By the above way you leave San Francisco at four o'clock P.M., from the wharf, at the foot of Broadway, by one of the California Pacific Railroad Company's steamers for Stockton. You have a fine afternoon and sunset view of San Francisco, the shipping, Oakland, Yerba Buena and Alcatraz Islands, the Golden Gate, Angel Island, Mount Tamalpais, San Quentin, San Pablo Bay, Vallejo, Mare Island, Suisun Bay, Benicia, Martinez, and Mount Diablo. Those who have crossed the continent by rail find this sail a pleasant change. They avoid the dust, get a good night's rest on the steamer, reach Stockton at from two to three o'clock in the morning, breakfast at six, and at seven take the cars of the Stockton and Copperopolis Railroad from the station near the landing. We reach Milton, twenty-eight miles, at 8.20, find the stage waiting, and immediately embark, and are off at once. The road lies through a mountainous country, well timbered. The air is clear and invigorating, and the scenery sublime. The road is good, the stages first-class, and the drivers obliging.
About one we reach Chinese Camp, and after twenty-four miles staging are ready for a half-hour's rest and a good dinner; or, we may wait for both until we reach Garrote, fourteen miles farther. Here either of two good hotels will feed and lodge us. Next morning we'd better dress for the horse-back ride in the afternoon. Lay aside all superfluous luggage and pack your extra nice clothing, if you have been foolish enough to bring any, in your valise. A small hand-satchel you can pack behind you on the horse, or take it before you. Let it be as small and snugly-packed as possible. One word further, and a most important one, especially to ladies. Calculate to ride astride, and dress for it. You can wear a long skirt to Tamarack, but beyond it is a nuisance. A woman who has only one leg, or has two on one side, may have some excuse for the unnatural, ungraceful, dangerous and barbarous side-saddle. The last word was prompted by remembering the raw back of the beautiful horse which carried Miss Dix into the valley, under the old, conventional, side-saddle. The lady is, unquestionably, a noted philanthropist, but that poor horse probably never suspected it. Anna Dickinson rode in man-fashion, arrived fresh and strong, and so did her horse. Ask her animal if he wants to carry that lady again and he'll never say nay (neigh). On a trip like this the side-saddle is barbarous to the horse and dangerous to the rider. The only good thing about it is that it jolts and racks and strains and tires the rider so outrageously, that it is fast converting many women to the sensible and safe way.
From Tamarack Flat the road dwindles to a trail, winds among pine trees, crosses an occasional rivulet, commands a fine outlook through the trees, now and then, and finally, almost before you know it, brings you to the brink of the valley. Thence let your horse have his head. He'll take care of himself and you too—land you safely at the foot of the trail, and deposit you at Hutchings' by five or six o'clock, in good time for the ample dinner which will be waiting.
If you wish to take the Calaveras Big Trees on your way, you can do so, either going or coming, by taking the same general route as far as Milton, to which place the times, distances, and conveyances are the same as in the table already given. From Milton you take stage through Murphy's to Sperry & Perry's hotel, where you dine in the very shadows of the Big Tree grove. Having stayed among the vegetable monsters as long as you can, you return thence by stage to Sonora, twenty-nine miles; time six hours; from Sonora to Garrote, also by stage, twenty-five miles in five hours, and then you strike the same road which you would travel by going directly in, so that the conveyances, time and distances of the former table will also serve you hence. As we said a few paragraphs back, these two routes are not really separate and distinct routes, as nearly one hundred and twenty miles on the western end, and about fifty miles at the eastern end, are the same in both. The time occupied in going or coming by the way of the trees is twelve and one half hours more than by the direct route, and the fare is seven dollars more, besides, of course, the expense of one night's lodging and two meals more on the route, than will be necessary to one going directly in.
The second route, the middle one, is the
Coulterville Route,
so named from the principal town through which it passes, which took its own name from General Coulter, who still manages the business of the line.
By this route you leave San Francisco at four P.M., by cars on Central Pacific Railroad; change cars at Lathrop for Modesto, arriving same evening. Remain over night at the Ross House, James Cole, proprietor, and leave by stage at eight A.M. for Coulterville, forty-eight miles, ten hours, arriving at six P.M.
You dine at La Grange, twenty-eight miles from Modesto. Stay all night at Wagner's Hotel, Coulterville, where supper, lodging and breakfast cost you $2.50.
Next morning rise early, take a good hot breakfast, leave Coulterville at five o'clock for Gobin's Ranch at Crane's Flat, thirty miles, where you are due at twelve. Dine at Gobin's for $1.00. At one o'clock leave Gobin's by saddle train, arriving at Black's Hotel, in the valley, fifteen miles, at six P.M., thus taking it leisurely, especially down the mountain-side trail into the valley, where no animal can go fast and keep his feet, and no rider can hurry and save his neck.