We were at the mouth of the Arroyo Grande, which should have been named Arroyo Bonita for it certainly was an ideal spot. The creek emptied onto the ocean almost under the rock on our left as we landed. The spot chosen for the camp was about 50 yards from the sand dike or dune we had cane over, among a most beautiful group of alders so interlaced over our head that is practically concealed us all day from the sun. Although the sun only reached us from 10 A.M. To 2:30 P.M. Caused by the narrow gorge and high mountains which seems higher that ever since we had to get ashore. The water of the creek ran only a foot or so below the level of the bank on which we had made camp, and such water. Clear cool and swarming with trout and salmon, before the fire was ready for cooking. One of the boys had caught a dozen of the most beautiful 6 to 8 inch trout I ever saw. While some of us were getting supper, one of the boys had taken his gun and strolled up the creek thinking probably I suppose that he might see some large game. A short distance from our camp the condition of the mountains grew so, that they formed a rincon or cove, probably 200 yds long and 50 to 75 yds wide in fact forming one might call a small valley. The grass was abundant, being as ideal spot for deer. The only exit from this flat was near the beach, and immediately back of our camp, being a trail up a very steep rocky hillside, the hill forming a narrow ridge which ran back toward the mountains and freedom for any game which came from the country lying far beyond. Up this flat the Mts came down so steep and the creek rising so rapidly upward causing a series of cataracts and falls that it was impossible for game of any kind to get out above. Consequently if caught in the valley from below it was sure capture or death. We had just decided to eat without our companion, when we heard a rifle shot. Springing instantly for our guns, as we knew that Rube had sighted something, and we were eager for any excitement that came our way. When two more shots put us on the run up the valley, forgetting our hunger and no thought of being tired now. As we emerged into the clearing, the first thing I perceived was two little whiffs of smoke at the upper end of the glade, and Rube going through a war dance, the meaning of which none of us knew, as he was at the extreme other end of the valley, looking toward the bluff to my right. I saw two deer running swiftly toward us, but hugging the slope of the hill about 80 yards away. Just as I spoke some one in my crowd fired. The deer set up, in a whirl [of] dust and gravel, and wheeled, made off up the glade again. Again Rube fired, and the terror-stricken deer, turning with lightening speed, made in our direction and I do believe would have braved the fire of one more to gain the outlet, but 3 rifles now began to play on them, and they stopped short and made for the impossible climb of the bluff. They did what we found later to be an act no man in the party was able to do. The Buck a noble creature with beautiful antlers was leading, followed by two doe, bravely and heroically fought their way almost to freedom up the side of the rocky Mts. Almost perpendicular, when almost up they would begin to slide back again. 15 or 20 ft. but with no thought of failing. This feat they tried again and again. I did not take part in this massacre, but the deer were under fire continually and all were shot to death after the shooting of probably 30 shots.

We packed them into camp and much excitement which did not subside for many hours. After supper, we dressed the deer and prepared most of the meat for making jerky the next day.

The Cruise…NEXT

We were at the mouth of the Arroyo Grande, which should have been named Arroyo Bonita for it certainly was an ideal spot. The creek emptied onto the ocean almost under the rock on our left as we landed. The spot chosen for the camp was about 50 yards from the sand dike or dune we had cane over, among a most beautiful group of alders so interlaced over our head that is practically concealed us all day from the sun. Although the sun only reached us from 10 A.M. To 2:30 P.M. Caused by the narrow gorge and high mountains which seems higher that ever since we had to get ashore. The water of the creek ran only a foot or so below the level of the bank on which we had made camp, and such water. Clear cool and swarming with trout and salmon, before the fire was ready for cooking. One of the boys had caught a dozen of the most beautiful 6 to 8 inch trout I ever saw. While some of us were getting supper, one of the boys had taken his gun and strolled up the creek thinking probably I suppose that he might see some large game. A short distance from our camp the condition of the mountains grew so, that they formed a rincon or cove, probably 200 yds long and 50 to 75 yds wide in fact forming one might call a small valley. The grass was abundant, being as ideal spot for deer. The only exit from this flat was near the beach, and immediately back of our camp, being a trail up a very steep rocky hillside, the hill forming a narrow ridge which ran back toward the mountains and freedom for any game which came from the country lying far beyond. Up this flat the Mts came down so steep and the creek rising so rapidly upward causing a series of cataracts and falls that it was impossible for game of any kind to get out above. Consequently if caught in the valley from below it was sure capture or death. We had just decided to eat without our companion, when we heard a rifle shot. Springing instantly for our guns, as we knew that Rube had sighted something, and we were eager for any excitement that came our way. When two more shots put us on the run up the valley, forgetting our hunger and no thought of being tired now. As we emerged into the clearing, the first thing I perceived was two little whiffs of smoke at the upper end of the glade, and Rube going through a war dance, the meaning of which none of us knew, as he was at the extreme other end of the valley, looking toward the bluff to my right. I saw two deer running swiftly toward us, but hugging the slope of the hill about 80 yards away. Just as I spoke some one in my crowd fired. The deer set up, in a whirl [of] dust and gravel, and wheeled, made off up the glade again. Again Rube fired, and the terror-stricken deer, turning with lightening speed, made in our direction and I do believe would have braved the fire of one more to gain the outlet, but 3 rifles now began to play on them, and they stopped short and made for the impossible climb of the bluff. They did what we found later to be an act no man in the party was able to do. The Buck a noble creature with beautiful antlers was leading, followed by two doe, bravely and heroically fought their way almost to freedom up the side of the rocky Mts. Almost perpendicular, when almost up they would begin to slide back again. 15 or 20 ft. but with no thought of failing. This feat they tried again and again. I did not take part in this massacre, but the deer were under fire continually and all were shot to death after the shooting of probably 30 shots.

We packed them into camp and much excitement which did not subside for many hours. After supper, we dressed the deer and prepared most of the meat for making jerky the next day.

The Cruise…NEXT

We were so enthused with this Garden of Eden we had found, that instead of only staying one night as previously planned, we lingered 1 week, killing one or two more deer, and fish. We had fish until some of us dreamed we had all turned into fish. One meal salmon, next meal trout and vice-versa. Fresh venison all we could eat. I did consider exploring while here, and the first hazelnut bush I ever saw I found on one of my climbs. Also I found a ledge of cinnabar, which I believed yet, if developed would be a valuable mine. These mountains are no doubt valuable in mineral product.

Enormous ledges of quartz, some gold bearing were discovered beside Manganese, copper. Silver and traces of many other metals. The country will stand the test I believe of being systematically prospected and prove good. The day before leaving, I had wandered some distance form camp on a fishing trip and becoming tired of fishing I stretched myself out on the bank and began to recall every trip since leaving home now, about 1 month. I wondered what my comrades were doing, that I had left on the plains, those dry dusty hot plains and wished, with a longing that was rather childlike in more ways than one, especially as I felt a dryness and chocking which hurt my throat. I believe truly I must have had a slight attack of homesickness. It soon passed though and I fell to noticing the beautiful mountain birds who were singing most sweetly. A mountain jay which is a larger bird that our valley or common jay, and of a more lordly appearance, had spotted me. I lay perfectly still now, to watch his actions. He <sit> for sometime eying me sharply but his curiosity mastered him at last and he began to fly from branch to branch, circling closer and closer, toward me. I chanced now to slightly move when he darted swiftly way to a safer distance, and set up and unearthly squall, but still out of my sight. Presently at a distance I heard the answering call of presumably his mate, but I was mistaken and in the call he had sent out, instead of a call for his mate, it evidently a war or a council of war summons, for I now heard faint, answers that were closer and calls very close at hand. It may have been 10 minutes from the time the jay found me, but not longer, until I was literally surrounded by these Policemen of the woods, as one has so correctly named. Their clamor was so load and continuous, that it drowned the roar of a waterfall which was close by, and I began to feel rather queer, if not a bit afraid, for I am sure before I was to leave the place, there was at least 100 jays squalling with all their might and had grown so bold that they at time were within two yards of where I lay. As I rose they instantly scattered but still kept up their squalling. Standing in the <mids> of the thicket were I was, stood a large water alder, and beautiful tree with it’s bark smooth and clear of limbs or knots. I instantly struck me to carve my name and wrote on this tree to commemorate my experience with the wild Mountain jays, after which I shoulder my rod and made my way down the canyon to camp.

We broke camp next morning at 4 o’clock. The weather was ideal, just enough breeze blowing in shore to cause a slight ripple, hardly noticeable, but putting life and pep into one, in a manner that rivals any other locality except the seashore.

It was a few minutes before sun, when we shoved off from shore, leaving one of the most beautiful camping spot ,I except none in the state of California. Many people, no doubt, prefer such places as the Yosemite Tahoe or the many Health rests, for the society it offers and its accessibility.

The Cruise…NEXT

While this place is inaccessible and quite for. I assure you, you will find no one here to greet you when you arrive, but it excels in hunting and fishing and mountain climbing and one can enjoy the sea-shore, with all it’s charms and sea production products, as well as being in close proximity to the reverse side of summer outings, only ½ hour from the beach you can find the most beautiful timber and alder, redwood, cedar, pine, oak, madrone, laurel, and tan oak, besides manzanita, wild plum and grape cascara, and the home of the now famous Incas berry commonly call Cayona, or bear-berry, the latter we found, and I might add the madrone, manzanita further up the mountain side in quite near the summit while the alder redwood and tan-bark grew neared the ocean. The gorge of the Arroyo Grande is wonderfully rough for perhaps 2 miles, so rough in fact that it is only passably by the best woodsman, but alter a laborious climb fo 2 or 3 miles, the gorge slowly begins to broaden, until it finally opens out into large open <paseo> and rincons with scattering clump of chaparral and <chemise>, this upland is excellent stock range, water is abundant and feed in proportion to such a degree that stock are never <fed> throughout the year. In this locality was found the home of the mountain quail, this is no doubt one of the finest of our game birds, being considerable larger than the valley quail, and more beautiful the plume or crest differs also from the valley relative being carried floating backward, instead of tipping forward. They do not band together in large flocks, seldom more than two broods are found together.

What saved this wonderful bird from total destruction is it’s lonely haunts in high and rough mountain as it is easily confused and becomes bewildered, falling an<d> easy prey to hunters when flushed, as they very seldom fly and then only a short distance. I have known [w]hole flocks being killed by a single hunter. One advantage lies in favor of the bird, he is a ventriloquist, is a hunter has not had the good luck to flush a covey of these birds, but is attracted by the call, which is frequently given in the early morning or late evening, thinking to be guided by the call to a flock, he will find on reaching the point from which the call was supposed to be issued from, that his caller was behind him anywhere from 200 yds to 1 mile, and being fooled about twice you will give up the chase especially when when you have crawled on your hands and knees for many yards under chemise and buck brush over rocks and boulders, down into gullies over rocky points and ridges, dodging tarantulas and rattlesnakes.

I remember that it was on this trip, and at this very camp, that two of our boys, planned at trip up the cañón to the highland to lay for a california lion which we had ever reason to believe had been prowling around our camp at nights attracted by the smell of fresh meat, but so far we had not seen even a trace of him, and our suspension was only based on the pussy footed breaking of twigs, and shadows as lightly, which had occurred at different times throughout various nights. So the boys had planned to take what necessary articles it required to make a night of it and lay for him, where it seems most likely he would or did put in his time during the day, which was about 4 or 5 miles form the camp up the mountain near the summit, as a rocky dark, gulch surrounded by a thicket of chaparral and low scrub manzanita had attracted their attention some days before and they had spoken of this likely place for our lion several times. They left camp one afternoon about 3 P.M. And got in next day at noon, but with no success, having spent the night mostly watching for him. But the point I was making was this, that on this trip they had run into a flock of mountain quail, but only having their rifles with them it was almost foolish to attempt a shot, because of the effect a bullet would have on those tender birds, but the flock ran into a bunch so close together, that a shot was risked at about 89 yards. The shot was successful as several quail remained upon the ground, the boys ran forward and on picking up their game they found three dead, and not one hit with the bullet, as the birds proved this assertion when exhibited at the camp on their return. The birds were killed by small round hard gravel, which covered covered the spot for probably many yards square where the quail had stopped, which they nearly always do just before entering the low underbrush.

Another shot even more marvelous, was one which happened while we lay at Pacific Valley. I being one of the party and and eye-witness to it. My comrade and I was returning from hunt late one afternoon and while crossing a field we came to a picket fence which we had to climb over just as we had laid our guns against the fence to mount it a large flock of wild pigeons swooped down and began settling on the pickets of the fence not more than 50 yds. From us, quickly picking up his gun my companion took a bead on the line of heads which were as near in line as it was possible to be and

the pickets being all of one height he fired. We picked up several dead birds and several others flew away badly wounded. He had cut the head off of 4 and [on] the rest the shot had ranged toward the body, their necks and shoulders being hit.

The Cruise…NEXT

But to return to the day of our leaving Arroya Grande after rowing probably 2 hours and being about 6 miles off shore we encountered a very slight breeze which had sprung up from the southwest. As soon as it was blowing strong enough, we put up sail and enjoyed several hours of rest and some delightful sport. We rounded <C>ooper’s point about 2 o’clock in the P.M. And put into the Big Sur bay with much relief after a pull and sail of 22 miles. We rode the breakers into the mouth of the river without landing, as the Big Sur is the largest river emptying into the ocean carrying any volume of water <of> between the mouth of the Salinas river and the mouth of the Santa Ynez. We rowed up the river perhaps 100 yards, to a beautiful spot on the west bank of the river under the leeward side of the a bluff probably 40 foot high, which gave us a sheltered spot for our camp. By the way, I should mention now the peculiarity of the locality. I do not hesitate to say that in this place the wind blows continually. I have known it to blow 30 days and nights at the rate of 25 miles per hour with one hour’s intermissions. The banks or bluff under which our camp was pitched was lined with scrub live oaks, and as soon as they had reached the height of the back this continuous wind had stunted their growth to such an extent that they never reach over a few feet above the level, but had spread out on a level with the land, resembling a huge thick leafy blanket and on approaching these trees, they appeared to be a continuation of the land and so thick one was almost attempted to walk out upon this leafy carpet, so compacted was it. The limbs of the upper branches were knotted, <knarled>, and twisted into ten thousand shapes and angles. The fences also showed the terrific force of the wind, they were pickets made of redwood set into ground, and if these fences ran across at right angles to the direction of the wind, they invariably had to be replaced within a few years because of the foot of the pickets begin cut off by small gravel and sand driven against them by the force of the wind.

Our camp was soon made, and to protect it from the wind we was lucky enough to find considerable lumber or rather redwood slabs, which no doubt was used one time for a shanty. These slabs made an excellent wind-brake, altho as a rule the wind did not blow at this point. We took this <coarse> as a precaution and it proved a wise move, as we were surprised some two weeks later but a gust or whirlwind which tore down upon our camp, and demolished it completely. We were at supper at the time. Our daily dished were composed of tin plates, cups, and tin cooking utensils. Our supper had been served and we were sitting cross legged with out plates in out laps, when the wind with almost the force of a cyclone hit us. Plates were wrenched out of our hand and were blown some across the river, others into the river, and as a while they were widely scattered, while pots, buckets, pans and the camp fire, with live coals and ashes were spinning and whirling in every direction. Our bedding and sleeping department …

[ends at page 96 of Oakland School Department form 16, handwritten notes]

go back to The Cruise

We were well abreast the heartland the neat morning before daylight overtook us and after a few hours [of] leisurely rowing we were overhauled by a breeze from the northwest, which called for a bit of sailing. The signal was given to hoist sail and the order must have been anticipated from the alacrity in which the masts were made fast and sails ran up. In a few minutes we were scudding before a fine breeze and the thrill that I experienced while laying comfortable on my back drinking in all the sensations of a young and vigorous manhood it would be hard to describe.

Our trip had harden[ed] and made iron men of us all. We were expert oarsmen as well as surfman, enjoying perfect health, traveling homeward without an effort on our part at the rate of 5 to 6 miles an hour, it was almost unbelievable, so beautiful was life to us – no cares did we allow to darken an instant of our peace. We rounded Point Phieffer, [Pfeiffer] which was a bit choppy, just enough to add spice to our sailing about 10 A.M. At 2 we were well around and into smooth sailing again. A large school of whale-killer[s] passed us traveling up the coast. Our Captain would allow no sport with them at this time as he scented trouble if we should by a chance cross their path, although we would have liked to chanced a shot at them. They made a splendid target each time they breached as they showed a large white spot on each side as they rose each time half out of water.

About 4 P.M. We sighted the entrance to Arroyo Grande, our beloved garden spot, never did boys welcome a lonely isolated spot as we did the old camp ground of two months before, but our stay was short for the next morning with the stars we were on our way. This day proved more like ordinary living as we had a dead calm all day and were compelled to row every foot into Pacific Valley under a red hot sun and a silvery white glare on the water, not even a ripple was seen and an almost swell less [sic] sea I have never seen, just such an other glassy monotonous waste of water, it was simply cruel it was so still and smooth.

One night at the Valley and then out again. On passing our sea rocks where we had so cruelly shot to death many sea lions on our trip up, there were none to be seen, evidently they migrate at certain times during the year for months or more at a time. On leaving the Valley we had with us a young fellow who we met there who wanted to reach home having been stranded during the summer at the Valley and we obligingly gave him a ride down with us as he lived several miles this side of our home landing. He asked if we could drop him at the mouth of the San Carpojo which we did. He afterwards joined the crew and became an excellent boatman. Three hours later we landed at our starting point. Safe and glad to get home, being stocked with 2 otter furs valued at $800.00 and twice that amount of experience and besides worlds of good times, happily spent.


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