A Letter written on Jul 30, 1922

The Portland
Portland, Oregon, USA

Sunday, July 30.

My dear Mary,

We reached here last night about ten o'clock after a twenty-six hour ride from Glacier Park. We left G.P. in the evening and next morning woke up in Spokane. Shortly after leaving S. we found ourselves in a semi-desert region which continued to within one hundred miles of Portland. Neither Father nor I has recovered from our amazement at the existance [sic] of such a region in Washington, for we had imagined it a state of orchards, wheat fields, and forests. It was so hot that we simply lay back in our chairs and waited until we should reach the Cascade Mountains. The thermometer stood at 95°, but the brakeman said that 120° had been reached in that area the week before. For many miles the Snake River flowed thru this region, and then we followed the Columbia, but not until we came near the mountain region was there moisture enough to enable the farmers to attempt much production. Now and then thru the arid region we saw poor forlorn little homes with pathetic looking truck patches, and we saw many horses chewing on the dry brown grass, and nosing around the sage brush, but in general this great area was deserted. It is not a flat desert region, but has great chains of hills, sometimes of rugged rock, sometimes drifted with sand, and somteimes [sic] formed of fine gravel. The rock formations are all of lava. Geologists say that this whole region was volcanic, and that here is one of the greatest lava beds in the world. - Perhaps you know of this region, and what it is the northern section of the desert region that extends thru Nevada down into Arizona and New Mexico, but to me it was a new page of geography.

If it had been clear we would have been able to see Mt. Hood when we came into the Cascade Range, but smoke from forest fires is so heavy everywhere that our views are very limited. They say that Mt. Hood has been hidden for two weeks, because of the fires. Never before could I appreciate the real meaning, of forest fires, but now that I have seen some of the beautiful virgin forests and next to them whole mountains with just dead blackened trees, I feel that I should like to join the foresters in pushing their propaganda for the protection of our forests.

Tomorrow morning we are planning to start on the famous Columbia Highway drive, from which we shall return about six-thirty. Then we pack our bags and board the train for San Francisco, - it leaves at 1 A.M. - where we are due on Wednesday morning. A native Californian told us to take this train because on it we avoid the daytime heat of the Sacramento Valley. We have been told not to miss the Yosemite, but both of us are a bit weary of the dusty, tourist-filled highways of the National parks, hence, if ye we can see the big trees without going thru the Yosemite Park, I think think [sic] that this Park will be omitted from our schedule.

So much for the immediate past, the present, and the immediate future. If I should attempt to go farther back on our trip I should get so completely lost in details that you would be wearied, and I should not write another letter today. All I have [to] say here is that we have had four weeks of marvelously good times. We have become quite thoroly [sic] acquainted with Montana - thru the Editorial Association - and we has have been many times thrilled with its practically untouched resources; it is really an empire in itself. Often I wished that there was some kind of automatic device for recording the events of a trip, for that is the only way that one would have time to make a real journal when traveling as fast and as strenuously as we did. For the three weeks we were with the party we were going constantly, often from very early in the morning until late at night, but now that I look back upon it I am glad that I missed nothing. Once in a while Father stayed at our headquarters to rest, but for the most part he joined in famously and had a fine time. K. Barnes left us at Helena to hurry on to her home in Nevada where I imagine she arrived within the last few days.

I think that by postal I told you how much I enjoyed your letter which reached me in Missoula. It sounded as though you were having a really interesting time, and that there was quite as much worth while out of classes as in them. As you know, that appeals to me. I have just realized that I have failed to do what you did - tell of the people you have met. There are several who stand out, but I should be lost once more if I started to tell about them. One is a Bucknell man, class of '92, who owns two papers in Pennsylvania, but seems to spend most of his time traveling; another is a ninety-seventh relative, a Carpenter from Missouri who heard my name called at Many Glacier Hotel and came up to disclose his identity. It seems that we are both descended from the same William H. Carpenter who came over in 1638, but one of this gentleman's ancestors went to Virginia while min went to northern New York. We had a saddle trip together to Iceberg Lake, fourteen miles, which I discovered afterwards was a bit strenuous for one's first ride on horseback. His itinerary is quite similar to ours, except that now he is in Seattle, so we may run into each other again.

Considering the fact that I have written never a letter to my Rutherford family, and only one real one to bed, I think you will agree with me that I should stop here and now.

I should love to hear from you again unless you are too busy working out problems, and writing papers for the end of the course. We are not going so fast as the dates I gave you for our itinerary; we shall reach San Francisco on Aug. 2, and probably leave there August 7; shall be in Los Angeles probably from 7-12, and in Denver til the 17th.

Of course, all this is merely tentative, but I doubt whether we can leave Denver before that date which would enable us to get home by the 21st. I don't want to be away later than that, for I want to spend a little time at Point O' Woods with Jay's family before school begins.

You will hear from me again by card, if not by letter - Father has just come up to tell me that some friends of his here are coming to take us out to drive, so this must be the end.

Affectionately,
Katerine