Leave Los Angeles for San Francisco
Don Andres Pico
A Californian returning from the wars
Domestic life at a rancho
Women in favour of peace
Hospitable treatment
Fandango
Singular custom
Arrive at Santa Barbara
Lost in a fog
Valley of the Salinas
Californians wanting Yankee wives
High waters
Arrive at San Francisco.
We left Los Angeles late in the afternoon of the 29th of January, with
two Indian vaqueros, on miserable broken-down horses (the best we could
obtain), and encamped at the deserted rancho at the foot of Couenga
plain, where the treaty of peace had been concluded. After we had been
here some time, two Indians came to the house, who had been sent by the
proprietor of the rancho to herd the cattle. Having nothing to eat with
us, a tempting offer prevailed upon the Indians to milk one of the
cows; and we made our supper and our breakfast next morning on milk.
Both of our Indian vaqueros deserted in the night, carrying with them
sundry articles of clothing placed in their charge. A few days have
made a great change in the appearance of the country. The fresh grass
is now several inches in height, and many flowers are in bloom. The sky
is bright, and the temperature is delightful.
On the 30th of January, leaving the mission of San Fernando on our
right, at a distance of eight or ten miles, we followed the usually
travelled trail next to the hills, on the western side of the plain. As
we were passing near a rancho, a well-dressed Californian rode out to
us, and, after examining the horses of our miserable _caballada_,
politely claimed one of them as his property. He was told that the
horse was drawn from the public _caballada_, at Los Angeles, and could
not be given up. This seemed to satisfy him. After some further
conversation, he informed us, that he was Don Andres Pico, the late
leader and general of the Californians. The expression of his
countenance is intelligent and prepossessing, and his address and
manners courteous and pleasing. Shaking hands, and bidding us a very
earnest _adios_, he put spurs to his horse and galloped away.
We were soon after overtaken by a young Californian, who appeared at
first rather doubtful whether or not he should make our acquaintance.
The ice being broken, however, he became very loquacious and
communicative. He stated that he was returning to his home near Santa
Barbara, from the wars, in which he had been engaged against his will.
The language that he used was, that he, with many others of his
acquaintances, were forced to take up arms by the leading men of the
country. He was in the two battles of the 8th and 9th of January, below
Los Angeles; and he desired never to be in any more battles. He was
heartily rejoiced that there was peace, and hoped that there would
never be any more wars. He travelled along with us until afternoon,
when he fell behind, and we did not see him again until the next day.
After passing two or three deserted houses, we reached an inhabited
rancho, situated at the extremity of a valley, and near a narrow gorge
in the hills, about four o'clock, and, our jaded animals performing
duty with reluctance, we determined to halt for the night, if the
prospect of obtaining anything to eat (of which we stood in much need)
was flattering. Riding up to the house, a small adobe, with one room,
and a shed for a kitchen, the _ranchero_ and the _ranchera_ came out
and greeted us with a hearty "_Buenas tardes, Senores, paisanos
amigos_," shaking hands, and inviting us at the same time to alight and
remain for the night, which invitation we accepted. The kind-hearted
_ranchera_ immediately set about preparing supper for us. An Indian
_muchacha_ was seated at the _metate_ (hand-mill), which is one of the
most important articles of the Californian culinary apparatus. While
the _muchacha_ ground, or rather crushed, the wheat between the stones,
the _ranchera_, with a platter-shaped basket, cleansed it of dust,
chaff, and all impure particles, by tossing the grain in the basket.
The flour being manufactured and sifted through a _cedazo_, or coarse
sieve, the labour of kneading the dough was performed by the
_muchacha_. An iron plate was then placed over a rudely-constructed
furnace, and the dough, being beaten by hand into _tortillas_ (thin
cakes), was baked upon this. What would American housewives say to such
a system as this? The viands being prepared, they were set out upon a
small table, at which we were invited to seat ourselves. The meal
consisted of _tortillas_, stewed jerk beef, with _chile_ seasoning,
milk, and _quesadillas_, or cheesecakes, green and tough as leather.
However, our appetites were excellent, and we enjoyed the repast with a
high relish.
Our host and hostess were very inquisitive in regard to the news from
below, and as to what would be the effects of the conquest of the
country by the Americans. The man stated that he and all his family had
refused to join in the late insurrection. We told them that all was
peaceable now; that there would be no more wars in California; that we
were all Americans, all Californians--_hermanos, hermanas, amigos_.
They expressed their delight at this information by numerous
exclamations.
We asked the woman how much the dress which she wore, a miserable
calico, cost her? She answered, "Seis pesos" (six dollars). When we
told her that in a short time, under the American government, she could
purchase as good a one "_por un peso_," she threw up her hands in
astonishment, expressing by her features at the same time the most
unbounded delight. Her entire wardrobe was soon brought forth, and the
price paid for every article named. She then inquired what would be the
cost of similar clothing under the American government, which we told
her. As we replied, exclamation followed upon exclamation, expressive
of her surprise and pleasure, and the whole was concluded with "_Viva
los Americanos--viva los Americanos!_" I wore a large coarse woollen
pea-jacket, which the man was very desirous to obtain, offering for it
a fine horse. I declined the trade.
In the evening several of the brothers, sisters, and brothers and
sisters-in-law of the family collected, and the guitar and violin,
which were suspended from a beam in the house, were taken down, and we
were entertained by a concert of instrumental and vocal music. Most of
the tunes were such as are performed at fandangos. Some plaintive airs
were played and sung with much pathos and expression, the whole party
joining in the choruses. Although invited to occupy the only room in
the house, we declined it, and spread our blankets on the outside.
The next morning (January 31st), when we woke, the sun was shining
bright and warm, and the birds were singing gayly in the grove of
evergreen oaks near the house. Having made ready to resume our journey,
as delicately as possible we offered our kind hostess compensation for
the trouble we had given her, which she declined, saying, that although
they were not rich, they nevertheless had enough and to spare. We
however insisted, and she finally accepted, with the condition that we
would also accept of some of her _quesadillas_ and _tortillas_ to carry
along with us. The ranchero mounted his horse and rode with us about
three or four miles, to place us on the right trail, when, after
inviting us very earnestly to call and see him again, and bidding us an
affectionate _adios_, he galloped away.
Travelling over a hilly country, and passing the ruins of several
deserted ranchos, the grounds surrounding which were strewn with the
bones of slaughtered cattle, we reached, about five o'clock P.M., a
cluster of houses in the valley of Santa Clara River, ten miles east of
the mission of San Buenaventura. Here we stopped at the house of a man
named Sanchez. Our arrival was thought to be worthy of notice, and it
was accordingly celebrated in the evening by a fandango given at one of
the houses, to which we were invited. The company, to the number of
some thirty or forty persons, young and old, were assembled in the
largest room of the house, the floor being hard clay. The only
furniture contained in the room was a bed and some benches, upon which
the company seated themselves when not engaged in dancing.
Among the _senoritas_ assembled were two daughters of an American named
Chapman, who has been a resident of the country for many years. They
were fair-skinned, and might be called handsome. An elder and married
sister was also present. They called themselves Americans, although
they did not speak our language, and seemed to be more proud of their
American than their Spanish blood.
A singular custom prevails at these fandangos. It is this: during the
intervals between the waltzes, quadrilles, and other dances, when the
company is seated, a young lady takes the floor _solus_, and, after
showing off her graces for general observation a few minutes, she
approaches any gentleman she may select, and performs a variety of
pirouettes and other Terpsichorean movements before him for his
especial amusement and admiration, until he places on her head his hat
or cap, as the case may be, when she dances away with it. The hat or
cap has afterwards to be redeemed by some present, and this usually is
in money. Not dancing ourselves, we were favoured with numerous special
exhibitions of this kind, the cost of each of which was _un peso_. With
a long journey before us, and with purses in a nearly collapsed
condition, the drafts upon us became so frequent, that at an early
hour, under a plea of fatigue and want of rest, we thought it prudent
to beat a retreat, leaving our fair and partial _fandangueras_ to
bestow their favours upon others better able to bear them. The motions
of the Californian females of all classes in the dance are highly
graceful. The waltz is their favourite measure, and in this they appear
to excel as much as the men do in horsemanship. During the progress of
the dance, the males and females improvise doggerel rhymes
complimentary of the personal beauties and graces of those whom they
admire, or expressive of their love and devotion, which are chanted
with the music of the instruments, and the whole company join in the
general chorus at the end of each verse. The din of voices is sometimes
almost deafening.
Our host accompanied us to our lodgings on the opposite side of the
way. Beds were spread down under the small porch outside, and we laid
our bodies upon them, but not to sleep, for the noise of the fandango
dancers kept us awake until broad daylight, at which time it broke up.
Hiring fresh horses here, and a vaquero to drive our tired animals
after us, we started about 9 o'clock in the morning, and, passing
through San Buenaventura, reached Santa Barbara, 45 miles, a little
after two in the afternoon. We stopped at the house of Mr. Sparks, who
received us with genuine hospitality. Santa Barbara presented a more
lively appearance than when we passed here on our way down, most of its
population having returned to their homes. Procuring fresh but
miserably poor horses, we resumed our journey on the afternoon of the
2nd of February, and encamped at the rancho of Dr. Deu, situated on the
plain of Santa Barbara, near the sea shore. The soil of this plain is
of the most fertile composition. The fresh grass is now six or eight
inches high, and the varieties are numerous. Many of the early flowers
are in bloom. I noticed a large wheat field near the house, and its
appearance was such as to promise a rich harvest.
The rain fell heavily on the morning of the 3rd, but continuing our
journey we crossed the St. Ynes Mountain, and, passing the mission by
that name, reached the rancho of Mr. Faxon after dark, where we halted
for the night. Around the mission of St. Ynes I noticed, as we passed,
immense quantities of cattle bones thickly strewn in all directions.
Acres of ground were white with these remains of the immense herds
belonging to this mission in the days of its prosperity, slaughtered
for their hides and tallow. We met two or three elegantly dressed
Californians to-day, who accosted us with much civility and apparent
friendliness.
Mr. Faxon is an Englishman by birth, and has resided in California
about thirty years. He is married to a Californian lady, and has a
family of interesting and beautiful children. A large portion of the
land belonging to his rancho is admirably adapted to agriculture, and
he raises crops of corn and vegetables as well as wheat without
irrigation. He informed me that the yield of wheat on his rancho was
fully seventy bushels to the acre. Mr. F. showed me specimens of lead
ore from which he moulds his bullets, taken from an inexhaustible mine
in the Tular Valley, some fifty miles distant from this. It is
certainly the richest ore that I have ever seen, appearing almost like
the pure metal. He also showed me a caustic alkali, produced by burning
a plant or shrub which grows in great abundance in the Tular Valley.
This substance is used by him in the manufacture of soap.
About noon on the 4th, we halted at the rancho of Captain Dana, where
we procured fresh horses, leaving our wretchedly lean and tired
animals, and, proceeding on, stopped for the night at the rancho of Mr.
Branch, an intelligent American, originally from the state of New York,
who has been settled in the country a number of years. His rancho is
situated on what is called the _arroyo grande_, a small stream which
empties into the Pacific some two or three miles from the house. The
house is new, and constructed after American models of farm-houses,
with neat and comfortable apartments, chimneys and fireplaces. The
arable lands here are finely adapted to the culture of maize, wheat,
and potatoes.
Our horses straying, it was twelve o'clock on the 5th before we found
them. The rain had fallen steadily and heavily all night, and during
the forenoon, and was pouring down when we started. We passed through
the mission of San Luis Obispo just before sunset, intending to halt at
a rancho about three miles distant in a _canada_. But, the storm
increasing in strength, it became suddenly so dark in the
mountain-gorge, that we could not distinguish the trail, and, after
wandering about some time, vainly attempting to find the house, we were
compelled to bivouac, wet to our skins, without fire or shelter, and
the rain pouring down in torrents.
The next morning (Feb. 6.), in hunting up our loose horses, we
discovered the house about half a mile distant from our camp.
Continuing our journey, we halted about nine o'clock at a rancho near
the ruins of Santa Margarita. A solitary Indian was the only occupant
of the house, and only inhabitant of the place; and he could furnish us
with no food. Passing two or three other deserted ranches, we reached
the house of a Mexican about one o'clock, where we obtained a meal of
fried eggs and _tortillas_, after having been without food thirty
hours. Late in the afternoon we arrived at the mission of San Miguel,
now occupied by an Englishman named Reed, his _mestiza_ wife, and one
child, with two or three Indian vaqueros. Crossing the Salinas in the
morning (Feb. 7), we continued down its eastern side, and encamped in a
wide bottom under a large live oak. A _quesadilla_ was all we had to
eat. This was divided, one-half being reserved for breakfast. The fresh
vegetation has so much changed the face of the country on this river
since we passed along here in December, that I scarcely recognise it.
The grass is six or eight inches high in the bottom, the blades
standing so thick as to present a matted appearance, and the hills are
brilliant with flowers--pink, purple, blue, and yellow.
On the 8th we continued down the eastern bank of the Salinas, passing
through several large and fertile bottoms, and reaching the rancho of
San Lorenzo about twelve o'clock. This rancho, as we learned from the
proprietors, is owned by two bachelor brothers, one of whom told me
that he had not been off his lands but once or twice for several years.
Large herds of fat cattle and horses were grazing upon the luxuriant
grasses of the plain, and there were several extensive inclosures sowed
in wheat, which presented all the indications of an abundant harvest.
But, with all these natural resources surrounding him the elder brother
told us that he had nothing to eat in his house but fresh beef. A
quantity of the choice pieces of a fat beef was roasted by an Indian
boy, which we enjoyed with all the relish of hungry men. Our host, a
gentleman of intelligence and politeness, made apology after apology
for his rude style of living, a principal excuse being that he had no
wife. He inquired, with apparent earnestness, if we could not send him
two pretty accomplished and capable American women, whom they could
marry; and then they would build a fine house, have bread, butter,
cheese, and all the delicacies, luxuries, and elegancies of life in
abundance. He appeared to be well pleased with the conquest of the
country by the Americans, and desirous that they should not give it up.
When we resumed our journey in the afternoon, he rode with us four or
five miles to show us the way, and, on taking his leave, invited us to
return again, when he said he hoped his accommodations would be much
improved. Riding 15 miles, we halted at a tule-cabin, where we remained
until two o'clock in the morning, when, the moon shining brightly, we
mounted our horses, and continued our journey.
We reached the Monterey road just at daylight. My intention had been to
visit Monterey; but the Salinas being unfordable, and there being no
ferry, it was not possible to do it without swimming the river, which I
did not feel inclined to do. Monterey is situated on the bay by that
name, about 90 miles by water south of San Francisco. The bay affords a
good anchorage and landing in calm weather, being exposed only to the
northers, which blow violently. The town contains about 1500
inhabitants, and is rapidly increasing in wealth and population.
Arriving at the rancho of Don Joaquin Gomez, we found no one but a
_mestiza_ servant at home, and could obtain nothing to eat but a
_quesadilla_. All the streams, large and small, are much swollen by
late heavy rains, and the travelling is consequently very laborious and
difficult. Resting our horses a short time, we crossed the mountains,
and reached the mission of San Juan Bautista about noon.
At San Juan we met with Messrs. Grayson, Boggs, and a party of
volunteers returning from Monterey to San Francisco, having been
discharged since the suppression of the rebellion in this part of
California, headed by Francisco Sanchez. Here we learned, for the first
time, the arrival at Monterey of Commodore Shubrick in the ship
Independence, and of the Lexington with Captain Tomkins's company of
artillery, and freighted otherwise with munitions, stores, and tools
necessary to the erection and defence of durable fortifications at
Monterey and San Francisco.
Seven or eight miles beyond San Juan, we found that the waters of the
_arroyo_ had risen so as to inundate a wide valley which we were
compelled to cross. After making several ineffectual attempts to reach
the opposite side, wading through the water, and sometimes falling into
deep holes from which it was difficult for either men or horses to
extricate themselves, we encamped for the night on a small elevation in
the valley, entirely surrounded by water. Our condition was miserable
enough. Tired, wet, and hungry, we laid down for the night on the damp
ground.
The next day (Feb. 10), about eleven o'clock, we succeeded in finding a
ford across the valley and stream, and procured dinner at a
soap-factory on the opposite side, belonging to T.O. Larkin, Esq.
Continuing on, we encamped at a rancho occupied by an Englishman as
_mayor domo_. He was very glad to see us, and treated us with unbounded
hospitality, furnishing a superabundance of beef and _frijoles_ for our
consumption. On the 11th, about three P.M., we arrived at the Pueblo de
San José, and, finding there a launch employed by Messrs. Howard and
Mellus in collecting hides, bound for San Francisco, we embarked in
her, and on the morning of the 13th arrived at that place. We found
lying here the U.S. sloop Warren, and Lieutenant Radford politely
furnished us with a boat to land. In the afternoon the Cyane, Commander
Dupont, with Gen. Kearny on board, and the store-ship Erie, with Col.
Mason on board, arrived in the harbour. Col. Mason is from the United
States direct, via Panama, and brings late and interesting
intelligence.
The Cyane and Warren have just returned from a cruise on the southern
Pacific coast of Mexico. The town of Guymas had been taken by
bombardment. The Cyane had captured, during her cruize, fourteen
prizes, besides several guns at San Blas. The boats of the Warren,
under the command of Lieut. Radford, performed the gallant feat of
cutting out of the harbour of Mazatlan the Mexican schooner Malek
Abdel.
Landing in San Francisco, I found my wardrobe, which I had deposited in
the care of Capt. Leidesdorff, and the first time for nearly five
months dressed myself in a civilized costume. Having been during that
time almost constantly in motion, and exposed to many hardships and
privations, it was, as may be supposed, no small satisfaction to find
once more a place where I could repose for a short time at least.