For some distance our road led up a canon.  Reaching its head, we gained the pass at two o’clock.  A wonderful sight here presented itself.  Above us was a brilliant blue sky—­cloudless; every detail of the rock crest upon which we stood was clear.  Forested to its summit, the ridge formed the half of a magnificent amphitheatre, whose slopes had been vertically furrowed at a hundred points by torrents; to the left a spur projected, the crest of which sloped gently downward, forming an enclosing wall upon that side.  Before us, beyond the valley, was a boundary line of mountain masses, sharply outlined against the sky.  Lower ridges, nearer to us, paralleled this distant rampart.  The only apparent outlet from this valley was around the spur to our left.  Looking down upon this magnificent valley, we saw it occupied by a sea of clouds, the level surface of which looked like a lake of water flecked here and there with whitecaps.  The higher hills within the valley rose like islands from the water; to the left a mighty river seemed to flow around the spur, out into a boundless sea of cloud beyond.  The level surface of this lake, river, and sea of clouds was hundreds of feet below us.

From this summit, our trail plunged downward into this sea of mists.  When we reached its upper surface, which was plainly defined, little wisps of mist or cloud were streaming up along the furrowed channels of the mountain walls.  As we entered the lake of cloud the sunlight became fainter, uprushes of cold mists struck us, gloom settled, denser and denser grew the fog, drops of condensed vapor dripped from the trees under which we passed.  At the bottom of the valley, we could scarcely see a dozen yards in any direction.  We were passing along meadows, like those of New England, with brakes, sunflowers, and huckleberries; here and there were little fields of wheat or peas.  The fog was too dense for us to know whether we lost fine scenery.  We saw nothing of the little villages through which we passed.  On and on we plunged along the trail, until it began an ascent of a ridge, almost like a knife-edge, with steep slopes on both sides.  When we had reached the summit of this ridge, we found the trail level, through a growth of oak trees which were loaded with bromelias and orchids.  Though still dim, the light had brightened as we rose to higher levels.  Graceful ferns and sprays of terrestrial orchids overhung our trail at every cutting or slope.  One spray, which I plucked as I rode under it, was more than a yard in length, and its curiously colored brown and yellow flowers were strangely like insects in form.  At one level summit of our ridge, we came upon a little whitewashed building of adobe, dome-topped, with no windows and but one little door.  Pushing this open, I entered through a doorway so narrow that I had to remove my hat, and so low that I was forced to bend, and found myself in a little shrine with a cross and pictures of two or three saints, before which were plain vases filled with fresh flowers, the offerings of travelers.  We added our spray of orchids before we resumed our journey.