At last, on the 20th of October, our hardships were ended by our arrival at Fort Suter, where we concluded to spend the winter in the mountains, that is, myself and waggon companions, five in number, and Mr. and Mrs. Roulette. We made our way to the place at which I am now writing. It is a beautiful valley, about ten miles long and two wide, situated between mountains, which are about 2,000 feet high, from the bed of Cache Creek, which runs through the valley. In the mountains, there are deer and bear in abundance, and about 15 miles from here there are plenty of elk. The valley is about 60 miles from the bay of San Francisco, about 40 from the Pacific ocean.
Bodega is the nearest port.
As yet I have seen but very little of the country, and must confess that in regard to the part I have seen I am not as much pleased as I expected that I should be. So far as I have seen the country generally is very mountainous, with here and there vallies suitable for cultivation. In fact, the laws are framed to prevent foreigners from coming to the country unless they have passports. I have never been asked for my passports, but if I had, should have been inclined to do, as Dr. Ball did on a similar requisition, shew my rifle. I should be more pleased with this country if the seasons were more favorable.