this is one of the most interesting spots in the state historically, and
is full of old landmarks. It was the capital of California until 1849.
Perhaps the most interesting of the old buildings is the Spanish Customs
House. The first opera house of the state is pointed out, and we are
told that Jenny Lind sang there. The house in which Robert Louis
Stevenson lived is pointed out, etc., etc.
PINNACLES NATIONAL MONUMENT
“Forty miles east of Monterey, in a spur of the low Coast Range, is a
region which erosion has carved into many fantastic shapes. Because of
its crowded, pointed rocks, it has been set apart as a national
monument, under the above title, though it has long been known as
Vancouver’s Pinnacles because the great explorer visited it while his
ships lay at anchor in Monterey Bay, and afterward described it in his
‘Voyages and Discoveries.’
“Two deep gorges, bordered by fantastic walls 600 to 1,000 feet high,
and a broad semi-circular, flower-grown amphitheatre, constitute the
central feature.”[4]
The best approach is from Gilroy, which lies between San José and
Monterey.
The Hotel Del Monte, at Del Monte, is one of the most famous on the
Pacific Coast; the hotel and its gardens are among the show places of
this region. This is perhaps the best known point from which to take the
famous 17-mile drive, a drive which though still called by the old name
has been extended to many times that length, and is a very beautiful
beach drive, one not to be missed by those who are in this region.
At Pacific Grove there are lovely beaches, and here, as at Santa
Catalina Island, the glass-bottomed boats are enjoyed, from which we
seem to peep into Fairyland; as we gaze down through the clear salt
water those charming lines of Percival’s come to us:
Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove,
Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet with falling dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine
Far down in the green and glassy brine.
At Carmel-by-the-Sea an artists’ settlement, just a short drive from
Monterey, there is an unusually beautiful beach, the sand is of dazzling
whiteness; here there are two hotels, and those who like a quiet,
restful place will revel in this spot. The old mission here is of
exceptional interest, being the burial place of Padre Junipero Serra,
the first of the Franciscan Monks who entered California, and
established the first of their missions for the Indians in 1769.
Continuing southward we come to Paso Robles Hot Springs, which rank
among the best of the many well-known hot sulphur springs. These baths
are wonderful, curatively as well as architecturally. The Indians are
said to have brought their sick here from all the surrounding country.
Splendid cures from the mud baths at this place have been reported. The
swimming pool is an unusually fine one. This is a great place for rest,
fine air, lovely walks and drives. Through the park one might wander
indefinitely; the place takes its name from the old oaks Paso Robles, or
Pass of the Oaks.
Again farther south, the stop must be made at San Luis Obispo, where
there is another old mission.
CHAPTER FOUR
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
Travelling south, by either train or automobile, when one runs into the
lovely Santa Barbara country, there is a feeling of satisfaction. The
coast faces due south and the mountains rising back of the valley
protect it from the cold winds. For more than a hundred miles the sea is
in full view.
Before reaching Santa Barbara the Santa Ynez Mountains are crossed; from
the crest of this range there is a fine view of the four islands which
bound the Santa Barbara Channel. The roads are of the best, the air is
like champagne, the sun is sure to be bright, and altogether this is a
most satisfying drive.
Ventura is the town for the Mission San Buenaventura, very picturesque
and in pretty good preservation. At Carpinteria we are shown what we are
told is the largest grapevine in the world, not as old as the famous
vine at Hampton Court, England, but much larger. Here also, in a
beautiful spot near the beach, the home of the author, Stewart Edward
White, is pointed out.
Santa Barbara, that lovely place called by many the Mentone of our
country, is particularly happily situated. Nestled at the foot of the
Santa Ynez Mountains, it is entirely protected by them from the north
and west winds, and here the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean, the
lovely coast and wonderful sunshine, flowers, and ocean bathing may be
enjoyed just as on the Riviera these joys of the Mediterranean are to be
found. This is one of the most charming resorts in all this
resort-filled state. At Santa Barbara there is another very fine old
mission. There are numerous trips to be made in this region. The
beautiful Cliff Drive; the San Marco Pass; the Santa Ynez Valley, etc.,
etc. The sea trips to the islands should also be made. Santa Cruz and
Santa Rosa are most interesting, and here may be found fine specimens of
the Abalone shells.
Beverly Hills is a delightful suburb, where there is a fine modern
hotel, Beverly Hills Hotel, and where every comfort may be had. This
place stands up in such a way that one seems to get more than the
ordinary share of bracing salt air; the Pacific Electric Line runs
between here and Los Angeles. A little farther on, by the same line,
Santa Monica is reached; this is a popular resort, with various places
of amusement, built on a bluff overlooking the ocean from which there is
a view of the long, white, sandy beach, which leads on to Ocean Park, a
popular resort on the order of Atlantic City, N. J.
San Pedro, the fine Los Angeles port, some 20 miles from the centre of
the city and reached by the Pacific Electric, or any one of the various
railroads of that region, is the starting place for Santa Catalina
Island. Comfortable steamers make the trip in about two hours. It may be
as smooth a crossing as any one could desire, but again I have seen it
very rough. It is a beautiful sail almost due south; one is strongly
reminded of the Mediterranean Sea here, with the deep blue of the water
and the mountainous island rising right from the sea. The first view of
Santa Catalina rejoices the soul, especially if one chances to approach
it through one of the soft white mists which at times hang over these
waters. This was the case on the day of my first trip there—the mist
lifting and rolling away, while we were still some miles off—the full
splendour of the noonday sun bringing out the island as we stood in the
bow of the approaching ship. “Santa Catalina is in reality a range of
mountains 23 miles long and sufficiently rugged in its upper reaches to
win the devotion of the most venturesome. The highest peak, Orizaba, has
an elevation of 2,700 feet. For genuine excitement the visitor will
choose a trip to the crags to hunt the wild goats. Horses, guides,
rifles, and other necessaries are obtainable on the island.”[5]
This is a spot which would satisfy any one, from the hunter out for
adventure, to the frailest invalid, with a desire only for a warm,
sunny, peaceful spot in which to rest and grow strong.
The land slopes gently down to the water’s edge. The landward side of
the island, being shaped like a great crescent, presents to the gaze of
the approaching visitor a lovely green amphitheatre in the centre of
which stands the Hotel Metropole (there are countless hotels,
boarding-houses, and camps), to the left the Open Air Theatre, where the
band plays each evening. There is an incline road, which takes to the
top of the mountain those who do not care to climb. Trails lead off on
every side. The Aquarium, though only a small beginning, has some rare
specimens. The glass-bottomed boats are a never-ending source of
delight, the small ones can be rented for very little, and one sits
spellbound, gazing down into the marine gardens, watching the
exquisitely coloured fish as they pass silently to and fro, brilliant
blue in the sunshine, dark in the shadow, while the glint of the
goldfish now here, now there, never ceases.
“And life, in rare and beautiful forms,
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, where the wrathful spirit of storms
Has made the top of the wave his own.”[6]
The seaweed is so heavy in places that it suggests a forest under water,
trees with leaves of every shape, bearing various fruits and berries. In
the evening the favourite thing seems to be the small steamer, which
puts out with a searchlight, to attract the flying fish; they respond
very readily, rising and following the path of light, looking like fairy
forms with their transparent silver wings.
LOS ANGELES
Los Angeles, the metropolis of southern California, lies about 15 miles
inland. It is a fine, prosperous city, of almost unprecedentedly rapid
growth.
Los Angeles County is one of the great fruit-growing centres, the
valleys being fairly covered with vineyards; orange, lemon, and olive
groves also abound here.
The residences, in and about the city, are famous for their beautiful
gardens. The parks are fine and well kept, and the public play grounds
are the most fascinating I have ever seen. There is an interesting
ostrich farm, opposite Eastlake Park, where these birds of all ages may
be seen. There are trips to be made on all sides, but here, as
elsewhere, the hotels provide all sorts of circulars, telling in detail
of the surrounding country. In California one can hardly take the wrong
turn, for there is something worth seeing in every direction.
Pasadena, about ten miles northeast of Los Angeles, lies in the lovely,
fertile valley of San Gabriel, where thousands of tourists come annually
to the Floral Parade and Rose Tournament. More beautiful homes can be
seen here than in any other one place in California. The city is
charmingly planted. Its avenues, the finest of which is Marengo Avenue,
with its exquisite pepper trees on either side, presents a picture hard
to equal. Many of the sunken gardens belonging to private residences we
were allowed to visit; we found them all they had ever been said to be.
To the north of Pasadena is Mount Lowe. This trip is made from Los
Angeles by electric, and takes about two hours. The car stops at
Pasadena for passengers from there, then very soon begins to run upgrade
and into the Rubio Canyon, where we leave the electric and take a cable
car up to Echo Mountain, 3,500 feet above sea level, where a really
superb view lies spread before us on all sides. From Echo a car runs to
Alpine Tavern, quite an exciting bit of the trip, following in places
the very edge of the precipice. The tavern, they tell us, is 5,000 feet
above sea level; from here there are several delightful trails, all
ending in superb views, extending many miles in every direction.
Mount Wilson is a little to the southeast of Mount Lowe, and makes
another interesting excursion. Like Mount Lowe, it is reached by
electric, which takes one almost to the top. The last bit can be made on
foot. Here again are fine views, and on the summit we find the Carnegie
Solar Observatory, with the largest solar reflecting telescopes in the
world. Those wishing to remain overnight can do so; there is a small
hotel.
RIVERSIDE
About two hours out of Los Angeles, situated in the centre of one of the
most famous orange-growing regions, is the city of Riverside, one of the
most attractive of the many charming places which surround Los Angeles.
The Mission Inn is worth going a long way to see, it is an exceptionally
fine bit of the always-pleasing Spanish-Mission architecture; the
central court, or patio, has unusual charm, with its very beautiful
planting; there is a famous old orange tree here.
The city is built in the Santa Ana Valley, from which the hills roll up
on all sides. By driving or walking to the summit of one of these hills
an extensive view of the valley may be had. On one of the drives we come
upon a tablet set into a boulder, upon which may be read the following
words written by that dear nature lover whom all the West loves to
quote:
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will
flow into you as sunshine flows into the trees. The winds will blow
their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares
will drop off like autumn leaves.”
SAN DIEGO
San Diego is the most southern port on the west coast of the United
States, it was one of the earliest settlements on this coast.
The city has a very good harbour, which is as interesting to the tourist
as it is commercially, for there are many good trips to be made by water
here; the kelp beds are especially interesting.
The climate of San Diego is famous; it is said to be equally delightful
the year round, and much is being done to make the city attractive. Six
thousand acres have been set aside as parkland; the finest is Balboa
Park, where the beautiful buildings erected for the Panama-California
Exposition, 1915, still stand.
Coronado Beach, with its great Hotel Del Coronado, is one of the most
famous of year-round resorts. The beach, some 15 miles long, lies on the
peninsula which forms the outer arm of the San Diego Bay, and is a very
beautiful stretch. The hotel, like the Del Monte at Monterey, is set in
a tropical garden; the flower beds, great sheets of colour, are an
endless delight to the Easterner; here may be enjoyed every luxury of
modern life with all the ease and freedom of the tropics.
In the old town one may see the Estudillo House, made famous by Helen
Hunt Jackson as the place where Ramona was married. This is a very
picturesque spot, the courtyard especially so, and in the garden the old
oven still stands.
Point Loma, a small peninsula which juts into the ocean at the most
northern point of San Diego Bay, should be visited; fine views can be
had from the point, and interesting caves, on the ocean side, are
visited en route. “The Theosophical Institute of Universal Brotherhood”
is on this peninsula. Here, under the leadership of Katharine Tingley,
this society has established itself and its model school. The colony is
open to tourists. The architecture is unusual.
THE AMERICAN SAHARA
The Great American Desert was almost better known a generation ago than
it is to-day. Then the hardy Argonauts traversed that fearful waste on
foot with their dawdling ox trains, and hundreds of them left their
bones to bleach in that thirsty land. The survivors of these deadly
journeys had a very definite idea of what that desert was, but now that
we can cross it in a day in Pullman cars, its real and still-existing
horrors are largely forgotten.
“The first scientific exploration of this deadly area was Lieutenant
Wheeler’s United States survey in the early fifties; and he was the
first to give scientific assurance that we have here a desert as
absolute as the Sahara. It is full of strange, burnt, ragged mountain
ranges, with deceptive, sloping, broad valleys between. There are
countless extinct volcanoes upon it and hundreds of square miles of
black, bristling lava flows. The summer heat is inconceivable, often
reaching 136 degrees in the shade; even in winter the mid-day heat is
sometimes insufferable, while at night ice frequently forms on the water
tanks.
“There are oases in the desert, chief of which are the narrow valleys of
the Mojave River and the lower Colorado. It is a strange thing to see
these soft green ribbons athwart the molten landscape.
“The Arabian simoon is not deadlier than the sandstorm of the Colorado
Desert (as the lower half is generally called). Man or beast caught in
one of these sand-laden tempests has little chance of escape.
“In the southern portions of the desert are many strange freaks of
vegetable life—huge cacti 60 feet tall and as large around as a barrel,
with singular arms, which make them look like giant candelabra; smaller
but equally fantastic varieties of cactus, from the tall, lithe
Ocalilla, or whipstock cactus, down to the tiny knob smaller than a
china cup. There are countless more modest flowers, too, and in the
rainy season thousands of square miles are carpeted with a floral
carpet, which makes it hard for the traveller to believe that he is
really gazing upon a desert.
“This American Sahara is more than 1,500 miles long from north to south
and nearly half as wide. The most fatally famous part is Death Valley,
in California.”[7]
The Colorado Desert is best known to many of us through George Wharton
James’ fascinating book called: “The Wonders of the Colorado Desert”;
according to this writer there is here a wealth of pleasure awaiting
those who care to enter into the silent places of nature.
Probably the most attractive, as well as the most convenient, points
from which to make the trip into the real desert are Riverside and
Redlands, passing through Nature’s magnificent gateway, which lies
between the San Jacinto and San Bernardino Ranges. The most satisfactory
way to make this trip is on horseback, with camping outfit. Such trips
are not for those who are dependent upon modern hotel comforts.
Mr. James says: “In the desert the soul of man finds itself as nowhere
else on earth. On every hand are strange, wonderful, beautiful things.
No hall of necromancers can equal the desert in its marvels and
revelations. Wonder follows wonder in quick succession, etc.”
MISSIONS
The Encyclopedia Britannica says:
“The Jesuit Missionaries entered California in 1697 and established
their first mission at Loreto, continuing to spread these missions until
1767, when they were expelled from the country by order of Charles III
of Spain and all their property was turned over to the Franciscan Monks,
who later moved north to upper California.... Mexico’s becoming
independent of Spain in 1822 was the death-blow to the establishment of
the Franciscans, which finally broke up in 1840 after they had founded
twenty-one missions.”
Many of these old buildings have been restored and are in a fine state
of preservation to-day; they have had a distinct effect upon the
architecture of California. The picturesque Spanish lines are
particularly suitable to this climate, where the open courts and the
beautiful arcades have a perpetual background of blue sky, with the
clear, sparkling atmosphere of California. It is impossible in a very
limited space to give a description of each mission, and there are
various books to be had on the subject—“In and Out of the Old Missions
of California,” by George Wharton James; “The Missions of California and
the Old Southwest,” by Jesse S. Hildrup, etc. A delightful trip is made
by motor, visiting each in turn; they are, mentioning them in order from
the most southern up, as they follow the coastline, San Diego, San Luis
Rey, San Juan Capistrano, San Gabriel, Los Angeles, San Buenaventura,
Santa Barbara, Santa Ynez, La Purisima Concepcion, San Luis Obispo, San
Miguel, San Antonio, Mission Soledad, San Carlos, San Juan Bautista,
Santa Cruz, Santa Clara, San José, Mission Dolores, San Rafael
Archangel, Mission San Francisco Solano.
These missions were built a day’s walk apart in order that the
travellers on foot could always find shelter at the end of a day’s
tramp. In Los Angeles there is given each year a mission play
commemorating this period in the history of California. An ambulatory
surrounding the playhouse shows models of all the missions in their
order; a visit to this place and witnessing a performance of the play
will do much toward impressing upon the tourist the early settlement of
this part of the west coast.
Footnotes for Part Four
1: Mr. Yard.
2: Department of the Interior.
3: Department of the Interior.
4: Robert Sterling Yard.
5: Drury.
6: J. G. Percival.
7: Lummis.
PART FIVE
THE SOUTHWEST
I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That’s plum-full of hush to the brim;
I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o’ the world piled on top.
—SERVICE
CHAPTER ONE
THE GRAND CANYON
The Grand Canyon of the Colorado is the world’s most famous gorge, in
which Mr. Lummis says: “All the world’s famous gorges could be lost
forever.”
Charles Dudley Warner said of this spot: “Human experience has no
prototype of this region, and the imagination has never conceived of its
forms and colours.... The scene is one to strike dumb with awe, or to
unstring the nerves.... All that we could comprehend was a vast
confusion of amphitheatres and strange architectural forms resplendent
with colour.... Streaks of solid hues 1,000 feet in width, yellows
mingled with white and gray, orange, dull red, brown, blue, carmine, and
green all blending in the sunlight into one transcendent effusion of
splendour.”
Here is truly one of the most marvellous nature wonders of the world,
and comparatively few of us have seen it. It is stupendous! It is
incomprehensible!
The canyon lies chiefly in Arizona, though Utah, Nevada, and California
touch each a corner. It is nearly 300 miles long and in places 6,600
feet deep; the width at the top is from 8 to 20 miles. The river lying
below is in places 300 feet wide, and is 2,400 feet above sea level; yet
looking down from the rim it seems the smallest stream, the merest
thread.
The Santa Fé trains run twice a day to the canyon.[1] There is a fine,
big hotel, the El Tovar, with every modern comfort, built on a site
7,000 feet above sea level and quite near the rim, commanding such a
view as can hardly be equalled in the world.
Mr. C. A. Higgins in his “The Titan of Chasms,” says: “Stolid indeed is
he who can front the awful scene and view its unearthly splendour of
colour and form without quaking knee or tremulous breath. An inferno
swathed in soft, celestial fires; a whole chaotic under-world, just
emptied of primeval floods and waiting for a new creative word; eluding
all sense of perspective or dimension, outstretching the faculty of
measurement, overlapping the confines of definite apprehension; a
boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly real, yet spectral as a dream....
A labyrinth of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design,
fretted with ornamental devices, festooned with lace-like webs formed of
talus from the upper cliffs and painted with every colour known to the
palette in pure, transparent tones of marvellous delicacy.
“A canyon, truly, but not after the accepted type. An intricate system
of canyons, rather.... Only by descending into the canyon may one arrive
at anything like comprehension of its proportions, and the descent
cannot be too urgently recommended to every visitor who is sufficiently
robust to bear a reasonable amount of fatigue.”
There are several paths down the southern wall of the canyon, and the
trip is safely made on horseback. A word of advice here in regard to
clothing may be of use. It is absolutely necessary to have good, warm
clothing with one, for the night, which is spent on the floor; but for
the descent a light shade hat is advisable; the heat of the afternoon
sun can be very oppressive.
Mr. William Winter said of the Grand Canyon: “It is a pageant of ghastly
desolation and yet of frightful vitality, such as neither Dante nor
Milton in their most sublime conceptions ever even approached.... Your
heart is moved with feeling that is far too deep for words. Hour after
hour you would sit, entranced, at the edge of this mighty subterranean
spectacle, lost in the wonder and glory of it, forgetful of self, and
conscious only of the Divine Spirit.”
“If the falls of Niagara were installed in the Grand Canyon between your
visits—and you knew it by the newspapers—next time you stood on that
dizzy rimrock you would probably need good field-glasses and much
patience before you could locate that cataract which in its place looks
pretty big. If Mount Washington were plucked up bodily by the roots—not
from where you see it, but from sea level—and carefully set down in the
Grand Canyon, you probably would not notice it next morning, unless its
dull colours distinguished it in that innumerable congress of larger and
painted giants.