GIANT GRAPEVINE NEAR CARPINTERIA
From Photograph
Both routes converge at Carpinteria, about twelve miles south of Santa Barbara. This little village has two distinct settlements. The site of the old Spanish settlement was visited by the Monterey expedition as early as 1769 and was named "Carpinteria"—carpenter's shop—because some Indians were building a canoe at the spot. The newer American community is more thriving and up-to-date.
A little to the northwest of the village is a monster grapevine famed throughout the section as the Titan of its class. It is near a farmhouse just off the main road and we turned in to view it. The enormous trunk is ten feet in girth and the vines cover a trellis one hundred feet square. Its maximum crop, said the farmer, was fourteen tons a few years ago—enough to make a big carload. One single cluster, of which he showed us a photograph, weighed no less than twelve pounds. The average yearly crop is ten to fifteen tons. Legend has it that it was first planted in 1809, in which case it would be a little more than a centenarian. It is of the mission variety and shows no signs of decay. A comparison of the trunk with the old man shown in our picture should substantiate at least one "tall California story."
A year or two later we paused to view it again, only to find the dead trunk remaining as a sad witness of its former glory. The immense crop of fruit that it had borne the previous year had so sapped its vitality that it withered and died.
At Summerland, a few miles farther, is the curious phenomenon of large oil derricks standing in the ocean. Here are prolific oil wells beneath the water and the oil gives the surface an opalescent appearance for some distance from the shore. The place was originally founded as a spiritualist colony, but for lack of the promotive genius of a Madame Tingley, it never throve. Possibly the creaking oil pumps and pungent odors of the vicinity had something to do with the disappearance of mediums and their ghostly visitants.
On reaching Santa Barbara we decided on the new Arlington Hotel, an imposing structure of solid concrete and dark red brick, the design following mission lines generally. The towers are beautiful copies of those of the Santa Barbara Mission and the roof is of dark red tiling modeled after the antique pattern of the padres. The plainness of the mission, while carried throughout, is everywhere combined with elegance and comfort. The interior of the public rooms is decidedly unique, the finish being dark brown brick and cement, without wood trimming of any kind. Our rooms were furnished plainly but comfortably; the doors were of undressed lumber stained dark brown and furnished with heavy wrought-iron hinges, latches and locks. In such a land of plenty and variety of food products as California, it is not strange that the better hotels are famous for their "cuisine," as the handbooks style it. The Arlington is no exception to the rule, and the quiet and attentive young waitresses add to the attractiveness of the dining-room.
The first query of the stranger in Santa Barbara is for the mission and no sooner had we removed the stains of travel—and they are plentiful when you motor over the dusty roads of California—and arrayed ourselves in fresh raiment than we, too, sought the famous shrine. An electric car leads almost to its door; or, one will find the walk of a mile a pleasant variation after several hours on the roads.
