Many fascinating news and fictional accounts could not be included because of space limitations most of the books cited in the accompanying biography are a part of the Museum's resources. My thanks to Dorothy Schmid, Geri Robertson and Connie Cowan for their help in gathering the materials from which this story was written. Those articles are not a part of this publication, again because of space limitations and the fact that they are of recent origin and probably well-known to today's readers. The words that follow are my attempt to describe what we experienced that day. At dusk the water is dark, but the reflection of the brilliant orange, gold, and misty blue of the sunset make the sea's surface a mirror of the sky.
Birds glide silently by on the currents.
Occasionally one takes off, leaving a glistening wake on the surface, and creating a graceful silhouette against a flaming sky. The Santa Rosa Mountains in the west are dark now, but their ragged summits divide earth and sky with unimaginable beauty. Tiny lights, marking the western shore of the sea, are coming on at the base of the mountains. Here, at this moment and in this place, nature and man are at peace, and this view can only inspire awe, reverence, and deep gratitude for this treasure in our midst.