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January 17, 1861: Santa Ana River

January 19, 2011

Prado Regional Park (vicinity of Camp 8); by astrangegirl on Flickr

Camp 8

We left Chino Ranch Thursday morning, but had not got over two or three miles when, in crossing a stream, we were brought to a dead stop by the breaking of the tongue of our wagon. A stream which runs across the plain had worn a channel about eight or ten feet deep—in one place wagons get down and up, but it is very steep. Our wagon went into the slough ker-chug, and off went the tongue, the wheels up to the axles in the mud. We unloaded, got out the wagon, and sent back to a ranch about two miles, where we got a piece of board and some rawhide. With two or three hours’ work, all was repaired and we were ready to proceed. I had carried a barometer on my mule for about forty miles, but had handed it to the man in the wagon just a mile or two back. We took it out, found to our dismay some mercury in the case, but on taking it apart found the tube still whole. Professor Whitney and I spent the time in mending that—the kid-leather packing had given way. We sent Guirado to a ranch two miles off; the lady gave us a kid glove, and in time all was in order again, but we could only get on about seven miles that day.

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