252 CHANNEL ISLANDS OF CALIFORNIA 



mountain, — it was out of sight. In i860 an otter- 

 hunter and his wife Hved here for a year and built a 

 wooden house. It is said that the sand has com- 

 pletely eaten the building away by wearing down the 

 w^ood. This is a strong statement, but its possibility 

 can be demonstrated by a visit to the Cajon Pass 

 country, where the life of a telegraph pole is very 

 short if the wind can reach it. 



AU these peculiarities are what make San Nicolas a 

 fascinating place. Every time I ride in on that pecul- 

 iar sea at the east end I vow to myself that it is the 

 last time; I never wish to see San Nicolas again. But 

 when I leave, the subtle fascination reaches out and 

 grips me, and I know that I shall go back, and if I 

 were a traveller in the Channel Islands I would turn 

 my back for a few days at least upon the charms and 

 delights of Santa Catalina or Santa Cruz and go to 

 San Nicolas to see it and its vast kitchen-midden, one 

 of the largest in the world. The trip might result 

 this way: I once told a friend about the island. Being 

 of a poetic and highly imaginative temperament, he 

 decided to go there and hear the wind howl, see the 

 sand blow and the wind gods rail as I described it, 

 painting possibly as I rose. He went to San Nicolas. 

 When I met him, a year later, he said nothing, but 

 there was a gleam in his eye. I hunted up his skipper 

 and this is what he said: "We got there all right, but 

 the wind had died down, and it was a dead calm for 

 a week, warm and beautiful. There was n't a ripple, 

 — Santa Catalina was n't in it." This was in January. 

 So if one goes to San Nicolas hunting the Furies he 

 may be disappointed, though it is fair to say I never 

 have been. 



