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| * 1896 [[EARLE, Homer P.|Earle, Homer P.]] ''The Santa Barbara Islands'' 5 & 6 (6):227-230 | | * 1896 [[EARLE, Homer P.|Earle, Homer P.]] ''The Santa Barbara Islands'' 5 & 6 (6):227-230 |
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| * 1897 Owens, Rob C. Caves of Santa Cruz Island 7(2):54-58 | | * 1897 Owens, Rob C. [[Caves of Santa Cruz Island]] 7(2):54-58 |
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| * 1897 [[TRASK, Luella Blanche|Trask, Blanche]] ''The Heart of Santa Catalina'' 7(4):l53-l60 | | * 1897 [[TRASK, Luella Blanche|Trask, Blanche]] ''The Heart of Santa Catalina'' 7(4):l53-l60 |
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| * 1897 [[BRITTON, James R.|Britton, J. R.]] ''Our Summer Isles'' [Santa Barbara, San Nicolas and San Clemente islands] 7(5):192-197, October | | * 1897 [[BRITTON, James R.|Britton, J. R.]] ''Our Summer Isles'' [Santa Barbara, San Nicolas and San Clemente islands] 7(5):192-197, October |
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| * 1898-99 Smith, Ruth Tangier ''San Clemente Island'' 10(2):65-72 | | * 1898-99 Smith, Ruth Tangier ''San Clemente Island'' 10(2):65-72 |
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| Caves of Santa Cruz Island.
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| BY ROB C OWENS.
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| 'BOUT thirty miles off the coast of Santa Barbara, a group of
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| barren and unpromising peaks rise from the bosom of the
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| ocean, like sentinels before the pretty mainland harbor. Grim
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| and desolate as they appear from the distance, they are rich in hospital-
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| ity and entertainment for all who visit them.
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| These islands are as yet little known ; and for that reason, among
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| others, are a charming resort. On their hills thousands of sheep are
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| raised for the wool. They are cared for by small colonies of Basques
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| employed by the owners of the islands, who (aided by the lack of trans-
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| portation) have thus far restricted excessive visitation and have held in
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| C M. Davis Eng Co" CUEVA VALDEZ.
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| check that relentless enemy of nature — civilization. No hotels mar the
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| pretty harbors. No company has yet advertised their beauties. But in
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| modest retirement from the active world, washed by an almost boatless
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| sea, they offer that peaceful enjoyment not found where people throng.
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| Santa Cruz, the largest of the group, and the most accessible (eight
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| hours' sail from Santa Barbara), has ideal spots for camping. In its
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| harbors are canons which equal those of the mainland, while the hunt-
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| ing and fishing are unsurpassed. Among its many points of interest I
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| would name first the sea caves along its coast.
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| We must start from our camp betimes to avoid the rough sea which
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| rises later. Before 5 a. m. the air is redolent of boiling coffee, and we
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| are dashing about in hasty preparation. By 5:30 we are off— two boat-
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| loads of merry young people. The sun is just rising over the bay. The
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| j^p.m
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| " 3^
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| ^^^■^^::^»#^
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| '^^^^^^^^^H
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| •C. M. Davis Eng. Co.
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| PAINTED CAVE
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| CAVES OF SANTA CRUZ ISLAND.
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| 57
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| CM Davis Eng. Co. CUEVA VALDEZ.
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| horizon is blended of crimson and gold. The sea is perfectly calm, and
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| only the screaming of the birds interrupts the gay chatter of the party.
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| Half-past six : and we are nearing the dangerous point. The sea is
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| becoming rough, and the young lady, in the bow of the boat bravely
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| pretends she is not at all uncomfortable. The rocks seem but a few
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| boat-lengths away. The oarsmen strain every muscle. The girls are
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| C. M. Davis Eng Co.
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| THE ARCH.
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| 58 LAND OF SUNSHINE
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| bailing out water ; but as they throw out one gallon, ten are dashed in
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| by the waves. The young lady in the bow is now crying ; the oarsmen
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| rowing for dear life.
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| All over ! the danger is passed, and each declares he was not fright-
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| ened, and had been in seas twice as high. The conversation resumes
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| its former gayety.
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| After rowing into many smaller caves we arrive at about 8 o'clock at
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| t)ie famous Painted Cave, so named because of the beautiful coloring
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| with which nature has decorated its walls and the series of arches that
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| spring over the watery floor.
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| The first arch is lofty enough for a merchant vessel to enter. After
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| the fifth is passed, the chambers gradually get smaller, till on looking
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| back, the great entrance seems but a mere knothole. It is now time to
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| light the torches, as the deepening darkness is oppressive and not with-
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| out danger, and the din of the sea lions increases our fears. But as the
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| torches blaze forth, we forget our nervousness, and gaze in wonder at
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| the beautifully colored walls and majestic arches. Cautiously we
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| enter another chamber. We are prying into a labyrinth, where a few
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| false strokes of the oars will send us whence we shalJ hardly return.
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| We know that the frightened seals may stampede and capsize the boats,
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| yet the knowledge seems to enhance our enjoyment. Two of the oars-
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| men in each boat have reversed their position and are ready to pvill
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| back at the signal. The hoarse "bark" of the seals, like peals of
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| thunder, echoes through the long corridor ; and splashing is heard on
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| all sides, as the great animals tumble from the walls of the cave into
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| the water. Consternation again comes upon us ; and as a drove of seals
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| rushes frantically past, the signal is given to pull back. With a few
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| strong strokes the boats shoot out from the chamber of terror, and we
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| wind our way back to the blue sky and the sunshine, stopping occasion-
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| ally to watch the many fishes that dart through the clear water ; and to
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| gather sponges, or bright colored mosses from the niches and crevices.
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| A parting gaze at the magnificent dome, and we start homeward, stop-
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| ping at every nook and inlet and visiting other caves. Reaching a
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| shaded harbor about noon, we beach the boats and walk up a small
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| caiion to a large oak, where, by a musical brook, we investigate the con-
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| tents of the lunch box. And at last back to camp ; where by the fire,
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| while the clams are roasting, we relate the day's experience to a group
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| of eager listeners.
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| Claremout, Cal.
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