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Updated: June 10, 2025
It is a wild spot, often enveloped in fogs, and where it blows at least half a gale of wind three hundred days in the year. Returning from Point Reyes to Olema, your road bears you past Tomales Bay, and back to the coast of Mendocino County; and by the time you reach the mouth of Russian River you are in the saw-mill country.
Found means board, you know." "And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?" "They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?" Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied. "Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?" The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply. "M'm-m! Fine big country Mendocino.
As we drove back to Calistoga, the road lay empty of mere passengers, but its green side was dotted with the camps of travelling families: one cumbered with a great waggonful of household stuff, settlers going to occupy a ranche they had taken up in Mendocino, or perhaps Tehama County; another, a party in dust-coats, men and women, whom we found camped in a grove on the roadside, all on pleasure bent, with a Chinaman to cook for them, and who waved their hands to us as we drove by.
In all the big-timber country of Mendocino County there had been no surer trailer than Hiram Hooker. For days he had followed panther and bear, eventually to track them to their lairs. No big animal hunt ever had been considered complete without Hiram Hooker to go along. He remembered the incident of the man in the pines by the lake shore and groaned: "Fools!" he muttered.
Ferrelo later succeeded in sailing as far north as Cape Mendocino and perhaps as far as 42i, but, though he kept as close to the shore as possible, he failed to discover the great bay whose waters, spreading like a sheet of silver over sixty miles of country, lay hidden just behind the Golden Gate.
On August 2, somewhere near what is now Cape Mendocino, daylight revealed a rim of green forested hills above the silver sea. It was New Albion, north of New Spain, the strip of coast they had come round the world to find.
Memorable was our launch-trip from Mendocino City up Big River, where the steering gears of the launches work the reverse of anywhere else in the world; where we saw a stream of logs, of six to twelve and fifteen feet in diameter, which filled the river bed for miles to the obliteration of any sign of water; and where we were told of a white or albino redwood tree.
Some years ago, before there was a wagon-road between Cloverdale and Mendocino City, or Big River, as it is more commonly called up here on the northern coast, the mail was carried on horse or, more usually, on mule back; and the mail-rider was caught, on one stormy and dark night, upon the road, and found himself unable to go farther.
Lying dormant, California slept since Cabrillo saw Cape Mendocino in 1542. After he turned his shattered prows back to Acapulco on June 27, 1543, it was only on November 10, 1602, that ambitious Viscaino raised the Spanish ensign at San Diego. He boldly claimed this golden land for Spain. Since that furtive visit, the lonely coast lay unsettled.
These are all the well authenticated discoveries made in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, on the north-west coast of America. Cape Mendocino, in about 40-1/2 degrees north latitude, is the extreme limit of the certain knowledge possessed at this period respecting this coast: the information possessed respecting New Georgia and New Cornwall was very vague and obscure.
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