[No date.] Here we stayed one day to wait for some of our party, who had waited hoping to purchase provisions; they were sorely jaded, but had not lost a mule when they re-joined us. Leaving them to rest, I went to Col. Collins' camp for fifty pounds of biscuit and some rice, and we then took the way west, for the next water-hole, our horses loaded with grass; which as it had been good, we had taken the precaution to secure before we started at four o'clock.
[No date.] We camped at a pretty lake, shallow but clear, and good to drink; at the back was one of those peculiar rocky mountains so common in this country, and I made an outline of it. Some wagoners killed an ox, but to me it was uneatable, so I turned in as usual, on bread and beans, and the luxury of a cup of tea. Bachman lost his mules here, and he and Walsh stayed until daylight, the rest of us leaving much earlier. I have felt rather anxious about Bachman as he is not strong.
October 23d. San Felipe.[33] Three days of sunny road, and three nights of freezing cold, have brought us to San Felipe, and a pretty valley it is, but no water, and no wood of any consequence, still there is enough for travellers' purposes, and the sight of the trees gave us great pleasure, after the dearth of vegetation through which we have been passing. We find no food here, and most of the company have gone to Santa Isabella, a rancho fifteen miles distant, where they expect to get all we want.
San Felipe. October 24th. My own mules having been more heavily laden than the average, were very tired, and I have stayed here, leaving Mess 6, consisting of Joseph Lambert, Ayres, Weed and Steele five miles behind to wait for Bachman and Walsh. The rest started with John Stevens in charge, for Santa Isabella. I ascended the first hill, and had a view of the long rows of cottonwoods bordering the irrigating ditches of the once highly cultivated, but now deserted, Mission grounds. Desolation reigned everywhere, decayed stumps of gigantic trees planted by hand, indications of shrines, from the clumps of beautiful cedars by which they are so frequently surrounded, and other tokens of industry, told of the comfort that had formerly been enjoyed in this lovely valley. The hills to the east are all bare, but those to the west have many beautiful live oaks, running up the deep ravines that are between each sharp ridge.
[No date.] As we rode up the valley, entering the mountains, the contrast between the scene before us, and the desert we had just left, was like coming into Paradise, and we trotted along the banks of a clear little brook, and sauntered on through patches of wild sage and wild oats, the first we had seen, with real pleasure. As we reached the top of the ridge, one of those beautiful natural parks, to be seen only in our southern latitudes, was before us, and we had the first glimpse of what might be called California; the pleasure I felt then is and will be a lasting one.
Passing the dividing line, we began our descent following another stream, adorned on both sides with the most magnificent California oaks and sycamores; not so excessively large, but of splendid form and broad spreading shade and foliage, in full tropical luxuriance. At sundown, far down the valley of Santa Maria, we rejoined our camp, and found all well, and Mr. Browning treated me to a pound or two of most delicious grapes. They tasted so refreshing and delicious, that for a few minutes I forgot everything else, all my anxieties for the termination of our long and tedious journey, with the attendant troubles and difficulties seemed smoothed over.
[No date.] We arrived today at Santa Maria itself, twenty miles further on our way, really enjoying our march through this beautiful valley.
San Diego Mission. November 3d. We spent the night at Santa Maria and then left for San Diego; the country contains many lovely valleys, and some of the hills are beautiful, and richly covered with wild oats, possessing all but water and wood to make it a most desirable land for the farmer. At sundown we reached the Mission of San Diego,[34] once evidently beautiful and comfortable; its gardens still contain many palms, olives and grapes, and no doubt the plain below, when irrigated, must have been most productive.
We found an American soldier in charge, and as the last reflection of sunlight tipped the waves of the Pacific Ocean with gold, and the sullen roar of the breakers borne in on the last of the sea breeze for that day came to my ears, tired and sad, I sat on the tiled edge of the long piazza leaning against one of the brick pillars in a most melancholy mood. I could remain here a long time musing on what is before me, realizing in the desertion of all about me that all things mortal pass, but it is necessary to continue our journey, as we are six miles from anything to eat, and we know that two long hours will be requisite to get over the distance; so we must go.
San Diego. November 4th. Mr. Browning on his fine horse "Ures" led the way, and I came close at his heels on my favorite mule. Nine o'clock brought us to this town; no hotel nor boarding house, so we went to the quartermaster, Lieut. Murray,[35] to leave our things and find a place to put our horses. He received us most kindly, his wife setting before us some excellent venison, and the first real bread and butter we had seen since we left New Orleans, to all of which we did complete justice. The Lieutenant apologized for not giving me a bed, following this up by the presentation of a pillow, and regrets that he could do nothing better than this and his floor. I had my blankets and was soon comfortably asleep under the first roof I had slept under since we departed from Jesus Maria.