78 CARNEGIE INSTITUTION 



drop to the great desert on their eastern slopes. The Laguna moun- 

 tains reach up from Mexico and thrust out a shoulder that just in- 

 tercepts the view of the great Colorado floor stretching east to 

 Yuma. Down to the west and south fall the lesser hills to the sand 

 dunes and the sea, a country all creased and crumpled, arid and 

 brown. Just below Cuyamaca lie Viejas and Elcajon, peaks whose 

 altitudes and situations had appealed to me on the map as promis- 

 ing sites to consider. The field glasses bring them within a mile 

 or two, and I find them, as I feared, exaggerated San Miguels ; 

 Elcajon more precipitous, Viejas more barren, equally treeless, and 

 by all reports equally destitute of springs above their bases. 



I learned that frosts may occur any month in the year at the lake ; 

 that the thermometer may rise above ioo° in summer and fall below 

 zero in winter ; that the winds blow very nearly all the time, and 

 that the lake dries up in summer. 



The seeing at Cuyamaca proved to be what one might expect in a 

 region of high winds and rapidly changing temperatures, and all 

 that could be learned by inquiry and inspection failed to indicate 

 anything more promising in this extreme southern end of the state, 

 excepting Palomar only. 



I had been told that one must return to San Diego, go by rail to 

 Escondido, and thence by stage in order to reach Palomar. But I 

 had looked across to it repeatedly from both North and South Cuya- 

 maca peaks, and had concluded that one should be able to reach it 

 on horseback from Cuyamaca, through Julian and either the Santa 

 Ysabel or San Felipe valley into Warner's Ranch valley, which is 

 at the southeastern base of Palomar. I set out, therefore, on the 

 morning of the 6th of June. As I rounded the lake and turned north- 

 ward I encountered light breezes from the desert. The peculiar 

 subtraction of vital force effected by these desert winds is scarcely to 

 be understood, but it is never to be denied by those who have felt it. 



After a hard, all day's ride of about 40 miles via Santa Ysabel 

 valley, through canyons, over hills, and across valleys, traversing 

 roads at times remarkable for steepness, I reached Cook's ranch, on 

 a shoulder of Palomar, late in the evening. I made excursions over 

 the mountain on the following day, and the next day returned to 

 Cuyamaca. 



Nothing prepares one for the surprise of Palomar. There it 

 stands, a hanging garden above the arid lands. Springs of water 

 burst out of the hillsides and cross the roads in rivulets. The road 

 is through forests that a king might covet — oak and cedar and stately 



