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History of Early Pioneer Families of Hood River, Oregon.
Compiled by Mrs. D.M. Coon

A TRIP TO THE "BIG LAKE" AND MT. HOOD. D.M.C. 1873
Data furnished by Frank McFarland.

About the first of August in 1873 a party of seven men, all mounted on good horses with two extra horses loaded with provisions, started from The Dalles for a trip around Mt. Hood by way of Hood River and the "Big Lake" as Lost Lake was then called.
The men comprising the party were E.B. McFarland, a merchant of The Dalles, who had climbed the mountain previously and had charge of the party. Frank McFarland, his nephew, fifteen years of age but a man in size and strength. Rev. W.R. Butcher, a Congregational Minister, John P. Booth, an old time resident of The Dalles. Another man who is distinctly recalled but whose name cannot be remembered. Mr. McLane from California and a college man from New Jersey both being experienced mountain climbers.
They camped the first night at Mosier, coming over the trail through the natural pass in the mountain into Hood River Valley. They then turned south going to Neal's Creek where they camped the second night. Here they engaged the services of John Divers, to act as guide, to show them the way by the old emigrant road around the south side of the mountain. Peter Neal, Jr., accompanied Mr. Divers.
They traveled up the strewn of Hood River along a trail to somewhere near where Dee is now located, and crossed Hood River by fording the stream. Still following the trail they pushed on to the southwest, fording the nest Fork where the banks were high and required a long detour to reach the river. Traveling south and west they came to the Lake Branch which they followed to its source.
They reached the lake in the early afternoon and as it was beginning to rain they stripped the bark from the giant cedar trees on the eastern shore of the lake, and with this bark built booths or sleeping bunks. These improvised bed rooms afforded them complete shelter from the rain. They caught no fish in the lake but Frank McFarland wont down the Branch Fork about one fourth of a mile from where it leaves the lake, and in a pool caught enough trout to furnish two meals for the crowd. The fish were from eight to twelve inches in length and were taken in less than an hours time.
The party remained at the lake two days and three nights enjoying every moment of the time. They did not cross the outlet nor explore that side of the lake but pushed on south toward the mountain.
Ten or twelve miles further on they came to a small lake called "Beaver Dam Lake," Which was full of fish.
Continuing their journey along the trail in a southwesterly direction they crossed the head waters of the Sandy river, and here Frank McFarland took an involuntary cold bath, his horse stumbling into a hole while fording the stream. No harm was done, though the other members of the party enjoyed the bath more than he did. Soon after crossing the Sandy they came to the Barlow Road and John Divers and Peter Neal Jr., their guides, turned back.
The party followed the Barlow Road to the south aide of the mountain where they camped at the Meadows. Mr. Booth remained in camp not caring to attempt the climb. They began the ascent and reached the snow line just at sunset. The day had been rainy but here the sun shone forth in all its glory. They were seven thousand feet above sea level and well above the clouds which rolled and tossed below them like the billows of the ocean. The rays of the setting sun, shining upon the clouds turned them into a veritable sea of fire, the shifting of the clouds gave an occasional glimpse of the earth below. They were living in another world, above the cares and grind of life.
"I have never seen anything to compare with that sunset" said Frank McFarland.
"It was beyond the powers of description and well worth the trip; it was a vision that I can never forget."
The following morning they arose at one all and started up the mountain.
They were poorly equipped for the climb, they cut their own alpen stocks and were not properly shod. In crossing the glacier one man, the one whose name is forgotten, narrowly escaped falling into a crevasse. Further up the mountain somewhere near Steele's Cliff, Frank McFarland slipped and fell, sliding down the mountainside about three hundred feet. He was bruised but not injured.
Four of the party, E.B. McFarland, W.R. Butcher, Mr. McLane and the New Jersey professor went within three or four hundred feet of the top, but as Mt. Hood was covered with a cloud and nothing could be seen from the summit, they turned back and assisted the two unfortunate members of the party down the mountain.
The next morning all were again in the saddle going east on the Barlow Road, through Tygh Valley, Dufur, and Ten Mile Creek back to The Dalles. They were gone seventeen days and eight of those days were rainy. They made many side detours in exploring the country and had a most enjoyable time.