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LTHOUGH the mainland of California is rich beyond description, in features of interest to the nature-loving explorer, there is an equal if not greater fascination in the Pacific Islands, which lie at distances of from twenty-seven to a hundred miles from the coast line. Possibly their peculiar allurement is due largely to this geographical separation. They seem to bask in perpetual noon, untouched by the stress of cities, and almost untrodden by human feet.

With the exception of Santa Catalina, with which these notes are not concerned-it being populous and tourist-frequented-the most easily accessible of the group is perhaps Santa Cruz, about thirty miles south of Santa Barbara. It is the largest of a series forming the outer barrier of the Channel of the same name, the others being Santa Rosa, San Miguel and Anacapa. Much of their available surface is leased to certain

ranch companies, as pasture for sheep and cattle. The present notes were compiled at a point known as Fry's Harbor, at the lower end of one of the deeper canyons on the mainland side of Santa Cruz, where a group of naturalists including the writer recently spent a week of pleasure and study combined.

The transfer of ourselves and camping equipment from Los Angeles to the point of embarkation was quickly accomplished by automobile. From Santa Barbara a power boat conveyed us to the island in about three hours. The ocean current on this coast is from north to south or on this particular section from northwest to south-east, and the Channel passage in a small craft is uncomfortably rough, for those susceptible to seasickOn the return trip there is less "bucking" the waves, the direction being favorable for help from the prevailing wind and current, and the ocean is generally calm inside the kelp line. This

ness.

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tangled mass of floating sea-weed that lies along the coast for hundreds of miles is harvested by the United States Government for the production of potash. Specially constructed kelp-cutting barges collect the stuff continually and convey vast quantities of it to the Experimental Station of the Federal Bureau of Soils at Summerland, a village of assorted odors and industries, a few miles south of Santa Barbara.

The coast of Santa Cruz is rocky and precipitous, the highest altitude in the interior being given as about 3000 feet. Numberless canyons and gorges are deeply scored in the rugged surface of the island, many of which contain a running stream all the year round, as well as countless "arroyos," or dry water-courses, having a stream in the winter only. The canyon terminating in the little cove selected for our base has a perpetual rivulet of pure mountain water. The cliffs over-hang the beach from a tremendous height, and accentuate the feeling of littleness experienced amidst the awesome grandeur of these wild places.

A direct landing from the power boat being impossible, it is necessary to anchor her off shore, and disembark a few at a time in a dory. As most of our party were drenched to the skin with spray during the crossing, the most urgent need when the first man leaped out

upon the pebbly beach was to collect wood for an enormous fire. Sea water dries quickly, and does not cause severe chills, especially if circulation be stimulated by the erection of a tent, construction of a table with planks brought from the mainland, rigging up cooking apparatus, locating a convenient supply of drinking water, and dragging out the provisions for a meal.

Though topographically similar to the mainland, the islands engender feelings seldom experienced there. Everything seems more intense. The sun is dazzling, the water greener and yet clearer, the sky a deper blue, and the untrodden solitudes seem more impressive. At night the enfolding dome of the heavens is black as burnished ebony, contrasting with the scintillating brilliance of the myriad stars, and the call of the morning sun, dancing on the waves in the little bay, seems more joyous and alluring than at the prosaic cities of the continent. Such are the vigor and animal spirits produced by this primitive life that one feels resigned to doing without the morning paper, the porcelain bath tub, and all the complicated clutter of civilization. One desires mere physical contentment, and feels an urge to spend the days hunting, fishing, swimming, exploring, and the nights in dreamless sleep of wholesome exhaustion.

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There is an intoxicating stimulus in the scamper down the beach for the morning plunge, after crawling out of a sleeping-bag, and the appetite soon acquired is phenomenal. It is capable of hot cakes, ham and eggs, fried fish, hot cakes, ham and eggs, fried fish- -and so on ad libitum.

The supply of fish is so plentiful that catching them soon changes from a sport to a domestic duty. Each morning before breakfast a few enthusiasts would take the row-boat, pull out some little distance, drop a few lines among the kelp, and catch enough fish in an hour to feed six of us for a day-even after throwing back all that were too small to repay the trouble of cleaning, a messy task performed with singular dexterity by Quong Kim, our Chinese cook engaged for the excursion.

Among the fish most commonly caught in these waters are the sea bass, mackerel, sheep's-head, smelt, rock cod, sculpin and rainbow perch. This last named species is of peculiar biological interest, being a viviparous fish, and giving birth to its young like a mammal, the young perch being completely formed when born. They swim away at once from their parent, and seem quite capable of taking up the struggle for existence without maternal guidance.

I

once saw a rainbow perch, caught by

hook and line from the rocks near the Cliff House at San Francisco, launch upon their career a family of twentyeight. Assisting in piscatorial obstetrics I dropped them into the water one by one and watched them wriggle contentedly away on their search for the first morning's breakfast.

It is possible on Santa Cruz to leave the camp with a gun, and return later with some excellent mutton chops for dinner, the "wild" sheep being easily located, and a sample obtained for transference to the base, provided no ranch company's herder is observing the proceedings. Needless to say, no one in our expedition resorted to this nefarious pursuit of poaching. We were, indeed, grieved to learn that certain campers have been known to acquire a suspiciously large supply of fresh mutton, which, however, they always stoutly protest has been brought over from the butchers on the mainland.

Another possible supply of provisions is furnished by the wild hogs. They really are wild, or at least so I judged from the antics of one that we decoyed into our enclosure, where it registered strong disapproval of our society.

Probably the simplest article of diet to be found on the islands is the ordinary mussel. The rocks for miles around the coast are encrusted with a thick growth

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of these shell fish, attached in tenacious clusters, and of prodigious size. They can be pried off and removed by the boat load with little trouble, and when steamed or baked they provide an appetizing and nutritious food.

Prior to the Government round-up of the native Indians, there were many of them on these islands, and judging from the traces found in our explorations, the mussel must have been their staple food for centuries. In one place, fully a thousand feet above sea level, we dug down through a stratum of cracked shells more than three feet without reaching the bottom. In area the deposit appeared to cover some acres of ground. In another of these old Indian camps we unearthed occasional flint arrow-points and remains of other primitive weapons or utensils.

A few years ago some fishermen were cruising near the coast of Anacapa, when one of them was suddenly startled by the sight of a human being, who had evidently observed their approach, for the apparition fled into a cave. Pulling in to the rocky shore, they disembarked and entered with caution. The entrance and floor of the cave were covered with a bed of cracked mussel shells some feet in depth, and crouching terrified within was an Indian woman, entirely without

clothing, and with a skin like leather,tanned almost black. She knew no language, having presumably never spoken to a human being. The men persuaded her into the boat, and also into some of their clothes. The next day they returned to Santa Barbara, taking the strange creature with them.

Inquiries disclosed the fact that when the last boat load of Indians was being brought away, more than twenty years before, one of the women went frantic at the discovery, when a mile or more out to sea, that one of her children was missing. Whether her ravings were not understood at the time, or were ignored, is not known, but the boat did not put in again to collect the child said to have been left behind. It is supposed that the woman recently found and the lost child are one and the same. Having lived on mussels or other shell fish exclusively for twenty years, it is not surprising that a more complicated diet should have disagreed with her, and the first square meal on the mainland caused her death. It would be impossible in a brief sketch to enter into the many inviting fields for nature-study offered by these islands, and such aspects have already been dealt with by others, but the above allusions to Indians, sea-weed, fish, geological conformation, wild hogs, the

wonders of the sky by night and of the ocean depths by day, may provide elements of a composite picture sufficiently alluring to all. As an example of the hundreds of un-technical observations that I made during a week's visit, I may mention the sea gulls. A student of these familiar birds will sometimes be rewarded by seeing one of them, wrestling with beak and claws at a cluster of mussels, detach one finally, fly with it to a considerable height and drop it on dry rocks, thus breaking the shell,-this being the only method by which the contents can be extracted.

The cheerful evenings around a camp fire are no less pleasant than the varied joys of the day time, especially when members of an expedition posses a genius for thrilling narration of adventurereal or fictitious-or for vocal and musical entertainment.

It was with feelings of genuine regret that we bade farewell to our sheltered cove, when the time came. Reluctantly we packed up the camp equipment, repeated the trips to the power boat, climbed on board and watched the little bay and shelving beach recede slowly to the horizon. The ashes of our gigantic bonfire of the night before were still smouldering on the shore. We named

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That dear old place where rustling palm leaves grow?

Could I forget all that luxuriant bloom

And blue, blue sky above it all? Oh no!

I still return in fancy to delight,

In what my soul in bygone days did know;

And like the gull in swiftly wingéd flight,

My fancy flies once more where breezes blow.

I smell the fragrance of the new blown rose.
I see the islands bathed in mist, at sea.
Perhaps it is a dream, who knows, who knows?

I feel as though that place was made for me.

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