It was noon before we woke and several hours later before we were able to scare up enough food for a lunch, nearly everything was wet, flour, beans, potatoes and the bread, which we had on hand was also ruined.
A proposal was made that two of the boys start for the nearest ranch and hire a team to go back home- for a new lot [of] supplies while the rest were to gather up and dry what bedding could be found and arrange a new camp, our bedding owing to the breeze that sprang up as usual in the afternoon was almost dry and by rustling we had before night secured for ourselves quite comfortable sleeping quarters.
Late the next afternoon the boys who had gone for supplies returned with a new consignment of goods which was badly needed as we had lived on saltwater soaked spuds and a very small allowance of bacon without bread since the night of the flood. Our spirits soon became cheerful again and our loss and narrow escape was now a thing of the pass [past]. All our energy was soon working again for an early continuation of our trip.
The weather was fine, but the sea did not seem to calm down enough to allow us to embark with safety, so while waiting our opportunity, some strolled the beach exploring, while others fished for bull-head, sea trout, and such fish we could be caught from the rocks. Dick and Ed took every opportunity offered to hunt. They, in fact, were the game hunters of the party, while we all took a delight in tramping over the mountains for game, especially deer and small game birds. Dick or Ed seldom went out without bringing in the bacon in some form or another.
During our monotonous waiting at this place, the boys succeeded in killing a small spike buck, which we enjoyed immensely, as fresh meat had been for sometime now a luxury.
It was as near, as I remember, seven days after we had such unlucky landing at this place that we got away again. The day was beautiful, not a cloud marred the early morning sky, now just shedding the last of her stars and the faint streak of light in the east heralded the coming of a glorious day.
The sea was quiet and smooth as glass, barely breaking at our feet and we ran out to sea without noticing the least pitching of the boats and turned our bows northward as happy a bunch of fellows as ever put to sea.
We rowed leisurely absorbing the beauties of a calm sea and enjoying it all greatly. When about nine A.M. We approched what was known as Salmon creek rock marking the halfway point between our home leaving place and Pacific Valley, our present destination. Here we ran quite close inshore in order to observe the peculiar shore line.The coast here is very steep and affords very few landing places if any in fact, there is no place for a safe beaching of a boat between San Carpojo and Pacific Valley a distance of twenty five or thirty miles, making a very tiresome pull especially for green hands.
We rowed close in and followed the shore for many miles the sea as smooth as glass and the air clear and light, putting life and pep into those of us who had began to feel loggy and tired. The aroma now reached us from the Redwoods that were being approached, The first that one encounters on his way up the coast from the south. This belt of Redwood forest in the Coast Range of California terminates near the Parallel of 35a50’ S. Latitude at which point we were now passing. As noon approached we knew it without consulting a timepiece as our stomachs were better time keepers and never failed us. We hove to and as our boats lay almost touching each other we ate our lunch with a relish and after a half hours rest we were favored with a slight breeze from the west, which after we had started began to increase until we were able to put up our sails much to our relief. Our hands were showing signs of the long pull and some were showed [showing] a few blisters, so we hailed the wind with a grateful heart and sprang away with the wind abeam and on a port tack.
Big Sur…NEXT