Notes and Correspondence 



333 



soft gray foliage, in charming contrast to the royal purple flowers in 

 large but delicately interrupted whorles. 



The trail now leads past Hidden Lake, a small well-concealed basin 

 of water without outlet, on to Tamrac Valley, with its numerous tall 

 and stately tamrac pines, a beautiful camping place. Due largely, how- 

 ever, to a great dearth of signposts during the day's walk of fifteen 

 miles through this national forest, with its many diverging paths, it was 

 after dark before all the party were all accounted for in camp. No pack 

 train had arrived and the scouting party formed by our good leader, 

 Ernest Dawson, failed to reveal any trace of it. It were better we had 

 heeded those rumblings of Tahquitz ! However, some venison obtained 

 from some himters this first day of the deer season was roasted, some 

 dried figs were, discovered in someone's knapsack, and a box of after- 

 dinner mints completed the delusion. A cache a mile distant, belonging 

 to packers, was commandeered and each of us rolled up in a single 

 blanket around the campfire. 



But the night was not long as the more hardy were up by three o'clock 

 for the climb of Mount San Jacinto, only two miles distant. The full moon 

 made the cold white rocks stand out almost phosphorescent as we 

 climbed through the bent and broken Murray and limber pines to well 

 above the timber line. The sun rose a brilliant ruby red out of the mists 

 of the Colorado Desert. Down in the west the great mountain peak 

 cast its shadow over the little farms nestled against the foothills, and 

 beyond, though not visible, were the orange groves of Riverside. Over 

 8000 feet almost directly below was the San Gorgonio Pass, joining 

 these two landscapes of such striking contrast. Southeast were the San- 

 ta Rosa Mountains, and to the south Palomar, Cuyamaca, and the La- 

 guna mountains. 



Soon after return to camp one most welcome pack animal arrived with 

 provisions and the party was soon off in fine spirits for the day's hike of 

 six miles. The sheer view we had at midday from the ridge at Hidden 

 Lake down over the Coachella Valley and on toward Salton Sea was 

 impressive. A short dark line moving slowly across the floor of the 

 desert, dotted with creosote bushes, proved by our glasses to be a South- 

 ern Pacific train. Early next morning dunnage was left for the packers 

 to return to Los Angeles by parcel post, and the party began the ten- 

 mile descent to "the land of the palm." Ours was the first large party 

 to use this trail, lately completed by M. S. Gordon at his own expense. 

 We soon descended from the pines through manzanita and mountain 

 mahogany into the elfin forest of "ribbon woods," with their shreds of 

 reddish bark hanging about the branches. This is the chamise of the 

 higher zone (Adenostoma sparsifoUum) , and for a mile we journeyed 

 amongst its sweetly fragrant white blossoms. 



But as the trail descended the thermometer certainly ascended. How- 

 ever, a half-hour's shower proved most refreshing, and we were ready 

 for lunch in the grove of magnificent native fan palms (Washingtonia) 



