_18th day [of August]._ We left this place early and, going east, crossed the Mother Range. At seven leagues we came to the San Joaquin River, or, as it is called the River of the Tulares.[2] It is about a quarter of a league wide, and apparently very deep. It is reached by the tides of the sea. Here we stopped for lunch between the river and a very large oak forest. It is said that this land belongs to the Tulpunes, whom we did not see. There were no indications of heathen Indians. This place would be good for a mission if there were water, or if water could be taken from the river, for there is good land and much wood from oaks and live oaks. Today in the afternoon we went two more leagues to the east, through the oak forest and over good country. However, there is no water except what is in the above-mentioned river. This place also belongs to the Tulpunes, who did not allow themselves to be seen. _19th day [of August]._ We set out at dawn in a southeasterly direction and after having gone about ten leagues over bad ground and along the edge of the tule swamps we arrived at a lake in the middle of an oak grove where we could neither get to the river nor turn back. Here, in the village of the Cholvones, or Pescadero, we stayed all the rest of the day, and the night. We sent an interpreter to get in touch with the Cholvones. He returned with a heathen Indian called Guanats, together with a considerable quantity of fish. They say that the Christian fugitives from San José are on the opposite shore, between the river and a lake. All this country is good and has firewood, but the floods from the rivers submerge it from the beginning of the warm season until August.[3] _20th day [of August]._ We started out and traveled south-southeast some distance from the river on account of the swamps. We passed opposite a village of heathen called Aupemis and, without stopping, came to another village, whose chief is called Tomchom, having traveled since morning about three leagues. Here we rested, and no wild Indian showed himself. In the afternoon, and after two and one-half leagues in the same direction we arrived at a village, whose chief is called Cuyens. The latter is well known to, and friendly with, the interpreter, who had gone ahead to call him. We met them, together with fifteen other Indians carrying a great deal of fish to give us. Here we stopped to make camp for the night. Four of the Indians wanted to remain with us while the others went away, saying they would return with more fish for tomorrow. This they did and were accompanied by even more natives. Nothing we have seen today is suitable for a mission, because the land is flooded, in places for more than a league.[4]