I have just been reading, for the third time, Dana's "Two Years Before
the Mast," my sojourn near San Diego for a few months, where so many of
the scenes and events he describes took place, having given me a renewed
interest in the book.
It is very evident that the climate of southern California has greatly
changed since Dana was here in the trading ships Pilgrim and Alert, in
1832 and 1833. The change has been from wet to dry. At that time his
ship collected, and others engaged in the same trade collected, hundreds
of thousands of hides and great quantities of tallow, all from cattle
grown by the missions between San Diego and Santa Barbara. This fact
implies good pasturage. The cattle grazed on the hills and plains that
are now, during a large part of the year, as dry as a bone. At present
cattle left to their own devices on this coast would soon starve to
death.
Dana describes violent storms of wind and rain, mainly from the
southeast, which the ship, anchored a few miles off the coast, or
cruising up and down, experienced at all times of year--one or more
storms each week, often lasting for days. One December he describes it
as raining every hour for the whole month. The dread of the southeasters
was ever present with the sailors. One of these, lasting three days,
which came out of a cloudless sky, blew the sails to tatters. Nowadays a
southeast storm of half a day is, according to my experience, an
uncommon occurrence. To-day scarcely a drop of rain falls here from
April till November, yet Dana describes many heavy rains in August. At
present, in some of the interior valleys, where they grow alfalfa by
means of irrigation, I see herds of well-kept dairy cows. In the season
of rains the grass springs up and for a time cattle do well, but during
the long dry season there is no pasturage save dry pasturage.
Although winter is supposed to be the rainy season here, I have been
here during three seasons and have so far seen only light rains. To-day
(December 16th) the earth is like powder as deep down as you care to
dig. Yesterday I saw a man dragging in grain, and a great cloud of dust
streamed out behind him. Ten or more years ago there was a very heavy
rainfall in this locality that inundated large sections of the country
and destroyed much property, the dry San Diego River getting out of
bounds and carrying away bridges and floating houses on its banks. But
it has been as dry as a highway ever since. It is clear that when the
big rains do come they are more sporadic and uncertain than formerly.