Evening Bulletin, San Francisco, October 19, 1875, p. 3

An Unparalleled Feat.—On Tuesday the 12th instant, the extraordinary feat of ascending the South Dome in the Yosemite Valley was accomplished by a Scot[c]hman by birth and a sailor by profession, named George Anderson. He drilled his way up the south side, about 1,500 feet in two days.

Daily Evening Bulletin, November 18, 1875, p. 1

South Dome
Its Ascent by George Anderson and John Muir.
(From our special correspondent).

Yosemite Valley, November 10, 1875.
The Yosemite South Dome is the noblest rock in the Sierra, and George Anderson, an indomitable Scotchman, has made a way to its summit... With the exception of conoidal summit of Mount Starr King, and a few minor spires and pinnacles, the South Dome is the only inaccessible rock of the valley, and its inaccessibility is pronounced in very severe and simple terms, leaving no trace of hope for the climber without artificial means. But longing eyes were none the less fixed on its noble brow, and the Anderson way will be eagerly ascended.

The Dome rises from the level floor of the valley to the height of very nearly a mile... On the east, where it is united with the dividing ridge between the great Tenaya and Nevada canyons, the Dome may be easily approached within six or seven hundred feet of the summit, where it rises in a smooth, graceful curve just a few degrees too steep to climb. Nearly all Sierra rocks are accessible on the eastern or upper side, because the glacial force which eroded them out of the solid acted from this direction[!]; but special conditions in the position and structure of the South Dome prevented the formation of the ordinary low grade, and it is this steep upper portion that the plucky Anderson has overcome. John Conway, a resident of the valley, has a flock of small boys who climb smooth rocks like lizards, and some two years ago he sent them up the dome with a rope, hoping they might be able to fasten it with spikes driven into fissures, and thus reach the top. They took the rope in tow and succeeded in making it fast two or three hundred feet above the point ordinarily reached, but finding the upper portion of the curve impracticable without laboriously drilling into the rock, he called down his lizards, thinking himself fortunate in effecting a safe retreat.

Mr. Anderson began with Conway's old rope, part of which still remains in place, and resolutely drilled his way to the top, inserting eyebolts five or six feet apart, and making his rope fast to each in succession, resting his foot on the last bolt while he drilled for the next above. Occasionally some irregularity in the curve or slight foothold would enable him to climb fifteen or twenty feet independently of the rope, which he would pass and begin drilling again, the whole being accomplished in a few days. From this slender beginning he will now proceed to construct a substantial stairway which he hopes to complete in time for next year's travel; and as he is a man of rare energy the thing will surely be done. Then, all may sing "Excelsior" in perfect safety...

The grand feature of this section [of Yosemite Valley] is the South, or, as sometimes called, the Half Dome... The shape of the South Dome is such that but one party has ever succeeded in reaching the summit, an undertaking few will care to attempt, and still smaller number can accomplish.

Granite Crags, by C. F. Gordon Cumming, Chapter VI

...For many years [Half Dome] was considered altogether inaccessible; but about eighteen months ago [actually, two and a half years ago] it was scaled by an energetic, determined Scotchman, George Anderson by name. He hails from Montrose, but has taken up his abode in this beautiful valley; and now he looks on the Half-Dome with such mingled pride and veneration, that I should think he will never leave it.

It was in 1875 that he determined to reach the summit, if mortal man could accomplish the feat. Climbing goat-like along dizzy ledges, and clinging like a fly to every crevice that could afford him foothold, he reached the point where hitherto the boldest cragsman had been foiled. Here he halted till he had drilled a hole in the rock and securely fixed an iron stanchion with an eye-bolt, through which he passed a strong rope. Then resting on this frail support, he was able to reach farther, and to drill a second hole and fix another eye-bolt. From this point of vantage he could secure a third, carrying the rope through every bolt, and always securing it at the upper end.

Thus step by step he crept upward, till at last he had drilled holes and driven in iron stanchions right up the vast granite slab, securing 1100 feet of rope. Then rounding the mighty shoulder, he stood triumphant on the summit, and there to his amazement he found a level space of about seven acres, where not only grasses have spread a green carpet, but seven gnarled and stunted old pines, of three different kinds, have contrived to take root, and, defying storms and tempests, maintain their existence on this bleak bare summit...

San Francisco Chronicle, July 27, 1879, p. 1; reprinted in St. Louis Globe-Democrat, August 3, 1879, p. 10

...Anderson tried to climb [Half Dome] in his stocking feet, then barefooted, then by wearing bags full of pitch tied around below his knees, then by moccasins with pine pitch on the soles. The latter was the most hopeful, but none effected much, and well was it that he failed, for never could he have retraced his steps, and his life would have had a fearful end. He finally succeeded by using baling-rope of eight thicknesses, together with 40 or 50 strong iron pins, seven inches long, with an eye in each one in which to fasten the rope...

In the Heart of the Sierras, by James M. Hutchings, Chapter 26

Until the fall of 1875 the storm-beaten summit of this magnificent landmark [Half Dome] was a terra incognita, as it had never been trodden by human feet... This honor was reserved for a brave young Scotchman, a native of Montrose, named George G. Anderson, who, by dint of pluck, skill, unswerving perseverance, and personal daring, climbed to its summit; and was the first that ever successfully scaled it. This was accomplished at 3 o'clock P. M. of October 12, 1875.

The knowledge that the feat of climbing this grand mountain had on several occasions been attempted, but never with success, begat in him an irrepressible determination to succeed in such an enterprise. Imbued with this incentive, he made his way to its base; and, looking up its smooth and steeply inclined surface, at once set about the difficult exploit. Finding that he could not keep from sliding with his boots on, he tried it in his stocking feet; but as this did not secure a triumph, he tried it barefooted, and still was unsuccessful. Then he tied sacking upon his feet and legs, but as these did not secure the desired object, he covered it with pitch, obtained from pine trees near; and although this enabled him to adhere firmly to the smooth granite, and effectually prevented him from slipping, a new difficulty presented itself in the great effort required to unstick himself; and which came near proving fatal several times.

Mortified by the failure of all his plans hitherto, yet in no way discouraged, he procured drills and a hammer, with some iron eye-bolts, and drilled a hole in the solid rock; into this he drove a wooden pin, and then an eye-bolt; and after fastening a rope to the bolt, pulled himself up until he could stand upon it; and thence continued that process until he had finally gained the top—a distance of nine hundred and seventy-five feet! All honor, then, to the intrepid and skillful mountaineer, Geo. G. Anderson, who, defying and overcoming all obstacles, and at the peril of his life, accomplished that in which all others had signally failed; and thus became the first to plant his foot upon the exalted crown of the great Half Dome...

The Lore and the Lure of the Yosemite Indians
by Herbert Earl Wilson, San Francisco, 1922, pp. 86-88

...Captain Anderson was at that time a resident of the Valley, and it had been his desire since his arrival to scale the magnificent peak, not alone because of the distinction of being the first man to reach the top, but because it was tacitly understood that to the man attaining this distinction would be granted a concession for building a hotel at the eastern base of the dome. In his effort Captain Anderson was opposed by some two or three others who were actuated by the same desire. One might almost wish that such a creditable ambition had been inspired by a less mercenary motive. However, be that as it may, one day Captain Anderson disappeared from the Valley without having told anyone of his intended departure or destination. This procedure was in those days unusual, and after some two or three days had elapsed without him having put in an appearance, grave fears were felt for his safety and a search party was organized to look for him. This party, composed of several residents of the Valley, concluded that the most logical place to look for Captain Anderson was in the vicinity of Half Dome, and accordingly proceeded in that direction along the old trail past Happy Isles and Vernal and Nevada Falls. On the trail near Nevada Falls they met Captain Anderson returning to the Valley, and in answer to a query as to where he had been, he said, "Gentlemen, I have been to the top of Half Dome".

...Captain Anderson had conceived this idea after days of the most painstaking exploration had failed to disclose any other way to the top. Taking no one into his confidence, he had, alone and unaided, gathered his materials, transported them over the ten miles of rough trail to the beginning of his ascent, fashioned the pegs, and slowly, step by step, had drilled the holes and built himself a ladder, nine hundred feet long, to the coveted summit...

San Francisco Chronicle, Sunday, October 24, 1875, p. 2

Climbing the Rocks
The Feat Which a Party of English Tourists Accomplished—A Narrow Escape From a Fearful Death.

The celebrated South Dome of the Yosemite is well known, and it has hitherto been asserted that to reach its summit was an impossibility. On September 15 [actually, on October 12th] both visitors and residents in the valley were thrown into a state of excitement upon it being made known that a Scotchman named George Anderson, formerly a sailor, had actually accomplished this wonderful and daring feat. Very few believed the tale, and those who had already seen the South Dome utterly denied that the feat was within the limit of possibility. A party of the English tourists concluded that they would judge for themselves by visiting the spot. Those who have been there know the kind of riding necessary to reach the base of its[!] mountain, which rises some 6,000 feet above the level of the valley.

The news spread like wildfire that the Britishers would attempt the ascent. At 6 A. M. on Saturday, the 16th of September [actually, Saturday, 16th of October], a party of eleven adventurers, headed by George Anderson, started from Black's hotel upon their seven miles ride up the precipitous height, past the Vernal and Nevada falls, and struck the little frequented trail to South Dome. On reaching the heavy masses of fallen granite known as the "Camel's Back", they dismounted, and after a brief rest, a few commenced the dangerous climb to the foot of the dome. The Scotchman arrived first. As the party assembled at the foot of an almost perpendicular rock, which is according to Prof. Whitney's calculation, at least 1,300 feet high, they looked with dismay at the journey before them.

Watkins stereoview #3051, New series, "The first
tourists who made the ascension of the Half Dome",
no date. According to Hank Johnston, Anderson is
the man on the left.

George Anderson then explained that as he climbed he had bored holes in the rock, and inserted iron eye-bolts. To these eye-bolts he had secured a rope, and those who would venture to climb, holding the rope with their hands and pressing the rock with their feet, might do so, providing their strength held out, in perfect safety. Two of the Englishmen said it might be good fun walking up walls, but they "didn't feel like trying". Anderson, however, with a cheer went ahead. There was a moment's hesitation, then, with a shout of enthusiasm, some of the crowd rushed forward to the rope. It was first secured by two young Englishmen named Robinson, who rapidly commenced the escalade. They were followed by another rejoicing in the name of Gammon. Then Mr. Moreland, an American, ascended, followed closely by West, a guide from the valley. These were allowed to work their way up, lest the rope should break. Mr. Liedig [actually: Leidig], of the valley, then went up, followed by Mr. Groom, another English tourist.

Anderson now looked like a fly crawling in the distance as he rapidly distanced his followers, shouting words of encouragement as they cautiously made their way upward. Sometimes they stopped, holding on convulsively to the rope and the eyebolt until they could continue up the dizzy height. Mr. Liedig turned sick, and with difficulty returned, swearing that for all the dollars in California he could have not gone further.

The spectators now waited nervously for those who had gained the summit, and were soon relieved from their anxiety by hearing the report of West's revolver, which was to be the signal of their safety. They now commenced to clamber painfully down the "Camel's Back" to the horses and those who had not cared to make the ascent. There being no trail, each had to make one for himself. Several had narrow escapes. Mr. Groom, after an involuntary roll of some fifteen or twenty feet, suddenly found himself looking over a precipice between two and three thousand feet deep into the valley below. He had slidden so far down the rock that without the aid of ropes, he could not return. To advance was almost certain death of a most horrible nature. None understood the terrible import of his cries for help. His sole support was a narrow ledge of granite to which he held on with the grim tenacity of a man who fights for life. But his strength could not last, and with a loud cry he rolled headlong down, down, as he believed, into eternity. But in throwing his arms forward as he fell they slid into a crevice by which he held on. Here he was able to take advantage of a slope in the rock, and with the calves of his legs and his hands he worked himself downward to a firm footing. He afterward reached the base of the mountain in safety. We think that one, at least, of these Englishmen will remember the ascent of the South Dome.

Soon after this incident George Anderson and the adventurers who had followed him returned safely. Three cheers were given and the party commenced the descent to the valley. Anderson has performed a feat which has scarcely a parallel in any country. A subscription has already been opened for his benefit in the valley in order to enable him to build a secure staircase for those who will in future ascend the Dome under his guidance.

Sacramento Daily Record–Union, November 2, 1875, p. 1

A Perilous Feat.—The Sonora Democrat of October 30th relates this incident:

The summit of the South Half Dome in the Yosemite valley has at last been attained, a Scotch sailor named Anderson having climbed the precipice, a distance of 1,300 feet, by means of spikes and ropes, accomplishing one of the most perilous feats on record. The ascent was made on the 15th of September [actually, on the 12th of October], and on the 16th [October] half a dozen tourists successfully reached the dizzy hight. They found an area of about 100 acres on the summit of the dome and say that a magnificent view can be obtained from the height. Last season an English tourist attempted to reach the top of the Dome, and failed. He then offered $500 to any one who would accomplish the feat and arrange it so that he could follow. There is but one chance left for an adventurous man to eclipse Anderson's feat, and that is for some one to reach the "Tree in the Niche", a pine which projects from a cavern or platform 2,000 feet from the valley on the sheer face of El Capitan.

In the Heart of the Sierras, by James M. Hutchings, Chapter 26

[Anderson's] next efforts were directed towards placing and securely fastening a good soft rope to the eye-bolts, so that others could climb up and enjoy the inimitable view, and one that has not its counterpart on earth. Four English gentlemen, then sojourning in the Valley, learning of Mr. Anderson's feat, were induced to follow his intrepid example. A day or two afterwards, Miss S. L. Dutcher, of San Francisco, with the courage of a heroine, accomplished it; and was the first lady that ever stood upon it...

The Awakening of the Desert, by Julius C. Birge, The Gorham Press, Boston, 1912, Chapter 29, pp. 406-407

...It was still later when I first visited Muir's haunts in the Yosemite [in 1876?]; George Anderson, a Scotch ship-carpenter had spent the summer in drilling holes into the granite face of the upper cliff of the great South Dome, driving in it iron pins with ropes attached. Two or three persons were tempted to scale with the aid of these ropes the heights, which are nearly a perpendicular mile above the valley. I, too, was inclined to make the venture. I proceeded in advance, followed by Anderson, who had in tow a young San Franciscan with a connecting rope around the young man's waist. It was a dizzy but inspiring ascent of my pursuers. While spending an hour upon the summit, I discovered on its barren surface, a lady's bracelet. On showing it to Anderson, he said: "You are the third party who has made this ascent. I pulled up a young woman recently but she never mentioned any loss except from nausea[!]". Returning to Merced, I observed a vigorous young woman wearing a bracelet similar to the one I had found. The lady proved to be Miss Sally Dutcher of San Francisco, who admitted the loss and thankfully accepted the missing ornament. A letter to me from Galen Clark states that he assisted in Miss Dutcher's ascent, Anderson preceding with a rope around his waist connecting with Miss Dutcher; also that she was certainly the first and possibly the last woman who made the ascent. These ascents are now forbidden, but the natural attractions of the State of California have drawn to it a vast revenue from transient nature lovers...

Daily Evening Bulletin, November 18, 1875, p. 1

South Dome
Its Ascent by George Anderson and John Muir—Hard Climbing but a Glorious View—Botany of the Dome—Yosemite in Late Autumn.
(From our special correspondent).

Yosemite Valley, November 10, 1875.

...On my return to the valley the other day I immediately hastened to the Dome, not only for the pure pleasure climbing in view, but to see what else I might enjoy and learn. Our first winter storm had bloomed and all the mountains were mantled in fresh snow. I was therefore little apprehensive of danger from slipperyness of the rock, Anderson himself refusing to believe that any one could climb his rope in the condition it was then in. Moreover, the sky was overcast, and solemn snow-clouds began to curl and wreath themselves around the summit of the Dome, and my late experiences on icy Shasta came to mind. But reflecting that I had matches in my pocket, and that a little firewood might be found, I concluded that in case of a dark storm the night could be spent on the Dome without suffering anything worth caring for. I therefore pushed up alone and gained the top without the slightest difficulty. My first view was perfectly glorious. A massive cloud of a pure pearl lustre was arched across the valley, from wall to wall, the one end resting upon El Capitan, the other on Cathedral Rocks, the brown meadows shadowed beneath, with short reaches of river shimmering in changeful light. Then, as I stood on the tremendous verge overlooking Mirror Lake, a flock of smaller clouds, white as snow, came swiftly from the north, trailing over the dark forests, and arriving on the brink of the valley descended with godlike gestures through Indian Canyon and over the Arches and North Dome, moving rapidly, yet with perfect deliberation...

Notwithstanding the enthusiastic eagerness of tourists to reach the summit of this Dome the general views of the valley from here are far less striking than from many other points, chiefly because of the foreshortening effect produced by looking from so great a height. North Dome is dwarfed almost beyond recognition. The splendid sculpture of the arches is scarcely noticed and the walls on both sides seem comparatively low and sunken. The Dome itself is the most sublime feature of all Yosemite views, and that is beneath our feet. The view of Little Yosemite Valley is very fine, though inferior to one obtained from the base of Starr King; but the summit landscapes towards Mounts Tyell [Lyell!], Dana and Conness are very effective and complete. When the sublime ice-floods of the glacial period poured down the flank of the range over what is now Yosemite Valley, they were compelled to break through a dam of domes... South Dome was first to emerge from the icy waste, burnished and glowing like a crystal... Its entire surface is covered with glacial hieroglyphics whose interpretation is the great reward of all who devoutly study them.

Before closing this letter I might say a word or two concerning the botany of the Dome. There are four clumps of pines growing on the summit representing three species... all three repressed and storm-beaten. The Alpine spiraea grows here also, and blooms bountely with potentilla, ivesta[?], erigeron, criogonum, penstemon, solidage, and four or five species of grasses and sedges, differing in no respect from those on other summits of the same elevation.

I have always discouraged as much as possible every project for laddering the South Dome, believing it would be a fine thing to keep this garden untrodden. Now the pines will be carved with the initials of Smith and Jones, and the gardens strewn with tin cans and bottles, but the winter gales will blow most of this rubbish away, and avalanches may strip off the ladders; and then it is some satisfaction to feel assured that no lazy person will ever trample these gardens. When a mountain is climbed it is said to be conquered — as well say a man is conquered when a fly lights on his head. Blue jays have trodden the Dome many a day; so have beetles and chipmucks, and Tissiack will hardly be more conquered, now that man is added to her list of visitors. His louder scream and heavier scrambling will not stir a line of her countenance...

J. Muir

San Francisco Bulletin, June 26, 1876, p. 4

South Dome Ascended.—On the 21st instant a party of tourists made the ascent of South Dome, in Yosemite Valley; and what makes the feat more famous, one of the party was a lady, and what makes it still more interesting to chronicle, she was a newspaper correspondent. There were four tourists in the party, all of whose names we were unable to learn, but the lady's name was Miss Lizzie R. Pershing [should have been: Lizzie K. Pershing], and she is a correspondent of the Pittsburgh, Pa., Gazette. Miss Pershing is the second lady that has ever accomplished this undertaking, and it is but fair to state that but very few of the sterner sex have considered the glory of having climbed the dome a recompense for the dangers to be braved. After making an extraordinary climb on the ragged mountain side, the dome itself is reached, the ascent of which requires one to climb, by the aid of ropes, up an almost perpendicular wall, without steps or foothold other than nature has made, a distance of 900 feet. These ropes extend from one staple in the rock to another, and the distance between the staples is from ten to fifty feet, according to circumstances. The fatigue of this perilous undertaking did not seem to seriously affect this brave little lady, for she returned from the valley to-day, looking as fresh and fair as if she had not accomplished a feat that makes her famous.&mdashStockton Herald.

The Christian Advocate, New York, September 21, 1876, Vol. 51, No. 38, p. 297

Miss Lizzie K. Pershing, daughter of President Pershing, of the Pittsburgh Female College, during a visit to California won quite a reputation as a letter-writer for several leading journals. She has recently returned home, and it appears that she has attained the title "Heroine of the South Dome" of the Yosemite Valley, supposed to be six thousand feet high—a perpendicular wall. For many years persons have sought unsuccessfully to climb up, until a Scotch sailor succeeded last October. By drilling holes in the steepest part of the rocks, and putting iron pegs, and standing on one spike while he drove in another, he succeeded in getting up the steepest part. He then fastened a rope around these pegs, and it forms a ladder. By climbing up a long way on the hands and knees you reach what they call "The Saddle", and from there go up by a single rope the dizzy height—930 feet; and from thence the Dome is more easily reached, and you can walk right to its edge, and look down a straight wall 5,500 feet. This perilous feat was performed by Miss Pershing.

...Along the old plank walk between Hutchings' old corral to Sentinel Bridge, Anderson stretched five separate strands of baling rope. With another strand he went along the 975-foot length knotting the five strands together with a sixth strand and a good sailor's knot a foot apart—a convenient space for climber to grasp as they made the ascent. The knotted rope was coiled, tied together put on a pack mule, and carried to the shoulder of the Dome. Here Anderson shouldered it himself, packed it to the top of the Dome, unloosed it, fastened one end to an iron pin in rock on the summit, slid it down, uncoiling and fastening it to other iron-pin eyebolts he had placed on his first ascent as he went.

Cincinnati Commercial, August 24, 1876, p. 4; also
Daily Register, Wheeling, West Virginia, August 26, 1876, p. 1, and
Daily Alta California, September 9, 1876, p. 1

Anderson's cabin at the foot of the Dome, near the 'saddle'. (From an article
in The Pacific Rural Press, San Francisco, June 18, 1881).

A Stairway to the Clouds.
John[!] Anderson, the first man to make the ascent of the great South Dome in the Yosemite Valley, is a quiet young Scotchman, who lives hermit-like in a small house near the saddle of the dome. Here he dreams and experiments, coming occasionally down into the valley, where he is the object of eager curiosity to travelers, who whisper one to another, "There's Anderson", "There's the sailor who climbed the Dome". But few travelers have ever ascended to his workshop in the mountains, and few people know that he is now busily constructing a staircase of one thousand steps, which he intends shall form an easy pathway to the clouds. These steps are of wood, riveted together by iron, and will be fastened by bolts in the rock. Next year, perhaps, tourists can walk up a thousand-foot stairway, instead of hanging to a thousand-foot rope. In time, Mr. Anderson hopes to have an elevator running up and down the chasm, and his ambitions extend even to a train of cars, which he is now perfecting—cars which will run up a perpendicular wall.—[Source:] Letter in the Louisville Courier-Journal.

The Philadelphia Inquirer, August 31, 1876; also
Liberty Tribune, Liberty, Missouri, October 13, 1876, p. 2:

Personal
John[!] Anderson, the first man who ascended the great South Dome in the Yosemite Valley, lives alone in a small house near the saddle of the dome. He is hard at work constructing a staircase of a thousand steps on the dome. He hopes to have an elevator running in time, and is also working on a model of a steam car that shall carry passengers up the almost perpendicular wall.

Bulletin, San Francisco, September 6, 1876, p. 1

Summering in the Sierra

(From our own correspondent)

Yosemite Valley, August 28, 1876.

This forenoon I had the pleasure of meeting George Anderson, the indomitable cragsman, the brave climber, of firm nerve and eye, who was the first to set foot on the great South Dome. He has been hard at work all summer hewing timber for a stairway up the hitherto inaccessible curving summit of the dome, which he hopes to have completed by the first of June next [1877], so as to be available for the main flood of next year's travel. It will be about 800 feet in length, with about thousand steps, securely railed in on both sides. The side timbers will be eight inches wide by four in thickness, and firmly bolted on the solid rock. And, inasmuch as the general slope of the rock on which the stairway will be laid is only about equal to that of ordinary house stairs, there will be nothing dangerous in the ascent, nor anything of a clinging, clambering character. When, however, we take into consideration the fact that the few low little steps leading to the upper stories of hotels are regarded as so exhausting as to require the modern cage elevator, the grand old dome will seem about as inaccessible to most people as before...

...I only want to remark here, that standing on their head is not the best position from which to see anybody, still I would advise every one to make the ascent of Tissiack, for not to mention the glorious circumference of landscapes seen from its summit, the joyous leafy valley outspread a mile below, and far beyond, alp, and forest, and rolling granite seas. On these vast aerial thrones one always receives lasting impressions of an utter isolation from all the known ways of the world, leaving the soul free to expand and blend with fountain nature, as if one had died and gone to another star...

John Muir

Once a Week [Magazine], London, 1877 (unknown volume, p. 96)

A Perilous Ascent.—The most formidable mountain, perhaps, in the world, the South Dome of the Yosemite Valley, in California, has not only been climbed by a Scotchman named Anderson, but it is to be made practicable for travellers of exceptional nerve by a stair constructed up the back of the Dome by this enterprising climber. "No description", says a correspondent at San Francisco, "can convey any adequate idea of this singular mountain... The walls on either side of the valley are for five miles a close succession of bare granite rocks, cut down with smooth face as if by a knife, and rising sheer from the valley to the average height of 4000 feet. The fact of a perpendicular wall, three-quarters of a mile high, of bright grey granite, can scarcely be grasped by the mind, and must be seen before it can be realized. Imagine the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral multiplied a hundred times and cloven in half — the one side a precipice of 6000 feet from top to bottom; the other side forming a perfect quadrant for 1500 feet from the top, as smooth and bare and regular as the side of a ball — and some faint idea can be formed of Anderson's terrible feat".

The Huron Expositor, January 11, 1878

Probably the largest and highest rock in the known world is the South Dome of Yosemite... No man ever trod the top of this dome until last year... Last year, however, after thousands of dollars were spent [in previous attempts?], several persons found their way to the top of the dome, and this summer two sheep were discovered browsing on the hitherto inaccessible peak. Mrs. A. J. Murphy, the widow of a late hotel proprietor in the valley, writes as follows under date of November 11th [1877?; 1876?]:

"John[!] Anderson is building stairs up the top of the South Dome. You can go up now by holding on to a rope, but it is quite a tiresome trip. A few ladies in the valley have made the ascent, and I am sorry I did not attempt it... Strange to say two sheep found their way to the top of the South Dome this summer, a dam and her lamb. How they ever got there is more than any one can tell. They found bunch grass and shoots to eat, but no water—only the dew that fell on the dome at night. Anderson was going to carry them up some water when I left".—[Source: an 1877(?) issue of] Virginia (Nev.) Enterprise

In the Heart of the Sierras, Chapter 26

...In 1877 Mr. Anderson, after assisting Mr. S. C. Walker, the photographer, and the writer [Hutchings], to pack up all the photographic apparatus necessary for taking views from its summit, deliberately placed upon a large flat rock, projectingly, on the margin of the precipice, and stood upright upon it while the photograph was taken; one of his feet being over, and beyond the edge eleven inches, as presented in the accompanying view, taken at that time. Although unsteadied and unsupported, not a nerve or muscle quivered.

In the Heart of the Sierras, Chapter 26

...In October following [1877], six persons, among them a lady in her sixty-fifth year [Florantha Sproat], and a young girl, thirteen years of age (a daughter of the writer) and two other ladies, climbed it with but little difficulty, after Anderson had provided the way. Since then very many others have daringly pulled themselves up; and enjoyed the exceptionally impressive view obtained thence...

Yosemite Tourist, Yosemite Valley, July 9, 1895

Eighteen years ago today, John Muir, of glacial fame, Thos. Magee [Sr.], one of well-known pioneers of San Francisco and the late Geo. G. Anderson, the latter acting as guide, ascended the Half Dome. Mr. Thos. Magee, Jr., then a mere boy, was left at the Anderson cabin, near the dome, for he was too small to attempt so perilous a feat... The cabin [was] about a half mile from the dome. In the good old days, when those so inclined could reach the top of the dome, this cabin was the starting point. Many, too, would come here and remain over night and then be ready for the climb in the morning...

Breakfast Table Autocrat: The Life Story of Henry Parsons Crowell,
by Richard Ellsworth Day, Moody press, 1946, pp. 73-74:

...By the middle of May, 1877, [Henry and George] had equipped for scaling Half Dome in Yosemite Valley. Stout clotheslines, a bag of rugged spikes, and a short-hafted sledge apiece, were the chief scaling aids. It makes one dizzy to think of such simple means for conquering the cloud-piercing slopes of the great rock. As they rode through the bee pastures along the Merced River, the Maricopa Flower Carpet was in full glory. No Persian rug could vie with it. The boys listened to the muffled roar of the waterfalls, leaping at a bound for hundreds of feet, fluttering in the wind like a filmy pennant. They gazed upon the mile-high eminences along the river, and came to Mirror Lake, nature's reflecting pool for Half Dome.

On the wind-swept summit of Half Dome, they gazed for a long time at the vast assembly of granite titans, beginning with Glacier Point on the south side, hanging dizzily over its three thousand-foot drop. They looked at El Cajon on the north side with its sheer slope to the valley floor. In the hotel that night, the mountaineers heard the boys' account of their venture. They would not believe the tale until the next day they found the ropes and spikes, like a spider filament soaring cloudward, just as Crowell and Worthington had left them...

Through America; Or Nine Months in the United States, by W. G. Marshall, London, 1881, Chapter 19, p. 380:

Abbie Crippen

It was getting late, so that I had begun to be anxious. [My friend] suddenly burst in upon our party assembled outside the hotel. He looked wild and scared; his skin was peeled—it was evident he had not been idle since we had lost sight of him in the morning. He told us he had been up the South Dome. "What, up to the top?" we all exclaimed in one breath. "Yes", was the reply.—But no, we could none of us believe it, not even Miss Bernard herself, who, already the vanquisher of that bold, inaccessible-looking mountain, would never believe that it had been scaled in one day, and that, too, by an Englishman, and all by himself! Without more ado my friend produced indisputable evidence that he had actually accomplished the ascent, for he took out from his pocket a certain curious trophy which he had brought away with him from the summit, and this was nothing less than a piece of one of Miss Bernard's stockings, the young lady in question having left behind her, when she was last up the mountain, a sample of this portion of her wearing apparel, which she had fastened on to a low stunted pine that grew out of the hard rock at the very top of the precipice. So my friend had cut off part of the stocking—six square inches of which he found clinging to the tree—and brought it down to show the young lady herself, as the best proof he could give, that he was indeed no gay deceiver...

Henry William Herbert, [representing Rumney],
Democrat, a member of the Committee on Industrial School, was born at Rumney, October 2, 1842. He was educated in the common schools and at Boscawen Academy. He enlisted in the 6th N. H. Regiment, but being under age and unable to obtain his father's consent, he could not enter the service. He entered a broker's office in Boston and remained there during the war. He then returned to Rumney and followed the occupation of farming until 1871, at which time he was appointed station agent on the Boston, Concord and Montreal Railroad at that place, which position he held until January 1, 1887. Mr. Herbert has traveled quite extensively in Canada and throughout the United States, and is one of the very few persons who ever stood on the summit of the South Dome in the Yosemite Valley. He was a Representative in 1894, and has been Chairman of the Rumney Board of Selectmen for five years; Tax Collector five years, and Deputy Sheriff two years.

Through America; Or Nine Months in the United States, by W. G. Marshall, London, 1881, Chapter 19, pp. 380-383:

[abridged]

Leaving Bernard's [Barnard's Hotel] on foot at 10 a.m., I reached Snow's at 12.10 p.m., had luncheon there, and remained till 1.30. Then, mounting to the top of the Nevada Fall, I struck off by a trail to the left, which led me over a shoulder of the great South Dome till I came to the foot of a conical-shaped rock, called the Little Dome, which I found I was obliged to climb... This successfully scaled, I had to descend again... to a dip between the two Domes, the huge granite mass of the South Dome now looming majestically above me. The rope of the Scotchman now appeared to view, running down straight for 960 feet from the top of the curve, close to the vertical face of the mountain... The sections of this rope are not all equal, some being not more than twenty feet in length, while one or two sections near the top of the curve are nearly 100 feet in length, and, being quite loose, thus oblige one to describe a considerable arc. Where the sections are short you go up like a monkey, hand over hand, close to the rock. The lower portion of the precipice was very steep, having an angle of 10 degrees from the vertical, and this part had to be ascended without any rest. From this point the grand curve of the Dome began, the granite lying here and there in immense overlapping, concentric slabs—like gigantic armour-plates, the 'plates' in this case being three to five feet thick, difficult to climb over, even with the aid of the rope. Over these I had to scramble as best I could; but there were a few cracks in the granite which enabled me to obtain an occasional foothold, and, leaning with my back against the almost vertical wall of rock, rest awhile and contemplate the view...

The gymnastic performance now began to get easier as to the grade; but the fatigue caused by the rarity of the air, and the heat of a blazing Californian sun, glaring as it did directly in my face, caused me to inwardly rejoice when I reached the summit. That this is a much less difficult—though not the less dangerous—climb than it looks, is certain, and provided the soundness of the rope be guaranteed, a lady can without difficulty make the ascent. But her chief embarrassment would be the 'monkey' performance, if she went up in ordinary attire.

Having rested for a few moments on the top of a stony couch... the next thing to do was to quench thirst, which had become simply unendurable. To this end I made my way to a small snow-field lying about 200 yards off. Then I devoted an hour to the view, sitting down on the edge of the precipice and dangling my legs over, having first lit my pipe that I might enjoy the view the better...

The descent I found considerably easier than the ascent, for the rope had now been fully tested, and all that it was necessary to do was to cling firmly to it, and let myself down hand over hand... At Snow's... I was given a tallow candle, to light if it should get too dark during my descent into the valley. But it was not brought into requisition, for I reached Bernard's[!] at 8.18 p.m., having been away from the hotel just ten hours and eighteen minutes.

Technology Review, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Vol. 18, Cambridge, 1916, p. 307:

...I had always been fond of mountain climbing, and among other things ascended the Half Dome in Yosemite Valley by means of a rope. For 900 feet the ascent had to be made hand over hand, supporting a considerable portion of my weight at the same time on my feet. The ascent was continuous, as there were no intermediate ledges on which one could rest. In fact, the only ledges were inverted! Comparatively few living persons have been on the summit, since the rope was removed many years ago.

Pacific Rural Press, September 14, 1878, pp. 162-163

Scenes in the High Sierra back of Yosemite.—No. 1
(Written for the Press by J. G. Lemmon).

...My regret at being placed hors de combat just that morning, of all the 10 weeks almost constant riding from Santa Barbara to and about Yosemite, now became agony. I gathered souvenirs of flowers and prepared to return, when a voice hailed us from over the east dome, and a man came stalking down the slope with a sure and easy tread that told the strength of his limbs and the resolution of his heart. He proved to be Mr. E. W. Baker, a cool headed carpenter from Alameda, accustomed to walking on dizzy heights. Hastily inquiring he learned my state, but declared I must go up with him if he had to carry me on his back. Taking from a bush near by the rope that Anderson used for the purpose, about 15 feet long, he tied one end about his waist and I placed the other about mine.

Promising to let me down from any point if my strength failed me, he grasped the rope and ran up nimbly as a cat, hand over hand, and I slowly followed. Raising the rope out from the rock causes your pressure against it with nailed boots to be increased in the ratio of your lifting power. So firmly your feet cling to the glassy rock, and clink, clink, the iron nails ring out upon the air, keeping time with the regular reaching of the hands up, up, up!

Occasionally, clefts, in the rock afforded foothold enough for a moment's rest and a survey of the glorious scenery unveiling below... [From the top of the attendant dome] the voice of Lambert came cheerily: "You are doing well!" "About half-way up!" Later came the shout, "Three-fourths of the way!" My back seems to be separating in the region of the lumbar vertebra and pains shoot through the part keen as knife-thrusts, but I keep on grasping the rope with trembling, weakened fingers. "Only three pins more!" I gasp and feel an inclination to halt, and turn around giddily. "Depend more upon the little rope," Baker calls down, in a firm voice, "I can pull you up bodily." "Almost up!" shouts Lambert from the far depths. "One more pin!" Baker creeps up to it, sits down above it, and pulls me up over the cape stone. The perilous climb is done; the crown of "Tis-sa-ack," is reached, over 10,000 feet, nearly two miles above the level world! Rest followed, while the hearts throbbed and the eye wandered. 0, what a glorious vision lies out-spread, of gorge and dome, turret and pinnacle!

Exploring the top of the half dome, we found it a convex, elliptical table of rock, depressed several feet near its center by a cross valley, and extending about 100 rods in a direction nearly northeast and southwest. The north wall, seemingly so smooth and clean cut from below, is really notched and much diversified. On its outer point, the visor of "Tis-sa-ack's" crown, stands a flagpole of fir about 15 feet long, and eight inches in diameter at its base, upheld by piled rocks. Though seldom registering myself in the usual places, I thought it proper to pencil my name here with the thirty or forty only others that have ventured up this fearful steep... Only one tree has taken root on the summit. This stands near the edge at the western side of the ellipse and is about two feet thick at base and 25 feet high, with the peculiar, many-branched, depressed limbs of the Pinos monticola found on such highths...

The descent of "Tis-sa-ack," by the small rope swinging almost vertically over the side, was scarcely less fearful though taking less time, and was performed by backing down. Often the foot failed to find a resting place and you dangled in air until reaching over and beneath the concentric layers your iron boot-naila caught upon the inner rock...

Report of the Botanist, J. G. Lemmon, in
Second Biennial Report of the California State Board of Forestry for the Years 1887-1888, Sacramento 1888.

pp. 84-85

...But few have enjoyed what it was the writer's privilege to experience while exploring the upper heights of Yosemite. I climbed Anderson's rope (now both the rope and its intrepid maker in dust) to the top of South-Half Dome. Exploring its crown we found an ellipse of table rock about one hundred rods long, with but one tree maintaining its hold, as by an eagle's talons, to the wind-swept rock, two miles in vertical above the sea. Of course, it was the Limber-twig Pine [Pinus flexilis], over two feet thick at base, but only a few in height, with willowy branches that receded and swayed, self-protectingly, with every breeze...

Having thus made the ascent a possibility, Anderson's delight now is to induce enterprising climbers to draw themselves up by his rope ferry, the manner of proceeding being to keep one foot on either side of the rope, and, retaining a good grip of the rope itself, gradually to haul one's self up to the summit, there remain for a while lost in wonder at the grand bird's-eye view, and then climb down backwards.

It is all right so long as most of the stanchions stand firm and the rope does not break; but should this simple accident occur, there would not be the faintest possibility of rescue, wretch who might fall from that majestic dome. A leap from the summit of St. Paul's would be child's play in comparison. A man troubled with suicidal mania would find it hard to look down from a precipice a sheer fall of 5000 feet, and resist the temptation to cast himself down...

George Anderson, [who is] regarding the giant [Half Dome] with all the pride of a conqueror, frequently invites me to ascend [it] under his able guidance, but which I consider as a feat too dangerous to compensate for the risk...

Daily Evening Bulletin, June 14, 1879, p. 3

Yosemite, June 14th.
...Excursions, semi-scientific and pleasure, are the order of the day. Rev. A. S. Fiske has led two parties of climbers to the summit of South Dome. Rev. J. M. Allis of the Occident has also made this ascent...

New-York Tribune, June 27, 1880, p. 5
Ten Days in Yosemite
(From an occasional correspondent of the Tribune)

(...)
A Perilous Climb On South Dome.

We essayed first the easier trails—those to Glacier Point and the Vernal and Nevada Falls—and by the third day felt equal to more ambitious efforts. So we laid siege to South Dome—a peak which has a bad reputation, and which was wholly inaccessible until a few years ago. It is shaped like a sugar-loaf, sliced in half, the smooth flat side being toward the valley. The trail winds about the base, makes an immense detour, and emerges at the rear of the mountain. It is thickly wooded until it approaches the summit. Then trees and vegetation suddenly disappear; nothing is left but barren rock, looking like great masses of iron welded together, and seamed by overlapping folds, which give the mountain crown a close resemblance to the flank of a mammoth rhinoceros.

The summit rises directly from a narrow plateau, on which a place is soon reached where the trip ends for the lazy or timid. The path slopes away on either side, in long roof-tree style, for a thousand feet, then falls in a sheer precipice of three thousand feet to the valley below. Up the steep crown of the mountain, 900 feet in perpendicular height, which makes a spherical angle of about sixty degrees, is stretched a rope, formed of seven strong hemp ropes of the size of an ordinary clothes-line, knotted together at intervals of eighteen inches. It is fixed to the rock by iron staples every fifteen or twenty feet. The only danger lies in the giving way of a staple or the breaking of the rope, two casualties that could not readily occur, as the rope is frequently inspected by guides, and the staples seem to be clenched on the nether side of the mountain. To an active man or woman, not given to dizziness, the ascent is without much danger. Carefully working one's way hand over hand, the slack of the rope allowing a nearly upright position, one finally nears the summit and skips over the last one hundred feet by the aid of a single line.

A barren plateau of several acres is the foreground. The entire length of valley and can[y]on stretches away in front, so near that it seems you may call to the pigmy figures moving about a mile below you, and two miles away as the bee flies. Directly below, as you lie prone on the rocky ledge and peer over, is Mirror Lake looking like an artificial fish pond. On the left is the Little Yosemite Valley, with a spray-like fall in the dim distance, and at the back the shaggy-headed monster whose fastnesses are seldom disturbed is Cloud's Rest. Mountain peaks can't be enjoyed long, more's the pity. Ten minutes on a mountain top for a five hours' tramp is usually the rule. But in those minutes one may get a view of the valley which is unsurpassed from any other point...

San Francisco Chronicle, Sunday, July 27, 1879, p. 1

Perilous Climb of the South Dome of the Yosemite
Terrors of a Summit Storm—A Lake of Fire—Olympian Thunderings...

[A group of climbers find a charming camp-ground by the side of the Merced, in the Little Yosemite Valley, two miles up from the Nevada Fall. They climb to the top of the Cap of Liberty on the first day. Back in camp, they "rest and skirmish hereabouts for a few days, every hour's exercise strengthening us for the glorious journey ahead"]

At 8 a.m. on one of these days we leave camp, pass portions of the walls of the Little Yosemite that have been polished by glaciers... We go over these moraines, and en route to the South Dome or Tissack call at George Anderson's cabin... We ride away up to the base of the great mountain. Then comes a long, hard hand-and-foot climb up into the saddle on the eastern wall... There yet remains nearly 1,000 feet of wall to scale. The only way to accomplish it is by a rope which is swinging down from out the heavens...

For us to make this ascent is a perilous undertaking, or rather overtaking. Away we go, not daring to gaze downwards, lest we lose our senses and be dashed into fragments. Finally we hear the avant-courier shouting, "Up in a balloon, boys", as he reaches and drags us up and over the edge, when, blinding our eyes with our hands, we rush back from the dizzy spot.

All are safely landed before any one turns attention to the surroundings, for there has been much anxiety. We find eight trees, four different kinds of pines, on the summit. There are numerous shrubs and flowers growing in the crevices, while lizards, grasshoppers and chipmunk tenant this isolated mountain... We count nineteen immense forest fires away below us... The sheep-herders are thus doing disastrous work, destroying timber and the beauty of landscape, and thinning the dense groves that shelter ice fields, making them become devastating floods upon being exposed to the full glare of the sun[!]

But what is this? Clouds are gathering about us. Heaven have mercy on us, for how will we ever descend if a storm head us off?... Belts of red and golden and dark purple clouds, indicative of the coming anger of the elements, gather around the setting sun. But he persistently forces his rays through them all till every bank of cloud and mountain chain, dome, pinacle, spire and crest is lighted up with brilliant glare. All around our very feet, and far about us as the eye can reach, is a shining sea of livid flames. Even the deepest black canyons are filled full of a lurid purplish red... We stand in ineffable terror gazing upon the fascinating panorama... The thunder renews its crashes from summit to summit, and re-echoes again and again adown the canyon's depths. The lightning flashes in livid lines about the cliff-sides through the flaming atmosphere... Renewing our courage, [we] hurry to the edge of the precipice, down which we are to swoop through the storm and perhaps in utter darkness...

The lightning darts its fiery shafts all through the air about our feet as one after another swings into the perilous hand-clinging journey on the rope of the 1,000-foot precipice. We literally ride upon the storm [which has now broken below us], almost treading upon the lightning and grasping it in our hands... The rains falls fast, the wall is dripping with trickling water, the rope-knots are soaking, our naked hands are blistered (for our gloves were too slippery in the wet), and we only make the landing in time to save our lives. But what a grand and glorious experience, and, full of thanksgiving, little reck we the storm as we jog on our way to the river side [and our camp]...

Pacific Rural Press, San Francisco, Saturday, June 18, 1881, p. 431

In October 1875, Mr. Geo. G. Anderson succeeded, after two days and a half, in accomplishing the first Half Dome ascent. Mr. Anderson is a Scotchman, who has resided in the valley for 15 years. He is a ship carpenter by trade, and had followed the sea in that business for many years before settling on shore. Before his residence in the valley, he was engaged in putting up one or two suspension bridges over the Tuolumne and other rivers, and acquired considerable local fame for fearlessness and steadiness of nerve. After determining to try the ascent of the dome, he prepared eye-bolts, drills, chisels, and the necessary ropes, and packed them to a convenient place, and after much hard work he reached the top, and planted a flagstaff there.

Last year the rope became unsafe, and was cut to prevent any further attempts and possible accidents. When Anderson offered to accompany me to the Saddle, which he said was as far as we could go, I eagerly accepted the invitation. We followed a comparatively easy path toward Cloud's Rest, until we reached a point where we turned off and commenced the ascent toward the Dome. We passed the cabin where Anderson lived and prepared the iron work and bolts for his attempts, emerged from the timber and caught the first glimpse of the Dome and the Saddle. We climbed the projecting spur of the Saddle, with considerable difficulty, and took a long rest upon the comparatively flat surface at the top of this elevation. Two hundred and fifty feet or more above us dangled the frayed and ragged end of the rope which had been broken at that point, and after extending, with one or two breaks, some 400 or 500 ft upward, it again terminated, and apparently where it would be most needed.

I had made up my mind before starting that, if possible, I would attempt the ascent, but dared not speak of it to Anderson, fearing that he would not allow it. But Anderson now seemed to divine my intention. He gathered a few of the bolts which had been pulled out and were lying at the foot upon the Saddle, and selected some of the best of the pieces of rope which were still lying there, to repair with. We started up, putting in a bolt here and there, and making the rope fast, for it was almost entirely loose from the point where it commenced, to its upper end. We added some rope at the lower end, and worked slowly up, not trusting the rope, as it was very weak in many places. Before we had accomplished half the ascent, the clouds began to close in around us, and we abandoned the rope and went up the remainder of the distance as fast as we could. We found the flagstaff fallen down, and set it up, and then the clouds broke away a little and gave us a magnificent view of the valley.

G. H. Strong in the mid 1870s.

As new ropes have been sent to the valley by the commissioners, the South Dome will soon be again accessible to anyone who has nerve and does not mind a little hard work, and it is probable that by another season a flight of steps will be put up, as Mr. Anderson has all the necessary lumber just at the foot of the Saddle, and well protected.

Los Angeles Times, August 17, 1915, p. II5

Climbing the Half Dome

Los Angeles, Aug. 16 — To the Editor of the Times: The feat of seventeen college students, several from this city, accompanied by the photographer A. C. Pillsbury, of climbing the Half Dome in the Yosemite Valley [in August 1915]..., is a very notable achievement in mountain climbing.

But it is not quite accurate to say that "this is the first time on record that the top of the Dome has been reached by human beings", although it is probably true it has not been done during the last thirty years.

In the year 1881, when I had less sense and less avoirdupois than now, accompanied by Frank Gassoway [actually: Gassaway], a San Francisco newspaper man, who wrote under the nom de plume "Derick Dodd", I made the ascent of the Half Dome.

I came into the valley horseback from Mono Lake, crossing by the way of Mill Creek Canyon, Mt. Dana, Tioga, the Tuolumne meadows and Lake Tenaya, and meeting Mr. Gassoway in the valley, we agreed together to climb the Half Dome, or the South Dome, as it is sometimes called.

We rode horseback from the valley to the Saddle, which is 960 feet below the summit of the Dome, and from that point we climbed the rock by aid of a rope about a half inch in diameter, which had been placed there by a sailor named Anderson in the early seventies. He had set iron staples with rings in the rock about seventy-five feet apart, and the rope was attached to each of those staples. Many venturesome people climbed the Dome while this rope was in place. At that time the rope was quite weather-worn and many of the staples had become loose and detached from the rock. These rattling on the surface of the granite were very disconcerting during the climb...

From a distance the Half Dome looks perfectly smooth and shines like glass in the sun, but in reality it is of granite of rather coarse texture, and the grain of the rock, with occasional cracks, give a slight foothold.

This rope, which was regarded as dangerous, was taken down that year, and no one has ever ascended the Half Dome in the thirty-odd years since, until the feat of Pillsbury and the students, which was really a very remarkable one.

On the top of the rock, 9500 feet above the sea level, there is an acre or so comparatively level, and on this were many bones of sheep, which had climbed the steep dome, but could not raise sufficient courage to descend, and died at the top rather than make the attempt.

H. Z. Osborne

Summer saunterings, by Frank Harrison Gassaway, San Francisco, 1882, p. 122:

As a standpoint for the landscape viewer, the polished summit of [Half Dome] is incomparably the finest in the whole range, towering as it does five thousand feet above the Valley floor and commanding its entire scope, from east to west. The drawback to its general enjoyment by the tourist is the undeniably hazardous nature of the present means of ascent, which from the top of the horse-trail to the apex of the eminence is by means of a rope nine hundred feet long. This cord lies upon the slippery surface of the granite slope, the angle never being less than forty degrees. The marvel of the matter is how this cord was first placed on that air-line trail by the spider-footed Geo. Anderson, a guide of the greatest strength and most iron nerve. A man ascending this dizzy slant presents about the relative appearance of a fly walking up the side of an inverted goblet. Very few visitors care to attempt it, unless under the supervision of this guide, Anderson, whose wonderful coolness was acquired as a sailor. The cord itself is hardly calculated to inspire the fullest confidence, being composed of seven thicknesses of common, hay-bale-rope. This, however, is knotted every few inches to assist the hands, besides which the climber can rest at certain intervals and anoint the soles of his feet with fresh mucilage, a bottle of which he carries in his vest pocket for the purpose...

Newton H. Chittenden, Brooklyn, N.Y. (Pacific Coast address: A. L. Bancroft Publishers 721 Market Str., S. F'o.)

Foot Prints, by Henry Raymond Hamilton, Lakeside Press, Chicago, 1927, pp. 121-122

[Describing events in 1883, upon his arrival to San Francisco:]

[...In the City, I met a man who] had been to the Orient and the Hawaiian Islands and had landed at San Francisco to begin his invasion of America. His name was Count Bologna Strickland; his father was an Englishman and he had been educated in England. His mother was a Maltese and his estates were on the island of Malta, from whence he took his title. We arranged to make a trip together to the Yosemite Valley, and left San Francisco by rail for the nearest point to the Valley, which I think was Merced, from which we staged into the valley, stopping overnight at the Mariposa Big tree grove. Our companions on this stage trip were Chris Magee of Pittsburgh, and his wife and sister. Chris afterwards became the Republican boss of Western Pennsylvania and had the free and easy manners of the American politician and also the American politician's indifference to titles. The count was very dignified and took himself quite seriously. We stopped for lunch at a roadside cabin, and after the rest of the party had embarked, the count was discovered making notes in his memorandum book, probably for the book he intended writing. Magee electrified him by calling out,
Chris Magee "Hurry up there Bologna Sausage, old boy, we can't hold this bus all day for you." I suppose that he put this in his notes, too. We were in the valley only one day, but we saw as much as the ordinary tourist sees in three days, because we galloped our horses all day long, from one point to another. We even climbed to the top of the South Dome, a feat which, according to the guide book, had never been accomplished. However, a sailor had managed to scale the height a year or two before, and had left a rope anchored at various points in the rock. By putting one's feet against the rock, and going up about 800 feet of rope, hand over hand, the feat was not so difficult, although it required some agility. When we got to the top, we climbed down to a ledge on the vertical wall of the cliff and dropped stones to the floor of the valley, a straight drop of a mile...

The Gentleman's Magazine, London, Volume CCLXXXI [281], September 1896, pp. 245-258

Yosemite Memories, by W. H. Gleadell

...The day was still very young as we galloped down the valley to the Half Dome trail... Near the foot of Nevada Fall stands Snow's Hotel and here we dismounted... At Snow's we stayed long enough to rest and refresh our horses, then continued up the trail to the top of the Nevada Fall, and round the base of a stupendous and isolated mass of rock, nearly perpendicular on all sides, known as the Cap of Liberty. Here we turned out of the Merced Gorge into the Little Yosemite Valley, and by the side of a small brook, the last water we were to see till the same spot was reached on our return, partook alfresco of the luncheon we had brought with us in our saddle-bags.

Our Mexican ponies took us to within 1,000 feet of the summit, the point at which most of the amateur climbers of the ancient abode of Tesaiyac finally stop. Comparatively few, we were assured, ever reach the flag-staff. We had been duly warned before starting of the dangers attendant on the ascent of the rounded dome itself, and we had to confess, as we looked up at the almost perpendicular (about 80 degrees) smooth granite surface and the solitary rope to which we were to trust our lives, that it did look somewhat fearful.

The rope, of fifteen strands of a very strong fibre, was securely fastened at the top of the peak, and then fixed by iron cleats driven into the face of the rock at intervals of 100 feet. The ascent is effected by pulling oneself up this rope hand over hand, at the same time firmly gripping the granite face of the mountain with one's feet. Despite the assertion of guide books that the ascent is "hazardous in the extreme", it is not a difficult feat provided one has a good head and can rely on one's fingers—for a moment's loss of power or self-control must mean inevitable destruction. Only two of us, however, essayed this final portion of the ascent—a Scotchman, bearing the truly Scottish name of Burns, and the writer—but I do not think either of us were sorry when we at last stood on the plateau beside the flagstaff. This plateau was some ten acres in extent, and surrounded on all sides, except that by which we had come, by apparently bottomless abysses, out of which the roaring of distant waters was the only sound that issued. No sign of life or vegetation was visible anywhere save away down in the Yosemite Valley, 5,000 feet below, but the panorama was nevertheless superb. Over intervening canons and gorges the pale majestic Sierra peaks rose grandly desolate against the cloudless sky, and the bald granite rocks around us showed almost as white as the distant snow-capped heights beyond...

For some twenty minutes we stood on this awe-inspiring spot, and then commenced the return journey. This had to be performed backwards, so that fully an hour and a half had elapsed before we again rejoined our friends and ponies.

The sun was getting very low when we once more reached Snow's, and by the time we entered the wood again we found it necessary to dismount and lead our ponies as best we could through the darkness, and many tumbles and bruises were ours before we emerged from the forest on to the floor of the valley... A smart gallop to finish, and we were again at the door of our hotel, having been some twelve hours in the saddle, pleased with ourselves and grateful for all the beauty and majestic grandeur we had seen.

Mariposa Gazette, May 24, 1884

Death of a celebrity.
The Stockton Independent says: "George Anderson, a native of Melrose, Scotland, aged 47, and for a long time a resident in Yo Semite Valley, died there on the 10th inst., of acute pneumonia. He was a man of pluck and daring, being the first to climb South Dome, and it was to his skill and perseverance that it's ascent was made possible to others. He was latterly engaged in building a wide passageway from the floor of the Valley up to the Vernal and Nevada Falls, which, being cut in the side of the granite walls, required blasting most of the way".

[George Anderson] died from want and exposure, really brought on by want of wages that were justly due him for work on that trail. He died of pneumonia. George Anderson went to Mr. Sinning in the spring (...); he says: "Mr. Sinning, I need money to buy food, and you will have to give me a job. "Well", Sinning told him: "I will give you a job. I want the front of my house washed off and cleaned off" (...) And he went to work on the house, and this storm came up, and George kept to work during the rain, and sleet, and snow falling, and he was under the weather at that time, and Sinning begged him, he says: "George, don't work any more; I will pay you just the same if you don't work". George said he had always earned his living, and he didn't want charity from anybody; he would work for it. He was finally obliged to give up, and went in and sat down in Sinning's house, and was taken with chills; and the building that I occupied for a studio he was using to do some wood work in the winter. He had permission from me. He went in that building and laid in his bunk, and they carried him away almost by force. Nobody in the valley except the Leidigs seemed to care anything about the man. He laid there, and would have died without any care or any attention at all in the valley. When it was too late they took him down to Mr. Fiske's house, I believe; took him down there, but it was too late, and he died from pneumonia, simply from want and exposure. He had nothing on earth wherewith to provide himself with the necessaries of life (...) [His death] was one of the greatest losses that Yosemite Valley ever sustained in the shape of a laborer or handy man...