Hi June,
This article from the June 2nd, 1888 issue of the “Pacific Rural Press,” is the most extensive, information-filled article I’ve seen on Pescadero’s famous Pebble Beach. Written by a Mr. Miles J’Anson, it is the only article I can find by him in any source I looked at. That’s unfortunate as he has a wonderful vocabulary, even though his spelling and facts are not always as good. Some unusual words, useful to know, in the article are:
silicious, (siliceous) silicon based minerals, esp. the quartz family
pullucid, (pellucid) clear, permitting light to pass through
umbrageous, affording shade
linnet, small passerine bird in the finch family, a songbird
susurrus, a whispering or rustling
turquoise, a hydrous phosphate of aluminum and copper that wasn’t at Pebble Beach and is not a siliceous mineral
“water drops,” minerals, in this case quartz, that have liquid inclusions. They are not really that rare, but he is right, in that generally the included water is that which was there as the mineral formed, sometimes billions of years old. Because of this they are an important research tool.
General Dimond, noted capitalist of San Francisco, see headlines below from his death announcement
Long Branch, probably the famous New Jersey beach of that name, (note N.J. by Miles’ name) and not the “Gunsmoke” saloon Miss Kitty ran.
sea-marge, land that borders on the sea
arenaceous, sandy
vug, small cavity in rock
Amphitrite, sea goddess, wife of Poseidon
aquaria, aquarium
Woodbine, various climbing vine, esp. Mediterranean honeysuckle
Pebble Beach, Pescadero, California.
A Sea Beach on the California Coast Remarkable for Silicious Gems and Mineralogical Curios.
[Written for the Press.] Officers of the coast survey have characterized the famous Pebble beach of Pescadero as one unque of its kind and without a counterpart on the whole extent of our Atlantic and Pacific coastlines. Its distinguishing feature is the mass of highly polished, pure silicious gravel bordering the sea at this locality, in which the topaz, carnelian, onyx, chalcedony, turquoise, agate and jasper pebbles are found, buffed and perfected by ages of wave action as if by a lapidary.
Wave action has also eliminated all soft and angular minerals from the mass, save occasional fragments of abalone shell and chalcedony, and only the hardest stones survive the surf’s eternal attrition.
Many of the topazes and carnelians are of rare clearness and beauty, and may be matched by patient search in size, form and color for jewelry, or for display in mineral cabinets.
Some fine pebbles of milk and fire opalescence are found; and the surf-polished crystals of pure, pullucid (sic) quartz gleam like dewdrops in the multi-colored gravel. The cornelians (sic) are of all tints, from blood red to the palest pink or purple; and in some rare specimens the color is singularly confined to the middle of the stone, while the exterior is perfectly limpid.
Here, too, are found agates of every color and combination, the choice of which make handsome bracelets, watch-charms and other personal trinkets when cut and set. The smaller gems, however, of clear tint, perfect form and suitable size need no touch of art or lapidary’s wheel, but in their natural state, set in contrasted colors, are jewels at once unique and of special interest. Stones of this class are generally small.
But chief among the mineral curiosities of the beach are the so called ” water drops,’ which are most abundant on a piece of sea-marge north of the main deposit, known locally as “agate beach.” These are chalcedony pebbles, more or less translucent, and usually about the size and form of a lemondrop, having a globule of water imprisoned in a central cavity, and an air bubble which, when small, looks dark by transmitted light and moves within like a living insect. They are highly prized and much sought after by mineral and curiosity collectors. Mrs. General Dimond of San Francisco is accorded the credit of being first to discover and direct attention to these curios of the beach.
To the non-scientific the stone-imprisoned water is a mystery not less puzzling than the milk in the cocoanut. If it had percolated from without it should be sea-water; on the contrary it is perfectly fresh. The explanation is that the aqueous drop was enclosed by the silica during the process of crystallization. These curios, though rare, are not unknown in other parts of the world; and they are occasionally met with in the vugs or cavities of quartz veins during mining operations. It is evident, however, that only under exceptional conditions of temperature can they exist on the surface of the earth as at Pescadero, since either a temperature below 30° would freeze, or powerful sun rays would expand the water within and fracture the silicious bulbs. On other sea-beaches washed crystals of smoky and limpid quartz occur; such crystals are plentiful at Long Branch, but I found there no other varieties worthy of note, and though many of these are beautifully clear while wet, they lose their limpidity when dry, owing to forcible impact one with another in the strong surf, which, as microscopic inspection shows, oovers their surfaces with minute fractures. At Pescadero, however, the silicious gem material occurred in extraordinary variety and profusion; the sea floor and beach contour favored accumulation and a gentler attrition, and we have therein the fine lapidary finish of these lustrous stones the ultimate product of patient Nature and the tireless sea toiling through untold lapses of time.
Pebble gatherers are enthusiastic in their pursuit, aud return again and again to the charmed precincts of the beach for new varieties, more perfect specimens, or to complete “sets.” And surely no hobby could be more innocent, more full of restful enjoyment and physical good than the gathering of these pleasing and imperishable mementoes in the exhilarant sea air and climate of the Pacific Coast, and in so delightful a locality. But beyond its distinguishing feature, the Pescadero beach is otherwise interesting and picturesque. The receding tide leaves wide stretches of kelp-covered reefs, where fine sea-mosses and the beautiful abalone univalves may be obtained by the more adventurous visitor. Here, also, are things of interest to geologist and naturalist in the lithology of the shore, the fantastic carving and surf sculpture of the rocks, the pebble-paved pools and basins in the uncovered sea floor, hollowed as if by art, fit baths for the sea nymphs, or fabled Amphitrite, and natural aquaria rife with varied sea life, lined with mosaics of purple-spined sea-urchins, limpets, and many-tinted sea-anemones.
The botanist, too, especially one unfamiliar with the California flora, will find much of special interest in the wildflowers, grasses and shrubs of the immediate coastline, if he times his visit rightly, say in the period between March Ist and the close of July. There is for the angler fairly good trouting in the Pescadero river, which rises in the higher Coast Ringe and courses through the village to the sea. But, better fishing may be enjoyed in several fine trout streams a few miles southward; and in the grand redwood forests east of the village, hunters and summer parties can find unrivaled retreats and camping grounds.
The Beach and the Pebble Seekers.
A mile in lineal extent north and south will embrace nearly all of the Pescadero beach deposit; and “Pebble beach ” proper is but a part of this, a crescent-shaped sweep of sea marge sheltered between rocky promontories and backed by arenaceous bluffs. Around this crescent, on the seaward slope of clean, surf-washed and sun-warmed gravel, lie the pebble gatherers in all postures of ease, singly and in groups, sorting with unflagging interest the bright colored mass, and dropping their selections into wide mouth bottles, cigarboxes, or muslin bags made for the purpose. Here is one who, with the indiscriminate zeal of a neophyte, finds lovely things on every hand, and speedily fills her bottle, her handkerchief, and other improvised receptacles with clear and many-colored stones, gems all, to her untrained eye; but here is another assiduous seeker more advanced in pebble culture, whose critical taste discards all but the perfect in color and form, and whose little vial happly holds all the gleanings of patient hours. A smoke rises on the beach and a call is heard. This is the welcome signal that lunch is ready; and what an impromptu and enjoyable affair it is truly! Here is gypsying under most charming conditions! A campfire has been built from seadrift, and a tablecloth covers a flat-topped log, upon which cups and plates are arranged; the coffee is hot, and the sandwiches, eggs, cheese, cold meats, cakes, pies, etc., with which the baskets were bountifully filled by our hostess before leaving the hotel, are ready for appetites made keen by the pulse-stirring drive to the beach, the bracing seabreath and the stimulus of genial rivalry in a common quest. Formality is banished, and all the hotel guests, though but chance met today, mayhap eat and chat with refreshing unreserve together, after which the various finds are shown and compared; but briefly, as the fortunate are eager to renew the search, and the less lucky are inspired with new hope on seeing the “beauties ” found. The village of Pescadero (formerly a Spanish fishing settlement, as the name implies) lies out of the beaten tracks of tourists and traffic in a picturesque little valley, through which flows the Pescadero river, a limpid, mountain trout stream, the ideal ” brook ” of Tennyson’s poetic fancy. It is nearly midway on the coast between San Francisco and Santa Cruz, and the nearest railway stations are at San Mateo and Redwood, from which points, and also from Santa Cruz, daily stage connections are made. The best route is from San Francisco by the Southern Pacific railway to San Mateo; thence by stage of a very picturesque section of the Coast Ringe, passing through Spanishtown (Halfmoon Bay) and the ranches that border the sea, an enjoyable and typical California stage coach ride of 30 odd miles. But the outward trip from Pescadero by coach to Santa Cruz is a scenic treat of yet more delightful and varied character, and the traveler in alternately whirled through the foamy beachsurf of the Pacific, under cliffs, and over steep mountain buttresses, through sequestered ranches, hamlets and forest solitudes to California’s greatest seaside resort; and from there through the grand redwoods and rugged scenery of the Coast mountains by the serpentine Narrow Guage (sic) R. R. to Oakland and San Francisco. The famous beach is two miles from the village, and there are no houses or accommodations for sojourners nearer thereto than the Swanton House. Parties with camping outfits pitch their tents on the bluffs near the shore; but the hotel guests and villagers, according to ability or inclination, either walk to and from the beach, or go down in staging parties, which are usually made up in the morning soon after breakfast. Pescadero is not a rendezvous of fashionable folk, nor a watering place in the usual sense; but it is a place of special attraction to anglers, hunters, campers, tourists and a cultured class whose tastes lean not to crowds and display; a favorite resort of many San Franciscans who periodically fly from the city’s rout and turmoil for a term of restful change, and a spot of memorable charm to all who find joy with Nature in forest and stream, on mountain and beach, and who love the luxury of “old clothes ” and the freedom of an unconventional life. Good accommodations at reasonable rates are furnished at the Swanton house, a comfortable, unpretentious hotel with a number of detached one-story cottages for families and others desiring to dwell together. These are bowered in roses and climbrng vines, and front a pretty garden where flowers bloom almost perennially among a profusion of shrubs, exotics and shade trees that never know the blight of winter frosts.
It was from this umbrageous haunt of birds that on the odorous morning air came to my waking ears the ecstatic song of the California linnet from whose mellifluous throat, after a preluding “chic-chic,” poured helter-skelter a marvelous maze of liquid syllables—a carol as sweet and joyous, surely, as ever bubbled from bird heart to greet the rising sun. And between these impetuous rhapsodies, blending with the susurrus of Woodbine and acacia leaves, came dreamily to the sense the faraway lullaby of sea-murmurs, borne up from the estuary where the surf toils with the outflowing waters of Butano creek and the Pescadero. Strangers on the Pacific Coast are often troubled with the Spanish nomenclature there prevalent. The correct pronunciation of some familiar California names can be learned by attention to the rhyme and measure of the following jingle:
A man named Mayo
Came from Vallejo (-layho}
To San Mateo
One summer day.
Inquiring ” Where, O,
Is Pescadero?
And what’s the fare, O,
To San Jose?” (Hozay)
Miles J’Anson. Woodside, N. J., May 7, 1888.
Story by John Vonderlin
