Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 2. The sun arose in all its majesty, promising a splendid day. After breakfast Landen and George Spencer were going on top of Lookout. They had a pass for three, and invited me to go along. Having a great desire to visit, I was soon before the officer of the day, thence to Captain Hood, and the request granted. With a loaf of bread and tin cup in my haversack, we started.
Delayed till 8 A. M. waiting for pass to go through picket lines. Two miles brisk walking brought us to the base of the mountain which looked much more formidable there than from camp. We made the ascent on the military road which has been blasted and macadamized by Uncle Sam. It ran zigzag along the east slope of the hill, and not too steep to drive a team quite readily. Patiently we trudged along around massive piles of eternal rocks and past beautiful rustic springs of pure cold water, gushing from solid rocks, partly fixed by the hand of man for the accommodation of man and beast. The road was lined on both sides with heavy foliage of living green, with an occasional opening, through which we could look back on the map-like plat of Chattanooga, with its well-laid camps, and cool our heated brows with the cool refreshing breezes.
Up and up we go, ever and anon we pass a notice by the engineer, giving the elevation above the Tennessee and the distance up to the top. For over two hours we tugged upwards, our enthusiasm somewhat abated by the fatigue, but finally we reached the summit. A sentinel with white gloves and glistening brass, a “true regular” demanded to see our pass. We were now two miles or more from the point which overlooks the town. Here was quite a town called Summer Town with a large tavern, stables, etc. Evidently this was once a great pleasure resort in the summer season for the aristocracy. Here also were extensive hospital buildings erected by the U.S., accommodating I should judge, over 5,000 sick. Also the camp of the Regular Brigade quartered here for over a year.
But time was precious and we pushed on toward the west side of the mountain which is about a mile and a half across, through a heavy growth of timber with a beautiful variety of wild flowers. Before noon we stood on the grounds where Hooker and his men won immortal fame in November, 1863. Directly beneath us we could see the remains of the camp in Lookout Valley. On the further side of the valley was a train of cars leaving Sequatchie Station, looking very diminutive like a child’s plaything. On the parapet we walked around the craggy points towards the Point, passing several heavy lines of rebel earthworks. ‘Tis astounding how men could ever fight on such precipitous rocks. By a most lovely spring gushing over the very brink we seated ourselves in the refreshing shade of a sycamore, and ate our dinner with keen relish.
Now we stood on the veritable point, 1600 feet above high water mark of the Tennessee, 200 feet straight down the rocks. The scene from this place was the grandest I have ever seen, and may be the most extensive I may ever see again. Chattanooga looked very regular and flat, Mission Ridge dwindled down to an apparent flat, and miles beyond it was but one flat ocean of green timber. Off to the east the eye could distinguish four distinct ranges of mountains beyond the Mission Ridge, the last being the obscure Smoky Mountains of North Carolina, undoubtedly sixty miles distant. To the northeast the view was much further, nothing to intercept the vision as far as the naked eye could reach. We could look over into Western Virginia and East Tennessee, and imagine all kinds of things of the human beings scattered along. To the west and north the eye had not as wide a range, the Cumberland Mountains being as high, if not higher, but could easily see Alabama in that way. Five different states of our now almost happy Union from one place. Watered by the creek-like Tennessee River, which made a double slant, to the foot of the mountain, leaving the point of land on the opposite side in the exact shape of a huge foot, hence the name “Moccasin Point”, where Thomas’s batteries were so hotly engaged with Lookout during Bragg’s siege.
Here we found a photograph gallery erected on the jut of a rock—takes pictures of objects on an adjoining point, $6.00 per dozen. He has many very beautiful plates of the mountain scenery, prominent among them is the Lula Falls and Lake about six miles south of the summit; but one day’s furlough would not grant us the pleasure of visiting it, so we commenced the descent in the nearest direction, which appeared but a short distance. For a while we went directly downward through the seam in the rock, then by aid of trees and shrubs we kept up with ourselves. Down, down we went, but yet no bottom, often obliged to rest. An hour’s walk brought us to the bottom, and thankful for it. We wended our way to camp, tired but well satisfied with our excursion.
We reached camp by 5 P. M. Found everything quiet. Nobody mustered out as yet but much talk of it. 18th Ohio Battery and brigade of infantry taken to Dalton to-day by Steedman. I understand he has made several attempts at negotiations with rebel General Wofford, but failed. He is now to resort to strenuous measures.
