Sixty Years in Southern California, 1853-1913: Containing the Reminiscences of Harris NewmarkNewmark, Harris
History
Sixty Years in Southern California, 1853-1913: Containing the Reminiscences of Harris Newmark
Newmark, Harris
California, Southern; Los Angeles (Calif.)
A walk of a mile or two along the river bank, affording beneficial
exercise, brought us to Port San Carlos, from which point a larger
boat crossed the lake to Virgin Bay, where we took mules to convey us
to San Juan del Sur. This journey was as full of hardship as it was of
congeniality, and proved as interesting as it was amusing. Imagine, if
you please, nine hundred men, women and children from northern climes,
long accustomed to the ways of civilization, suddenly precipitated,
under an intensely hot tropical sun, into a small, Central American
landing, consisting of a few huts and some cheap, improvised tents
(used for saloons and restaurants), every one in search of a mule or a
horse, the only modes of transportation. The confusion necessarily
following the preparation for this part of the trip can hardly be
imagined: the steamship company furnished the army of animals, and the
nervous tourists furnished the jumble! Each one of the nine hundred
travelers feared that there would not be enough animals for all, and
the anxiety to secure a beast caused a stampede.
In the scramble, I managed to get hold of a fine mule, and presently
we were all mounted and ready to start. This conglomeration of
humanity presented, indeed, a ludicrous sight; and I really believe
that I must have been the most grotesque figure of them all. I have
mentioned the demijohn of brandy, which a friend advised me to buy;
but I have not mentioned another friend who told me that I should be
in danger of sunstroke in this climate, and who induced me to carry an
umbrella to protect myself from the fierce rays of the enervating sun.
Picture me, then, none too short and very lank, astride a mule, a big
demijohn in one hand, and a spreading, green umbrella in the other,
riding through this southern village, and practically incapable of
contributing anything to the course of the mule. Had the animal been
left to his own resources, he might have followed the caravan; but in
my ignorance, I attempted to indicate to him which direction he should
take. My method was evidently not in accordance with the tradition of
guiding in just that part of the world; and to make a long story
short, the mule, with his three-fold burden, deftly walked into a
restaurant, in the most innocent manner and to the very great
amusement of the diners, but to the terrible embarrassment and
consternation of the rider. After some difficulty (for the restaurant
was hardly intended for such maneuvers as were required), we were led
out of the tent. This experience showed me the necessity of abandoning
either the umbrella or the brandy; and learning that lemonade could be
had at points along the route, I bade good-bye to the demijohn and its
exhilarating contents. From this time on, although I still displayed
inexpertness in control, his muleship and I gradually learned to
understand each other, and matters progressed very well,
notwithstanding the intense heat, and the fatigue natural to riding so
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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