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Mail Tribune 100, Sept. 5, 1919

The following news items were drawn from the archives of the Mail Tribune 100 years ago.

Sept. 5, 1919


Crater Lake, Oregon, Monday, August 11th.

What does Crater lake mean to you? Before I made this trip to the wonderlands of the west it meant nothing to me. In fact, I don’t remember having heard of it, at least not forcibly enough to have it impressed upon my mind. It is said to be the eighth wonder of the world. I’ll not attempt to describe it here. The government has issued a folder telling of its beauties. I will merely tell you of our trip of 85 miles from Medford. We reached that city at 7 o’clock this morning, after we had been roused from our slumbers at 5:45. Medford is a pretty little city, but we did not have much time to see it. As soon as we left the train we went to the Holland Hotel for breakfast, and it was promptly served, and then with Mr. and Mrs. Redfield, of Malone, N. Y., we got in an Oakland car owned by Frank Ray, of the city, a fine fellow who did his bit in the last war.

We left the city at 7:40 and started out over the trail. Mr. Ray said we would reach the lake at 6 o’clock, but we did better — we got here at 4:30. Medford is know for its fruit crops, and we saw some fine apple, pear and plum orchards on the way out. Most of the land is irrigated. I am told that the farmers are shipping out trainloads of fruit every day now. They want to get it to New York, for the highest prices prevail there, pears selling at $4.20 a box, but the strike may prevent this. If the fruit does not reach its destination ten days after it is picked, it spoils. The older trees generally yield five boxes of fruit and the farmer gets $2 a box. There are fifty trees to an acre, so it makes a profitable crop.

We had fair traveling for about fifteen miles out and then we began to hit the real wild west. Rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks and other animals often crossed our trail. Deer and bear are numerous, but we didn’t see any. We saw many beautiful sights, as the road was in some instances 500 feet up from the Rogue river, which flowed to the west.

After a time we hit the volcanic dust roads, and I never saw anything to equal them. The dust was a foot deep and we could only travel on second speed most of the way. It was real dust, and we ate our share, altho the wind carried the most of it away. After what seemed eternity we reached Prospect and there we stopped and had our box lunch. We were able to get some good cold water and also a cup of coffee. After a rest of nearly an hour we started out quite refreshed.

News from 100 years ago