sugar. I leave it to any one: a boat would never act that way.

We have some history north of the Bay. Nearly three centuries and a half
ago, that doughty pirate and explorer, Sir Francis Drake, combing the
Pacific for Spanish galleons, anchored in the bight formed by Point
Reyes, on which to-day is one of the richest dairy regions in the world.
Here, less than two decades after Drake, Sebastien Carmenon piled up on
the rocks with a silk-laden galleon from the Philippines. And in this
same bay of Drake, long afterward, the Russian fur-poachers rendezvous'd
their _bidarkas_ and stole in through the Golden Gate to the forbidden
waters of San Francisco Bay.

Farther up the coast, in Sonoma County, we pilgrimaged to the sites of
the Russian settlements. At Bodega Bay, south of what to-day is called
Russian River, was their anchorage, while north of the river they built
their fort. And much of Fort Ross still stands. Log-bastions, church,
and stables hold their own, and so well, with rusty hinges creaking, that
we warmed ourselves at the hundred-years-old double fireplace and slept
under the hand-hewn roof beams still held together by spikes of
hand-wrought iron.

We went to see where history had been made, and we saw scenery as well.
One of our stretches in a day's drive was from beautiful Inverness on
Tomales Bay, down the Olema Valley to Bolinas Bay, along the eastern
shore of that body of water to Willow Camp, and up over the sea-bluffs,
around the bastions of Tamalpais, and down to Sausalito. From the head
of Bolinas Bay to Willow Camp the drive on the edge of the beach, and
actually, for half-mile stretches, in the waters of the bay itself, was a
delightful experience. The wonderful part was to come. Very few San
Franciscans, much less Californians, know of that drive from Willow Camp,