The City of Santa Cruz, the principal city and county seat of the county, lies between the Pacific ocean and the northern side of Monterey bay, about eighty miles south of San Francisco. It nestles among the foot-hills of the Santa Cruz mountains, and its outskirts are bathed by the sea. The city proper has a population of six thousand five hundred, and if East Santa Cruz is included, the population is about nine thousand. The city is growing rapidly. New business houses are constantly going up, capital is coming from the East, and everywhere are evidences of a steady, healthy increase.
Santa Cruz has good railroad facilities. Two branches of the Southern Pacific run here direct. They are called the broad gauge and the narrow gauge roads. The broad gauge is an important line running through Santa Clara and Pajaro valleys, passing San José and the larger towns between San Francisco and Monterey. The narrow gauge runs from San Francisco no farther south than Santa Cruz. It is more of a local line and stops at the smaller places—places, however, of such great interest to tourists as Big Trees. The steamers of the Pacific Steamship Company plying between San Pedro (near Los Angeles), and San Francisco stop here, regularly, on their way north and south.
In writing from Hotel del Monte in Monterey, I mentioned some large oaks and pines; there are as big and still bigger trees here, or very near here, at a place appropriately named Big Trees. It is a ten minute ride on the narrow gauge road of the Southern Pacific, or an hour’s drive by carriage from Santa Cruz. You need not go to Yosemite, Calaveras or Mariposa to see giants of the forest; here they are, a grove of 320 acres, some of the trees 300 feet high and 46 feet in circumference. These figures are quoted, but I measured a few specimens myself. One about four feet from the ground was 52 feet in circumference. The interior of another, “General Fremont,” had been burned out. Four persons beside myself stood inside of it, and thirty-five more, we calculated, could have found room in comfort. This measured six feet in diameter about five feet from the ground—inside measurement—the “shell” of the tree being probably a foot thick. There are dozens and scores and groups of trees in this wonderful grove, nearly as large.
The trees are of the famous California Redwood species, the wood hard as flint and very heavy. The largest specimens are named and bear tablets, “Daniel Webster,” “General Grant,” “General Sherman,” “Ingersoll’s Cathedral,” etc. Under the shadow of the last named, the honorable gentleman held forth one day to an admiring audience. “Big Trees” is owned by a wealthy widow of San Francisco, Mrs. Walsh.
Powerful and proud as are these giants of the forest, some of them have been uprooted by nature’s convulsions and lie humbly and horizontally on the ground. I noticed that a few of these were charred. The keeper of the grounds explained that year after year fire had been tried, but the hardy giants would not yield to flame. They are so thick and hard they won’t burn as they lie. “Then why not cut them up,” I suggested. “Oh!” was the answer, “lumber is worth nothing here; it is so plentiful.”
They have done a little “cutting,” however. In exchange for a dime you will get a piece of red wood quite heavy enough for your satchel, or a piece of the bark much too clumsy for your coat pocket. The bark is three or four inches thick.
This is a famous wine country. We visited the tunnels of the “Santa Cruz Mountain Wine Company,” whose vineyards are visible nine miles away on the hills. The tunnels are dug out of the soft, sand-stone rock and are dark and rather cool. That is to say, the air seemed cool when compared with the atmosphere outside, but as a matter of truth, which is often stranger than fiction, the thermometer showed the temperature in the tunnels to be 52 degrees, and it remains at about that figure all the year round. There are three such tunnels, each 380 feet long, 24 feet wide, and 18 feet high. The vineyards of the company include two hundred acres.
In these deep, cool tunnels the company has stored in great vats no less than two hundred thousand gallons of wine. Bottle after bottle was opened for our party and so cheaply was it held that the glasses were freely washed with the wine as the different kinds were tasted—port, sherries, clarets and white wines.
The claret has good body, and if you add a little water to it, as the French treat vin ordinaire, it makes a very good drink for a thirsty soul at the dinner table.
California Angelica has been a popular wine for twenty odd years: the Angelica produced in Santa Cruz is sweet, smooth, oily and delicious.