a de Los Angeles), from which the valley took the
name it still bears. They passed up the broad valley of San Fernando
Rey, and crossed the mountains to the present village of Saugus.
Thence they went down the Santa Clara River to San Buenaventura and
Santa Barbara, their route coinciding with that of the present
railroad. Above San Buenaventura they found Indians living in huts of
sagebrush. At Santa Barbara, the Indians fed on excellent fish, but
played the flute at night so persistently that Portola and his soldiers
could not sleep for the music. They next passed Point Concepcion, and
crossed the picturesque Santa Ynez and the fertile Arroyo Grande to the
basin-shaped valley of San Luis Obispo, with its row of four conical
mountains. At the last of these, Moro Rock, they reached the sea
again. Above Piedras Blancas, where the rugged cliffs of the Santa
Lucia crowd down to the ocean, they were blocked, and could go no
farther. Crossing the mountains to the east, they followed Nacimiento
Creek to below Paso Robles, then went down the dusty valley of the
Salinas, past the pastures on which the missions of San Miguel and
Soledad were later planted. Below Soledad, they came again to the sea.
They then went along the shore to the westward, past the present site
of Monterey and Pacific Grove, and on to the Point of Pines itself, the
southern border of the Bay of Monterey. Yet not one of them recognized
the bay or any of the landmarks described by Vizcaino. At the Point of
Pines, they were greatly disheartened, because they could nowhere find
a trace of the Bay of Monterey, or of any other bay which was
sheltered, or on which "the navies of the world could ride." Father
Crespi celebrated here "the Feast of Our Father in the New World";
"or," he adds, "perhaps in a corner of the Old World, without any other
church or choir than a desert." Portola offered to return, but Crespi
said: "Let us continue our journey until we find the harbor of
Monterey; if it be God's will, we will die fulfilling our duty to God
and our country." So they crossed the Salinas again, and went
northward along the shore of the very bay they had sought so long.
Then they came to another river, where they killed a great eagle, whose
wings spread nine feet and three inches. They called this river
Pajaro, which means "bird," and devoutly added to it the name of Saint
Anne, "Rio del Pajaro de Santa Ana." To the memory of this bird, the
Pajaro R