174 CHANNEL ISLANDS OF CALIFORNIA 



I believe I am not overstating the facts when I say- 

 that these alluring slopes are dangerous to the man 

 not familiar with mountain-climbing, as in descending 

 the weary mountaineer might reach a spot where he 

 could not climb out, the goat paths leading one out to 

 where wings are necessary to get down, and where 

 wind is necessary to ascend. When we were two- 

 thirds of the way up, the fog suddenly came whirling 

 down from the summit. It was one of the hottest 

 days of summer, a peculiar electrical condition pre- 

 vailing. I could see the great peaks of San Jacinto, 

 San Bernardino, and San Antonio in the main range 

 of the Sierra Madre nearly one hundred miles to the 

 east; to the north Santa Catalina rested like a sea 

 monster on the steely surface of the ocean, distorted 

 by the mirage, so near that I felt I could almost span 

 the thirty miles with my arms. Away to the south, 

 Point Loma stood out, and still farther away the 

 Coronados rose from the sea in Lower California, tell- 

 ing of Coronado and its varied attractions just oppo- 

 site. So charming and impressive a view I have rarely 

 seen as that which stretched away before me. The 

 vivid turquoise of the sea filled the foreground; then 

 the slopes, the vast displays of rock, the infinite depths 

 of the canons beneath the caves, which you know 

 no human foot has entered, or ever will, all formed a 

 picture of profound interest. 



As I stood I saw a silvery cloud creeping down the 

 slope like a living thing. The sun glared fiercely upon 

 it and changed it into molten silver. Reaching the 

 canon, the hot ascending air shot it upward so that it 

 appeared like a great wave. In a few moments it 

 had reached the pinnacle upon which I stood, and, as 



