The lake was far from full.  We took our lunch at the clubhouse near the dam.  After resting in the shade of the friendly oaks we then pursued our journey to Descanso.  We passed through Alpine and finally entered the El Cajon Valley, famed far and wide for its muscatel grapes, which seem especially adapted to its dark red soil.  The vines were in early leaf, and not as pleasing to the eye as they will be when in full bloom.  Then came Bostonia, a comparatively new settlement, Rosamond, La Mesa, and finally we whirled off on a splendid road, through an unsettled country overgrown with sage and shrubs, to Del Mar.

The sky was overcast all the afternoon.  A stiff ocean breeze blew inland, cool and refreshing.  The entire day had been spent amid scenes of rare beauty.  The wild flowers are not yet out in profusion, but enough were there to give the traveler an idea of what can be expected in floral offerings later in the season.  It was early Spring wherever the elevation was 3500 feet or better.  The oaks were not yet in leaf, the sycamores just out in their new spring dresses, the wild pea blossoms just beginning to open and cast their fragrance to the breezes.

Far Below.

Yellow buttercups adorned the warmer spots in each sunny valley.  Way below us in the open country great fields of poppies greeted the gladdened eye.  The freshness of spring was in the air.  Each breath we inhaled was full of new life.  The odor of the pines mingled its fragrance with that of the apple blossoms.

Del Mar is the Del Monte of Southern California.  We arrived at Stratford Inn, at that place, which is as well furnished and as well kept as any hotel on the Coast.  A small garden, an adjunct of the hotel, shows what the soil and climate of Del Mar is capable of producing.  Tomato vines are never frosted.  The vegetables from the garden have a fresher, crisper taste than those grown in a drier atmosphere.  How good and comfortable the bed felt to us that night!  Sleep came, leaving the body inert and lifeless in one position for hours at a time.  The open air, the sunshine, the long ride, the ever changing scenery, brought one joyous slumber, such as a healthy, happy, tired child enjoys.

The next morning, after an ample, well-cooked and well-served breakfast, we took the road on the last leg of our journey.  Over miles and miles of new-made roads we sped.  Soon the long detour up the San Luis Rey Valley will be a thing of the past.  The new county highway will pursue a much more direct course.  We passed through miles of land being prepared for bean culture.  Miles of hay and grain, miles of pasturage, in which sleek cattle grazed peacefully, or, having fed their fill, lay upon the rich grasses and enjoyed life.  Near the coast the growth of grain and grass far surpasses that of the interior.

Santa Marguerita Rancho, with its boundless expanse of grass-covered pasturage lands, its thousands of head of cattle and horses, its thousands of acres of bean lands, ready for seed, is worth going miles to see.