By Isabella L. Bird
In 1872, Isabella fowl, daughter of a priest, trigger on my own to the Antipodes 'in seek of wellbeing and fitness' and located she had launched into a lifetime of adventurous shuttle. In 1873, donning Hawaiian using gown, she rode her horse in the course of the American Wild West, a terrain in simple terms newly opened to pioneer cost. The letters that make up this quantity have been first released in 1879. They inform of outstanding, unspoiled landscapes and plentiful natural world, of encounters with rattlesnakes, wolves, pumas and grizzly bears, and her reactions to the unstable passions of the miners and pioneer settlers. A vintage account of a really fabulous trip.
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Additional info for A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains (The Western Frontier Library, 14)
Then a man heavily armed, a hunter probably, asked me if I were the English tourist who had "happened on" a "Grizzly" yesterday. Then I saw a lumberer taking his dinner on a rock in the river, who "touched his hat" and brought me a draught of ice-cold water, which I could hardly drink owing to the fractiousness of the horse, and gathered me some mountain pinks, which I admired. I mention these little incidents to indicate the habit of respectful courtesy to women which prevails in that region. These men might have been excused for speaking in a somewhat free-and-easy tone to a lady riding alone, and in an unwonted fashion.
None of these grew near the Truckee, but I feasted my eyes on pines4 which, though not so large as the Wellingtonia of the Yosemite, are really gigantic, attaining a height of 250 feet, their huge stems, the warm red of cedar wood, rising straight and branchless for a third of their height, their diameter from seven to fifteen feet, their shape that of a larch, but with the needles long and dark, and cones a foot long. Pines cleft the sky; they were massed wherever level ground occurred; they stood over the Truckee at right angles, or lay across it in prostrate grandeur.
I had a glorious ride back to Truckee. The road was not as solitary as the day before. In a deep part of the forest the horse snorted and reared, and I saw a cinnamon-colored bear with two cubs cross the track ahead of me. I tried to keep the horse quiet that the mother might acquit me of any designs upon her lolloping children, but I was glad when the ungainly, long-haired party crossed the river. Then I met a team, the driver of which stopped and said he was glad that I had not gone to Cornelian Bay, it was such a bad trail, and hoped I had enjoyed Tahoe.