The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 20, 1897, Page 19

HE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SU DAY, JUNE 20, 1897 Down in the southwestern corner of Monterey County is one of the hitherto unnoticed marvels of the worid. Itis an bited valley, cut off frow the rest of creation. The western end of it is open to the Pacific Ocean, but the otker three sides are rugeed walls of the Coast Range that rise several thousand feat above sea level. The rouzhness of the sea at the mouth of the valley makes the landing of vessels an impossibility, and the only other way in or out 1s a single, almost impassable, trail that leads over the highest point of the mountains on the east. In the winter sea- son even this communication is cut off by swollen streams. Truly this valley is the most inaccessible in all California, and certainiy one of the most inaccessible spots on earth, be valley itsell is strange enough, bat still stranger is the fact that people live there. They live in every sense of the word and are happy and contented, although children grow to be men and women without seeing a stage-coach or a railroad train, and having no knowledge of the world except what they get {rom books or the words of their elders. This strange place is known as *‘Shut-In” Valley to the very few people who know of its existence. Itisabout fortv-five miles from a railroad, but the journey is so rough that it consumes ali of two days in good weather. The nearest postotfice is Gorda, which is on the outside of the valley and in the lavel partof the colm\r):. It is after you leave Gorda, on the way to Shut-In Valley, tiat the roughnessof the journey begins. To teil the story of Shut-In Valley it will be necessary to begin at the beginning. To be sure this will only make it seem stranger, but it will also make it more roman- tic. The beginning of the history is away back in the fiities, whea John Plaskett went into the valley to search for gold. Plsskett, who was then about thirty yesrs of age, bad been prospecting in the Coast Range, and at several points ran into the outer wall of Shat- ley. He struck it on the north, east and south, and at once came to the conclusion that there was something interesting on the other side. It was a difficult job getting in, but he succesded after several weeks’ work, and was then disappointed at finding no gold. Plaskett remained in the valley for some time and went over it from end to end. t had an ideal climate, was well watered, that the soll was fertile, 1l kinds was plentifu. Just the place for a ranch, he thought. was not hunting ranches at that time. He wanted gold, and accord- thatl game of But Plask ingly left -In Valley for more profitable diggings. But as the years rolled by, and be nad niarried and met with business reverses, and found that all the good diggings had *‘petered out,” his mind oceasionally turned to the quiet spot in the mountains that he bud found on one of his prospecting tr.ps. Just the piace for a ranch, he thougat sgain, and then wondered if it was stiil open to settlement. to find out was to go and see. This was about 1 and Plaskett was getting to that time of his life when he began to feel thata nice quiet place to rest would be pretty good. The more he thougiit of his valley in the mountains the more he wanted to live there, and soon made up his mind that it was the only place to live. L-aving his wife and household goods in Monterey Plaskett started out alone to find the valley in the mountains, and to get some idea of its latitude ana longitude. s consumed several weeks, but he found the valiey exactly as he had left it ten rs before, and the chances are that nobody had entered it during his absence. It d to him more beautiful than it did on his first visit. kétt found a il that be could move his bousehold goods over, and then to Monterey for his wife. With the assistance of a couple of sheepherders ey moved into the valley with a good stock of provisions, a cow, chickens, farm utensils, seeds, etc., and from the day the; ached the spot it was two years before either of them went back to civilization. Nor did they have a single visitor in all that time. oth Mr. and Mrs. Plaskett were charmed with their home, but, naturally , found it a littie lonely. So when they went to Monterey they induced a young married couple to go back with them, and so started the colony that to-day imbers over thirty-five people, but people whose lives go on as smoothiy and as tively as life did half a century ago. One-half of those living in the valley were 1 there, and there is one girl over 20 years of age who has never been out of the place. John Plaskett and his wife are stil! the oldest people ir Shut-In Valley. Both are over 80 years of age, but full of life, and bid fair i live in the valley in the mountains for ther quarter of a century. A short time ago Dorse Plaskett, a niece of the old couple, visited San Francisco for the first time. Bhe is 17 years oid, and it was her first visit to the worid. She had never seen any conveyance except the rude sleds and wagons used in the valley, and the sight of & railzoad train and the crowd of people filied her with awe and wonder. Sne had seen many pictures of locomotives and been told about them, but somehow the real thing was different from her conception. That there should be so much uoise connected with it was something that had never occurred to her. According to Miss Plaskett’s story Snut-In Valley is an ideal place to live, which is proved by the fact that there has never been a death there and that people who bave once lived there can never Live anywhere else. A few have remained in the valley a counle of years and then gone :way because it was too dull for them. Bat they have always come back and say that it is like coming to Paradise. No more world for them vs long as they can spend their days in Shat-In Valley. There have never been any visitors in Shut-In Valley, but the people who live there are anxious to have them come. Miss Plaskett says it is not hard to get The only way Pa eno: e there. All you have to do is to take the train to Soledad, at which point you can take a stage to Gorda. 8o far the road is smooth. It may seem sirange that th.e train should be left at Soledad when the valley is so much farther to the south, but tnis plan avoids climbing over-a mountain. The road from Soledad lies in behind a chain of mountains that parallel the railroad track and there are no heavy grades until after Gorda is reached. But at ihis roint all vehicles must be abandoned and the rest of the journey con- tinued on foot or horssback. A rougher trail cannot be imagined. Notan hour’s Wwork bas been spent on 1t, and it simply winds in and out among bowiders, through mountain torrents and along the edge of cliffs. Onward and upward, beneath the shade of forests and over burning, sandy wastes. Not only isita rough trail, but it s & dangerous one in many ways. It isbut faintly marked on account of its not Leing used very much, and none but an experienced mountaineer can follow it. Tue torrents that have to be crossed are in muny piaces over six feet deep, so that a horse has to swim in order to go from side to side. All along the trail the rocks are loose and liable to let horse and rider slip hundreas of feet to the bottom of the canyon. Half way between Gorda and Shut-In Vailey there is a cabin where the night is passed and the journey continued in the morning. The highest point on the trail is but a short distancs from the valley and com- mands a splendid view of it. 50 sieep a serious fall is likely But the descent is no easy matter because the trail is unless great care is taken. However, the journey is worth all the trouble because a most glorious welcome awaits the first visitor in Shut-In Valiey. It is now just thirty vears since Shut- has ever been ihere. That was when one of th Lis arm. All other ailment: cure themselves, In Valley was settled, and but one doctor men fell down the trail and broke That is, if there are any ailments; but nobody in the valiey hus ever taken any medicine. Of the thirty- dozen have grown up there. born in the valley have marriec. ve people in the valley twenty-one were born there, and about a There are in all eight families. Four of the children All of the bouses in Snut-In Valley are of the crudest description, but at the same time are of the most substantial kind. bands of the builders. house, which has been built for about four It would be a somewhat diffic in Shut-In Valley. ment. They are of both wood and stone, cut by the The houses are not all in a bunch, as might be imagined, but are scattered all over the valley in the most picturesque manner. washed, and present a pleasing appearance. All are white- The only public building is the school- ears. ult matter to decide what form of covernment exists Th re is a great deal of government, and yet there is no govern- Everybody does as he or she pleases 50 long as no other party is injured There are no restrictions nor obligations of any kind, nor are there any office-holders, The schoolhouse, ment, and al consent, or, possib No records of any kind are kept, exce themselves. All business that is unde; Ifa road in a certain part of the valle paired al for all. the business finished then and there. In ail the history of this peaceful val doing of any kind. no precautions against thieves. There is s far as is knowa there is no need of any. Money is an almost useless commodity in this community. dents it 15 unknown, as all has plenty of potatoes and Ge wants what the other h Noboay in Shut-In Valley ever works hara. the poultry yards and game supply ail coffee, ciothes and books theze are herds of cattl houses, nd a band; the only business is to decide when it wil When money is needed it is paid in at the t.me the assessment is made and their transactions are in the way of trade. orge has plenty of apples, they are exchanged if cither oreviously referred to, is the general meeting place of the settle- business is discussed there in the most informal manner. ¥, natural selection, John Piaskott alw By common ys occuples “the chair.” Pt such private memoranda as the settlers keep ken is finished or it is abandoaed. °yis in bad condition the man most in- terested asks for assistancs to repair it and if it isdec ided that the road shou.d be re- ! be most convenient ley there bas never been any crime nor wrong- Such a thing as a jail is unthougut of, and vet the people take not a lock on any door in tie va AR =3 YAILILEY AN UNEXPIORED POCKET « oF THE COAST RANGCE - m I~ Between th» resi- It James The gardens and orchards around the the really necessary food. For sugar, le on ine hills. Once a year a numter of these are driven to market and sold to procure what cannot be produced in the valley. And so these people spend their happy lives. know not what it is to want. are unknown. sion of nature. he only thing that could They are expert hunters and good surf fishermen. 1ar as the necessaries of life go they have all that they can Even a great political revolution wouid have little effect on them, for they are so out of the world that its ug.y echoes would not reach them. HC T 7o Z2mMmMCO They have books in plenty, and As Worry and trouble injure them would be some great convul- SOME PIGTURESQUE FLOWE Down near Baker-street wharf, where we went to watch the brown-sailed crab- boats unload their squirming, | ever, that anythine so picturesque as our | discovery proved was close at hund. rattling | A 1all gate in a kigh, close wall, with a cargo, and quite within the snadow of the | long low shed at either end, attracted our | cindery iron works, we found the | attention. We expected to find boats— garden of Iialy, withits lowersand herbs, | perhaps in course of construction—when, and the suggestions of nautical life that | encouraged by the silence of the place, would have seemed incongruous to one | we gave the gate a little push and peerea who did notknow that it had been planned | within. and planted by those to whom ihe sea was | To our astonishment, a great bed of more familiar than the iand, | flourishing lentils bloomed before ns, Disregarding the declaration of the con- | und a row of artichokes, with burr-like sulted oracle that San Francisco fisner- | growth, showed against the Whitewashed men lived in stuffy icdging-houses, we | pickets of an inner fence, over which a were hunting about for the cabins which | nasturtium vine tumbled its blossoms in our woman’s perversity told us some of | brilliant confusion. 4 them must inkabit, never dreaming, how- | Although no one was visible there were signs of the occupants of the | canvas-topped boots drying | ipon a broad sheli firmly fastened to this | fence, which also held oars, crabnets and | many strings of corks of various sizes. In one corner the pink-blossomed | branches of a peach tree stinded the door of & small carpenter’s shop, fitted up with | workbench and too!s; | buildings all opening to the garden in- | closed it 7 upon three sides. Beyond the |inoer fence to seaward ross amother, | bigh as the surrounding cabins, aiso formed of closely set pickets, which gave glimpses of the water and passing boats to those sitting among the flowers, Compnc} arrangement and strength of construction were noticeadle in the small- est detail and seemed amusingly needless, w_'hile the idea of a shiv's interior was car- ried out in strong, swinging sheives de- | water-barrels brackets. Between the tiny flower or vegetable | beds were walks of heavy arift planks, so | closely set as io give the appearance of verdure springing from boards, Each bed was also surrounded by a railing, sup- ported by corner posts consisting of heavy beams and ship’s stanchions, rails and | posts fastened together by great rusiy boits; the whole iooked such a solid com- bination of cabins, fences, flower-beas and all that one fancied they might go sailing | mntactout to sea should a wave come | sweeping in. The noveity of the place, as well as the air of bright cleanliness pervading it, was most inviting, and withan exclamation of delight we stepped inside the Rate, the artistat once producing her sketehing materials, and the dreamer, sinking upon a bench fixed solialy to the walls of a cabin, began mentally to make the spoi the scene of a romance. Our apologies for the intrusion to the seven fishermen who returued one by one this with other low | | pending from projecting cabin eaves and | strapped securely to their | Place in the | met with good-natured smiles or shrugs in the sun |asthey passed on to open the padlocked | doors of their respective cabins and to begin preparing their meals. A young negro whom we had noticed | assisting the men to unload their boats at the wharf stepped to the gate, & string of | flat, white soles in his nand, and asked if be captain’’ had come. The handsome young Garibaldi leaning against a stanchion by the lentii bed answered that he had not. “When captain comes you can make | picture there,” said be to us by way of | conversation, poiniing toward the inner | fence. | The face lighting up as he caught sight of the | scribbling, sketching intruders, and hold- ing open the inner gate we had not ven. | tured to pass, he invited us to enter and | “make picture” of his garden. We found this garden to be the quaintest, homelest, triangular little spot that ever gave comfortto a poor toiler aiter his | day’s and night's work was done, with { & flagpole rising from the center ana a | long table with seats about it in a shady corner and flowers blooming everywhere, from gapes in the plank tloor to the high posts rurmounted by kegs and buckets and all sorts of receptacles for blooming, growing things. | His cabin formed one end of the inclo- sure, and unlocking the door he obligingly | left it open, intimating that we micht wish to sketch the interior. He displayed artistic appreciation by bringing forward a stool formed of a nail-keg covered by a bit of rich-toned carpet. “I put barrei by door,” he said, smiling. Then he threw open an inner door, where stood his cot and a chair or two, and where | various articles of cl: thing hung upon tne | walls adorned by colored newspaper euts, andund'r the small high window an old American flag was draped, and a crucifix had its place in a_corner by the bed, aptain” came presently, his kind | | flat loat of very white bread. ARE OWNED BY GRAB-GATGHERS Then Captain Giovanni proceeded to build a tire in the Jittle stove standing in the outer room and began to preparesome fish for his dinner. When the fish were cooked he ate them within the cabin, but brought to the long table in the garden what may have been | his dessert, a great dish of steamed shell- fish of the periwinkle variety, a wicker- encased bottle of Italian wine and a little He draggea the little fish from ' their shells with a sail-needle, and while eating cheerfully related the story of some fisher- men who had died from indulging in the delicacy. ‘“Are you not afraid to eat them?’ we asked. He assured us that these, which were drawn up in the crabnmets from deep water, were not likely 1o be poisonous, and continued to thrust the sail-needle into the deep, pointed shells. “I been here three year,” he said, to our | inquiry. “Iused to be captain on ship | an’ sail everywhere, all over the world, an’ see many t'ings. I bring first iron ship that come from Italy to San Fran- cisco. I got captain’s papers from Nova Scotia, but I not go out no more. Foor crab-catcher now.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a deep draught of his Italian wine. “Have you no one to keep house for you?”’ we asked, faltering over the per- sonal questions that seemed impertinent even to a crab-catcher, “no sister or niece or—wife?” He sat down the bottle with whick he was about 1o fill his glass, and a sad look | came into bis shrewd, kind eves. [ got no one.” he said; ‘‘sister, every- body, dea He looked toward the w ers of the bay and spoke in a low tone. “I born in Genoa; been on water since 10 years old. Sister, all die when I am on water. Once—in Genoa—I know very Pretty girl, long time ago, very pretty girl.” He appeared to behoid something | we could not see. *She die,” he said | will to Captain Giovanni, we saw the old finally; “I got nobody.” ENSxiiticab ot ians standing, giass in The sketches were finished and we arose | hand, drinking to us a parting health as 10 ¢o, laying down a piece of money in | we passed through the gate. payment of the bread and cheese we had | C eaten. E The man, whose dignity and presence | The Grand Duke Paul of Russia is so tall Glapcing back for a final nod of good ARA Izy PricE. seemed above his calling, flushed and | that no hotel bed is long encuxh for his pushied it toward us, saying: | comfort, and he has one built in sections, *'I want nothing—I give you,” and also | which Le carries with bis lucgage every= pressed upon us one of the little white | where. The bed is put up by a special loaves which we had pronounced excel- lent. We were urged to repeat our visit and bidden a cordial good-by. mechanic, under the supeiintendence of the royal valet, wherever the Grand Puke goes.