The Lover's Leap legend (posted January 10, 2013) was about Chief No-Name, his daughter, Cedar Heart, and her boy
friend, a handsome young brave from beyond the mountains on the east side of
Lake Tahoe. All three perished in the vicinity of what is today known as
Tahoe’s Lover’s Leap, high above Highway 89 about half way between Tahoe City
and Truckee. This legend tells the story of what happened next.
Following
the deaths that warm, rainy, August afternoon long ago, the Qua people at
Carnelian Bay went into deep mourning. The happiness they had long known
drained from them, and life became somber in all respects.
In
September the Quas packed up their tents, children, and possessions and quietly
returned over the Sierra Crest to their winter home in the foothills near
Auburn. They were without a chief and without hope.
The
winter months passed slowly. By spring when the creeks were once again full,
there were many unhappy factions within the Qua camp. Some people were simply
lost without Chief No-Name. The memory of Cedar Heart and her brave gave much
sorrow to others. One group felt the Quas should never return to their
ancestral, summer home at Carnelian Bay. Another group wished to return as
normal, build a fitting monument to the Chief, and get on with life, including
the election of a new chief.
After
countless evenings spent in earnest discussion around smokey campfires, the Qua
elders decided to appeal to the Great Spirit for guidance. So a huge ceremony
was held at sunrise on a clear, spring morning. During the elaborate
proceedings, the Quas, in unison, chanted an ancient prayer in which they
implored the higher power to send a signal that would give them direction from
the stalemate into which they had fallen because of the triple tragedy at
Lover’s Leap.
Nothing
happened.
A
second ceremony was held four days later. And then a third ceremony. Days
rolled into weeks. Anguish spread. Still no word. Then on a misty, May evening
toward sundown, a rainbow appeared in the dark sky above the Sierra Range, to
the east. The Quas had never before seen a rainbow. Its brilliance and size
humbled them. Surely, they reasoned, this was the omen for which they had
prayed.
Late
into the night, in hushed tones, the elders debated on the meaning of the huge,
multi-colored arch in the sky. Slowly a consensus was reached. One end of the
rainbow, the southern end, appeared to disappear behind the Sierra Crest. The
elders speculated that the rainbow might be anchored in Lake Tahoe, or to one
of the mountains that surround it. The other—northern—end seemed to come toward them. Indeed, as hope rose in their minds, they
concluded that there was a chance the rainbow was actually a message from Chief
No-Name, or Cedar Heart, or both. A thrill crept across the solemn camp—then a
call to action.
As
soon as the days became long, the Quas, as one people again, started the long,
uphill trek toward the Crest on the trail that led them back to Carnelian Bay.
Up, up they climbed—children, adults, elders, and animals—following the
American River. At last they reached the Crest, crossed, and took the long
descent into Squaw Valley to its welcoming meadow. There they rested.
The
next day a heavy storm rushed across the valley from the west. In its wake,
near sundown, once again, a rainbow appeared. The Quas were reverent in its
presence. Every eye tracked the path of the rainbow across the sky. The northern end was much closer to the Quas this time, and it seemed to intersect with the
land just beyond end of the valley.
Hurriedly
the Quas formed a party of younger men and women who could rush eastward along
Squaw Creek to see, perhaps, the end of the rainbow, its source. Maybe they
could learn the meaning of this obvious sign from the Great Spirit.
The
party, breathless, reached the river that bisects the Big Gorge—Truckee
River today. It was swollen with spring run-off. There, where Squaw Creek
enters the Truckee, the party stopped, every eye drawn upwards beyond the
treetops. And arching across the sky was the rainbow with its end curving down into the gorge.
The
rainbow touched the earth across the river from them, on the ridge that ran up
from the river. The ridge disappeared in the trees as it continued in a gentle
curve northward around to the ledge from which Cedar Heart and her suitor had
jumped. The rainbow seemed anchored to the gnarly ridge just across the
Truckee.
The
party members stood transfixed; they were afraid to move for doing so might
destroy the majestic scene before them.
Slowly
and silently, the rainbow faded. But its colors remained embedded in the rocks
of the ridge—perhaps a tribute to the love of Cedar Heart and her brave.
The party crossed the river to be closer to the sacred ridge. They hesitantly clamored upwards. As they worked their way through the colored granite and trees, off to the north the profile of Chief No-Name came clearly into view, just below Lover’s Leap. The connection between the painted ridge and the ridge suddenly became clear. The Quas now understood the message from the Great Spirit. The circle was complete: Big Chief, Lover's Leap, the Painted Ridge, and the Qua people were once more united. They had come home.
Author’s
Note: Painted Ridge remains today, a sign to all who come home to Squaw Valley
and Lake Tahoe on Highway 89. Close by, down the river to the north, Chief
No-Name continues his vigilance. High above Painted Ridge, to the east, is
Painted Rock, which appears on modern topo maps of the North Tahoe area.
©Copyright 2013 by Steven C. Brandt
