hen the Mormons, under the leadership of Chas. C. Rich and Amasa Lyman, appeared in San Bernardino valley in 1851, they found a region substantially just as nature made it. Except widely separated stragglers along the diminutive and few lowland streams, trees were to be seen only on the mountains. In mid-summer in the valley small bushes eked out a precarious existence, cacti flourished, and underneath these lay the dried and lusty clumps of spring grasses. In winter, after the rains had fairly set in, a beautiful green succeeded to the general dull brown of the landscape, the green of revived vegetable life, which had been dormant during the period of extreme heat. In spring wild flowers sprang like magic from every foot of ground, intensified the beauty of the scene with their myriads of blossoms, and lived until the surface soil was robbed of its moisture by the semi-tropical sun. Bands of Indians here made camp during the rainy season, and in the summer retreated to the mountain fastness, from which they made frequent predatory excursions, stealing and stampeding the herds of cattle, which roamed the valley. The few habitations of the Mexican land owners were miles apart it. It was a region blessed, however, with a climate of almost unrivaled salubrity and the most delightful scenery. The richness of spring blossoms and verdure suggested the fruitfulness of the soil, which subsequent irrigation and cultivation proved to be immensely fertile, but it required time and hard work to convince a portion of mankind, that, in their search for the best of nature's homes, the possibilities of this valley had been overlooked.

The valley is enclosed in a horseshoe of mighty mountains, with peaks here and there protruding far skyward. From the sharpest curve of the range, in the extreme eastern portion, rises the cone-shaped San Bernardino peak, to a height of 10,225 feet; and just behind it, a little southward, the still higher San Gorgonio, commonly called "Greyback," lifts its head 11,775 feet above sea level. The northern portion of this gigantic horseshoe has a general elevation of about one mile, and at its extreme western point appears San Antonio, dear to the hearts of all, under the appellation of "Old Baldy," whose summit pierces the clouds at 10,142 feet. The southern chain of mountains, which complete the simile, has an average elevation of about 3,000 feet with the higher, more majestic peaks at the western end. It is a broken range, less uniform in appearance than that on the north side, but still grand in bearing. The view directly westward, between these ranges, is unbroken, except by one lofty hill that rises abruptly from the valley, looking as if it had gone astray from its mountain habitat and settled down as a hermit in the plain.

The valley enclosed by this mountain wall is a picture that defies the art of the landscape painter. Viewed at any time it is strikingly picturesque and beautiful, but seen in such sunsets as are the rule here the picture is sublime beyond the description of anyone who has seen it, and beyond the conception of one who has not.

From the eastern edge of the valley there is a gentle declivity, averaging, perhaps fifty feet to the mile. The face of it suggests natural preparation for irrigation, and the richness of the soil is indicated by the profuse vegetable growth, Foothills fringe the mountains. One the northern side, almost at the foot of San Bernardino, the Santa Ana river flows into the valley through the canon bearing the same name. This stream, a powerful one in ages long passed, judging from the riverbed, is now made subservient to the needs of agriculture. It flows westward a few miles and then turns southwestward to its outlet in the ocean at Newport.

Looking down the valley from its eastern edge, near the lofty mountains, we see a peculiar surface formation of the ground on the extreme left side. This formation begins at the eastern foothills, extends westward eight or ten miles, following the southern foothills, and is of irregular width but comparatively narrow. It has been known from earliest history, and was probably known in remote antiquity by a name expressive of its peculiar color, a pronounced red.

A remarkable thing about these red land, in their geological position, is the fact that they are utterly unlike the surface formation which surrounds them on every side. The ordinary soil, in the northern portion of the valley, is gray in color composed of disintegrated granite sand, and vegetable matter. It is light and quite porous. The red lands, on the contrary, are comparatively heavy much less pervious, and peculiarly adapted for certain vegetable growths.

The lines of division separating the red formation from the surrounding gray are so clearly defined as to suggest a colossal slicing of the red at some remote place and the depositing of it in the bed of gray. Both soils are exceptionally free of stones, except the extreme eastern portion of the gray, near the foothills. The effect of the contrasting color, as seen in the bright sunlight, lends an additional charm to the lovely landscape as it stretches far westward toward the ocean.

(Source: Illustrated Redlands, 1897, p. 1)