290 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



one day to the twin towns of Calexico and Mexicali, 

 lying on the Cahfomian and Mexican sides of the 

 line respectively. It was a drive of ten or twelve 

 miles through good farming country of alfalfa, mi- 

 lomaize, cotton, and preeminently hogs. Here and 

 there were lines of tall trees, seven or eight years 

 old, but looking treble that age. Imperial Valley has 

 a distinctive smell, a rather unpleasant acrid one, 

 arising, I fancy, from the constant irrigation acting 

 on some peculiarity of the soil. We passed through 

 the little town of Heber, bare and blinking in sun 

 and dust. Everywhere were canals of chocolate- 

 colored water edged with vivid green of Bermuda 

 grass, as to which I often heard the opinion ex- 

 pressed that "something's got to be done about 

 that infernal Bermuda, or it'll take the whole val- 

 ley." Already a serious pest, and disseminated 

 everywhere by the canals, it is rapidly becoming a 

 first-class problem. 



Calexico is situated exactly at sea-level, the other 

 valley settlements being all somewhat below. It is a 

 town of dusty streets and ugly houses, apartment 

 buildings, and stores. The main street runs close to 

 and parallel with the international boundary. The 

 earthquake had hit the place hard, and carpenters, 

 bricklayers, and plasterers were busily gathering the 

 dollars dropped by the ill-wind. A few people had 

 been killed, for unfortunately the visitation was not 

 confined to the gamblers of the neighboring town 

 across the line. The channel of the New River runs 

 close by, now perfectly dry. In the early summer of 

 1906, when the Salton Sea was filling, it was the 



