Out of Doors--California and Oregon | Page 3

road left by us when we descended into Doane's Valley. We got up
many more pigeons, graceful birds, which the Legislature of our State
should protect before they are exterminated. We moved on through
heavily timber-covered hills, up and down grade, and finally came out
on the south side of the mountain overlooking the canyon, some 5000
feet deep, at the bottom of which ran the San Luis Rey River. What
would have been a most beautiful scene was marred by a fog which had
drifted up the canyon. But the cloud effect was marvelous. We were
above the clouds. A more perfect sky no human being ever saw. The

clouds, or fog banks, were so heavy that it looked as if we could have
walked off into them. I never saw similar cloud effects anywhere else
except from Mt. Lowe, near Los Angeles, and Mt. Tamalpais, in Marin
County.
Warner's Ranch.
We now began our descent to Warner's Ranch. It was gradual enough
for some distance, and the road and trees were as charming as any
human being could desire. Finally we came out onto a point
overlooking the ranch. The view was simply entrancing. Imagine a vast
amphitheater of 57,000 acres, surrounded by hills, dotted here and there
with lakes, with streams of water like threads of burnished silver
glittering in the evening light, softened by the clouds hanging over the
San Luis Rey River. There were no clouds on the ranch; they stopped
abruptly at the southwest corner. This vast meadow was an emerald
green, studded with brilliant colored flowers. Vast herds of cattle were
peacefully completing their evening meal. The road down to the ranch
follows a ridge, which is so steep that no machine has ever been able to
ascend it. I held my breath and trusted to the good old car that has done
so much for my comfort, safety and amusement. We were all glad
when the bottom was reached. We forded the river and whirled away to
Warner's Hot Springs, over good meadow roads, arriving there before 7
o'clock p. m.
Some day these springs are going to be appreciated. Now only hardy
travelers, as a rule, go there. Their medicinal qualities will in time be
realized, and the people of Southern California will find that they have
a Carlsbad within a short distance of Los Angeles, in San Diego
County. We slept the sleep of the tired, weary tourist that night.
Hot Baths.
The following day we passed in bathing in the hot mineral waters,
sightseeing and driving around the valley.
Saturday morning at 7:30 o'clock we bade adieu to Mr. and Mrs.
Stanford and left the ranch by way of the Rancho Santa Isabel. The rain
god must have been particularly partial to this beautiful ranch this
season. Nowhere on our trip did we see such a splendid growth of grass
and flowers, such happy looking livestock, such an air of plenty and
prosperity as we did here. Leaving the ranch at the Santa Isabel store,
we took the Julian road, which place we reached after a few hours'

riding over winding roads good to travel on, and through scenery which
was a constant source of enjoyment. Julian is one of the early
settlements of San Diego County. Mining has been carried on there
with varying successes and disappointments these many years. Now
apple raising is its great industry. The hillsides are given over to apple
culture.
The trees are now laden with blossoms. As we topped a hill or crossed
a divide before beginning an ascent or descent, the view backward of
the apple orchards, peeping up over slight elevations in the clearings,
was extremely beautiful. Leaving Julian, we whirled along over
splendid roads through a rolling country, given over to fruit farming,
stock raising and pasturage. We next reached Cuyamaca and visited the
dam of that name, which impounds the winter rains for the San Diego
Flume Company. The country around the lake showed a deficiency of
rainfall.
The lake was far from full. We took our lunch at the clubhouse near the
dam. After resting in the shade of the friendly oaks we then pursued our
journey to Descanso. We passed through Alpine and finally entered the
El Cajon Valley, famed far and wide for its muscatel grapes, which
seem especially adapted to its dark red soil. The vines were in early leaf,
and not as pleasing to the eye as they will be when in full bloom. Then
came Bostonia, a comparatively new settlement, Rosamond, La Mesa,
and finally we whirled off on a splendid road, through an unsettled
country overgrown with sage and shrubs, to Del Mar.
The sky was overcast all the afternoon. A stiff ocean breeze blew
inland, cool and refreshing. The entire day had