Nov., 1908 219 



FROM BIG CREEK TO BIG BASIN 

 By MILTON S. RAY 



WITH TWO PHOTOS BY OI,UF J. HEINEMANN 



IT was early in the afternoon of June 10, 1908, that Oluf J. Heinemann and the 

 writer arrived at Swanton. We had journeyed from Capitola to Folger by rail, 



from which place a short walk brought us to Swanton, which lies on and near 

 the mouth of Big Creek. It was here that our road branched off leading up the 

 Big Creek Canyon and over the mountains to the Big Basin. 



With packs on our backs, which, besides blankets, held provisions for one 

 week, we tramped along the thickly foliaged road which winds along with the 

 creek, stopping occasionally to pluck the wild blackberries which grew in such pro- 

 fusion. I do not know of a more picturesque gorge anywhere in Santa Cruz 

 County than the Big Creek Canyon. The territory is wild, and with the exception 

 of the power station at the foot of the grade and the lonely cabins at the dam on 

 the summit, the whole region is peopled only by those furred and feathered dwel- 

 lers who have held forth since primitive times. 



After leaving the power station the road ascends abruptly, so steeply that it 

 bars almost everyone except he be on horseback or afoot. It is the steepest road I 

 have ever traveled, for not even those impromptu dairy roads leading to the sum- 

 mer pasture lands in the high Sierras can compare with it. Our pack weighed 

 about forty pounds and the steepness of the road, and the heat of the day accentu- 

 ated the weight. Thus we meandered rather leisurely and more so as we disliked to 

 miss any of the entrancing views of this heavily wooded canyon, still in all its 

 primeval beauty, but soon, it is said, to be stripped as many others in the country 

 have to the last vestige. 



It was almost six o'clock when we reached the group of cabins at the Boyea 

 creek dam on the summit. Failing to find anyone about we proceeded to make 

 ourselves comfortable in an empty bungalow, when Oscar Ewald, who has charge 

 of the dam, made his appearance and with a hearty hospitality insisted on our shar- 

 ing the best he had to offer. 



Even at six o'clock, when we arrived, it was still quite a while before sunset 

 and we sat before Ewald's cabin enjoying the rare view, for the lake, lofty trees and 

 other surroundings strongly reminded one of those incomparable Sierran landscapes. 

 Nearby, at a pretty little stream, Boyea Creek, which led from the dam, a Winter 

 Wren {Nanmis hiemalis pacijicus) was pouring forth a crystal song, trilling in 

 that silvery way, which altho it seems almost continually on a single key is ex- 

 tremely beautiful. A finished artist like the winter wren, it seems, does not need 

 the range of notes that are given to a meadow lark or grosbeak. In the giant 

 spruces and redwoods which towered above, dwarfing the cabins, Coast Jays {Cy- 

 anocitta stcUe7'i carbonacea) , the conspicuous bird of this section, limb by limb 

 were ascending the great trees or anon would assemble in the rear of the cabin to 

 dispute ownership with Ewald's cats over a dish of provender, while out among 

 their nests in the dead trees standing in the clear waters of the lake Brewer Black- 

 birds {,Euphagus cyanocephalus) discussed matters in their characteristic way. 



Ewald was a man of wide experience: for many years he had been to sea, visit- 

 ing all four corners of the earth, and around the evening fire many a tale he told of 

 other lands, tho, too, much of hunting, fishing and trapping in these wilds; for here 

 coons, foxes, deer, wild cats and even the lordly California lions still abound. 



