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’翰’’爾
(JOHN MUIR)
’’福尼’’’
The Mountains of California
我爲謝’’’’壯’景’而’’’驚歎’’’謝’’中’’’’’之’’我’’覺’萊’嶺’我’見’’’’中最’’’’嶺’
任’’疑文章’’’’’’’’’’翰’’爾(1838－1914)’’’’成’’’’’’’’’爾’生’蘇’蘭’1849’’’’移’’斯’辛’’’’’’斯’辛’學’早’’’’機械’’’’’次’’中’’’失’’’隻眼晴’’’改’’’’爾成’熱情’溢’’’’’’’對森’’’嶽’’’尤’熱’’’曾’中’部’’’’’墨’哥’’邊’’邊做筆’’1868’當’’’歲’’’’’’福尼’第’次’’’內華’’’’’爲’景’’傾倒’
’走’’’部’’’’察該’區’’’生’’’’目錄分’’類’’’’’’’把’’’滿’情’’察’錄’成’’筆’雜’文章’’敦’’邦’’採’森’’’區’策’’’’’資源不’’’’由’’’’’’’動’1890’’國’’’立’塞闊’國’公園’’勝’’國’公園’
1892’’爾創’’謝’俱樂部’該俱樂部’’爾對’’’’熱情化’’國’’’動’’爾’’’’奧’’羅斯福’統對資源’’區’興趣’l903’羅斯福’統’’爾’’’’勝’’野營’1908’’國國’公園管’部’接’’舊’’’面’’’’’原’森’’’贈’爲’’’’們對’爾’’’’’’原’森’’’’爲’爾國’’’’
1894’’’’’’’福尼’’’’’’爾’第’部’’’中’有任’倡議’而’’滿’’對’’’’景’’準’而’’滿’’’’’’該’’問’’獲’’成’’它’’’資源’’’’隊伍’壯’’成’’爾對’’熱’’’’’救’’嶽’永’見證’
’’’’’’’嶺’’曲曲’’’’’’’’’之中’’’’舊’’遙遙’望’高’之’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’眼’’’’’’繡’’’’景’’’’’’’’著’’陽’’森’瓦爾’’谷’谷’’闊平’’百’盛’’像湖’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’天際’’谷’部邊’’’立著數’里高’謝’’’它’勢’
礡’橫’’’谷邊’’’’停’’晴’中’’塊平’’’雲’它’’’’那麽壯’輝煌’那麽燦爛奪目’不由’’’’’它不’’’’’’’’’而本身’’’團’’像天國’’牆’’’’’’’’’’’頂部
覆’著銀白’’’雪’’雪’’’面’’藍’’’紫’’’’’那’森’’’’’’著’嶺基部有’條’’瑰紫’黃’’’’’那’有’’們’’’’’’’’園’’’’’’’’諧’交織’’’’’成’’堵’’’’’堅’’石’’’’’’’牆’’’’之絢’’’’’’’用言’’’’
我’’’’’’’月’’’切’’’’頂’第’’’賞’壯’’景’’’’還’’’們踐踏’’墾’’森’瓦爾’’谷中盛’著’’毛絨絨’燦燦’野菊’’邊’’’’嶽’成’’牆’輝奪目’那’我’’覺’謝’’’不應該’’做內華’’’’雪嶺’而應’做萊’嶺*’我爲謝’’’’壯’景’而’’’驚歎’我’’’’華之中’’賞’晨雪’’’日’’午’樹木’’石’’雪’輝’’黃’斜陽’’’’還有那飛’’’’’’’’’布’’謝’’中’’’’’之’’我’’覺’萊’嶺’我’見’’’’中最’’’’嶺’
謝’’’綿’五百’里’’’’’’里’’’高’爲’’’’’五’’尺’’中’’’不’’類’’’痕迹’’’有任’’’’’’們’’’’動植’資源之豐’’讓’’’’’質結’之’邃綺’’森’覆’’’’’綿’伏’’有’’’升’足夠’高’’’們顯示’’’之豐’’’’中’’們’不’遼闊’’谷’’渺’湖’’’騰’’’’’’不’任’顯著’’體’’’’輪廓’晰’高’’雲’頂’’顯’’當平滑’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’動著’’’成’’’湖’’’’’’湖邊’’’’野’盛’’整個’’溝’’橫’’’’’’’五’’尺’壯’’’’曾’’’’’谷中’’’’今’條’’’’’’’谷中潺潺’盡情’’’
’’著’’’谷雖’’’驚’’’不’陰’潮濕’’’’’’溝壁’’不平而’’’難’’’谷’由’’谷中’’’滿’嘔不平’’’’它們’’’’’’動Ⅸ們’’’’’’’’結’’源’’喜’選擇’路’’’’由’’’’’’’’’’路’’滿’’’’生機’’’’路’’’眼簾’’’種’樣’異’’’風’－迄今爲止’’’’’’中’見’’最’’’風’’
’’’’方’尤’’’’’中’’’側’’’谷漸漸’闊’’’’成’闊’’谷’園’’’谷裏’’’’’’樹’’’場’’’盛’’灌木’’尤’’’’’’’’’風景園’’那高高’’’側隱’而’’’壁’’結’’異’溝壁’’數’’’’階’’滿’蕨類植’’’種’’’植’’橡樹’’’’’快’溪’’景’’’動’’’滿’’’’溪’陽’照耀’’’’’飛’而’’’’’’’’’’谷中’’’’’著’’’’
’’’勝’’’’園’式’谷’溝壁’由巨’’’’’石’成’’而’’’’’’’’溝壑’’’谷’’’’石’正面’’’’塊緊’著’’塊’’立’平’’’’整體’’’’’’’’石圍’’園’’像’頂部採’照’’’禮堂’’’’’’塊’石’’都’有生’’’有’’’傾斜’’’’’’有’’’而’數’’尺’高’它們’夥’’’’’’’’’’’立著’仿’’陷’’’之中’對風暴’平’’概’示’’’它們’面’’’’’志’醒’’’對’圍’’切’動’’’莊’中’有’’’永恒中’’顯’變幻’它們’立’’’中’’落’’’’’’頂’’雲端’’’’陽’’’’之中’’頂’’白雲飄繞’’雪’’’’風’’’’’’’’’’’最’乘’’’’’把’’情’’’’’’’’’’’鍾情’
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“萊’嶺”’音譯’’爲“’之嶺”
Making
your way through the mazes of the Coast Range to the summit of any of the inner
peaks or passes opposite San Francisco, in the clear springtime, the grandest
and most telling of all California landscapes is outspread before you. At your
feet lies the great Central Valley glowing golden in the sunshine, extending
north and south farther than the eye can reach, one smooth, flowery, lake-like
bed of fertile soil. Along its eastern margin rises the mighty Sierra, miles in
height, reposing like a smooth, cumulous cloud in the sunny sky, and so
gloriously colored, and so luminous, it seems to be not clothed with light, but
wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city. Along the top, and
extending a good way down, you see a pale, pearl-gray belt of snow; and below it
a belt of blue and dark purple, marking the extension of the forests; and along
the base of the range a broad belt of rose-purple and yellow, where lie the
miner's goldfields and the foot-hill gardens. All these colored belts blending
smoothly make a wall of light ineffably fine, and as beautiful as a rainbow, yet
firm as adamant.
When
I first enjoyed this superb view, one glowing April day, from the summit of the
Pacheco Pass, the Central Valley, but little trampled or plowed as yet, was one
furred, rich sheet of golden compositae, and the luminous wall of the mountains
shone in all its glory. Then it seemed to me the Sierra should be called not the
Nevada, or Snowy Range, but the Range of Light. And after ten years spent in the
heart of it, rejoicing and wondering, bathing in its glorious floods of light,
seeing the sunbursts of morning among the icy peaks, the noonday radiance on the
trees and rocks and snow, the flush of the alpenglow, and a thousand
dashing waterfalls with their marvelous abundance of irised spray, it still
seems to me above all others the Range of Light, the most divinely beautiful of
all the mountain-chains I have ever seen.
The
Sierra is about $00 miles long, 70 miles wide, and from 7000 to nearly 15,000
feet high. In general view's no mark of man is visible on it, nor anything to
suggest the richness of the life it cherishes, or the depth and grandeur of its
sculpture. None of its magnificent forest-crowned ridges rises much above the
general level to publish its wealth. No great valley or lake is seen, or river,
or group of well-marked features of any kind, standing out in distinct pictures.
Even the summit-peaks, so clear and high in the sky, seem comparatively smooth
and featureless. Nevertheless, glaciers are still at work in the shadows of the
peaks, and thousands of lakes and meadow's shine and bloom beneath them, and the
whole range is furrowed with canons to a depth of from 2000 to 5000 feet,
in which once flowed majestic glaciers, and in which now flow and sing a band of
beautiful rivers.
Though of such stupendous depth, these famous canons are not raw, gloomy,
jagged-walled gorges, savage and inaccessible. With rough passages here and
there they still make delightful pathways for the mountaineer, conducting
from the fertile lowlands to the highest icy fountains, as a kind of mountain
streets full of charming life and light, graded and sculptured by the ancient
glaciers, and presenting, throughout all their courses, a rich variety of novel
and attractive scenery, the most attractive that has yet been discovered in the
mountain-ranges of the world.
In
many places, especially in the middle region of the western flank of the range,
the main canons widen into spacious valleys or parks, diversified like
artificial landscape-gardens, with charming groves and meadows, and thickets of
blooming bushes, while the lofty, retiring walls, infinitely varied in form and
sculpture, are fringed with ferns, flowering-plants of many species, oaks, and
evergreens, which find anchorage on a thousand narrow steps and benches; while
the whole is enlivened and made glorious with rejoicing streams that come
dancing and foaming over the sunny brows of the cliffs to join the shining river
that flows in tranquil beauty down the middle of each one of them.
The
walls of these park valleys of the Yosernite kind are made up of rocks mountains
in size, partly separated from each other by narrow gorges and side-canons; and
they are so sheer in front, and so compactly built together on a level floor,
that, comprehensively seen, the parks they inclose look like immense halls or
temples lighted from above. Every rock seems to glow with life. Some lean back
in majestic repose; others, absolutely sheer, or nearly so, for thousands of
feet, advance their brows in thoughtful attitudes beyond their companions,
giving welcome to storms and calms alike, seemingly conscious yet heedless of
everything going on about them, awful in stern majesty, types of permanence, yet
associated with beauty of the frailest and most fleeting forms; their feet set
in pine groves and gay emerald meadows, their brows in the sky; bathed in light,
bathed in floods of singing water, while snow-clouds, avalanches, and the winds
shine and surge and wreathe about them as the years go by, as if into
these mountain mansions Nature had taken pains to gather their choicest
treasures to draw her lovers into close and confiding communion with her....
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