traveler's attention is the Palouse wheat country. The branch that connects Spokane Falls ith this famous region leaves the main line at Marshall Junction, and runs almost directly southward.

The capabilities of this section of the Territory for the annual production of a prodigious crop of wheat at a cost undreamt of even in Dakota, save on one or two isolated farms (and there, only under exceptionally favorable conditions), recently led the accomplished and practical correspondent of an influential New York journal, who had been taking an exceedingly pessimistic view of the future of wheat-growing in the West, to declare, in an outburst of enthusiasm, that this Palouse country is destined to do nothing less than entirely destroy wheat-growing in India, by virtue of its immense crops, its favorable seasons, its economy of production and its proximity to the sea-board. Certainly it is a wonderful region. What thirty bushels to the acre are to the Dakota farmer, a crop of fifty bushels is to the farmer in the Palouse country.

The climate of eastern Washington, to which alone this remarkable state of things is due, differs entirely from that of the western half of the Territory, from which it is divided by the Cascade Range of mountains. Indeed no greater mistake could be made than to suppose that the more or less humid climate of the coast is characteristic of the Territory as a whole. On the contrary, the eastern half is remarkably dry, and that,, too, without those extremes of temperature which usually accompany a dry climate. The climate of the Palouse country, as of other sections adjacent to Spokane Falls, has even a less rainfall than the Mississippi Valley, while snow rarely lies more than a few days at a time.

Mild, sunny weather usually prevails until the middle of December, and the brief spells of cold that may visit it during the following few weeks are invariably cut short by the Kuro-siwo, or Japan current, popularly known as the Chinook wind, which, striking the coasts of British Columbia and Washington Territory, sends a warm wave over the entire northwestern country, extending even to the valleys of Montana, where it has been known to raise the temperature ninety degrees in a few hours. In this connection it may be added that the sloppy, dismal weather which throughout so large a part of the United States accompanies the dreary months of winter, is here almost unknown, nor do the storms which actually visit the country at all approach in severity those experienced elsewhere.

As is the case in northern Dakota and Montana, the nutritious native grasses are converted into hay as they stand, thus affording winter nourishment for the domestic flocks and herds of to-day, just as they did for the buffalo in days gone by. It may be well to add, in view of the foregoing statement relative to the dryness of the climate, that if any reader should suppose that irrigation is necessary, he will be utterly mistaken. Where the cereal crops and the vegetables that grow in such profusion derive the moisture necessary to their maturity is a mystery, but the crops never fail, and it must not be forgotten that, new as is the country in the main, there are portions of it, here and there, where farming operations have been carried on for many years, and the capabilities of the soil thoroughly tested.

Not to make this agricultural digression too long for the general reader, it may be added in conclusion that from one point alone—Oakesdale, on the Spokane and Palouse branch, there were shipped last season 6,000 pounds of fruit, including peaches, plums, cherries and apples, and 97,000 pounds of wool, besides a large quantity of wheat; and that the entire region, which contains about 5,000,000 acres of agricultural land, is capable of producing 200,000,000 bushels of wheat annually, at a cost but slightly exceeding ten cents per bushel, besides enormous quantities of fruit and wool, thus keeping the wharves of Tacoma busy with a foreign commerce greater even than that of San Francisco.

The country westward from Spokane Falls is of no special interest until Cheney is reached, an important wheat-shipping point in the midst of a rich farming country, very little of which, however, is seen from the car windows. Eight miles distant is a large sheet of water known as Medical Lake, from the remedial properties of its waters.

Thirty-one miles west of Cheney, the train runs into Sprague, the judicial seat of its county, the headquarters for a division of the railroad, and the shipping and distributing point for a rich section of country, which, though unseen by the traveler, is at no great distance from the railroad.

Sixty-nine miles westward from Sprague is Palouse Junction, from which point also a line has been built into the Palouse wheat country. Thirty-five miles more and we arrive at Pasco Junction, the eastern terminus of the Cascade division of the railroad, and the point at which passengers for Portland have to elect whether they will continue their journey via Wallula Junction and the Columbia River line or by way of Tacoma.

The Cascade division, 260 miles in length, presents the same remarkable diversity of physical conditions and natural scenery that characterizes the country traversed by the Northern Pacific Railroad as a whole. For 150 miles, as we journey northwestward, it consists mainly of a far-extending plain, covered with sage brush and bunch grass, and of fertile and beautiful valleys. We then enter a great forest belt, some seventy-five miles in breadth, which affords us an opportunity to see something of the wealth of the Territory in merchantable timber. It is here that we cross the Cascade range, indeed the largest timber is on the west slope of the mountains, magnificent forest trees growing almost down to the water's edge. The remainder of the line lies in a narrow valley, from whose rich, warm soil are raised those immense crops of hops which are the astonishment of the hop-grower all over the world.

Leaving Pasco Junction, the line runs down to the Columbia River, across which it is carried by a substantial bridge. The first important town we reach is Yakima, situated in a fertile valley of the Yakima River. Not only has this long been a favorite district with stockmen, but its rich soil produces sorghum (yielding about 300 gallons of syrup to the acre), sweet potatoes, tobacco, egg plant, melons, wheat of a superior quality, garden vegetables and fruits of all descriptions.

After leaving Yakima, the line follows for many miles the tortuous course of the Yakima River, through a winding cailon abounding in beautiful scenery. This brings it to the valley of the Kittitas, a well-settled region, some 400 square miles in extent. The most important town here is Ellensburgh, the railroad headquarters for the division. This flourishing town has a good water-power, which has been taken advantage of in the erection of both flouring mills and saw mills. Not only has it tributary to it an extensive area of good agricultural land, but gold, silver, copper and bituminous coal are all found in its vicinity. Gold to the value of $150,000 has already been shipped, and the other mineral deposits are equally promising.

Twenty-four miles beyond Ellensburgh, the train stops at Clealum Junction, from which point a branch extends to Roslyn, where there is a deposit of true bituminous coal, 35,000 acres in extent. Twenty-five thousand tons per month are already being mined, and this shipment will doubtless be largely increased, for the possibilities of production are almost unlimited, one vein alone being estimated to contain 300,000,000 tons. Another half-hour and we reach Easton, where the line, which has been gently rising since leaving Yakima, is confronted by a mountain grade of 116 feet to the mile, the same as that by which the Belt Range and the Main Range of the Rocky Mountains are crossed in Montana.

It is the maximum permanent grade permitted the railroad by its charter, though much lighter than many now in operation in the Rocky Mountains. If this limitation involves a somewhat larger outlay in the original construction of the line than would otherwise be necessary, the company will doubtless be more than repaid by the greater facility and economy with which it can haul freight over its various mountain barriers. With the ascent of this steeper grade, the pathway cut for the railroad through the forest, extending for many miles in a perfectly straight line and forming an avenue of singular beauty and stateliness, is exchanged for comprehensive and imposing mountain views, which become more and more extensive with the approach of the train to the eastern portal of the Stampede tunnel, whence the mountains are seen uprearing themselves grandly against the sky, and forming a striking contrast to the great valley that lies beneath, clothed with one handsome garment of foliage.

The tunnel through which the train passes from the east to the west slope is 9,850 feet in length, and is, with the exception of the Hoosac Tunnel in Massachusetts, the longest in America. During its construction, trains crossed the mountains by a switch-back line, which was without exception the most marvelous piece of railroad engineering in the country. With such wonderful skill has the line been carried over heights absolutely insurmountable, except by the switch-back system, and of such indescribable magnificence are the views from the summit, that it is to be hoped that summer tourist travel, at least, will continue to be carried over the summit of the pass, rather than through the more direct tunnel.

Emerging from the west portal, the traveler will get his first view of Tacoma, the Sovereign Mountain. With the possible exception of Mount St. Elias, this magnificent peak has no rival on the entire American Continent. Towering to a height of 14,444 feet and 100 miles in circumference, it is not, like the well-known peaks of the Rocky Mountain Range, merely a pinnacle rising a few hundred feet above the continuous range of which it forms a part, and to be surveyed by the traveler only from an elevation that practically diminishes its height by two-fifths. On the contrary, it rises to its perpendicular height of nearly three miles, from the very shores of the Pacific Ocean, while it has the further advantage of not being merely seamed or flecked with snow, but robed in unbroken, dazzling whiteness all the year round.

Descending the west slope by the gorges of Camp and Sunday Creeks, the train soon reaches the narrow valley of Green River, which it follows for many miles, crossing and recrossing the river no fewer than ten times. The charming scenery of this romantic defile presents a delightful contrast to the imposing mountain views the traveler has so recently gazed upon. The Green River, moreover, is a famous trout stream. Mr. F. A. Carle, writing in the St. Paul Pioneer Press, declares it to be the prettiest trout stream in America, and goes on to tell, with the enthusiasm of the ardent rodster that he is, how his palm tingled for the pressure of the butt and his ear pricked itself for the rattle of the reel, at the first glimpse of its clear pools and dancing ripples.

Certainly, if there is a river in the world that would tempt us all to become anglers, this is the one, for it needs no practised eye to see, even from the windows of the flying train, that the clear and quiet pools that alternate with its rapids and cascades, are fairly alive with fish. Beautifully situated in this valley is the sanitarium of Hot Springs, which will doubtless become a popular resort with the contemplated increase of its accommodations for visitors. It may be added in this connection that the attractions of the district for the sportsman include grouse, pheasant, mountain goat and bear.

Presenting a striking contrast to the emerald -hued stream whose windings the train follows for so great a distance, is the White River, over whose milky, glacier-fed waters the line is carried twenty miles west of Eagle Gorge, and five miles east of South Prairie, a little town which, in addition to having important coalmines of its own, is the junction for a branch extending to Wilkeson and Carbonado, both of which are important coal mining centres, the latter shipping some 700 tons per day.

It is through the valley of the Puyallup River, the outflow of the great Puyallup Glacier, that the line now runs. This is the hop district, to which reference has already been made. Not only does its soil, washed down from the great volcanic formation of Mount Tacoma, yield, year after year, phenomenally large crops of hops, but its product is of greater strength, is freer from disease, is cleaner, and of more uniform color than that of any other part of the country. The hop picking is done almost entirely by Indians, who, to the number of 4,000, come annually during the season from points as far distant as British Columbia. A recent governor of the Territory states in a report to the Secretary of the Interior that they excel the whites in their ability for picking. They come up the river in their canoes towards the end of August, and their arrival and departure are events of no little interest to the tourist who happens to be visiting the district at the time.

A rapid run through the Puyallup Indian Reservation, and there rises before us the coming great seaport of Tacoma, looking down from the series of terraces on which it is built, upon Commencement Bay. Tacoma possesses many features that are interesting to the tourist. First, we have its geographical position at the head of that remarkable body of water, Puget Sound—a deep inland sea, extending nearly 200 miles from the ocean, covering an area of 2,000 square miles, and with shores so remarkably bold, that at almost any point in its 1,600 miles of shore line a ship's side would touch the shore before her keel would touch the bottom. This is not the place to dwell at any length upon the commercial advantages enjoyed by the city, but the excellence of its harbor, and its proximity to great forests and a highly productive wheat region, can not be allowed altogether to escape notice. One of the greatest wonders in the whole place is, as has oftentimes been remarked, its great hotel, the Tacoma, one of the most beautifully situated, admirably designed, and altogether home-like hotels in the country.

Having established his headquarters here, the tourist can stroll on to the eastern piazza and look out upon the incomparable scene that will there greet him; mountains, woodland and sea—the matchless Tacoma rising above all, its dazzling robe of snow catching perchance a ruddy glow from the setting sun. Sauntering forth into the city, he will see its substantial brick business blocks and other evidences of commercial importance, and continuing his walk to the Episcopal Seminary, founded by Mr. C. B. Wright, of Philadelphia, in memory of a deceased daughter, he may look northwestward to the Olympic Mountains, whose highest summit. Mount Olympus, stands out clearly against the sky—70 miles away.

Continuing his ramble, though with that in prospect, he would have done well first of all to have engaged a carriage, he may proceed to the original town of Tacoma, now known as Old Tacoma or Old Town. Here he will find a gigantic saw mill, with enormous engines of 1,400 horse power, deriving their motive power entirely from the consumption of sawdust produced in the manufacturing of the lumber. He will see a fine fleet of merchantmen waiting to convey the product of this mill to all parts of the world. In the village itself he will see a little church with the oldest tower in America, the fact being that the edifice has been built with one of its corners adjoining the trunk of a standing fir tree, sawed off about 60 feet above the ground.

Returning to the city, the visitor may next direct his steps to the main wharf, where the coast and ocean steamships visiting the port embark and disembark their passengers, and where tea ships from China may occasionally be seen unloading their valuable cargoes. Close at hand are the coal docks, from which an average of nearly 1,000 tons of coal is shipped daily to San Francisco and other points on the coast. A delightful afternoon's drive will take him to Puyallup, affording him a more leisurely view of the Indian Reservation and the hop fields than he obtained from the windows of the passing train. A still more enjoyable carriage excursion is to Steilacoom, 18 miles distant, in the vicinity of which was situated the now abandoned military post of Fort Steilacoom.

But what of the climate? queries the reader. Is it such as to invite anything more than a brief visit to this evidently interesting locality? In answer to this question, it is scarcely too much to say that nowhere in the United States is there to be found a more delightful summer climate than that of the Puget Sound country; while in winter, though there is certainly a considerable rainfall, there is no severe cold, and the English traveler who should find himself in Tacoma between November and March, would be reminded by the climate of that season of that of the most favored section of his own sea-girt home.

It is almost the only section of the United States, north, south, east or west, that is entirely exempt from spells of intense heat during the dog days; but on July 5, 1887, when a veritable simoom swept across the entire country—when the temperature at New York rose to 99°, at St. Louis to 102°, and even at Chicago, with its boasted cool summer temperature, to 96'', 77° was the maximum at Tacoma. Nor is this comparison an exceptional or otherwise unfair one, for the maximum summer temperature at Tacoma in 1884 was only 86°, in 1885 85°, in 1886 84°, and in 1887 86°.

Visitors to Tacoma who, when in Colorado, have accomplished the wonderful feat of ascending Pike's Peak on horseback, sometimes cast wistful glances in the direction of that great Colossus whose white dome stands out so grandly against the clear blue sky, and think what a magnificent prospect its summit must command. They wonder, too, if it is possible to make the ascent, and whether they can get up and down in a day, as they did with their sisters, their cousins and their aunts in the case of some other scarcely less lofty peak.

Yes, dear reader, the summit is not absolutely inaccessible, although, if you succeed in reaching it, you will have the honor of being one of not more than half a dozen persons, who have ever scaled its well-guarded heights. You may, however, if you can afford to devote a week's time to the trip and a fifty-dollar bill, reach a point at which, 11,000 feet above the tide waters that lie so near, you can survey its virgin snow fields and the great glaciers that lie embedded in its mighty bosom; can look northward over the Sound and the country bordering upon it, spread out like a map before you, to where the great sugar-loaf of Mount Baker pierces the sky at a distance of 125 miles as the crow flies, and sharp and clear as though it were but half the distance—all this, and more, you can accomplish, without risk to life or limb, and with no sacrifice of personal comfort that is not immeasurably outweighed by the enjoyment you will derive from the trip. Nor have you the trouble of making the very elaborate preparations necessary to such a trip. Mr. W. D. Tyler, the manager of the Hotel Tacoma, will do all this for you on short notice, providing horses, camping outfits, experienced guides and all other necessaries. Among those who have already visited the mountain and its great glaciers, is Senator Edmunds, of Vermont, who declared, on his return, that the finest peaks he saw during a long tour through the Alps, fell far short of what he had seen on Mount Tacoma.

Before embarking on the now popular trip to Alaska, for which Tacoma is the starting point, our typical traveler would doubtless like to visit the city of Portland, and see something of the glories of the Columbia River. The Northern Pacific Railroad has its own line extending southward to that city. It lies to some extent through a belt of forest, but it also intersects a fine agricultural country in which several prosperous little towns are growing up. On arrival at Kalama on the north bank of the Columbia, the train is carried across the river by one of the finest transfer boats in the world, built expressly for the Northern Pacific Railroad Company, and constructed to carry thirty cars at one time. From Hunter's Point on the opposite bank, the train soon reaches Portland.

Hyde, John. Wonderland, or, the Pacific Northwest and Alaska with a Description of the Country Traversed by the Northern Pacific Railroad. Chas. S. Fee, 1888.

John Hyde

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