November 6, 1862: San Rafael
We were up long before daylight—to take advantage of the tide which was then low, for we could not get out if it rose—followed up the bay, and at nine o’clock struck a house and asked if we could get breakfast. You may well imagine that we were very hungry. The answer of the woman was, “Yes, but it will be a hard scratch.” She, however, did the best she could (who can do more?), and our appetites made up for any defect in the dishes.We concluded to strike across for San Rafael, twenty-two miles distant. Soon after leaving the head of the bay we struck up a deep, wild canyon, exceedingly picturesque, the bottom filled with heavy timber—magnificent redwoods, often ten or twelve feet in diameter, almost shutting out the light of the sky with their dense foliage; the nutmeg tree (torreya); and the laurel or California bay tree, its foliage so fragrant that the whole air was often impregnated with it. But notwithstanding the beautiful way, we grew both tired and hungry, at last got some bread and pie of a Chinaman, and pursued our way. I had a heavy bag of specimens, and I was more tired when I got to San Rafael, long after dark, than I have been any other day this summer. Two nights with poor rest, three days without a decent meal, and [today] we had walked from before daylight in the morning until after dark at night—no wonder that I was tired, or that I ate so much supper that I had most horrible dreams afterward.