A HIDDEN HARBOR
The northwesterly corner of California is a region apart. In its
physical characteristics and in its history it has little in common with
the rest of the state. With no glamour of Spanish occupancy, its romance
is of quite another type. At the time of the discovery of gold in
California the northwestern portion of the state was almost unknown
territory. For seven hundred miles, from Fort Ross to the mouth of the
Columbia, there stretched a practically uncharted coast. A few headlands
were designated on the imperfect map and a few streams were poorly
sketched in, but the great domain had simply been approached from the
sea and its characteristics were mostly a matter of conjecture. So far
as is known, not a white man lived in all California west of the Coast
Range and north of Fort Ross.
Here is, generally speaking, a mountainous region heavily timbered along
the coast, diversified with river valleys and rolling hills. A marked
peculiarity is its sharp slope toward the northwest for its entire
length. East of the Coast Range the Sacramento River flows due south,
while to the west of the broken mountains all the streams flow
northwesterly--more northerly than westerly. Eel River flows about 130
miles northerly and, say, forty miles westerly. The same course is taken
by the Mattole, the Mad, and the Trinity rivers. The watershed of this
corner to the northwest is extensive, including a good part of what are
now Mendocino, Trinity, Siskiyou, Humboldt, and Del Norte counties. The
drainage of the westerly slope of the mountain ranges north and west of
Shasta reaches the Pacific with difficulty. The Klamath River flows
southwest for 120 miles until it flanks the Siskiyous. It there meets
the Trinity, which flows northwest. The combined rivers take the
direction of the Trinity, but the name of the Klamath prevails. It
enters the ocean about thirty miles south of the Oregon line. The whole
region is extremely mountainous. The course of the river is tortuous,
winding among the mountains.
The water-flow shows the general trend of the ranges; but most of the
rivers have numerous forks, indicating transverse ridges. From an
aeroplane the mountains of northern California would suggest an immense
drove of sleeping razor-backed hogs nestling against one another to keep
warm, most of their snouts pointed northwest.
Less than one-fourth of the land is tillable, and not more than a
quarter of that is level. Yet it is a beautiful, interesting and
valuable country, largely diversified, with valuable forests, fine
mountain ranges, gently rolling hills, rich river bottoms, and, on the
upper Trinity, gold-bearing bars.
Mendocino (in Humboldt County) was given its significant name about
1543. When Heceta and Bodega in 1775 were searching the coast for
harbors, they anchored under the lee of the next northerly headland.
After the pious manner of the time, having left San Blas on Trinity
Sunday, they named their haven Trinidad. Their arrival was six days
before the battle of Bunker Hill.
It is about forty-five miles from Cape Mendocino to Trinidad. The bold,
mountainous hills, though they often reach the ocean, are somewhat
depressed between these points. Halfway between them lies Humboldt Bay,
a capacious harbor with a tidal area of twenty-eight miles. It is the
best and almost the only harbor from San Francisco to Puget Sound. It is
fourteen miles long, in shape like an elongated human ear. It eluded
discovery with even greater success than San Francisco Bay, and the
story of its final settlement is striking and romantic.
Neither Cabrillo nor Heceta nor Drake makes mention of it. In 1792
Vancouver followed the coast searchingly, but when he anchored in what
he called the "nook" of Trinidad he was entirely ignorant of a near-by
harbor. We must bear in mind that Spain had but the slightest
acquaintance with the empire she claimed. The occasional visits of
navigators did not extend her knowledge of the great domain. It is
nevertheless surprising that in the long course of the passage of the
galleons to and from the Philippines the bays of San Francisco and
Humboldt should not have been found even by accident.
The nearest settlement was the Russian colony near Bodega, one hundred
and seventy-five miles to the south. In 1811 Kuskoff found a river
entering the ocean near the point. He called it Slavianski, but General
Vallejo rescued us from that when he referred to it as Russian River.
The land was bought from the Indians for a trifle. Madrid was applied to
for a title, but the Spaniards declined to give it. The Russians held
possession, however, and proceeded with cultivation. To better protect
their claims, nineteen miles up the coast, they erected a stockade
mounting twenty guns. They called the fort Kosstromitinoff, but the
Spaniards referred to it as _el fuerte de los Rusos_, which was
anglicized as Fort Russ, and, finally, as Fort Ross. The colony
prospered for a while, but sealing "pinched out" and the territory
occupied was too small to satisfy agricultural needs. In 1841 the
Russians sold the whole possession to General Sutter for thirty thousand
dollars and withdrew from California, returning to Alaska.
In 1827 a party of adventurers started north from Fort Ross for Oregon,
following the coast. One Jedidiah Smith, a trapper, was the leader. It
is said that Smith River, near the Oregon line, was named for him.
Somewhere on the way all but four were reported killed by the Indians.
They are supposed to have been the first white men to enter the Humboldt
country.
Among the very early settlers in California was Pearson B. Redding, who
lived on a ranch near Mount Shasta. In 1845, on a trapping expedition,
he struck west through a divide in the Coast Range and discovered a
good-sized, rapid river flowing to the west. From its direction and the
habit of rivers to seek the sea, he concluded that it was likely to
reach the Pacific at about the latitude of Trinidad, named seventy years
before. He thereupon gave it the name of Trinity, and in due time left
it running and returned to his home.
Three years passed, and gold was discovered by Marshall. Redding was
interested and curious and visited the scene of Marshall's find. The
American River and its bars reminded him of the Trinity, and when he
returned to his home he organized a party to prospect it. Gold was found
in moderate quantities, especially on the upper portions. The Trinity
mines extended confidence and added to the excitement. Camps sprang up
on every bar. The town of Weaverville took the lead, and still holds it.
Quite a population followed and the matter of provisioning it became
serious. The base of supplies was Sacramento, two hundred miles distant
and over a range of mountains. To the coast it could not be more than
seventy miles. If the Trinity entered a bay or was navigable, it would
be a great saving and of tremendous advantage. The probability or
possibility was alluring and was increasingly discussed.
In October, 1849, there were at Rich Bar forty miners short of
provisions and ready for any adventure. The Indians reported that eight
suns to the west was a large bay with fertile land and tall trees. A
vision of a second San Francisco, a port for all northern California,
urged them to try for it. Twenty-four men agreed to join the party, and
the fifth of November was set for the start. Dr. Josiah Gregg was chosen
leader and two Indians were engaged as guides. When the day arrived the
rain was pouring and sixteen of the men and the two guides backed out,
but the remaining eight were courageous (or foolhardy) and not to be
thwarted. With a number of pack animals and eight days' supplies they
started up the slippery mountainside. At the summit they encountered a
snowstorm and camped for the night. In the morning they faced a western
view that would have discouraged most men--a mass of mountains,
rough-carved and snow-capped, with main ridges parallel on a
northwesterly line. In every direction to the most distant horizon
stretched these forbidding mountains. The distance to the ocean was
uncertain, and their course to it meant surmounting ridge after ridge of
the intervening mountains. They plunged down and on, crossed a swollen
stream, and crawled up the eastern side of the next ridge. For six days
this performance was repeated. Then they reached a large stream with an
almost unsurmountable mountain to the west. They followed down the
stream until they found it joined another of about equal size. They had
discovered the far-flowing south fork of the Trinity. They managed to
swim the united river and found a large Indian village, apparently
giving the inhabitants their first view of white men. The natives all
fled in fright, leaving their camps to the strange beings. The invaders
helped themselves to the smoked salmon that was plentiful, leaving flour
in exchange. At dusk about eighty of the fighting sex returned with
renewed courage, and threateningly. It took diplomacy to postpone an
attack till morning, when powder would be dry. They relied upon a
display of magic power from their firearms that would impress superior
numbers with the senselessness of hostilities. They did not sleep in
great security, and early in the morning proceeded with the
demonstration, upon which much depended.
When they set up a target and at sixty yards pierced a scrap of paper
and the tree to which it was pinned the effect was satisfactory. The
Indians were astonished at the feat, but equally impressed by the
unaccountable noise from the explosion. They became very friendly,
warned the wonder-workers of the danger to be encountered if they headed
north, where Indians were many and fierce, and told them to keep due
west.
The perilous journey was continued by the ascent of another
mountainside. Provisions soon became very scarce, nothing but flour
remaining, and little of that. On the 18th they went dinnerless to their
cold blankets. Their animals had been without food for two days, but the
next morning they found grass. A redwood forest was soon encountered,
and new difficulties developed. The underbrush was dense and no trails
were found. Fallen trees made progress very slow. Two miles a day was
all they could accomplish. They painfully worked through the section of
the marvelous redwood belt destined to astonish the world, reaching a
small prairie, where they camped. The following day they devoted to
hunting, luckily killing a number of deer. Here they remained several
days, drying the venison in the meantime; but when, their strength
recuperated, they resumed their journey, the meat was soon exhausted.
Three days of fasting for man and beast followed. Two of the horses
were left to their fate. Then another prairie yielded more venison and
the meat of three bears. For three weeks they struggled on; life was
sustained at times by bitter acorns alone.
At length the welcome sound of surf was heard, but three days passed
before they reached the ocean. Three of the animals had died of
starvation in the last stretch of the forest. The men had not eaten for
two days, and devoted the first day on the beach to securing food. One
shot a bald eagle; another found a raven devouring a cast-up fish, both
of which he secured. All were stewed together, and a good night's sleep
followed the questionable meal.
The party struck the coast near the headland that in 1775 had been named
Trinidad, but not being aware of this fact they named it, for their
leader, Gregg's Point.
After two days' feasting on mussels and dried salmon obtained from the
Indians, they kept on south. Soon after crossing a small stream, now
named Little River, they came to one by no means so little. Dr. Gregg
insisted on getting out his instruments and ascertaining the latitude,
but the others had no scientific interest and were in a hurry to go on.
They hired Indians to row them across in canoes, and all except the
doctor bundled in. Finding himself about to be left, he grabbed up his
instruments and waded out into the stream to reach the canoe, which had
no intention of leaving him. He got in, wet and very angry, nursing his
wrath till shore was reached; then he treated his companions to some
vigorous language. They responded in kind, and the altercation became so
violent that the row gave the stream its name, Mad River.
They continued down the beach, camping when night overtook them. Wood,
the chronicler of the expedition, [Footnote: "The Narrative of L.K.
Wood," published many years after, and largely incorporated in Bledsoe's
"History of the Indian Wars of Northern California," is the source of
most of the incidents relating to Gregg's party embraced in this
chapter.] and Buck went in different directions to find water. Wood
returned first with a bucketful, brackish and poor. Buck soon after
arrived with a supply that looked much better, but when Gregg sampled it
he made a wry face and asked Buck where he found it. He replied that he
dipped it out of a smooth lake about a half mile distant. It was good
plain salt water; they had discovered the mythical bay--or supposed they
had. They credulously named it Trinity, expecting to come to the river
later. The next day they proceeded down the narrow sand strip that now
bounds the west side of Humboldt Bay, but when they reached the harbor
entrance from the ocean they were compelled to retrace their steps and
try the east shore. The following day they headed the bay, camping at a
beautiful plateau on the edge of the redwood belt, giving a fine view
of a noble landlocked harbor and a rich stretch of bottom land reaching
to Mad River. Here they found an abundant spring, and narrowly missed a
good supper; for they shot a large elk, which, to their great
disappointment, took to the brush. It was found dead the next morning,
and its head, roasted in ashes, constituted a happy Christmas
dinner--for December 25th had arrived, completing an even fifty days
since the start from Rich Bar.
They proceeded leisurely down the east side of the bay, stopping the
second day nearly opposite the entrance. It seemed a likely place for a
townsite, and they honored the water-dipping discoverer by calling it
Bucksport. Then they went on, crossing the little stream now named Elk
River, and camping near what was subsequently called Humboldt Point.
They were disappointed that no river of importance emptied into so fine
a bay, but they realized the importance of such a harbor and the value
of the soil and timber. They were, however, in no condition to settle,
or even to tarry. Their health and strength were impaired, ammunition
was practically exhausted, and there were no supplies. They would come
back, but now they must reach civilization. It was midwinter and raining
almost constantly. They had little idea of distance, but knew there were
settlers to the south, and that they must reach them or starve. So they
turned from the bay they had found to save their lives.
The third day they reached a large river flowing from the south,
entering the ocean a few miles south of the bay. As they reached it they
met two very old Indians loaded down with eels just taken from the
river, which the Indians freely shared with the travelers. They were so
impressed with them and more that followed that they bestowed on the
magnificent river which with many branches drains one of the most
majestic domains on earth the insignificant, almost sacrilegious name of
_Eel_!
For two days they camped, consuming eels and discussing the future. A
most unfortunate difference developed, dividing the little group of men
who had suffered together so long. Gregg and three others favored
following the ocean beach. The other four, headed by Wood, were of the
opinion that the better course would be to follow up Eel River to its
head, crossing the probably narrow divide and following down some stream
headed either south or east. Neither party would yield and they parted
company, each almost hopeless.
Wood and his companions soon found their plan beset with great
difficulties. Spurs of the mountains came to the river's edge and cut
off ascent. After five days they left the river and sought a mountain
ridge. A heavy snowfall added to their discomfiture. They killed a small
deer, and camped for five days, devouring it thankfully. Compelled by
the snow, they returned to the river-bed, the skin of the deer their
only food. One morning they met and shot at five grizzly bears, but none
were killed. The next morning in a mountain gully eight ugly grizzlies
faced them. In desperation they determined to attack. Wood and Wilson
were to advance and fire. The others held themselves in reserve--one of
them up a tree. At fifty feet each selected a bear and fired. Wilson
killed his bear; Wood thought he had finished his. The beast fell,
biting the earth and writhing in agony. Wilson sensibly climbed a tree
and called upon Wood to do likewise. He started to first reload his
rifle and the ball stuck. When the two shots were fired five of the
bears started up the mountain, but one sat quietly on its haunches
watching proceedings. As Wood struggled with his refractory bullet it
started for him. He gained a small tree and climbed beyond reach. Unable
to load, he used his rifle to beat back the beast as it tried to claw
him. To his horror the bear he thought was killed rose to its feet and
furiously charged the tree, breaking it down at once. Wood landed on his
feet and ran down the mountain to a small buckeye, the bear after him.
He managed to hook his arm around the tree, swinging his body clear. The
wounded bear was carried by its momentum well down the mountain. Wood
ran for another tree, the other bear close after him, snapping at his
heels. Before he could climb out of reach he was grabbed by the ankle
and pulled down. The wounded bear came jumping up the mountain and
caught him by the shoulder. They pulled against each other as if to
dismember him. His hip was dislocated and he suffered some painful flesh
wounds.
His clothing was stripped from his body and he felt the end had come,
but the bears seemed disinclined to seize his flesh. They were evidently
suspicious of white meat. Finally one disappeared up the ravine, while
the other sat down a hundred yards away, and keenly watched him. As long
as he kept perfectly still the bear was quiet, but if he moved at all it
rushed upon him.
Wilson came to his aid and both finally managed to climb trees beyond
reach. The bear then sat down between the trees, watching both and
growling threateningly if either moved. It finally tired of the game and
to their great relief disappeared up the mountain. Wood, suffering
acutely, was carried down to the camp, where they remained twelve days,
subsisting on the bear Wilson had killed.
Wood grew worse instead of better, and the situation was grave. Little
ammunition was left, they were practically without shoes or clothing,
and certain death seemed to face them. Wood urged them to seek their own
safety, saying they could leave him with the Indians, or put an end to
his sufferings at any time. Failing to induce the Indians to take him,
it was decided to try to bind him on his horse and take him along on
the hard journey. He suffered torture, but it was a day at a time and he
had great fortitude. After ten days of incredible suffering they reached
the ranch of Mrs. Mark West, thirty miles from Sonoma. The date was
February 17th, one hundred and four days from Rich Bar.
The four who started to follow the beach had experiences no less trying.
They found it impossible to accomplish their purpose. Bold mountains
came quite to the shore and blocked the way. They finally struck east
for the Sacramento Valley. They were short of food and suffered
unutterably. Dr. Gregg grew weaker day by day until he fell from his
horse and died from starvation, speaking no word. The other three pushed
on and managed to reach Sacramento a few days after the Wood party
arrived at Sonoma.
While these adventurous miners were prosecuting the search for the
mythical harbor, enterprising citizens of San Francisco renewed efforts
to reach it from the ocean. In December, 1849, soon after Wood and his
companions started from the Trinity River, the brig "Cameo" was
dispatched north to search carefully for a port. She returned without
success, but was again dispatched. On this trip she rediscovered
Trinidad. Interest grew, and by March of 1850 not less than forty
vessels were enlisted in the search.
My father, who left Boston early in 1849, going by Panama and the
Chagres River, had been through three fires in San Francisco and was
ready for any change. He joined with a number of acquaintances on one of
these ventures, acting as secretary of the company. They purchased the
"Paragon," a Gloucester fishing-boat of 125 tons burden, and early in
March, under the command of Captain March, with forty-two men in the
party, sailed north. They hugged the coast and kept a careful lookout
for a harbor, but passed the present Humboldt Bay in rather calm weather
and in the daytime without seeing it. The cause of what was then
inexplicable is now quite plain. The entrance has the prevailing
northwest slant. The view into the bay from the ocean is cut off by the
overlapping south spit. A direct view reveals no entrance; you can not
see in by looking back after having passed it. At sea the line of
breakers seems continuous, the protruding point from the south
connecting in surf line with that from the north. Moreover, the bay at
the entrance is very narrow. The wooded hills are so near the entrance
that there seems no room for a bay.
The "Paragon" soon found heavy weather and was driven far out to sea.
Then for three days she was in front of a gale driving her in shore. She
reached the coast nearly at the Oregon line and dropped anchor in the
lee of a small island near Point St. George. In the night a gale sprang
up, blowing fiercely in shore toward an apparently solid cliff. One
after another the cables to her three anchors parted, and my father said
it was with a feeling of relief that they heard the last one snap, the
suspense giving way to what they believed to be the end of all. But
there proved to be an unsuspected sandspit at the base of the cliff, and
the "Paragon" at high tide plowed her way to a berth she never left. Her
bones long marked the spot, and for many years the roadstead was known
as Paragon Bay. No lives were lost and no property was saved. About
twenty-five of the survivors returned to San Francisco on the "Cameo,"
but my father stayed by, and managed to reach Humboldt Bay soon after
its discovery, settling in Uniontown in May, 1850.
The glory of the ocean discovery remained for the "Laura Virginia," a
Baltimore craft, commanded by Lieutenant Douglass Ottinger, a revenue
officer on leave of absence. She left soon after the "Paragon," and kept
close in shore. Soon after leaving Cape Mendocino she reached the mouth
of Eel River and came to anchor. The next day three other vessels
anchored and the "General Morgan" sent a boat over the river bar. The
"Laura Virginia" proceeded north and the captain soon saw the waters of
a bay, but could see no entrance. He proceeded, anchoring first at
Trinidad and then at where Crescent City was later located. There he
found the "Cameo" at anchor and the "Paragon" on the beach. Remaining in
the roadstead two days, he started back, and tracing a stream of
fresh-looking water discovered the mouth of the Klamath. Arriving at
Trinidad, he sent five men down by land to find out if there was an
entrance to the bay he had seen. On their favorable report, Second
Officer Buhne was instructed to take a ship's boat and sound the
entrance before the vessel should attempt it. On April 9, 1850, he
crossed the bar, finding four and a half fathoms. Buhne remained in the
bay till the ship dropped down. On April 14th he went out and brought
her in. After much discussion the bay and the city they proposed to
locate were named Humboldt, after the distinguished naturalist and
traveler, for whom a member of the company had great admiration.
Let us now return to L.K. Wood, whom we left at the Mark West home in
the Sonoma Valley, recovering from the serious injuries incident to the
bear encounter on Eel River. After about six weeks of recuperation, Wood
pushed on to San Francisco and organized a party of thirty men to return
to Humboldt and establish a settlement. They were twenty days on the
journey, arriving at the shore of the bay on April 19th, five days after
the entrance of the "Laura Virginia." They were amazed to see the vessel
at anchor off Humboldt Point. They quietly drew back into the woods,
and skirting the east side of the bay came out at the Bucksport site.
Four men remained to hold it. The others pushed on to the head of the
bay, where they had enjoyed their Christmas dinner. This they considered
the best place for a town. For three days they were very busily engaged
in posting notices, laying foundations for homes, and otherwise
fortifying their claims. They named the new settlement Uniontown. About
six years afterward it was changed to Arcata, the original Indian name
for the spot. The change was made in consideration of the confusion
occasioned by there being a Uniontown in El Dorado County.
And so the hidden harbor that had long inspired legend and tradition,
and had been the source of great suffering and loss, was revealed. It
was _not_ fed by the Trinity or any other river. The mouth of the
Trinity was _not_ navigable; it did not boast a mouth--the Klamath just
swallowed it. The Klamath's far-northern mouth was a poor affair,
useless for commercial purposes. But a great empire had been opened and
an enormously serviceable harbor had been added to California's assets.
It aided mining and created immense lumber interests.
Strange as it may seem, Humboldt Bay was not discovered at this time.
Some years ago a searcher of the archives of far-off St. Petersburg
found unquestionable proof that the discovery was made in 1806, and not
in 1849-50. Early in the nineteenth century the Russian-American Company
was all-powerful and especially active in the fur trade. It engaged an
American captain, Jonathan Winship, who commanded an American crew on
the ship "Ocean." The outfit, accompanied by a hundred Aleut Indians,
with fifty-two small boats, was sent from Alaska down the California
coast in pursuit of seals. They anchored at Trinidad and spread out for
the capture of sea-otter. Eighteen miles south they sighted a bay and
finally found the obscure entrance. They entered with a boat and then
followed with the ship, which anchored nearly opposite the location of
Eureka. They found fifteen feet of water on the bar. From the large
number of Indians living on its shores, they called it the Bay of the
Indians. The entrance they named Resanof. Winship made a detailed sketch
of the bay and its surroundings, locating the Indian villages and the
small streams that enter the bay. It was sent to St. Petersburg and
entered on a Russian map. The Spaniards seem never to have known
anything of it, and the Americans evidently considered the incident of
no importance.
Humboldt as a community developed slowly. For five years its real
resources were neglected.
[Illustration: HUMBOLDT BAY--FROM RUSSIAN ATLAS THE HIDDEN
HARBOR--THRICE DISCOVERED Winship, 1806. Gregg, 1849. Ottinger, 1850.]
It was merely the shipping point from which the mines of the Trinity
and Klamath rivers were supplied by mule trains. Gradually agriculture
was developed, and from 1855 lumber was king. It is now a great domain.
The county is a little less than three times the size of the state of
Rhode Island, and its wealth of resources and its rugged and alluring
beauty are still gaining in recognition.
Its unique glory is the world-famous redwood belt. For its entire
length, one hundred and six miles of coast line, and of an average depth
of eight miles, extends the marvelous grove. Originally it comprised
540,000 acres. For more than sixty years it has been mercilessly
depleted, yet it is claimed that the supply will not be exhausted for
two hundred years. There is nothing on the face of the earth to compare
with this stand of superb timber. Trees reach two hundred and fifty feet
in height, thirty feet in diameter, and a weight of 1,250,000 pounds.
Through countless centuries these noble specimens have stood, majestic,
serene, reserved for man's use and delight. In these later years fate
has numbered their days, but let us firmly withstand their utter
demolition. It is beyond conception that all these monuments to nature's
power and beauty should be sacrificed. We must preserve accessible
groves for the inspiration and joy of those who will take our places.
The coast highway following down one of the forks of the Eel River
passes through the magnificent redwood belt and affords a wonderful
view of these superb trees. Efforts are now being made to preserve the
trees bordering the highway, that one of the most attractive features of
California's scenic beauty may be preserved for all time. California has
nothing more impressive to offer than these majestic trees, and they are
an asset she cannot afford to lose.