Edgar B. Davison’s Cabin (circa 1900)

Edgar B. Davison’s Fir Canyon cabin, Figueroa Mountain, Santa Barbara County. (Courtesy Bryan Conant, by way of a friend.)

“Edgar was a forest ranger on Figueroa Mountain from 1898 through 1912, making $75 a month. Grace and Edgar built a cabin in remote Fir Canyon, in what is now the Los Padres National Forest, and lived there for the early years of their marriage. If they were separated, grandson Don Davison related, at sundown Edgar would signal from his lofty Figueroa perch with a mirror to Grace in Ballard, flashing an all’s well. “

William Etling, Sideways in Neverland: Life in the Santa Ynez Valley, California (2005)

Edgar B. Davison

Edgar B. Davison was active in civil society and described himself as being “proud of California, and a deep-dyed optimist as concerns her future.” He was a proactive citizen that helped build the state into what it is today. The son of pioneers, he was in many ways a pioneer himself as an early resident of Ballard in the Santa Ynez Valley.

Describing the tiny community as she first saw it in 1882 when brought there by her parents, Davison’s wife Grace wrote, “Ballard was a mere handful of houses, with a school, but as yet without a school house.”

Edgar B. Davison helped build the town church and school and worked as the first manager of Ballard’s Oak Hill Cemetery, which was founded in 1883, and within which today still grow several towering redwood trees he planted.

In 1894, concerned about a drought, Davison wrote a letter to the Los Angeles Herald asking the editor for clarification about the “possibilities of causing rain by artificial means.” His question was published in addition to a lengthy reply informing him in conclusion: “When the conditions are favorable for rain, explosives and fires may precipitate rain, but when the air is too dry no artificial means can cause rain to fall.” The editor went on to warn people of being “duped” should they “contract or subscribe to any rain making agents for the production of rain.”

Davison participated in party politics and in 1898 was elected a delegate in the Republican county congressional convention. The next year the San Francisco Call published a letter he wrote commending the newspaper for its “bold and fearless fight” against political corruption in California. In 1911, President Taft appointed him postmaster of Ballard.

Memorial plaque at Oak Hill Cemetery.

Aside from his work within the Ballard community, one of his more enduring legacies enjoyed by countless outdoor enthusiasts and hikers through the decades was the protection of a mountain reserve that eventually became part of the Los Padres National Forest, as well as the building of Davy Brown Trail.

Davison created the Davy Brown Trail between 1898 and 1899. The three mile path leads down the backside of Figueroa Mountain (4528′) to Sunset Valley and what today is Davy Brown Campground (2095′).

During the same period of time around the turn of the century, Davison was actively involved in laying the groundwork for what would become the Zaca Lake Forest Reserve, which eventually became incorporated into what today is known as the Los Padres National Forest.

On September 12, 1898, the San Francisco Call noted Davison’s leading role in the creation of the Zaca Lake portion of the Pine Mountain and Zaca Lake Forest Reserve:

“. . .Edgar B. Davison of Ballard, to whom is due, through his exponency of the idea in the newspapers, the setting apart of Pine Mountain Reservation by the government, . . .”

On September 25, 1898, the Los Angeles Herald offered readers an illustrated feature story about the new forest reserve, which praised Davison for his conservation work.

Originally Edgar B. Davison, H. H. Doyle (the present county clerk of Santa Barbara county), Henry Robinson (editor of the Santa Ynez Argus), Mrs. Flora Haines Loughead and others suggested to Congressman McLachlan that Zaca lake and a few sections adjacent be set aside as a government reservation. …

Mr. Davison’s articles in the country press had great influence in forming public opinion to be ready to support the petition. …

Edgar B. Davison, who has done as much as anyone else to procure the reserve for Californians, is a young man, a resident of Ballard, near the reserve. He is 29 years old, and has lived near or on the tract for fifteen years past. Pleasing to state is the fact that his zealous efforts to secure the state a splendid reserve have not been unrecognized at headquarters. Mr. Davison is now one of Commissioner Crawshaw’s assistants, and has his headquarters in Brown’s cabin, on the Little Manzana.

Davison became one of the first forest rangers serving in Santa Barbara County. He used the Fir Canyon cabin on Davy Brown Creek as a station for his duties, as well as using the cabin built by C.E. Munch in what today is known as Munch Canyon for his winter headquarters. Neither structure still exists. Today, along the Davy Brown Trail, a plaque notes the location of the old Davison cabin.

The Edgar B. Davison cabin site in 2012. The above shown green plaque can barely be seen in the shadows just below center frame and to the left of the thin trunk of the tree.

The “X” marks the location of the old Edgar B. Davison cabin.

Reference:

William Etling, Sideways in Neverland : Life in the Santa Ynez Valley, California (2005)

E.R. Blakley, Historical Overview of Los Padres National Forest (1985)

Grace L. Davison, Beans for Breakfast (1956)

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Toddling Down the Davy Brown Trail

The hills along lower Figueroa Mountain Road on the way to Davy Brown Trail.

With a toddler in tow I recently had the fortunate opportunity to rediscover the Davy Brown Trail with fresh eyes. Having kids provides a chance to see the world once more through the eyes of a child, and to rediscover and enjoy again what for years has been taken for granted and ignored. The mundanity of overlooked places, neglected because they long ago turned ordinary then lost their appeal and became boring, disappears when in the company of a youngster. The old and dull become new and exciting once more.

On the drive up Figueroa Mountain Road we passed the front gate of Michael Jackson’s Neverland estate. It was too much of an abstract concept for a small child to comprehend and get excited about, but I don’t think anything could make the gate and guard house there give me a thrill anyway.

Farther up the road a calf taking milk from its mother became worthy of a stop. Though previously, without the company of a toddler, I likely would not have noticed feeding cows or at least would not have cared. So too did horses in a roadside field become an exciting attraction worthy of more than a mere passing glance. Deer bounding through the grass on the slopes of the mountain turned from a common sight into a spectacular finger-pointing event. The ordinary vicariously transformed into the extraordinary.

The smaller things in life take on greater value. Common bugs seen for decades throughout one’s life, and previously ignored, become objects of unusual fascination worthy of closer inspection and the expense of considerable time. Flowers show beside the trail like gold nuggets, each one spotted with vociferous triumph. The gentle wind whispering through the fir trees overhead, audible but invisible, very well might be the trees themselves whispering in some unintelligible arboreal language. Stomping through two inches of water at a creek crossing becomes joyous recreation rather than mere rote locomotion. A short once familiar trail of a few miles turns into an epic journey through an unknown realm. The world is new once more!

The bucolic beauty of Santa Barbara County hinterlands with Zaca Ridge rising in the distance extending from the western edge of Figueroa Mountain.

The summertime golden-brown slopes along Figueroa Mountain.

The crest of the trail leading into the canyon where it cuts sharply back leftward.

With a toddler in tow in a backpack, I carried another day pack or “chestpack” across my front side. Along the upper reaches of the trail as it drops deeper into Fir Canyon.

A riparian section of trail.

Bug huntin’.

Ladybugs

Mariposa lily

Humboldt lily

Damselflies

California Sister

A view of oak savannah along the road home through the Santa Ynez Valley.

Aerial view of the trail noted by red dots, as seen on Bing imagery.

 Related Post:

Edgar B. Davison’s Cabin (circa 1900) [Davison made the Davy Brown Trail]

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Fourth of July Fireworks

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McDonald Lake, Montana

A recent look at McDonald Lake from Clint Elliott.

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Stumbling Upon Chumash Bedrock Mortars

Chumash bedrock mortar grinding stone in the Santa Barbara County backcountry. There are four different mortars visible in this photo, although hard to see except the deepest one at center frame.

“In certain almost supernatural states of the soul, the profundity of life reveals itself entirely in the spectacle, however ordinary it may be, before one’s eyes. It becomes its symbol.”

Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867)

I first walked by this exposed chunk of sandstone two decades ago. If I noticed the rock at all it was only in passing, and I thought nothing more of it than any of the other countless slabs of stone protruding from the thousands of acres of surrounding wilderness. I certainly had not seen the bedrock mortars bored into its surface by Chumash Indians long ago.

On my last passing, during a backpacking trip, I had walked right by it once more without a glance. Yet, this time it was more exposed than in years past due to the Zaca Fire (’07), which had incinerated the brush cover previously obscuring it. On my way back a few days later it so happened that a snake lay across the trail beside the outcrop, which caused me to stop for a moment.

I’ve seen innumerable snakes over the years, as most people who spend any amount of time in the mountains do. They are common. For whatever reason on this occasion, perhaps it served as a good excuse to take a break, I decided to stop. And then I made the choice to remove my backpack and to take a photograph of the snake, because it presented an easy subject to try and get a close-up picture of.

I leaned my backpack against the sandstone outcrop holding the mortars which was a few feet away. It was after having snapped a few photos of the snake, and when returning my camera to its place in my pack, that I happened to glance over and spot one of the mortar holes. A quick look around the stone from where I stood revealed several other mortars of varying depths.

The rock sits on the edge of a hill overlooking a seasonal creek, but at a particular section of the stream where the water flows over a  ledge of exposed bedrock. And so while other portions of the creek in the area may go dry, the water collects at the foot of the ledge and remains longer than in other places. As with other Chumash sites, this one was well chosen.

The grinding stone is located, as well, between at least two other Indian sites in the near vicinity, one of which is among my favorite camps in all the forest and holds numerous bedrock mortars. The other site contains a large red pictograph several feet tall, as shown above.

While sitting on the outcrop resting, I thought about how many times I had obliviously walked right on by without noticing it was an old Indian grinding stone. Were it not for the wildfire having burned the brush away I might not have seen the mortars. Had it not been for the snake I definitely would of missed them.

 Two mortars seen here filled with dry grass sprouts.

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