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THROUGH THE CALIFORNIA RAISIN DISTRICTS.
THROUGH SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY TO FRESNO.
We are on our way up the valley. The train left San Francisco in the morning. We have crossed the bay and rounded the Contra Costa Mountains, and Mount Diablo, with its majestic twin peaks, lies already behind us. We have just crossed the San Joaquin river not far from its mouth; the west side of the valley is on our right; on the left looms up the Sierra Nevada, far away it is true, but grand and imposing, gradually decreasing, as it were, towards the south, finally to disappear among the clouds at the farther end of the valley. It is in the middle of August; the day is warm, but there has been a shower in the mountains, as is usual at this season of the year, a sprinkling of rain has purified the atmosphere in the foothills, which stand out clear and bright, a contrast to the dusty road in the center of the valley, over which the smoking train carries us at a rapid speed. On both sides of us stretch apparently endless plains, thirty miles wide,—to the Coast Range on one side, to the Sierra Nevada on the other,—plains dry and yellow, parched in the brilliant sun, shaded by no clouds, but cooled by a steady breeze from the northwest following us up the valley. Up, we say, but it is hardly any more up than down, the ascent being about one foot to the mile; it is rather a journey over one of the most level plains on the continent, but still the popular usage insists upon saying “up the valley.” Acres and acres of already harvested grainfields are seen on both sides, crossed by roads at right angles; here and there are stacks of grain which have not yet been threshed, or heaps of straw, where the threshing engine has done its work; on almost every section of land we see a farmhouse and barn, a few gum-trees or cottonwoods, and many a windmill and elevated tank informs us where the farmer gets his water for his house and his scanty trees. All this we see under a blazing sun and a quivering air.
This is the great San Joaquin valley, the fertile center of California. Of the much spoken of irrigation of California, we see almost nothing; the land is dry and thirsty, the soil is loose, and the engine forces the dust in a cloud before us. Nothing green is seen anywhere except a few scattered trees far, far apart. Here and there we pass a little town with wooden houses and dusty streets, with wooden churches whose spires do not pierce the sky. We cross many streams, several of which are dry, or have sluggish waters, while some wind their way down the valley between banks covered with willows and cottonwoods. Yet there is something grand in this immense stretch of open, level country, with its frame of snowy mountains, with its fertile fields waiting for the winter’s rain or irrigating ditch to produce abundantly of almost anything that can be grown in any temperate country in the world. The numerous grain stacks speak of the fertility of the soil and of abundant harvests, while the vegetation along the rivers indicates that water is all that is needed to make this large valley like a fruitful garden.
We have passed Lathrop and Modesto and numerous smaller stations between; the picture is everywhere the same. At Atwater we met the first signs of irrigation, and saw young vineyards and orchards on either side, and as we approach Merced we pass large irrigating ditches flowing with water, and in the distance many houses and farms. The country is getting greener, and the deep color of the soil is a sign that it is rich and fertile. At Merced there is a Yosemite air. The large El Capitan Hotel stands out like a landmark, and the garden with its flowers and shade trees, and the marble fountain with its rippling waters, speak loudly of beauty and refinement.
Close to Merced are situated some of the new promising colonies which are making raisin-growing one of their specialties, and in whatever direction we look we see signs of such new enterprises, all young, of course, as irrigation has only lately been brought in here, where no dense settlements could exist without it. Much of the land is yet held in very large tracts, but they are being rapidly subdivided and sold out to actual settlers as fast as there is any demand for them. To our right lies a splendid body of perfectly level land occupied by the Yosemite Colony with many settlers already on the land, whose new and cosy cottages mark their future homes.
In the distance, on the slope of the low hills, stand out prominently a number of houses, some of them quite pretentious, white and gleaming in their new dress. This is the Rotterdam Colony, a settlement of Hollanders who have only lately arrived here. There is not a colony anywhere which promises to be more interesting, and which is likely to prove a greater success. The Dutch as a people had succeeded with colonization long before any other nation began a similar work, and, as immigrants to this State, they are most desirable. Industrious, saving, intelligent and persevering, with good land, plenty of water at all times of the year, and with a good location which insures health and comfort, there is no reason why they should not succeed. The colony is most beautifully situated on high sloping ground,—a veritable mesa land overlooking the vast Merced plains, and only four or five miles distant from the city. These Hollander colonists are the very best kind of settlers the State can get,—not the ignorant peasantry of Europe, but intelligent and well-educated people, which any community can be proud of. There is great activity in the colony just now. Thousands of acres are covered with magnificent grain, which, without any more rain, would give a profit of from twenty to twenty-five dollars per acre, and thus materially help to pay for the land. A hundred or more horses and mules with their drivers are plowing and harrowing the soil; and such a plowing is not often seen anywhere. The plows are set about a foot deep, and the work is done by the canal company just to help the settlers along and give them a good start. What more can they expect? Good treatment is in Merced dealt out to everybody,—a good policy which should be followed in every new colony in the land. We stop at the newly-built house of Mr. Canne, a gentleman of middle age with a large family, and hearty and pleasing, as is so characteristic of the Dutch. His house is large, very comfortable and airy, with large verandas overlooking the country far and wide. Inside everything is cosy and neat, with lots of mementoes from quaint old Holland, with colored china on the walls and odd tables and odder bric-a-brac, family heirlooms from generations back. The old grandma, with her eighty-one years, has come along with the younger folks, happy as they, and, as they, meeting bravely and with confidence new times and experiences in the new country which they have chosen as their home. Our wishes for good luck are not needed; it is sure to come when such people are settled upon such land, and when everybody enjoys everybody else’s good-will. The land which is now being broken is to be planted to olives, almonds, oranges, peaches and vines,—a very good selection indeed, and one which cannot fail to prove profitable. The deep red soil on the mesa will grow almost anything, and with proper care and management this colony must in the near future become one of the most attractive and prosperous in the State.
The Rotterdam Colony is bounded on one side by the now famous and often described Crocker and Huffman reservoir. Those who believe that a reservoir in the foothills is not the proper thing should come and take a look at this one, and be convinced that it is. The location is a most favorable one, being ninety feet above the town of Merced, and elevated sufficiently to irrigate the whole of the level surrounding district, containing two hundred and sixty thousand acres. The water covers now about six hundred and forty acres which were formerly a real and natural valley, across the mouth of which the dam checking the water was thrown. The average depth of water is about thirty feet, while in some places it is fifty odd feet deep. The statistics of this reservoir and dam have been given often enough, but more or less correctly. The dam checking the water is four thousand feet long, two hundred and seventy-five feet wide at the base, twenty feet on the top and sixty feet high in the center. It took four hundred mules and two hundred and fifty men two years to build it. The reservoir and canal tapping Merced river cost together two million dollars to build, and the work was constructed in such a substantial and scientifically correct manner, that it will be likely to last for ages. There is no other irrigation system in the State that is as well planned and carried out. This can and must be said to the honor of the constructors. The canal which taps the river is twenty-seven miles long, from sixty to seventy feet wide on the bottom, one hundred feet on the top, and has fall enough to carry four thousand cubic feet of water per second.