Big Sur Doghole Ports

BIG SUR DOGHOLE PORTS:

A FRONTIER MARITIME CULTURAL LANDSCAPE

Jason Field

A thesis submitted to

Sonoma State University

in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree of

MASTERS OF ARTS

Cultural Resources Management

Margaret Purser, Ph.D., Chair Department of Anthropology

Laura Watt, Ph.D. Department of Environmental Studies and Planning

Rae Schwaderer, M.A. Associate State Archaeologist, CA Department of Parks and Recreation

Authorization for Reproduction

I grant permission for the print or digital reproduction of this thesis [project] in its entirety, without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorbs the cost and provide proper acknowledgement of authorship.

DATE: 4/12/2017 Jason Field Name

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Big Sur Doghole Ports: A Frontier Maritime Cultural Landscape

Thesis by Jason Field

ABSTRACT

Purpose: This study seeks to establish a foundation of research for a subject that has been largely overlooked in the archaeological and historical literature of California in general and Big Sur in particular. Doghole ports served as essential conduits of transportation, communication, and commerce in maritime frontier regions that lacked developed terrestrial transportation networks. Understanding the role of these landings will greatly increase the historic context of the surrounding landscape. In addition, since many doghole ports had not been recorded as archaeological sites prior to this study, it aims to determine what types of archaeological signatures exist and introduce frameworks for interpreting and managing these unique sites.

Procedure: This study gathered and examined historical documents, including photographs, maps, land patents, articles of incorporation, and newspapers in an attempt to define a historic context of Big Sur’s maritime landscape during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Archaeological pedestrian reconnaissance was performed at five doghole ports and one navigational aid site. The documentary and archaeological data were analyzed in reference to the maritime cultural landscape and landscape learning theoretical frameworks and the research questions set forth in this study.

Findings: Documentary sources and archaeological data gathered through several field surveys combine to illustrate a landscape of industrial and technological innovation and environmental adaptation. Archaeologically, natural features were often found to substitute for human constructions and environmental obstacles were adapted to serve economic and transportation purposes.

Conclusions: Doghole port sites and related elements in Big Sur embody a maritime cultural landscape of transportation and industry, which prior to this study, has not been addressed. Examining the documentary and archaeological record in a maritime cultural landscape framework illustrate newfound links amongst sites and features. Terrestrial archaeological features are no longer entirely terrestrial as the framework illuminates their maritime orientation and connection. This perspective can contribute to a much needed dialogue on how to address the maritime heritage of California.

MA Cultural Resources Management Sonoma State University Date: 4/12/2017

Acknowledgments

This study could not have been accomplished without the help and support of several key individuals and organizations. First, I would like to thank my committee chair, Dr. Margaret Purser, who provided a wealth of knowledge and assisted immensely in coordinating with important agencies, such as California State Parks and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Dr. Purser provided a challenging and supportive academic and learning environment that allowed me to address my true interests. I would like to thank my committee member, Rae Schwaderer, for her interest and support in this topic and allowing me to survey and document these important cultural resources on State Park property. Rae also provided State Park camping accommodations, which was a great convenience. I would also like to thank, Dr. Laura Watt, committee member, who provided great input and ideas for this study. The Anthropological Studies Center was also an immensely valuable resource. Kate Green helped initiate thesis fieldwork during the ASC small projects internship. Mike Konzak and Bryan Mischke were also greatly helpful in honing my GIS knowledge and also providing assistance with GPS gear. I am also indebted to my cohort, who was all great support throughout the coursework and internships at Sonoma State. Also, good times at Lobos! Thank you to those that partook in the fieldwork component of my research, including Lauren Carriere, Ryan Poska, Erica Thompson, Brittney Biasi, Pete Banke, Travis, Willie and others. Thank you to the Big Sur Land Trust, who allowed me to document archaeological resources on their property. It became an essential component of this study. Family and friends were also very supportive. I also cannot forget the Big Sur community, who showed great interest in this research.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments…..….…………………………………………………………………v Table of Contents……………………………………………………...…………...…….vi List of Figures…………………………………………………………….….…………..ix

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION…………………………………………………………1 Study Area and Archaeological Sites Recorded………………………………….3 Big Sur…………………………..…………………………………...……3 Archaeological Sites…………………………..…………………………..5 Theoretical Frameworks…………………………..……………………..……….7 The Maritime Cultural Landscape……………………………………..….7 Landscape Learning…………………………..…………………….……..8 Research Questions……………………………………………………….………8 Data Sources…………………………..…………………………...……………11 Thesis Organization…………………………..………………...……………….12

CHAPTER 2: LITERATURE REVIEW AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK……15 Introduction…………………………………………………………..………….15 Cultural Landscapes and Maritime Archaeology.…………………...…………16 The Land-Sea Divide and the National Register……………………………….19 The Maritime Cultural Landscape……………………………………...………24 Maritime Heritage Management…………………..……..………………36 Landscape Learning…………………………..……………………...…………39 Landscape Learning in Maritime Contexts..……...…………….………..42 Western Environmental History……………………………………….…43 Doghole Port Literature…………………………..……………………….…….44 Literature Summary………………….………………………..………….……..46

CHAPTER 3: HISTORIC CONTEXT OF BIG SUR DOGHOLE PORTS…………48 Introduction…………………………..…………………………..…….….…….48 California Markets and Coastal Industry……………………………………....49 Development of California Doghole Ports…………………………….………..54 Cultural Occupations in Big Sur ……………………………………………….56 Native American Period…………………..……………………….……..56 Spanish and Mexican Period…………………..……………………...…58

American Period……..………………..………………………………..60

Industrial Development in Big Sur…………………………..…………………61 Doghole Ports of Big Sur…………………………..……………………………65 Coal Chute and Strader’s Landing…………………………..…………..68 Notley’s Landing…………………………..……………………………..70 Bixby Landing………………………..…………………………………..76 Point Sur………………………..………………………………………..80 Big Sur River Mouth………………………..……………………………82 Partington’s Seaview Landing………………………..………………….84 Anderson/ Saddle Rock Landing………………………..………………..87 Harlan Landing………………………..…………………………………89 Rockland Landing………………………..………………………………91 Mill Creek Landing………………………..……………………………..95 Pacific Valley Landing………………………..………………………….85 Cape San Martin Landing………………………..………………………96 Alder Creek Landing………………………..……………………………98 A Frontier Landscape….………………………………………………...99

Additional Maritime Elements: Lighthouses and Shipwrecks…...………....100 Decline of Coastal Commerce and Doghole Ports…………..……….………103 Historic Context and Archaeological Survey…..…………………………..…104

CHAPTER 4: ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEY………………………..……………106 Archaeological Survey Locations……………………………….……………106 Pre-field Research and Documentary Evidence…………...……….…..……106 Archaeological Survey Goals……………..…………………………..………109 Archaeological Survey Methods and Approaches to Site Recording.….……110 Archaeological Survey Results………..……………………………….………114 Notley’s Landing………………………..………………...…………….114 Big Sur River Mouth………………………..…………………………..119 Partington Landing………………………..……………………………122 Rockland Landing………………………..………………………..……127 Coat Chute Point………………………..………………………………131 Signal Rock………………………..……………………………...…….133

Unrecorded/ Inaccessible Features……………………………………..……..135 Site Patterns and Differentiations……………………………………………..136

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CHAPTER 5: PIECING TOGETHER THE MARITIME CULTURAL LANDSCAPE…………………………..………………………………………………140 Elements that Define a Doghole Ports…………………………………….…..141 Managing the Doghole Port……………………………………………145 Elements that Define the Doghole Port Maritime Cultural Landscape..…….146 Land Remains-Terrestrial Transportation…………………….……..…147 Traditions of Usage…………………………………………………….149 Linking Maritime Cultural Landscape Elements……………………………..152 Maritime Infrastructure……………………………………...…………154 Bridging the Shoreline Divide………………………….……...……….157 Managing Boundaries…………………………………………………..160

Reassessing the Landscape: The Roles of Doghole Ports…………………….162 Reliance on Coastal Commerce…………………………….…………..165 A Unique Maritime Cultural Landscape...…………..……...………….167

Landscape Learning in a Maritime Frontier………………………………….168 Prior Knowledge………………………………………………………..170 New Environments……………………….……………………………..171 Changing Technologies and Environmental Understandings………….173 Environmental Misunderstandings…………………………….……….175 Maritime Conservativeness……………………….…………………….177

Supporting Frameworks……………………………………………………….179 The Doghole Port as a Taskscape………………………………..…….179 The Doghole Port as a Feature System……………………………...…180

Looking Forward: Future Site Recording and Studies……………...………..182 The Maritime Cultural Landscape and National Register Nomination..182 Defining Archaeological Site Boundaries……………………….……..184 Landscape Links, Boundaries, and Layers…….…..…………...……...184 Integrating the Natural and Cultural……………….……….………….186

Research Directions for the Central Coast…………………………………....186 Additional Doghole Port Recording……….………...…………………186 Underwater Reconnaissance……………………….…………………..187 Whaling, Naval Operations, and Fishing……...………………….……187 Interpretation……………………………………………………………188

REFERENCES CITED………………………………………………………………...189

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LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. Thesis study area ...... 6 Figure 2. Esselen territory at contact ...... 57 Figure 3. Doghole port locations...... 67 Figure 4. 1898 map of Monterey County, California showing coal mine ...... 68 Figure 5. Coal Chute Point, ca. 1900 ...... 70 Figure 6. Notley’s Landing, ca. late 1890s ...... 71 Figure 7. Packhorses with a load of tanbark, ca. 1900 ...... 74 Figure 8. Section survey map showing Notley’s Landing ...... 75 Figure 9. Bixby Landing, ca. 1911 ...... 77 Figure 10. Two-masted schooner and slide chute at Bixby Landing ...... 78 Figure 11. 1893 T-Sheet illustrating “Hamilton Land’g.” ...... 80 Figure 12. Point Sur Light Station, 1928...... 81 Figure 13. Big Sur Light Station landing deck ...... 82 Figure 14. Two-masted schooner landed at Big Sur River mouth, ca. 1897 ...... 83 Figure 15. 1891 T-Sheet illustrating Partington Landing ...... 85 Figure 16. Confianza, at Partington Landing, 1900 ...... 86 Figure 17. 1891 T-Sheet illustrating Anderson Landing ...... 88 Figure 18. 1888 Sketch of Twin Peak Cove ...... 93 Figure 19. 1890 T-Sheet illustrating Rockland Landing ...... 94 Figure 20. 1888 T-Sheet for Pacific Valley Landing ...... 96 Figure 21. 1888 T-Sheet for Cape San Martin Landing ...... 97 Figure 22. 1888 T-Sheet for Alder Creek Landing ...... 99 Figure 23. Doghole port locations, companies, industries ...... 105 Figure 24. Doghole port dates, chute type, exposure, and current day management. .... 105 Figure 25. North coast of Big Sur doghole port and survey locations ...... 107 Figure 26. South coast of Big Sur doghole port and survey locations ...... 108 Figure 27. Aerial image of Notley’s Landing ...... 115 Figure 28. Concrete foundation remains of cable chute hoist at Notley’s Landing ...... 117 Figure 29. Ringbolt embedded in cliff with mortar at Notley’s Landing ...... 119 Figure 30. Aerial image of the Big Sur River Mouth Landing ...... 120

Figure 31. Remains of pier pilings at the Big Sur River mouth ...... 121 Figure 32. Aerial image of Partington’s Sea View Landing ...... 123 Figure 33. Tunnel leading to Partington Landing ...... 124 Figure 34. Remains of hoisting beam at Partington Landing ...... 125 Figure 35. Eyebolt embedded on cliff in Partington Inlet ...... 126 Figure 36. Aerial image of Rockland Landing ...... 128 Figure 37. Lime deposits at Rockland Landing ...... 130 Figure 38. Mallory Wheeler keyhole cover to smokehouse style padlock ...... 131 Figure 39. Aerial image of Coal Chute Point in Whaler’s Cove ...... 132 Figure 40. Ringbolt located on bluff at Coal Chute Point ...... 133 Figure 41. Aerial image of Signal Rock ...... 134 Figure 42. Signal Rock. Notice blackening on rock face from signal fires ...... 135 Figure 43. Doghole port feature categories...... 139 Figure 44. Terms for coastal zone...... 143 Figure 45. Categories of culturally significant landmarks, Davidson’s Coast Pilot ...... 151 Figure 46. Distance between doghole ports ...... 155 Figure 47. Linking Notley’s Landing chute foundation to the submerged anchor ...... 159 Figure 48. Linking elements in the 1890 T-Sheet for Rockland Landing ...... 161

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

The Big Sur coastline today is appreciated for its natural resources, rugged landscape, and wilderness appearance. This appreciation is reflected in strict land use plans that emphasize environmental and viewshed protection. This management involves a patchwork of local inhabitants and regional, state, and federal agencies. However, environmental protection and conservation has not always guided land use and economy in Big Sur. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries early inhabitants used Big Sur’s natural resources in a contradictory manner. Extractive companies entered the isolated coastal canyons in search of timber stands, gold, limestone, and coal. An uninhabited frontier landscape was transformed into one of industrial extraction, transportation, and commerce. Challenging environmental factors, such as steep and rugged terrain, required adaptive and innovative methods to extract and transport resources to California’s metropolis markets.

The establishment of economically efficient transportation was a prerequisite for industrial companies operating in Big Sur’s inaccessible maritime frontier. Overland travel to city markets was impractical, as the extreme topography of the Santa Lucia

Mountains made road construction, maintenance, and travel extremely arduous, time consuming, and expensive. Furthermore, the region was too rugged and economically unattractive to receive investment for railroad construction. These factors required the development of a unique transportation infrastructure that would allow rapid extraction and efficient shipment of resources. Companies established coastal outposts where an onshore structure could convey cargo across the shoreline onto schooners moored

2 offshore. Once loaded the cargo could be transported to the city markets rapidly, reliably, and comparatively affordably.

However, ocean-based commerce was not without its drawbacks and limits. One of the greatest challenges to this process was constructing an efficient and reliable conveyance method to transfer extracted resources from the steep coastal cliffs to waiting offshore vessels. The chute system swiftly became the accepted methodology. This system consisted of a wooden slide or wire cable that extended from an onshore hoist to the ocean below. The wooden slide, or apron, chute would end near the ocean surface where a vessel would moor for loading. A cable chute would often extend to the ocean bottom where it would be secured to a submerged object, such as an anchor. The vessel would then moor underneath the cable where it could attach to the chute. Gravity was used to lower cargo from land to the vessel, while steam donkeys were often used to haul cargo from the vessel to land.

These boat landings were commonly located at exposed and rocky coves with little or no defense against large swells, currents, and wind. Those coves or open anchorages containing chutes systems became known as doghole ports. Folklore illustrates how the term “doghole” developed from schooner captains who complained of the coves being so small and unmaneuverable that a dog could not turn around in it. The name may also trace to crews that bemoaned of the landings being so exposed during storms that a dog could not take shelter in them. Although they proved to be treacherous and unnerving, doghole ports served as catalysts to transforming unfamiliar frontier landscapes to community, industry, and commercial outposts. The labor and resources invested in the development of these landings and the surrounding overland

3 transportation often became extensive, resulting in complex structures whose remnants are still visible today. The existence of these coastal outposts was dependent on the existence of extractable resources, efficient overland transportation networks, successful ocean navigation, and adaptation to environmental challenges.

This study seeks to examine human interaction with the ocean and coastline in the context of a natural resource extraction-based economy in a maritime frontier. This human-environmental relationship was built upon establishing methods and technologies that enabled efficient and reliable shipment of resources. The doghole port, a nodal point between the extraction zones and the city markets, is a prime activity zone to study this interconnectedness. Taken as a whole, the physical remnants and symbolic signatures of

Big Sur’s late 19th and early 20th century doghole ports create a maritime cultural landscape that illustrates adaptive use of, and adaptation to, natural features and obstacles, episodes of technological adaptation, and eventual abandonment. By incorporating elements previously unexamined or studied in isolation, this study forms a new perspective of history and archaeology that demonstrates coastal dependency for late

19th and early 20th century settlement and industry in the region.

Study Area and Archaeological Sites Recorded

Big Sur

This study examines the approximate 75-mile segment of California coastline that stretches from the Carmel River in Monterey County to San Carpoforo Creek in San Luis

Obispo County. While Big Sur does not contain any legally defined boundaries, these landmarks are generally accepted as the geographical demarcations. This coastline

4 consists of distinct and diverse environmental and geological circumstances that create a unique coastal setting. Being the steepest coastal slope in the contiguous United States, the shoreline is extremely rocky and exposed and lacks inlets safe from large swells, currents, or wind. The unique environmental circumstances created valuable natural resources that were pursued by industrial corporations in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Lumber companies entered the region to capitalize on the untapped coast redwood and tanbark stands. Additional resources targeted in the coastal canyons of the

Santa Lucia Mountains include limestone, coal, and gold. All of these peripherally- located extraction ventures relied on the ocean for economically efficient, reliable, and rapid transportation.

Big Sur today is overseen by a conglomeration of federal, state, and local land and ocean management agencies. Los Padres National Forest manages substantial amounts of land primarily east of Highway One. Their jurisdiction occasionally reaches the ocean along portions of the southern coast, making it the only National Forest in California to do so. The majority of this land is federally designated as wilderness, consisting of the

Ventana and Silver Peak Wilderness areas. An additional federal agency operating along the Big Sur coastline is the National Oceanic and Atmosphere Administration (NOAA), which manages the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary stretching from Cambria in

San Luis Obispo County to Rocky Point in Marin County. This federal agency employs an ecosystem-based management approach to support ocean health, including economically and culturally valued resources (NOAA 2016).

The California State Park (CA DPR) system manages several popular locations in

Big Sur. Much of this property is located along the coastline, thereby containing

5 abundant evidence of past and current human activities and interactions related to the coastline and ocean. The California State Coastal Conservancy and the California Coastal

Commission are additional state entities that serve as environmental protection and conservation watchdogs, primarily interested in development projects and public access.

Local agencies and property owners play an important role in land management and conservation. Local land managing agencies include the Monterey Regional Parks

District and the Big Sur Land Trust (BSLT). While state, local, and federal agencies make important decisions for land management and conversation, the local inhabitants hold a significant degree of influence. The Big Sur Coast Land Use Plan requires communication and approval by a board of local residents for projects that have the potential to disrupt culturally significant viewsheds (Monterey County Planning 1981).

Archaeological Sites

Archaeological pedestrian reconnaissance was performed at five doghole ports sites and one navigational site. Four of these six sites were recorded as archaeological sites using California Department of Parks and Recreation (DPR 523) site forms. From north to south these four sites include Notley’s Landing, Big Sur River Mouth Landing,

Partington Landing, and Rockland Landing. The two additional visits include Coal Chute

Point and Signal Rock. Aside from Notley’s Landing, located on Big Sur Land Trust property, all sites are located on California State Park property, including Point Lobos,

Andrew Molera, Julia Pfeiffer Burns, and Limekiln State Parks.

Figure 1. Thesis study area.

Theoretical Frameworks

The maritime cultural landscape is the theoretical foundation of this study. This approach serves to link distant sites across a distinct and geographically demarcated landscape to examine similarities and differences in human interactions with the environment, primarily the coastal and ocean domains. A landscape learning framework is applied to the maritime cultural landscape to explore how incoming industrial-minded populations interacted with, comprehended, and adapted to unique environmental factors across the landscape.

The Maritime Cultural Landscape

This study seeks to examine elements of the industrial-era maritime cultural landscape of Big Sur using doghole ports as the foundational and linking element. A maritime cultural landscape incorporates sites in the vicinity of the waterfront, both submerged and terrestrial, that illustrate cultural interaction and use of the coastline and ocean. These sites are often spatially and temporally associated and can include lighthouses, shipwrecks, outposts, navigational aids, natural obstacles, important natural landmarks, sea routes, and marine-oriented terrestrial transportation systems. In addition to linking distant sites that were previously perceived to exist in isolation or not at all, this approach seeks to bridge a divide that had been established between terrestrial and underwater archaeological sites. The maritime cultural landscape may serve as a potential framework for navigating the National Register of Historic Places documentation and evaluation process for historic maritime sites, which don’t fit easily into the established checklists previously devised for several cultural landscape categories.

Landscape Learning

Landscape learning is a theoretical framework used to explore how colonizing populations entered and adapted to new environments (Rockman 2003). Colonizing groups arrive with previous environmental knowledge gained though experience with prior landscapes. Through accumulated experience with the new environment they gain understandings about its benefits and limitations for specific social or economic objectives. The landscape learning framework will be applied to determine its suitability for historic-era maritime cultural landscapes. This model has the capability of providing a chronological component when analyzing historic-era landscape development and transformation.

Research Questions

The lack of doghole port and historic-era maritime cultural landscape studies in

California provides abundant avenues for research. Several research questions were developed to address areas in which these topics can benefit from the geographical and temporal dimensions of this study. At its most basic level, this study seeks to determine what data exists for doghole port sites in Big Sur. This includes both documentary and archaeological data. The sites in this study have never been recorded; therefore, the research questions are tailored more toward their archaeological components. Identifiable archaeological features may include eyebolts, ringbolts, wire cable, road grades, foundations, or chute and pier remnants. The overall objective of this study is to explore how the maritime cultural landscape framework can assist in the documentation,

9 management, and study of complex waterfront sites, such as the doghole port, that often contain features that transgress the shoreline divide.

 Can archaeological survey coupled with documentary records identify site- specific technology and methods for loading or unloading cargo?  Site structures or features may display innovation or adaptation to the site-specific environmental factors. These factors range from terrestrial topographical or geological factors to marine factors, such as bathymetry, currents, swells and wind. Are there patterns to this environmental adaptation or technological innovation?  What are the site-specific adaptations and can they be traced to specific environmental obstacles, or cultural and economic requirements?

An industrial-oriented maritime frontier required a specific transportation infrastructure and network to ship resources from extraction zones to city markets.

 What are elements of Big Sur’s industrial maritime infrastructure and how did this influence relationships or perspectives of the ocean and coastline?

Furthermore, this study seeks to illuminate the function and role of doghole ports in the settlement and industrial development of Big Sur.

 Why were doghole ports important and how did they shape the surrounding maritime environment and human interaction with it?  What was their primary purpose and did that change overtime? Did each landing serve a specific role in the broader landscape?  How did each port shape interaction amongst the terrestrial and maritime environments?

This study aims to define the applicability of the landscape learning model for a historic-era maritime cultural landscape and doghole ports. Industrial companies that entered the Big Sur region needed to rapidly and efficiently develop extraction and processing areas and transportation methods. The landscape learning model can assist this study’s interpretive component by investigating technological change, capital investment, and environmental learning in complex maritime contexts.

 Is there evidence of adapting methodologies or technologies following increased interaction with the maritime and terrestrial environment? Do site or feature locations display accumulated knowledge of the region?  Is there an increasing reliance on the maritime context overtime?

This study hopes to begin a dialogue regarding management, interpretation, and preservation of this coastal heritage. Today these waterfront archaeological sites exist in culturally valued and highly visited areas, particularly those on California State Park property or other land management agencies that allow public access. Additionally, these areas often prioritize environmental and biological protection and preservation in both management and interpretation. This study hopes to contribute heritage-based data to decision makers seeking management strategies that integrate the natural and cultural landscapes.

In applying the maritime cultural landscape framework, this study seeks to begin discourse that addresses the archaeological boundaries at the shoreline. While underwater reconnaissance is outside the scope of this study, documentary evidence or data provided by correspondence with California State Parks and NOAA can assist in this analysis.

Furthermore, a maritime cultural landscape requires particular linking elements to connect often geographically distant sites and features.

 How can doghole port studies in a maritime cultural landscape context facilitate bridging the land-sea boundary?  What physical or symbolic linking elements embody the maritime cultural landscape?

With a near lack of systematic guidance for documenting doghole port sites, this study searches for site attributes that define where the purely maritime begins to transform into the purely terrestrial. The doghole port is a nodal point along a linear track

11 of resources shipment from extraction zones to city markets. The activities undertaken at each doghole port reflect processes of both importing and exporting cargo and ideas. For management and research purposes it is imperative to define site boundaries that are manageable, yet illustrate the extensive physical and ideological influence of these sites.

Data Sources

This study employs primary documents, secondary sources, and archaeological data. Documentary evidence includes historical maps, newspapers, census data, land patents, mining journals, and navigational documents. Secondary sources include previous articles or books published on the history of Big Sur or doghole ports. These sources combine to detail the experiences of early homesteaders and industrial ventures.

Since no doghole ports have been previously recorded as archaeological sites in Big Sur, the archaeological data for this project had to be gathered through several episodes of non-disturbing archaeological pedestrian reconnaissance.

In most instances the documentary data proved elusive. However, occasional sources provided noteworthy details. Historical newspapers provided details regarding dates, people, and occasional input about doghole port constructions. However, most newspapers were Monterey-based and focused on industrial companies along the northern Big Sur coast, such as C.G. Notley and Co. Historical maps, primarily those created by the United States Coast and Geodetic Survey of the late 19th century, provide important information regarding location, timeframes, structures, and terrestrial transportation networks. Historical reports and journals, such as the 1888 Report of the

State Mineralogist, provide information on quarrying and mining, often covering

12 transportation infrastructure and coastal developments, such as doghole ports.

Furthermore, historical coast navigation documents, such as Davidson’s 1889 Coast Pilot of California, Oregon and Washington, supplied locational information and historical perspectives and priorities regarding coastal navigation. These historical documents were used to create a historic context of maritime activity and industry in Big Sur in the late

19th and early 20th centuries.

Thesis Organization

This thesis seeks to begin a dialogue that addresses the application of a maritime cultural landscape framework for the documentation, interpretation, and management of doghole ports and associated historic-era sites located in the vicinity of the waterfront.

Several steps are required in this process of managing cultural resources. These steps are detailed in several sequential chapters.

The first segment of this thesis introduces the theoretical frameworks used for documenting and interpreting the establishment, operation, and physical layout of doghole ports across the landscape. This literature review outlines previous studies that employ a maritime cultural landscape framework and how this study embraces an important, yet understudied, topic of historical archaeology. This chapter similarly illustrates how a maritime cultural landscape of Big Sur doghole ports will contribute to the management dialogue regarding locating, documenting, and analyzing archaeological sites that engage the waterfront locality. This involves providing avenues to explore the processes, activities, and perceptions embodied in a frontier maritime cultural landscape.

As will be detailed below, the maritime cultural landscape framework has been applied to a diversity of geographical regions and topics covering human-environmental relationships at the waterfront. However, the archaeological signatures and historical role of doghole ports in the development of California’s economy has been significantly understudied. The literature review will illustrate the benefit of applying a maritime cultural landscape framework to doghole port studies and illustrate how the application of this approach contributes to the advancement of the theoretical framework itself.

Similarly, it illustrates the framework’s advantage for the documentation, analysis, and management of these specific landscape types.

The second part of this thesis examines documentary records to develop a historic context that traces the development and operation of doghole ports in Big Sur. Arranged in geographical order, this chapter examines the actors, industries, dates, and technologies present at each doghole port. It becomes apparent that some doghole ports and corporations contain a larger amount of documentary data that others. This section will also detail the historical economic context for doghole ports and cultural occupation in Big Sur leading up to the Big Sur’s industrial era.

The third part details the methods employed during archaeological survey and the resulting archaeological finds at each doghole port site. Sections are organized by site and arranged in geographical order from north to south. This section concludes with a comparison of site attributes to distinguish patterns or differentiation.

The fourth part combines the documentary and archaeological data to examine the development of doghole ports in Big Sur and the roles they served for community and industrial development. This analysis examines several relevant research issues regarding

14 the application of a maritime cultural landscape framework, such as human- environmental interactions, links across the landscape, maritime infrastructure, and adaptive use of natural landscape elements. In addition, this chapter experiments with the landscape learning framework in the context of a maritime cultural landscape. This includes examining how prior knowledge and experience influence adaptations and environmental understandings. Overall, the data gathered throughout this study is analyzed in reference to relevant research questions and study-specific research questions. It concludes with directions for future research.

CHAPTER 2 LITERATURE REVIEW AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

Introduction

This chapter examines relevant and recent research that has employed maritime cultural landscape and landscape learning theoretical frameworks in archaeological contexts. When first popularized in 1992, Christer Westerdahl’s definition of the maritime cultural landscape became an instrumental tool that reconfigured archaeological approaches to human-ocean relationships. However, this initial approach resembled an inventory guideline that provided a series of landscape elements to be located and examined in maritime contexts. The ocean clearly embodies different cultural perceptions and adaptations than land, thereby requiring a methodology to conjure meaningful conclusions about social, economic, or political processes at the waterfront. The concept did however spark a new approach in archaeology that received a good deal of attention.

Subsequent research following Westerdahl’s introduction evolved to address diverse and complex maritime issues, as expressed in several overarching research categories.

A priority of the maritime cultural landscape approach is tackling research questions that encompass cultural resources occupying the land-sea interface. This approach built upon theoretical developments in coastal archaeology to critique inaccurately imposed site and landscape boundaries radiating from opposite directions of the waterline. These studies examine or expand upon shortcomings of previous archaeological investigations that focus solely on either the terrestrial or underwater at the expense of one another. These studies take a variety of forms, examining specific maritime features, exploring long-term structural histories and cultural knowledge, and

16 examining social, economic, or political processes. Furthermore, adaptation at the waterfront is an increasingly popular subject that has benefitted through the application of the maritime cultural landscape. This category of research often examines how cultures engage with and adapt to environmental obstacles.

Nature and culture as separate entities operating independently is no longer recognized as a viable approach to landscape analysis and management. The maritime cultural landscape, inherently attentive to cultural and natural relationships, has recently been introduced as guidance in coastal zone management. This research indicates how an integrated approach to management that considers the interrelationship of the natural and cultural can result in more sustainable cultural practices and environments, while also enhancing productivity of sensitive and valued marine zones.

Prior to examining previous research, this literature review briefly introduces previous approaches to coastal archaeological sites. It additionally addresses legislation and the current modes for identifying, documenting, and managing coastal or submerged archaeological sites. This section explores the application of the National Register of

Historic Places, principally bulletins that guide identification, documentation, and evaluation for specific cultural resources.

Cultural Landscapes and Maritime Archaeology

Broadly speaking, a cultural landscape approach seeks to transcend the scale of the individual site to recognize relationships between sites and a culture’s place within, and relationship with, a distinct geographical area and its environmental elements. There is often a focus on spatial context and patterns, including proximity and distance between

17 sites and features or culturally valued natural landmarks, including the social, economic, or political role each served. The landscape is a product of diverse tasks performed over months, years, or centuries, thereby making temporal context an important factor in studying patterns and processes (Ingold 2010). As Nicole Branton (2009:52) explains:

This is the interplay of humans and environment that characterizes landscape. What distinguishes archeological landscapes from other environments (or nonsocial landscapes) is their ability to signal and shape human behavior, the use to which humans actively put them to signal and shape desired behavior, and the archaeologist’s ability to interpret past human behavior from their physical and documentary record.

Recently, historical archaeology in the United States has employed the cultural landscape framework to investigate diverse topics. These include landscape transformation (Fischer

2007; Mrozowski 2010; Rockman 2003); colonialism, power, and resistance (Baugher

2010; Casella 2010; Spencer-Wood and Baugher 2010); cultural identity and race (Camp

2016; Wood 2012; Joseph 2016); transportation and movement (King, Mansius, and

Strickland 2016); and industry and mining (Hardesty 2010; Johnston 2014; Shackel 2004;

White 2016). Broadly speaking, these landscape studies illustrate how cultural beliefs and values shape the physical landscape. However, these studies primarily engage the terrestrial landscape with few incorporating the ocean or waterfront.

The taskscape is useful in examining processes across the cultural landscape.

After building upon decades of discussions amongst geographers, Tim Ingold defined the taskscape as a spatially and temporally bounded, and socially constructed place of human activity (Ingold 1993). The taskscape encapsulates human experience by analyzing the construction of landscapes. This requires investigating the passage of time and successive human activities and relationships with the environment. Patterned “dwelling activities”

18 define the taskscape only to the spatial and temporal extent that those activities are practiced, or when and where humans are “dwelling” on the landscape.

Ingold (2010) temporalizes the landscape of Pieter Bruegel’s 1565 painting titled

The Harvesters. He illustrates how the tasks of human dwelling and the features across the landscape are in fact a taskscape of orchestrated performances, cycles of events, and memorials to the passage of time. For example, the harvesters and the corn illustrate the annual cycle of agriculture. The path and tracks illustrate patterned movements dependent on specific and time sensitive human activities. The church and the tree symbolize the passage of time through their temporal and spatial stability and biographical expressions.

Ingold emphasizes that these processes and events, and their reflective features, illustrate interweaved tasks across the landscape.

The taskscape accurately represents the priorities that have guided landscape archaeology and amply demonstrate its terrestrial orientation. On the other side of the waterline is maritime archaeology, which until fairly recently has been preoccupied with isolated features and sites. These subjects of study bear qualities of mystique as they often resulted from exceptional and tragic human events, such as shipwrecks. This approach, primarily rooted in underwater and nautical archaeology, contrasts sharply with the large-scale spatial focus of landscape archaeology. Yet, similar to terrestrial landscape archaeology, these investigations have often reinforced an artificial land-sea barrier of archaeological investigations encompassing the littoral zone.

The term “coastal archaeology” has been applied to studies that examine the social, economic or political activities that engage or continually shift between land and sea contexts. As Ford (2011:771) explains of historical coastal archaeology,

Many historic peoples who lived in proximity to a coast moved freely from terrestrial pursuits, such as agriculture, to maritime occupations, including fishing and commerce (Lance 1987; O’Sullivan and Breen 2007:62; Westerdahl 2003). These farmers, fisherman, and sailors no doubt recognized the different environments threats and opportunities associated with both land-based and maritime pursuits but seem to have transitioned easily from one occupation to another as the need arose. The coast formed a figurative (and, in the case of quays and wharves, a literal) bridge between multiple aspects of their working lives.

Ford’s explanation illustrates the holistic and integrative potential of coastal archaeology.

The activities of coastal communities were not physically and cognitively split at the waterline, but rather integrated and reliant on both land and sea elements.

The Land-Sea Divide and the National Register

While undoubtedly valuable in their data production, archeological investigations of historic-era coastal and maritime activities that overlook land and sea interrelationships cannot be deemed rigorously accurate of past perceptions and uses of the maritime context. One issue, when considering the broader landscape perspective, is how to apply a cultural landscape framework that has evolved with a terrestrial bearing to maritime environments. Similarly, underwater and nautical archaeology rarely breaches the ocean surface, again divorcing potential cultural interconnections with terrestrial features. Cultural resource legislation inadvertently reinforces this land-sea divide through legislative regulations and bulletins, particularly the National Register evaluation process set forth by the National Historic Preservation Act (NHPA) of 1966, as amended.

Historic-era landscapes are property types frequently evaluated for National

Register eligibility. Several National Register bulletins provide guidance for identifying, documenting, and evaluating archaeological landscapes or historic properties. These

20 bulletins address designed historic landscapes, historic mining properties, historic rural landscapes, and traditional cultural properties (Keller and Keller, Noble Jr. and Spude

1997; Keller, Keller and Melnick 1999; Parker and King 1998). Two bulletins address maritime related elements, including historic vessels and shipwrecks and historic aids to navigation (Delgado 1992; Delgado and Foster). Each bulletin contains certain elements that are relevant and applicable to maritime cultural landscapes. However, piecemeal application of these bulletins can contribute to an unsystematic and unstructured approach to identification, documentation, and evaluation of archaeological sites within a maritime cultural landscape.

As can been seen, certain categories have been developed to organize cultural landscape documentation and analysis. These landscape categories require different approaches when addressed during the National Register process. Donald Hardesty has been instrumental in the development of identifying, documenting, and managing historic-era mining properties and landscapes. This includes analyzing shifting technologies and environmental understandings in the late 19th century Nevada mining districts (Hardesty 2010). In 1990 Donald Hardesty published an article questioning the vague criteria and absence of agreed-upon research strategies for historic-era mining districts encountered during NHPA Section 106 review. Hardesty believes a systematic approach that considers relevant research questions that address demography, technology, and socioeconomic organization at various local, district, and world system scales can assist with evaluation of properties under Criterion D of the National Register Criteria for

Evaluation. Such an approach, he argued, should produce a database of comparable inventories that facilitates significance assessment for National Register nominations.

Two years following this article the NPS published National Register Bulletin 42:

Guidelines for Identifying, Evaluating and Registering Historic Mining Sites. This document provides procedures for identifying diverse mining sites, determining integrity, and deciding the most suitable criteria for evaluation. Other systematic and relevant research designs for mining landscapes have been developed to assist in evaluating mining property information potential, including the 2008 Caltrans produced document,

“A Historical Context and Archaeological Research Design for Mining Properties in

California.” Rather than examining a single feature or site, this research design introduces current and relevant research directions that integrate mining property types and features across the landscape.

The feature system framework is important component of Hardesty’s approach to defining and evaluating property types associated with complex historical archaeological landscapes. Hardesty initially introduced the concept in 1988 to delineate analytical units for Nevada’s mining landscapes (Hardesty 1988). He defines the features system as

“networks or geographical clusters of archaeological features that can be linked to the same human activity, such as a technological process or a specific social organization, for example, a household” (Hardesty and Little 2009:29). This serves to link and arrange geographical clusters of archaeological features into distinct property types.

The feature system employs archaeological, ethnohistorical, and historical data to interpret specific processes or layers of processes. For example, Hardesty explains shifting technologies related to hoisting systems in mining landscapes. The whim was the most common hoisting system in the 1860s, but that shifted in the following decade with the introduction of steam-driven hoist engine systems. This changed again in the 1890s

22 with the introduction of electric-engine driven systems. The physical remains of each of these technologies illustrate distinct feature systems (Hardesty 2003b:3).

Hardesty and Little (2009) have applied the feature system framework to management contexts. This approach begins with the development of a historic context that analyzes a particular theme, timeframe, and geographical region. The context is used to facilitate understanding and evaluation of property types by allowing researchers to make informed determinations that consider their distinctive significance. Furthermore, formerly trivial archaeological features that would typically be considered insignificant gain greater relevance when understood as an element of a larger more complex system.

Taken as a whole, this framework contributes to management by placing features in a context that defines and links archaeological resources and property types. This assists in assessing integrity and significance while addressing relevant research questions.

As opposed to historic-era mining landscapes or terrestrial rural landscapes, no systematic guidelines exist for documenting and evaluating historic-era maritime cultural landscapes. This is compounded by the previous inability of archaeologists to systematically approach sites that integrate land and sea elements. At best, this has forced ad hoc research and evaluation based upon piecemeal National Register bulletins and ambiguous criteria standards. At worst, it has resulted in a disregard of sites or features.

While the mainstay of heritage preservation in the United States is attuned to terrestrial heritage, federal legislation addressing submerged resources does indeed exist.

The United States developed several laws that focus explicitly on protection of underwater resources and provide procedures for addressing issues regarding

23 stewardship, responsibility, and ownership. King (2013:283) explains the role of admiralty law in human access to sunken ships,

Grounded (as it were) on the fact that a ship represents a considerable financial investment that society does not lightly surrender to nature, admiralty law encourages the salvage of shipwrecks, and it has traditionally paid little attention to historic and archaeological values. Under admiralty law, a salvager can “arrest” a wreck and obtain exclusive right to it, which only such controls as the admiralty court chooses to impose.

Preservationists, upset by the destruction caused by unsystematic research and documentation, pushed for the passage of the Abandoned Shipwrecks Act of 1988. The shipwreck must meet certain criteria, including abandonment, location within the submerged lands of the United States and must not be a Navy vessel. If listed on or found eligible for the National Register, the vessel falls outside the authority of admiralty courts and management is transferred to the state in which it lies. The act additionally provided official guidelines that recommend establishing park and preserves with interpretive materials (NPS 1990). The Sunken Military Craft Act of 2005 declares federal ownership of all sunken military ships and aircrafts in perpetuity.

The National Marine Sanctuary Act of 1978 is a comprehensive and important legislative piece, not just for natural resources, but also for underwater cultural heritage.

In fact, one of the reasons for establishing the first National Marine Sanctuary was to prevent looting of the U.S.S. Monitor. This act prohibits the removal of, or injury to, historic sanctuary resources or alterations to the seabed. While this act prevents unauthorized salvage of wrecked vessels, it can only do so in sanctuary designated waters

(Varmer 2014).

Underwater cultural heritage legislation applies protection in a piecemeal fashion, often discounting relationships with other underwater features or those on land.

Consideration of interconnections of sites and features is slightly better on land, but still suffers from separation from maritime elements. A maritime cultural landscape approach that bridges the land and sea divide can serve as a channel to systematize documentation and evaluation of sites and resources that do not fit neatly into established, and often inflexible, listing guidelines and criteria.

The Maritime Cultural Landscape

Christer Westerdahl defined the maritime landscape as “the whole network of sailing routes, old as well as new, with ports and harbours along the coast, and its related constructions and remains of human activity, underwater as well as terrestrial”

(Westerdahl 1992:6). Primarily examining the coastlines of Scandinavia and Northern

Europe, Westerdahl developed a holistic approach that analyzed the tangible and intangible components of humans’ relationship with the maritime environment.

According to his approach, the material remnants of the landscape include shipwrecks, land remains, and natural topographic features. Intangible elements, often influencing or reflective of their material counterparts, include traditions of usage and place names.

According to Westerdahl shipwrecks are the most important materials for dating due to their oral and archival source material. Land remains illustrate the specific activities that took place in a geographical area, such as habitation and village sites, cairns, sailing markers, churchyards, and beacons. Tradition of usage consists of “the mental map of coastal people in general, based on the existence of well-used havens and routes, and on

25 the influence of local winds and currents” (1992:8). The study of natural topography coupled with traditions of knowledge can lead the archaeologist to identify locally significant natural havens. These havens, according to Westerdahl, exemplify a maritime culture’s use and perception of the landscape, such as targeting lagoons for culturally specific social, economic, or political advantages. Place names illustrate a culture’s perceptions and uses of the landscape and its resources. Westerdahl’s studies examine place names common to blockages, sailing routes, defenses, cogs, and inland transportation (Westerdahl 1992). The novel approach of Westerdahl’s maritime cultural landscape was influential because it incorporated terrestrial and submerged datasets and sought links between them. However, this early definition was structured more as an inventory with categorical descriptions than as a theoretical analysis of what these items may mean in the interpretation of waterfront activities.

In 2011 Westerdahl expanded upon his 1992 definition to characterize sub- landscapes of the maritime environment that may exist at distinct temporal or geographical scales. The economic landscape consists of subsistence related activities, such as fishing, hunting, and agriculture. The landscape of transport and communications includes routes, seamarks, harbors, roads, portages, and transit lines. The power landscape embodies central areas of administration or fortification, and areas demarcating class structure or political allegiance. The outer resource landscape refers to the natural resource reserves that provide shipbuilding materials. The inner resource landscape considers the resources and surplus of coastal commerce and voyages. The cognitive landscape is the mental map of the maritime community as reflected in place names, oral traditions, and ritual. Finally, the recreative (leisure) landscape forms places

26 and structures that create entertainment or relaxation, such as marinas or cottages.

Westerdahl asserts that these sublandscapes are not mutually exclusive, but often overlap and can be reflected in a single feature, such as coastal portages, which can embody both the landscape of power and transportation (Westerdahl 2011:746-747). This version of

Westerdahl’s definition surpasses the initial inventory approach to explore humans’ diverse relationships with the ocean. It is important to recognize that the vast majority of

Westherdahl’s studies and resulting conclusions are based upon data gathered in Northern

Europe. His approach has proved to be applicable to diverse geographical regions and subsequent research has evolved to address complex social, economic, and political processes.

Rather than researching with backs to the sea or land, Westerdahl and various other maritime archaeologists began embracing research issues that benefit from links that surpass waterline boundaries. These approaches introduced new ways of analyzing human relationships with the ocean and coast and often reconfigured or expanded upon previous conclusions regarding the importance of the ocean and waterways. A prerequisite to these studies was establishing concepts that linked the land and sea.

The concept of “transit point” introduced in 1992 by Westerdahl, provided an initial push to link elements previously studied separately. The transit point is a specific feature or juncture in the maritime cultural landscape that connects divergent elements or areas across a landscape. These points, according to Westerdahl, exist at “connections with waterways inland and points where vessel or transportation methods change”

(1992:6). Westerdahl also ensured the maritime cultural landscape paid special attention to the cognitive and symbolic aspects of human relationships with the sea. For example,

27 he has examined North Sea taboo, place names, and ritual related to the human-construed land-sea duality (Westerdahl 2009).

As maritime cultural landscape research expanded to various geographical and temporal contexts several activities and technologies became recognized as cross-cultural maritime patterns. For example, Hunter (1994) demonstrates how conservatism is imbued in elements of the maritime cultural landscape. He explains, “Some maritime aspects have little potential for change over the centuries, most obviously the seas, the routes between individual centres and states, and the need to combat tides, wind and weather”

(1994:263). In addition, he examines the factors deciding the degree of a community’s maritime reliance, including economy, geography, subsistence, administration, and access (Hunter 1994:262).

Furthermore, researchers began to experiment with ways to augment the theoretical approach of maritime cultural landscape studies. Firth (1995) recommends the archaeology of practice as a supplement to analysis. The foundation of this approach is the “locale,” introduced by Anthony Giddens to describe the structuring of social interaction based on specific situations and the use of physical space (Giddens 1979:207).

It caught on in archaeology because of its capability to identify “material culture as an active medium of social reproduction rather than as a passive backdrop” (Firth 1995:2).

Firth argues this structural approach allows flexibility in determining maritime labels for communities that place deviating amounts of emphasis on maritime resources.

Ilves (2004) emphasizes the necessity to approach the maritime landscape from the sea, what she terms the “seaman’s perspective.” There is the need to “situate oneself within the practice that the object belongs to, then investigate the object and its

28 contribution to that practice” (2004:167). An approach to maritime sites strictly from land can relegate the importance of knowledge, landmarks, and constructions associated with navigation, piloting, and safe landing. Ocean characteristics, such as underwater topography, salinity, currents, and waves, influence daily existence in maritime environments. These factors are reflected in watercraft construction and landing site location and structures. Similar to Westerdahl, Ilves explores landing sites as important transition points between land and sea. These sites serve as nodes whereby transportation and communication systems radiate and connect surrounding terrestrial settlements and activities, thereby influencing social and economic development.

Historical ecology has been applied to a maritime cultural landscape study of the

West Florida lumber industry. Grinnan (2009) examines how the physical attributes of the maritime cultural landscape reflect historical events and processes. Over time, changes in sawmill operations and technology, such as water-powered mills to stream powered mills, transformed the landscape in different ways. This is reflected in the establishment of various transit points along the riverine environment and infrastructural developments, such as rail lines and water-filled trenches.

Maritime cultural landscape studies often focus upon specific categories of maritime features or sites to better illustrate broader social, political, or economic patterns and processes. Harris, Jones, and Schnitzer (2012) examine how shipwrecks along the

Namibia coastline are symbols of a collective and contested social memory and historical narrative rooted in colonialism. One such ship, the Eduard Bohlen II, delivered mail, cargo, and passengers during the callous diamond-mining period of the early 20th century.

Throughout history these ships have been romanticized as symbols of an illustrious past,

29 but Harris, Jones, and Schnitzer argue the role of the archaeologist is to illuminate a more comprehensive and historically accurate picture that illustrates the role these ships played during a time period of grim colonialist enterprises.

Landing sites are popular topics of inquiry, both for their comparatively abundant archaeological remains and their political, social, or economic roles and complexity. Ilves

(2009) investigates the status and development of landing site studies in the Baltic Sea.

She argues for the necessity of developing systematic terminology for sites because they have suffered from interchangeable vocabulary applied to both similar and different types of landing sites. One issue is that the landing site label is applied to all sites located on the coastline. This “ascertained per-understanding,” labels all presence of human activity on the coast as involving the landing of a vessel. She argues researchers must employ systematic search criteria and develop empirical data that delineates landings sites from other categories. She calls for the discipline to standardize terms, such as natural harbors, anchorages, and specialized landing-places. Additionally, Ilves (2006) has examined maritime cultural landscape place names. She explores cultural relationships to the sea and land by analyzing Estonian-Swedish places names, which illuminate navigation, ownership, economy, and subsistence.

Specific nodes within the maritime cultural landscape, such as ports or harbors, are hotbeds of social processes that may be reflected in the archaeological and documentary record. This has led to the application of sociological approaches to specific elements of the maritime landscape. Rogers (2013) explains the advantage of this approach for ports and harbors because of their role in important historical events and everyday activities. Such analysis would focus on the motives, experiences, and identities

30 of those that live and work in those areas. In addition, Rogers (2011) examines the religious contexts of artificial waterfront installations in Roman London. These structures, physically and symbolically linking the land and sea, hold religious significance due to the inherent dangers of the sea and the prestige often associated with seafaring. A concentration of religious monuments on the waterfront further portrays this significance of the liminal zone. Ilves (2011:5) explains, “Although structures meant to facilitate landing are important and often physically characteristic to landing sites, they do not tell us about the importance of landing sites in the wider social context.” She examines these sites as “water-bound contact zones,” whereby humans meet and interact by means of watercraft and land at socially constructed localities to achieve specific tasks or activities. The nature of social relations is dependent upon the role of the landing site.

Forsythe (2007) has examined coastal fortifications along Bantry Bay, Ireland. He examines the imposing nature of castles, signal towers, and forts as reflective of a landscape of control and authority and a society in conflict. These fortifications show persistence in location and positioning over time, indicating their important role in maritime communication and protection.

The maritime cultural landscape provides avenues to explore alternative influences that shaped social, political, and economic processes in specific regions and time periods, often critiquing previous studies that overlooked the importance of maritime activity. Vaz Friere (2014) introduced the maritime cultural landscape approach to Portugal to examine the role of the littoral zone during development of Portuguese shipping industries and imperial expansion. Meide and Sikes (2014) investigate the role of maritime landscapes in shaping the political ideology and social inequality of 19th-

31 century British-controlled Achill Island in Ireland. The British reorganized the maritime landscape of traditional communities by regulating fishing industries and limiting vernacular watercraft use, while constructing piers, harbors, boathouses, and government buildings. While these changes are visible across the waterfront, in depth investigations indicate that resistance is present in the retention of rowing style and vernacular watercrafts that allowed entrance into traditional fishing areas. Dunn and Meide (2014) similarly study the maritime cultural landscape on Achill Island to reveal residents’ resistance through selective participation in the British capitalistic economy. Highlighting the importance of access to the sea during the 18th and 19th centuries, Dunn and Meide elucidate strategies such as seasonal migration, illegal harvesting from wrecked vessels, and continued traditional practices of seaweed gathering and boat building. Despite

“civilizing” forces regarding sea and land use regulations, the residents of Achill retained cultural practices within a contested maritime cultural landscape.

The maritime frontier has been explored as a peripheral region reflective of broader sociocultural and economic processes. Korsgaard and Gibbs (2016) examine non-indigenous elements of the 19th and early 20th centuries Solomon Island maritime industrial frontier, including nodal points of activity, navigational aids, maritime infrastructure, and concepts of land and sea tenure, indigenous agency, and shipping patterns. Spatial and temporal analysis of these elements indicates the temporary nature of economic activities in the frontier. This undeveloped maritime infrastructure influenced how the land and sea was used and perceived. The non-indigenous occupation of this landscape is reflective of broader social, economic, and political processes

32 embedded in the Western European world system. This economic strategy necessitated rapid exploitation and relocation based on resource availability and access.

Long-term historical perspectives have been applied to frontier and peripheral colonies in maritime contexts. According to the French Annales School of history, the longue durée, or the “long term,” is deep structural history, the longest wavelength of time (Braudel 1972, 1980). While the longue durée has been most influential in archaeology, shorter time scales of the Annales School include événetements, the history of events, and conjonctures, which is deeper structural history. Maritime events have been examined as reflections of greater historical structures. Staniforth (2003) examines the remains of colonial shipwreck events off the Australian coast to explore historical structures and processes reflective of long-term cultural attitudes and preferences. British cultural continuity in colonial regions is reflected in the types and amount of motherland cargo selected for shipment. Staniforth discovered the strongest cultural continuities were presented in material goods that expressed socio-economic status and instilled a sense of permanence, such as dining sets and construction materials.

This historical perspective has also been employed to examine cultural continuities. Rönnby (2007) examines “maritime durees” across the Baltic Sea landscape.

Employing a long-term perspective, Rönnby indicates how local and regional relationships between people and the sea persist over extensive periods of time. For over

9,000 years marine-related subsistence, maritime technology, exchange networks, and social and mental structures have persisted in a physically-bounded maritime cultural landscape. Material signatures, such as cairns along the coastline, portray enduring mental perceptions that spotlight the land-sea intersection. Furthermore, Herva and

Ylimaunu (2014) demonstrate long-term mental structures linked to post-glacial land uplift and environmental change in the north Baltic Sea. The liminality of coastlines and islands, where land was literally and perceptively emerging from the sea, may have been symbolic of emerging lifecycles. The geographical and temporal persistence of burials, metalworking, marketplaces, and fairs indicate the lasting perceptions of islands as places that structure environmental interaction and perpetuate separateness.

While the maritime cultural landscape framework has critiqued previous historical or archaeological interpretations, the framework itself has also received critique. This has primarily pointed to a lack of theory, and has accused the framework of contributing to the issues it attempts to refine. For example, Tuddenham (2010) questions whether the maritime cultural landscape bridges or reinforces the gap between the marine and terrestrial. He emphasizes that anything specifically maritime is difficult to define because of the existence of many heterogeneous elements at the waterfront. Employing

Actor Network Theory, Tuddenham explores the sorting of elements within the maritime cultural landscape network to produce quasi-objects, or objects that are either terrestrial or maritime. The process of sorting these objects is what Tuddenham defines as maritimity. Maritimity, Tuddenham explains, is a category of understanding and a

“process of purification that takes place in the [maritime] network, in between the poles of the land and sea” (2010:8). He argues that during this purification a division within the network is established, further dividing the maritime cultural landscape from other terrestrial landscapes. Tuddenham believes the maritime cultural landscape’s intention of bridging the land and sea divide has in reality contributed to a division.

Flatman (2003) examines theoretical approaches in maritime archaeology, arguing the necessity for theories that address shorelines as either bridges or barriers to cultural activities. He provides three recommendations that combine a Marxist perspective with engendering approaches. First, a phenomenological approach, which considers sensory experiences, can expand perspectives and positions within the seascape. Secondly, the relationship of shipboard societies with ‘mainstream’ societies must be examined with a focus on engendering research while considering power, class, and gender. Thirdly, the influence of mainstream societal actions must be considered as consequential to maritime culture, technology, and innovation.

Few applications of maritime cultural landscape have been used in California historical contexts. In examining the inland maritime cultural landscape of the

Montezuma Slough in the California Delta, Esser (1999) argues that a consideration of both land and water features are necessary to fully understand the complex nature of regional settlement. To assist archaeologists in identifying and managing diverse resources in the maritime cultural landscape, she developed four landscape categories that describe landscape modification and development. This includes the waterway, which is the delta channel itself. Landings are areas where maritime and agricultural elements meet. These can range from brush pilings to piers. Land features are human constructions with a maritime orientation, such as villages built on stilts or houses that face the delta.

Modification of waterways includes levees and other constructions used to control flooding and water levels for transportation. This typology expands the researcher’s interpretation of the landscape by illustrating the interconnectedness of land and water.

The maritime cultural landscape approach can illustrate episodes of social and economic transitions, or environmental change that often necessitate cultural adaptation.

Oron et al. (2015) illustrate how offshore anchorages, or Rujums, in the Dead Sea illustrate small scale, ad hoc solutions to environmental challenges. The North Dead Sea provided ideal transit zones, yet loose bottom silt, an absence of natural anchorages, and extreme water fluctuations make economic transactions from sea-going vessels difficult.

Groups adapted to these environmental challenges by constructing large artificial stone mounds that assisted in landing larger watercrafts that facilitated trade. Hoyt et al. (2014) examine cultural adaptations to the changing nature of the Carolina coastline, located within the Monitor National Marine Sanctuary. The shoreline, characterized by shifting inlets, islands, and sounds, has provided humans with subsistence, transportation, and settlement for thousands of years. Hoyt et al. examine physical remains and cultural knowledge to indicate cultural use and adaptations to environmental services and obstacles. Maritime infrastructure, windmills, lighthouses, fisheries, coastal defenses, shipwrecks, and lifesaving stations are products of human interaction to a constantly changing maritime landscape that is both hazardous and productive. They emphasize how human will continue to adapt to these environmental challenges, such as sea level rise.

The maritime cultural landscape approach facilitates and expands upon previous studies through its ability to integrate cultural sites and natural features. These sites or features, either terrestrial or underwater, were often studied solitarily without consideration of greater spatial contexts. Carter (2012) examines shortcomings in previous coastal archaeological investigations in Otago Harbour, New Zealand by pointing out how previous studies succumbed to this single site fallacy. Carter examined

36 the linkages and spatial patterning of maritime sites as reflective of larger social, economic, and political circumstances. He establishes several themes that integrate sites across the maritime cultural landscape, including navigational aids and hazards, abandoned watercrafts, and anthropogenic environmental changes. Caporaso (2011), using shipwreck and oceanographic data, develops a phenomenological model that examines patterns in human relationship with the water. Focused within the Thunder Bay

National Marine Sanctuary, Caporaso determines maritime actions were shaped by shipwreck patterns overtime. In addition, the oceanographic processes of currents, wave actions, and bathymetric traps influence how wreckage was mobilized underwater. This indicates both natural and cultural transformations at work.

Maritime Heritage Management

The maritime cultural landscape approach of addressing both cultural and natural features has recently been recognized as beneficial for land and resource management.

Barr (2013) emphasizes how this holistic approach complements management of marine protected areas. Employing the framework incorporates material and symbolic human dimensions, such as transit points, shipping routes, traditions, place names, and ships.

The inclusivity of these diverse elements and their relationships to the natural world create the totality of the marine environment. Coupled with an ecosystem-based approach, the maritime cultural landscape could surpass false divisions between the natural and cultural. This has the potential to assist management decision-making in equally weighing history and archaeology, traditional knowledge, subsistence, ecosystems, and access to traditional or sacred sites. If understood as a product of its

37 history, current marine systems can benefit from sustainable management decisions that consider valued and sensitive social, economic, environmental, and cultural resources.

Stafan Claesson (2009) examines the fragmented and inadequate frameworks for maritime cultural heritage protection in the United States. These inadequacies in legislation range from “a lack of clear management objectives, uniform resource protection, well-defined jurisdictions, regular procedures for decision-making, guidelines and standards for conducting research, coordination among various authorities, and funding for research, management and education” (Claesson 2009:705). A solution to this, Claesson explains, would include an ecosystem-based approach, consisting of sub- regional, regional, and national councils that review and decide how to reduce impacts and facilitate social and economic activities within the marine environment.

While preservation of cultural heritage is often the utmost priority for maritime archaeologists, public interpretation and access to knowledge is increasingly sought during resource management plans. Maritime heritage trails have increasingly become popular ways to interpret and manage diverse maritime cultural landscapes. As Alves

(2008) indicates, underwater archaeological trails in Portugal have accomplished the principles established in the 2001 UNESCO Convention on the Protection of Underwater

Heritage; that is conservation in situ of underwater cultural heritage and sustainable public access. Maritime heritage trails are extensive in Australia, although many of these are shipwreck trails, and therefore isolated from terrestrial component of the maritime cultural landscape. An exception is the Southern Ocean Shipwreck Trail. Completed in

2000 this trail incorporates diverse elements of the maritime landscape, including coastal townships, jetties, lighthouses, and related maritime disasters (Philippou and Staniforth

2003:139). Philippou and Staniforth (2003) argue that success of trails requires a target audience and community involvement to systematize interpretive goals and increase community stewardship responsibilities.

Maritime heritage trails in the United States span various coastlines, lakeshores, and river bends, incorporating both submerged and terrestrial remains. The Florida

Maritime Heritage Trail consists of six themes: coastal environments, coastal communities, coastal forts, lighthouses, historic ports, and historic shipwrecks (Smith

2007). Proposed by the Florida Bureau of Archaeological Research in 1998 and completed in 2000 with grants from NOAA, the trail is currently managed by the state to provide public access and interpretation of its historic maritime ties. The trail provides posters that integrate the six themes across the maritime cultural landscape. As Sorset

(2006:16) states, “Interpreted sites linked in a thematic manner are effective tools for public outreach because such trails are able to capture historical, environmental, and cultural contexts of communities or even entire regions.” Thunder Bay National Marine

Sanctuary established the Great Lakes Maritime Heritage Trail. This trail contains segments along the Thunder River that provide pedestrian boardwalks, bridges, historic docks, interpretive signs, and a historically-themed river front park (NOAA 2017).

While this study does not involve the establishment of a maritime heritage trail, it does provide data that can someday contribute to the development of one. In California the establishment of a maritime heritage trail has the capability of linking data from maritime cultural landscape studies with cultural and environmental interpretation, protection, and access developed through collaboration between California State Parks,

National Marine Sanctuaries, and local communities. Furthermore, it could succeed in

39 achieving goals of public interpretation and access initially introduced by legislation, such as the Abandoned Shipwrecks Act.

Landscape Learning

This study is the first to apply the landscape learning model to a historic-era maritime cultural landscape. This model is a fairly recent development in landscape archaeology; therefore, the following synthesis examines studies that span diverse geographical regions and time periods. Landscape learning is a model that examines how colonizing populations employ, adapt, innovate, or dispense existing knowledge when encountering new environmental obstacles or opportunities. Archaeologies that examine landscape learning examine cultural continuity and change by focusing on adaptation through the acquisition of locational, limitational, and social knowledge. Locational knowledge refers to the locations and physical characteristics of necessary and valued resources; while limitational is the boundaries and costs of those resources; and social knowledge is the collection of social experiences that forms the cultural landscape

(Rockman 2003:4-5). This model can serve as an avenue to explore innovations and adaptations within a frontier maritime cultural landscape.

Marcy Rockman (2009:51) explains landscape learning as “a model that addresses how human groups gather and share environmental information from the perspective of colonization.” Rockman explains that the landscape learning process is possible through human behavioral flexibility, in which successful adaptation to new environments requires a feedback loop of locational, limitational, and social knowledge. In exploring the models relation to evolutionary theory, Rockman (2009) indicates that environmental

40 knowledge structures and feedback loops illuminate long-term patterns of human- environmental interaction and human macroscale physical evolution.

Additionally, Rockman (2010) examines the initial European colonization of

North America to investigate how Jamestown colonists’ environmental expectations shaped responses to climatic variability. A longstanding belief of climactic symmetry caused the colonists to anticipate weather patterns similar to their homeland. However, these assumptions proved inaccurate and were further exacerbated by the climatic instability of the Little Ice Age. Documentary sources of colonists indicate disconnect between expected climate and the climate encountered, thereby increasing the timeframe for updating limitational and social knowledge required for shifting economic crops.

Blanton (2003) also examines landscape learning in the Jamestown colony, indicating initial “maladaptation” due to inexperience and distraction due to deep-seated cultural propensities to accumulate culturally valuable resources. However, eventual settlement dispersal, infrastructural development, and systematic land clearance allowed for the development of a prosperous and distinctive regional culture.

A similar accumulation of climactic knowledge was required in Australia during the British settlement of Adelaide Hills in the 1830s. Piddock et al. (2009) illustrates how the environmental demands for British style home and market gardens and experimental vineyards and orchards were inconsistent with the unpredictable rain and hot summers of southern Australia. In an attempt to construct an economically viable landscape the colonists logged the surrounding hills, which increased sedimentation, topsoil loss, and diminishment of water supplies. Books were published to assist settlers in adapting to

41 environmental obstacles, yet attachment to homeland crops, vegetables, and flowers delayed successful adaptation and contributed to environmental degradation.

The landscape learning model has been applied to colonization events such as historic-era mining rushes. Lawrence and Davies (2012) indicate how miners that entered

New South Wales in 1851 encountered an environment ill-suited to their water-intensive mining techniques. Establishing the location of gold and water was vital to the success of the industry. Limitational knowledge was acquired through trial and error in separating gold from quartz and in developing technologies that could adequately store and transport limited water supplies. Social knowledge is evident in the eventual spread of technologies suited for dry environments. Through colonization and environmental interaction miners drastically transformed the physical landscape to meet social and economic needs.

Donald Hardesty (2003a) applies the landscape learning model to examine symbols of cultural identity and perceptions of landscape elements during Nevada’s late

19th century mining rushes. The colonization of miners involved interaction between historically-rooted social and cultural knowledge about geology and technology and newly encountered environmental elements and obstacles. Overtime new discoveries of the geological structure of ore bodies changed settlement patterns. Furthermore, successive mine exploration and development instigated technological innovation. These cultural adaptations channeled through environmental learning led to the physical and symbolic shaping of the mining landscape.

Similar to learning the distinct geological structure of mining landscapes, the initial late Pleistocene colonizers of Sahul learnt the structure and distribution of lithic quarry sources across the landscape. Ford (2011) explains how the inability to discover

42 raw materials for stone tool procurement can have drastic consequences for a colonizing population reliant on hunting and gathering. Therefore, familiarization with the distribution of lithic sources across the landscape was essential. The archaeological record demonstrates a lack of exotic material and the expedient exploitation of material for weight reduction while traveling. This strategy demonstrates flexibility and adaptation by highly mobile colonizing groups that learnt locations and qualities of quarry sources.

The Clovis colonization of North America is similarly characterized as highly mobile.

Gillespie (2007) employs a phenomenological approach to examine the Clovis enculturation of North America’s Pleistocene landscape. Colonization followed a trajectory of initial occupation, reduced mobility, and eventual settlement into specific regional niches. Gillespie argues that Clovis artifact caches provide physical evidence of ideological shifts from a mobile to a fixed sense of landscape. Ritual burial of Clovis points, it is argued, indicates an increased understanding of a dynamic and unpredictable environment.

Landscape Learning in Maritime Contexts

In applying the landscape learning model to the maritime cultural landscape framework one is able to examine how human relationships with the ocean and coastline can change or remain constant in specific regions and across time periods. This is pertinent in cases where colonizing populations enter a maritime frontier with specific understandings, values, and techniques of working a landscape.

Several maritime cultural landscape studies illustrate human agency during episodes of social, political, or environmental change. For example, Staniforth’s (2003)

43 examination of British colonies in Australia illustrates episodes of cultural continuity, or attempts to retain social status in a new and demanding frontier environment. In addition,

Ilves (2004) research on Achill Island demonstrates the retention of cultural traditions despite increased British regulations on maritime activities. This illustrates the variety of human decision-making in maritime contexts. Furthermore, colonizing populations negotiate and adapt between established knowledge and new experience to produce new environmental understandings.

Korsgaard and Gibbs’ (2016) application of frontier theory in European economic exploration of the Soloman Islands illustrate episodes of landscape learning, or lack thereof, in maritime contexts. The structure of 19th European economic activities was rapid resource exploitation, which resulted in underdeveloped infrastructure and temporary settlement. This strategy did not allow for increased accumulation of local environmental knowledge and likely resulted in overlooked economic opportunities.

Hunter’s (1994) explanation of conservatism across the maritime cultural landscape is an important factor when applying landscape learning. If a specific technique or technology worked it was often left unchanged. In this case landscape learning may resemble more of the adaptation of existing technologies to meet specific cultural or environmental requirements, rather than complete technological innovation.

Western Environmental History

The study weaves together two theoretical approaches to address an important theme in the historical narrative of the American West. One role of the maritime cultural landscape is to geographically demarcate the frontier zone, while landscape learning

44 examines the technological processes within the peripheral frontier economy. Frontier zones were simultaneously isolated and connected. Industrial and development activities stimulated the extraction of distant and remote resources, while connections developed to transport the resources to the metropolis. The unfolding of these activities on the Pacific

Coast embodies the geographical terminus of America’s colonization of the West.

Cronon, Miles, and Gitlan (1992) describe historical processes that shaped isolated and remote American frontiers into regions with unique identities. These six processes include species shifting, market making, land taking, boundary setting, state forming, and self-shaping. These processes are not linear, sequential, or predictable, and involved decisions by settlers to reproduce old lifeways or embrace new ones.

Populations with Old World origins entered frontiers with alien organisms, mercantile or capitalistic ambitions, and perceptions of land and social status boundaries that were linked to the state from which they came. The interaction of these processes with new landscape elements and Native inhabitants would transform the landscape and create unique regional identities, as seen across the landscape today.

The transformation of a frontier to a region with a unique identity is tied to the landscape learning process. In the context of western environmental history, populations colonized frontier zones carrying culturally rooted ideologies and technologies. How this knowledge shifted overtime would involve interaction with new environmental factors and engagement with new social or cultural understandings.

Doghole Port Literature

Considering their significant role in shaping California’s economy and landscape, it is surprising to discover a paucity of historical and archaeological studies that

45 comprehensively examine doghole ports. Broad histories of the Pacific Coast Lumber

Trade acknowledge the important role of doghole ports in commerce and transportation.

Yet, few studies specifically target their physical remnants or social and economic role, and the sources that do are quite dated. Much of the available research focuses upon

Northern California, including the Sonoma, Mendocino, and Humboldt counties. This is understandable as the region contained the most extensive redwoods stands and housed the majority of California’s lumber industry. Cox (1974) provided an in depth history of the Pacific Coast Lumber Trade, detailing market and infrastructural development, and the technological changes that intensified resource extraction and transportation. Cox illustrates the immense influence that distant needs and decision-making had on the settlement, investment, and development of California’s lumber industry.

In 1980 California Department of Parks and Recreation produced a document on doghole ports that to this day remains one of the most descriptive. Titled “Dogholes and

Donkey Engines: A Historical Resource Study of Six State Park Systems Units on the

Mendocino Coast,” this document provides an encompassing historic context for the

Northern California redwood lumber industry. It examines site-specific components at six state park units along the Mendocino coast. This document details the actors, activities, constructions, and transactions undertaken at sites and landings along the coast and addresses the infrastructural elements that linked them. While this study did not record archaeological sites, it does provide historical information that can greatly assist future doghole port documentation.

Kortum and Olmsted (1971) used oral accounts and photographs to chronicle the development of doghole ports along the Mendocino coast. They detail the technological

46 innovation and knowledge required by schooner captains and lumbermen who loaded and transported the cargo. Years later, Lindstrom (2013) produced a brief summary of lumber landings on the Sonoma and Mendocino coastlines. He focuses upon the experiences of schooner captains and specific vessels that plied the coast. He emphasizes the unique circumstances bestowed upon lumber merchants as opposed to other oceanic-based commerce, such as the shorter timespan for hauls and the proximity to coastal hazards.

Terrance Ryan provides important historical information on the role of schooners and maritime transportation during the Pacific Coast Lumber Trade. Ryan (2010, 2012) details the evolution of the two-masted schooner and the steam schooner for rapid near shore navigation to doghole ports. Their design was unique to the needs of the doghole ports, necessitating accommodation to shallow waters, surf, rocks, and diverse loading methods from shore. He emphasizes the individuality of each doghole ports, primarily the navigational obstacles unique to each one. He emphasized how schooner captains often limited their navigation to a few landings that they were most familiar with.

Literature Summary

The maritime cultural landscape framework has greatly expanded archaeological interpretations of human use and adaptation at land-sea interface. It has been applied in various geographical regions and time periods and has integrated diverse maritime and terrestrial-related features. An increase in archaeological studies along the coastlines, often mandated by legislation such as the NHPA, may require systematic approaches that create comparable datasets. The maritime cultural landscape has the capacity to serve this

47 role. Additionally, beyond identification and documentation, the approach can assist goals of sustainable natural and cultural resource management.

Landscape learning serves an interpretive role that has the potential to provide chronologies of cultural adaptations. Familiarization with new environments may be reflected in technological changes, settlement shifts, and shifts in targeted resources for extraction. A product of landscape learning is assignment of social and cultural meanings to a landscape and its elements (Hardesty 2003a). An understanding of historical, social, and cultural meanings and the resulting landscape transformations can benefit current ecosystem-based management approaches as discussed by Barr (2013).

This literature review has illustrated the importance of spatial and temporal context in cultural landscape analysis. These factors are often interconnected and assist in the analysis of a specific theme or topic. For example, landing sites in a specific region are frequently explored for their social, economic, or political role during various episodes of cultural occupation. This study, to a degree, conforms to this pattern, yet it introduces an unexampled combination of topic, geographical area, and time period.

A proper evaluation of archaeological properties and landscapes requires an understanding of the historic context in which they are situated. A historic context is an encompassing examination of a specific theme, place, and time period. This often encompasses patterns or trends that give meaning to a site or landscape (Hardesty and

Little 2009:18). Drawing heavily on primary sources, including historical maps and newspapers, and secondary sources such as local histories, the following chapter synthesizes information to develop a historic context that illuminates the role of the ocean during Big Sur’s extractive era.

CHAPTER 3 HISTORIC CONTEXT OF DOGHOLE PORTS IN BIG SUR

Introduction

The California coastline is characterized by exposed and rocky shores, high energy swells, and few natural ports large, deep, and protected enough to house extensive commercial developments. The large ports, Humboldt Bay, San Francisco, Monterey, and

San Diego developed into economic centers based on specific regional economies. Aside from these major ports, California’s coastal landings were mostly relegated to natural small and rocky coves or inlets that provided barely enough depth and protection from large swells, rough currents, and strong winds. These isolated landings, or doghole ports, connected distinct regional economies to California’s larger metropolis ports.

The doghole port served a foundational role in the mid-to-late 19th and early 20th century expansion of California’s economy and industry. The industries, extraction methods, and transportation networks present in Big Sur’s maritime frontier were the result of methods and innovations defined and redefined in earlier industrial or maritime frontier landscapes, including the northern California coast, Santa Cruz, and the Sierra

Nevada Mountains. Despite time-tested industrial technologies and methods, unique factors in Big Sur, such as geographical impenetrability, underdeveloped transportation, late settlement, and the elusiveness of resources, propelled unique environmental adaptations. This is particularly reflective in the use and construction of doghole ports.

The ocean was the most economically efficient means of transportation for industrial enterprises operating throughout California’s coastal frontier. Oceanic commerce and the industrial extraction of natural resources are foundational themes for

49 exploring the maritime cultural landscape of doghole ports. While the redwood industries of northern coast operated doghole ports as early as the 1850s and 60s, it was not until a decade or two later that they were constructed in Big Sur. Big Sur’s doghole port era, as defined by the extraction and oceanic shipment of natural resources, ceased with the overexploitation of economically accessible resources in the first couple decades of the

20th century. This was further compounded by the expansion of highway construction and a growing tourist economy reliant upon automobile transportation. However, the use of doghole ports continued infrequently into the 1930s for bootlegging operations during prohibition and importation of construction materials during the building of the Carmel-

San Simeon Highway. Some may have been employed to land Chinese immigrants following the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. These subsequent uses, motivated by divergent economic and social contexts, employed different loading strategies more oriented for importing people and cargo, rather than exporting natural resources.

Below is a concise review of factors related to the industrial and maritime commercial developments in California that subsequently influenced activities in Big

Sur. This is followed by an examination of human settlement and maritime-related activity in Big Sur tracing back to Native American occupation. This leads to an examination of Euro-American settlement and industrial expansion into Big Sur, with sections examining each doghole port in Big Sur.

California Markets and Coastal Industry

The industrial activities located along the Pacific Coast frontier were reactions to the demands of rapidly developing cities and corporations during the mid-to-late 19th

50 century. The market demands for lime and lumber fluctuated according to the amount of construction occurring. These construction events are often tied to episodes of economic demand in California history, such as expanding cities during Gold Rush and rebuilding events following the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Lumber enterprises of the North

Coast counties and the lime and lumber industries in the Santa Cruz Mountains illustrate the earliest large-scale industries of resource extraction along the California coast.

In California the redwood takes two forms, the coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) and the Sierra redwood (Sequoiadendron giganteum). The coast redwood belt extends from the California-Oregon border to the southern tip of Monterey County.

The coastal forests, particularly the dense and extensive forests of the North Coast, were closer and more attractive to loggers that the Sierra redwood because of the efficiency of the ocean highway and the lack of tourist visitation that would eventually advocate preservation in the late 19th century (Farmer 2013).

The coast redwood stands were far more extensive on the North Coast and in the

Santa Cruz region, thereby attracting earlier capital investment and extractive activities than the southern coastal stands. Yet, large-scale capital investment and logging would take a decade or two to develop because technology and methodology was not adapted to the immense size of these trees. Logging companies arrived in the 1850s, and by the

1870s had developed an extensive extraction and transportation infrastructure with sawmills and schooner landings dotting the coastline. Investment in corporations and rapid technological advancement in logging technology would eventually prove disastrous for the environment and the lumber market (Isenberg 2005:78). A big issue being the overwhelming wastefulness involved in felling and milling. The California

State Board of Forestry estimated in 1885 that only 29 percent of felled redwood made it to the markets (Farmer 2013).

Technological innovation would eventually solve some efficiency and wastefulness issues; however, it would also result in production rates that led to lumber overproduction in the 1870s. Donkey engines and rail networks replaced oxen teams and river transportation. Band saws and stream driven mills succeeded circular saws and water powered mills. Thousands of board feet of lumber flooded the markets and drove prices and profits down, significantly depressing the timber companies by the close of the

19th century (Isenberg 2005).

South of the San Francisco Bay Area, in the Santa Cruz Mountains, thriving large-scale industries focused upon lime and lumber developed during the mid-to-late

19th century. Lumber mills were established in the Santa Cruz Mountains in the 1840s, yet a lack of transportation infrastructure limited the extent of these early endeavors. In

1847, a 20-mile long flume was constructed from the San Lorenzo River to the Pacific

Ocean providing a conduit for lumber to reach ocean-going vessels traveling to San

Francisco markets. Santa Cruz contained a relatively calm harbor that allowed for the construction of a wharf in 1851. Increases in capital investment soon led to the development of railroads that connected distant extraction camps with commercial ports

(Lehmann 2000).

The demand for construction materials during and immediately following the

Gold Rush soon put a high demand on lime as well. Numerous small-scale lime industries sprouted up in Santa Cruz County in the 1850s, yet soon the industry was controlled by a few large businesses. These include: Davis and Cowell (1865-1889),

Henry Cowell and Co. (1889-1898), The Holmes Lime Company, Inc. (1902-1914), and

Henry Cowell Lime and Cement Company (1898-1946) (Perry, Piwarzyk, and Molho

2007).

Lime companies similarly experienced challenges in transporting lime to the markets. The initial method was similar to those of the lumber industries, whereby lime would be hauled to the Santa Cruz wharf by wagon. Eventually several landings developed along the coast north of Santa Cruz, however the coastline becomes more rocky and exposed making loading schooners a challenge. In the 1860s the William

Brothers built a landing at the mouth of Liddell Creek. The landing consisted of a large hawser that extended from opposite cliffs across an estuary. In 1875 the Santa Cruz Lime

Company constructed a wharf in Davenport to serve their quarries located up San

Vincente Creek. In 1901 the Santa Cruz Lime Company constructed a landing at the mouth of San Vicente Creek. The landing consisted of an aerial tramway and derrick that supported a cable for a traveler powered by a steam donkey. Railroads also served instrumental roles in shipping lime to the markets. Construction of railroads in Santa

Cruz County began in 1868. One of the most important railroad lines for the lime industry was between Santa Cruz and Felton (Perry, Piwarzyk, and Molho 2007).

Tanbark harvesting for leather procurement can be traced to the late 18th century in California when the Spanish established missions and practiced cattle grazing and hide and tallow processing. At the time the region lacked a large tanning industry and would export much of the hides untanned. However, in 1792 Santa Clara tanned 2,000 hides using the tannins of the tanoak. The influx of American settlers would see a large expansion in tanbark harvesting and tanning beginning in the mid-19th century.

The tanbark industry was widespread in the Santa Cruz region. Paul Sweet established the first tannery in Santa Cruz in 1843. Several other tanneries sprouted in the

1850s, increasing the demand for tannic acid. By 1868 Santa Cruz supported seven tanneries that processed approximately 300 tons of tanbark a month. San Francisco was also a destination for the tanbark, housing 50 tanneries and consuming 16,000 tons in

1881 (Bowcutt 2015:57).

The tanbark areas surrounding these tanneries were the first to receive large-scale exploitation and as the stands dwindled companies were forced into distant hinterlands.

In the 1870s a large fire in Northern California destroyed many of the tanbark stands that supplied San Francisco tanneries. Capitalizing on the increasing demand of southern tanbark stands, Jacob F. Kron purchased the Grove Tannery of Santa Cruz in the 1860s and invested heavily in its expansion (Lehmann 2000). At this time tanbark companies also began to explore the Big Sur hinterlands.

Bowcutt (2015:52-53) described the tanbark harvesting process,

Bark harvesters who supplied tanners peeled the tanoak bark over a three-month period, typically beginning in May in the Santa Cruz area. The sap needed to be running, which in northern California more often occurred from mid-May to mid- July. Bark peelers removed four feet of bark from the base of the standing tree before felling it. Then they peeled farther up the trunk and even large branches, as long as the bark was at least a half inch thick. Small trees were often jayhawked, meaning that the girdled tree was left standing after the bark at the base has been peeled. Peeled bark was set aside to dry nearby to reduce its weight. Peelers kept busy hauling the bark out of the forest through August and September. If the bark was not hauled out and shipped to a tannery it was covered (or shedded) and allowed to season before it was shipped or processed into extract.

The tanoak supplied a thriving Pacific Coast tanning industry for over half a century. 861,000 cords totaling $15,498,000 were harvested from the mid-19th century to

54 the first decade of the 20th century. However, by the 1920s the tanoak was severely depleted and the California tanning industry began to disintegrate (Bowcutt 2015:61).

Development of California Doghole Ports

In many cases, transportation of resources overland to the metropolis was not economically feasible for companies operating in distant and isolated regions without railroads. The most time efficient and economically viable option was to use the ocean as a transportation corridor. Ocean transportation required two basic elements. First, companies needed access to waterways and technologies to land and load a vessel along extremely rocky and steep coastlines. Secondly, they needed access to a schooner and a knowledgeable captain and crew. Innovative methods were devised for loading and unloading cargo at landings that possessed individual environmental challenges. Several loading technologies and methods were employed depending on the cargo, capital investment, and environmental obstacles.

Prior to 1900, the apron, or slide, chute was the most prevalent construction at coastal landings. The apron chute consisted of a wooden trough projecting from a cliff and held together by two poles placed upright in an inverted “V”. The distance of the trough would depend on the distance of the cliff to the schooner’s mooring site. The further the distance the more inverted Vs, ropes, and wire cables needed. The outer end of the slide would be lower in elevation than the shore side, which allowed gravity to transport the cargo. The block and tackle arrangement would allow for the raising and lowering of the mooring end of the slide to adjust for tidal fluctuations. A clapper was required on most slide chutes. This involved a mobile beam that controlled the descent

55 rate of the cargo travelling on the chute. The “clapper-man” regulated the speed using a lever on the schooners waiting deck (Jackson 1969). While efficient at loading, the slide chute was often costly to maintain because the materials were susceptible to damage during winter storms.

The cable chute became a common loading method in the 1870s. This consisted of a wire fastened from the shore to a large anchor, rock or other sturdy and often submerged feature that extended beyond the mooring site. Another cable attached to an anchor and a buoy would extend beyond the vessel to stabilize the loading scheme. The leading wire would often be attached to a steam donkey that would power the travelling cargo basket. The vessel would moor under the cable extended from land. A pulley-fitted framework called a “traveler” at the chute-head would control the descent and return of the cargo basket. Steam power or counter-balance were the most common methods for conveying cargo. At a few landings a drum was used to draw a cable from shore to the vessel (Jackson 1969).

A third, yet relatively rare, method for loading schooners was the wharf or pier.

The extremely exposed California coastline, with its hazardous storms and large swells, often relegated these structures to only the calmest coves. Even in these cases they would disintegrate rather rapidly. In addition, they required extensive capital investment to build and maintain. The typical wharf would extend from the shoreline to a point in the ocean deep enough to accommodate vessel. They would occasionally require over 1000 ft. to reach such a point (Jackson 1969). The furthest point of the wharf would contain a loading mechanism, such as a hoist or chute, to load cargo onto docked vessels.

The exposed and rocky inlets containing these various constructions were to become known as the doghole ports that pepper the Pacific Coast. They became the hub of economic activity that linked distant industrial outposts with large metropolis ports and markets. Below is a review of cultural settlement and use of the Big Sur coastline with an eventual focus upon the doghole and industrial era.

Cultural Occupations in Big Sur

Native American Period

Ethnographic literature indicates that at contact three Native California groups occupied separate parts of Big Sur. The Ohlone occupied the northern reaches, the

Esselen the central, and the Salinan the southern extremity. Breschini and Haversat

(2004:70) trace Esselen boundaries at contact: Starting north of the Little Sur River heading east on the Sierra Hill ridgeline to Bottcher’s Gap. From Bottcher’s Gap it headed north to Mount Carmel and crossed the Carmel River at the San Clemente

Reservoir. It continued northeast to Buckeye Ridge and east into the Salinas Valley where it traveled southeast to Soledad. It turned west toward Junipero Serra Peak where it may have included the northern Arroyo Seco watershed. The southern boundary would follow just north of Big Creek until it reaches the Pacific Ocean. The Coast Ranges south of Big Creek were occupied by the Salinan, while the Ohlone occupied north of the Little

Sur River and Hurricane Point.

Shell middens located at Big Creek indicate human use of the Big Sur coastline dating back 6,000 years (Breschini and Haversat 2004; Jones et al. 2007). These midden deposits signify the existence of maritime-related settlement and subsistence patterns

Figure 2. Esselen territory at contact. Breschini and Haversat 2005.

58 since initial human occupation of the region. Intricate knowledge and technology related to the ocean and its resources is illustrated in the diversity of maritime archaeological deposits. In addition to subsistence, social, and technological artifacts indicate further maritime ties. This includes haliotis shell pendants and a haliotis shell projectile was discovered in the Big Creek region (Jones 1988). These coastal sites and marine-related artifacts portray long-term relationships with the ocean, yet they reflect just one component of a complex seasonal round employed by central coast groups. Various tribelets would occupy geographically diverse villages within their political district depending upon the season and its available resources. The coast was occupied primarily during the fall and winter, while the interior was occupied during the spring and summer.

Spanish and Mexican Period

The Spanish named the rugged country encompassing the Santa Lucia Mountains

El Pais Grande del Sur, the Big Land to the South. This name demonstrates an ominous perception of the land at the time, likely tied to its primarily unexplored status. The Santa

Lucia Mountains did not contain many resources productive to the Spanish economy; therefore, their use of the country was minimal, mostly tied to chasing down runaway neophytes that escaped from the Carmel Mission to seek refuge in the mountains.

The rugged terrain and isolation of Big Sur also proved unattractive for the cattle- oriented economies of Mexican land grants. Yet two were granted in Big Sur, including

Rancho El Sur and Rancho San Jose y Sur Chiquito. The latter included a thin strip of coastline that stretched from San Jose Creek in the north to the Little Sur River in the south. It was initially granted to Teodoro Gonzales in 1835, but was regranted to

Marcelino Escobar on April 16, 1839. With Escobar’s death in 1841 his sons sold it to

Joséfa Estrada de Abrego, who is believed to have deeded it to a group of Monterey presidio soldiers to settle her husband’s gambling debts (Clark 1991:464). Several conflicting claims to the land followed, and it wasn’t until 1882 that a final agreement on the distribution of lands was reached. The property was divided amongst the Ashley,

Baggett, Emery, Van Dyke, and Farr families (Hale 1980:153). Little is known of the settlement and development of Rancho San Jose y Sur Chiquito during the Mexican Era and the succeeding American Period. It is likely that cattle ranching developed in areas near present day Garrapata State Park.

The 8,948-acre Rancho El Sur was originally granted to Juan Bautista Alvarado on September 30, 1834 (Clark 1991:445). The land grant extended from the Little Sur

River mouth in the north to Cooper’s Point in the south. On December 9, 1840 Alvarado made an official transfer of the grant to Juan Bautista Rogers Cooper for land in the

Salinas Valley. Cooper set to develop the ranch as early as 1834 when he hired Job Dye to raise mules on the property. Throughout the 1840s and 50s he continued development by hiring renters and ranchers to raise cattle and horses, build structures, and cultivate orchards. However, the biggest issue facing the development of the land grant was the distance and inefficiency in reaching Monterey. Cooper, a former sea captain, was familiar with the ocean and its capability to assist commerce. He purchased two boats in the mid-1850s to solve the transportation and communication issues facing the land grant.

During this time construction also began on a coastal trail that would link Rancho El Sur with Monterey (Woolfenden and Elkinton 1983).

In the 1850s Cooper used the Rancho El Sur as a smuggling zone to evade the high customs duties in Monterey. Wall (1989:24) states, “Cargo from China or the

Sandwich Islands could be landed there and anchored offshore to be transferred to little boats to go into the mouth of the Big Sur River. Then Cooper ran the contraband into

Monterey on horseback, on the coast trail, which he had built for this express purpose.”

American Period

Although the Homesteading Act of 1862 opened large tracts of public land for settlement in Big Sur, more fertile and accessible lands initially proved more attractive than the rough and isolated Santa Lucia Mountains. One of the earliest Euro-American families to settle the region was the Pfeiffers who arrived in 1869. Michael and Barbara

Pfeiffer and their four children established a residence in Sycamore Canyon, directly south of Rancho El Sur. A homesteading land patent indicates that Michael Pfeiffer received title for 160 acres in 1883 on the western side of Clear Ridge at the current day

Pfeiffer Beach of Los Padres National Forest (BLM GLO 2016). William Brainard Post arrived in the Big Sur Valley around the same time, although did not become a permanent residence until 1877. In 1858 he established land claims near present day Garrapata State

Beach and by 1866 built a ranch house near Post Creek, south of the Big Sur River

(Woolfenden 1981). Land patents indicate he received title for 80-acres above Post Creek in 1889 (BLM GLO 2016).

These early homesteading settlements were primarily concentrated in and north of the Big Sur Valley. This region was more accessible from Monterey than areas further south due to the coast trail that snaked through the canyons and ended abruptly at the

61 southern end of the valley. The trail was initially constructed during the development of

Rancho El Sur and later in 1881 expanded to a wagon road to reach Post’s ranch (Wall

1989:24). Prior to the extension of the wagon road south of Bixby Creek schooners would be chartered from San Francisco to deliver cargo to the mouth of the Big Sur

River. South of Post’s ranch the transportation infrastructure was even more undeveloped, where a horse trail was the only means of land travel all the way through

San Carpoforo Creek. Wall (1989:57) explains procedures used by southern Big Sur coast families to acquire goods before the construction of landings, “These supply ships came once a year, and landed, after the stop in Big Sur, at Big Creek where Lucia residents and their neighbors for miles around both north and south rushed to the landing when they heard the boat whistle. There was no real landing at Big Creek however. Boat load after boat load turned over in the surf.”

Industrial Development in Big Sur

When compared to other regions in California Big Sur experienced a late and short-lived industrial era. These industrial ventures targeted diverse resources, including gold, limestone, coal, tanbark, and redwood. However, the scale of industry never reached the extent witnessed in the Sierra Nevada or California’s North Coast. The late arrival of ventures may hinge on several factors. First, transportation infrastructure was drastically undeveloped, making locating and transporting resources a challenge.

Secondly, the distance to markets was also a deterrent. Santa Cruz, significantly closer to

San Francisco than Big Sur, offered an abundance of timber and limestone and already contained a developed transportation infrastructure with manufacturing facilities.

Furthermore, while extensive deposits were occasionally located in Big Sur, the timber stands and mineral deposits were meager when compared to the California’s North Coast and the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

The overexploitation of resources elsewhere and the availability of land in Big

Sur eventually attracted numerous individuals and companies that sought wealth in the diverse, yet remote and questionably abundant resources. Mining claims, timber stands, and limestone deposits provided some individuals and companies with profits, yet this success hinged on adaptation to the ruggedness and isolation through the establishment of time efficient, cost effective, and reliable transportation. The areas in which settlement and industry could sustain itself were those that had access to doghole ports.

Large-scale limestone extraction and processing developed in two different areas in Big Sur. The Monterey Lime Company operated on Big Sur’s north coast near Long

Ridge, off of Bixby Creek, while the Rockland Lime and Lumber Company operated off

Limekiln Creek in Big Sur’s south coast. The latter operated from 1887 to 1890 and ceased operations over a decade prior to the establishment of former. Additional extractive industries include gold mining, which developed in the southern reaches of Big

Sur. The Los Burros Mining District, primarily encompassing the Alder and Willow

Creek watersheds, had a boom phase that lasted through the 1890s.

The tanbark oak was the mainstay resource for many of the timber operations in

Big Sur. Jepson (1911:14), writing near the tail end of Big Sur’s tanbark era in 1911, explained “Bark from the Santa Lucia Mountains, the southernmost of all the [tanbark] districts, is the richest in the markets and averages as high as from 20 to 24 percent.” At this time he described the Santa Lucia tanbark stands as nearly exhausted and never very

63 extensive. The dominant tanbark company was C.G. Notley and Co. operated by William and Godfrey Notley. They operated on the north coast of Big Sur between Notley’s and

Partington Landing. The Kron Tanning Co. of Santa Cruz and the Eberhard Co. of Santa

Clara also owned and harvested large tracts of tanbark stands throughout the Little Sur

River watershed and areas surrounding Anderson Canyon. The Kron and Eberhard

Companies arrived in approximately 1916, later than most operations, and may have persisted into the early 1920s.

Big Sur is home to the southernmost coast redwood stands, and while not as extensive as the northern coastal forests, did support large-scale logging operations. In areas of lime extraction, the redwoods primarily fed the kilns and the construction of lime barrels, roads, or buildings. Some areas, such as Mill and Plaskett Creek, housed sawmills strictly for the purpose of redwood products, such railroad ties. In the 1930s large-scale redwood logging operations developed in Palo Colorado, yet this followed the construction of logging roads and trucks, which made ocean transport unnecessary.

An 1874 report by the Monterey Weekly Herald, titled “Sawmill and Lime Kiln” explains early industrial goals in Big Sur,

We are credibly informed that parties are constructing a saw mill and lime kiln at a point on the coast sixteen miles south of this place. It is their intention to build a shute [sic] for the loading of their lumber and lime. They report that they have secured four hundred acres of fine redwood timber. This is but the commencement of many such enterprises that will spring up on the coast south of Monterey, the country thereabouts offering many inducements to those who have pluck enough to risk their time and money.

The 16 miles from Monterey places these early operations at Bixby Creek, which would develop into an extensive logging and limestone quarrying operation.

Rancho El Sur’s unusually flat coastal terrace provided suitable land for large- scale cattle grazing, but elsewhere the extremely rugged topography limited livestock raising to the household level. From about 1918 to 1931 a cheese factory operated at the ranch and likely produced products for the local community and possibly exports to

Monterey (Davis et al. 1990).

Brooks (2011) analyzed census data to determine occupations of men living and working in Big Sur. The voting register for the year 1900 indicates that 61 men voted in the Big Sur precinct. Forty-seven indicated that they were either a farmer or a rancher.

The remaining professions included a gardener, apiarist, fruit grower, woodsman, laborer, lighthouse keeper, blacksmith, surveyor, miner, and teamster. The 1900 population census lists road makers, cheese makers, salesmen, an Azorean muleteer, and a Chinese cook. Lumber related occupations include bark peelers, woodchoppers, and wood overseers (Brooks 2011:53). The industrial labor force in Big Sur, similar to many other regions, likely included a large transient population. Much of the workforce likely consisted of lumber and quarry laborers, yet were on a seasonal schedule and either did not own land or were not permanent enough to show up in the voting or population census records.

Point Lobos, located on the north boundary of this study area, was home to several diverse economic ventures. The shore whaling industry flourished here during the mid-to-late 19th century with the development of the Carmelo Bay Whaling Company in

1861. Approximately 40 Portuguese whalers lived near Whaler’s Cove where whale carcasses would be hauled to shore and their blubber processed for the production of oil

(Hudson and Wood 2004). Furthermore, the area housed abalone harvesting, sand and granite quarrying, and cattle ranching.

Two historic-era Chinese fishing villages are located in the study area. The most visible and documented is located in Whaler’s Cove in present day Point Lobos State

Reserve. A more ephemeral one is located far to the south, near Salmon Creek. The

Whaler’s Cove village may have been established as early as 1851, with six Chinese fishermen having established residence by 1860. The Chinese established successful abalone fisheries alongside the Portuguese whalers in Point Lobos until they abandoned their village in the late 1870s. Their use of Point Lobos continued, albeit in a different manner. With the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882 the isolated coves of

Point Lobos were used to smuggle Chinese immigrants coming from Mexico or Canada

(Lydon 1985:140). Very little is known of the Chinese village at Salmon Creek. The U.S.

Coast and Geodetic Survey T-Sheet for White Rock No.2 labeled a “China Camp” just north of the mouth of Salmon Creek. This is likely one of several seasonal camps that had been established along the Big Sur coast when the U.S. Coast and Geodetic survey team mapped the region in 1888. Other camps or villages might be present along the coast at various dates but evaded documentation due to a lack of coastal mapping or documentation during various years.

Doghole Ports in Big Sur

It is not known when the first chute system was constructed in Big Sur, but it is likely linked to the onset of extractive activities in the 1870s. As mentioned above, boats may have landed in Big Sur as early as the 1850s to engage in trade and smuggling

66 activities, yet the actual development of maritime infrastructure at this early date remains uncertain. All landings did not operate simultaneously and their cessation was often tied to the depletion of resources at specific extraction zones. Depending on the resource this overexploitation varied from the 1890s to the first couple decades of the 20th century.

The industrial development and settlement of Big Sur cannot be understood without recognizing the important role of doghole ports. A survey of historical maps, reports, photographs, and documents indicate at least 14 landings between Carmel River and San Carpoforo Creek. These landings served as communication and transportation lifelines for all industrial companies and many of the communities that inhabited the surrounding coastal canyons. Each of these landings served specific roles for nearby homesteaders and industrial companies and a unique place in the greater maritime cultural landscape of Big Sur and California. From north to south these ports include,

Coal Chute Point, Strader’s Landing, Notley’s Landing, Bixby Landing, Point Sur, Big

Sur River Mouth Landing, Partington’s Sea View Landing, Anderson Landing, Harlan’s

Landing, Rockland Landing, Mill Creek Landing, and Pacific Valley Landing. There are two unnamed landings observed on the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey map, South

Coast of California T-sheets (From Fancher Ranch to Prewitt Cr. and From White Rock

No. 2 Westward). These will be called Cape San Martin and Alder Creek Landings. The distribution of doghole ports, including Signal Rock, is presented in Figure 3.

Below is a description of the establishment, development, company actors, and structural components of Big Sur doghole ports as determined by primary and secondary sources. Descriptions of each landing are arranged geographically, starting in the north and moving south.

Figure 3. Doghole port locations.

Coal Chute Point and Strader’s Landing

Coal was discovered in the Mal Paso Canyon of the Rancho San Jose y Sur

Chiquito in 1874, and soon afterward the Monterey Coal Mining Company began operations. The coal was transported from the Carmel Coal Mine to Strader’s Landing at the mouth of Mal Paso Creek. It was named after William Strader, the superintendent of the mining operations. The coal would be loaded onto vessels bound for San Francisco.

Figure 4. Official map of Monterey County, California, 1898. Library of Congress Geography and Map Division. Note “Coal Mine.”

Documents detailing the precise construction of Strader’s Landing have not been located. Irelan (1888: 406) stated in the Eight Annual Report of the State Mineralogist,

“Considerable work was done and some coal shipped. A rail or tramway was built from the mine to the beach, a distance of five miles, and a chute constructed to load vessels.”

The Monterey Californian stated in March of 1879 that the vessel Gypsy Harley landed at

Strader’s Landing with 50 tons of railroad iron. The company hired Chinese laborers to construct the narrow-gauge horse drawn railway from the mine to Strader’s Landing.

However, confusion exists as to whether the railway was actually completed. One reason for the construction’s floundering may be due to litigation and the cessation of mining between 1890 and 1897 (Hart 1966:33).

Changes in ownership of the Carmelo Mine would relocate shipping operations from Strader’s Landing to a small point on the northeast side of Whaler’s Cove in current day Point Lobos State Reserve, called Coal Chute Point. The Carmel Coal Mining

Company purchased the land containing the Carmelo Coal Mine in 1888. In 1891 the company constructed a chute at Coal Chute Point that would load coal from a bunker onto waiting vessels (Clark 1991:109). Further confusion exists as to the methods employed to transport coal from the mine to the new landing. While land was surveyed for the construction of a railway, it doesn’t appear the project ever materialized. A

Special Correspondent for the Engineering and Mining Journal explained the Carmel

Coal Company railway in 1891, “The rails for the company’s narrow-gauge railroad which is to connect the mine with the tide-water, a distance of four miles, are now on the ground. The hoisting works have been completed at a cost of $40,000, and as soon the rails are laid steam colliers will carry the coal to San Francisco” (1891:565). While this report is intriguing it appears that six-horse teams trekking over the top of Lobos Ridge to

Whaler’s Cove continued as the transportation method (Hudson and Wood 2004:38).

While coal mining ceased in the late 1890s, shipping operations continued from

Coal Chute Point. In 1898 A.M. Allen purchased the land containing Point Lobos and the

Mal Paso Mine. Around 1899, Allan began mining the quartzite-rich sand deposits at San

Jose Creek Beach just north of Whaler’s Cove. He built a narrow gauge railway that led from the quarry to Coal Chute Point where it would be loaded onto schooners such as the

Gypsy, which may be the same vessel that served Strader’s Landing. The sand would be transported to glassmakers in Alameda into the 1920s (Hudson and Wood 2004:43).

Figure 5. Coal Chute Point, ca. 1900. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

Notley’s Landing

Notley’s Landing began when two brothers from Santa Cruz, William and

Godfrey, settled the Palo Colorado region of Big Sur in the early 1890s in hopes of establishing a thriving lumber industry concentrated on tanbark. In 1891 the brothers were deeded several land patents in the Garrapata and Palo Colorado region ranging from

90 to 150 acres (BLM GLO 2016). From 1891 to 1892 Sam Trotter worked for the brothers cutting redwood for 90 cents a cord and pine for $1.25 a cord. In addition, he would make shingles, railroad ties, build roads, and drive horse teams (Woolfenden 1981:

47). The company became known as C.G. Notley Co. and would evolve to dominate the tanbark industry in Big Sur, harvesting timber from Palo Colorado, the Little Sur watershed, and Partington Canyon.

At its heyday Notley’s Landing consisted of a company town containing manager’s quarters, dormitory, general store, blacksmith shop, shingle mill, and several barns (Norman 2004:71). The landing was located directly south of Westmere, “the wildest dance hall on the coast” (Norman, “Notley’s Landing”).

\ Figure 6. Notley’s Landing, ca. late 1890s. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

Prior to the establishment of the landing the company hauled tanbark with mule or horse teams to Monterey where it would be shipped to markets from S.P.C.C Co.’s depot.

In July 1895, when the C.G. Notley & Co. commenced operations in the region, the

Monterey Weekly Cypress described this “doubtful experiment,” stating “We hope the

Notley Bros. will make a success, but we doubt very much if hauling over the coast road will pay.” The San Francisco Call explained the “bark had to be hauled by six-horse mile

72 teams for forty miles over the roughest road in the State up the coast to this place

[Monterey, Calif.], where it was shipped by rail to San Francisco and San Jose” (SF Call

1896). C.G. Notley and Co. also supplied bark to tanneries in Santa Cruz, including the

Kron Tanning Company (SCS 1945).

On September 17, 1902 the Monterey New Era printed an article titled, “To Build a Schooner Landing,”

G.C. Notley of Monterey, who practically controls the entire tan bark business in this section, has just purchased the schooner Confianza, of 121 tons burden, from H.C. Lassen of San Francisco, and is now having her ply between his coast landing, Santa Cruz and San Francisco.

It is Mr. Notley’s desire to establish a landing in Monterey, which he will make the distributing point for his tan bark, shingles, etc., and to that end he is desirous of obtaining from the War Department permission to use the point of rocks opposite the steamship wharf. If he is successful of this, Mr. Notley will put up a cable landing at the point and the railroad company will build a switch there. It is to be hoped that Mr. Notley will be successful in securing the use of the point for his landing, for it will make an important addition to the business of Monterey.

Mr. Notley has been in Santa Cruz for some time past putting in a cable landing for the Big Creek Power Co.

The description of the steamship wharf and the railroad would place the location of this new cable landing within the developed Monterey harbor waterfront. No additional maps or descriptions have been able to clarify this, but it appears that C.G.

Notley & Co. likely had a shipping point in Monterey where cargo would be transferred via schooner from Notley’s Landing in Big Sur to the landing in Monterey where the cargo would then be shipped via rail.

Further newspaper accounts describe waterfront activities of C.G. Notley and Co., but again it is difficult to discern whether the descriptions concern the Notley’s Landing in Big Sur or the possible landing in the Monterey harbor. On December 9, 1903 the

Monterey New Era printed, “Notley Building Schooner Landing-Steam Cable landing at

City Dump to be in Operation in Ten Days,”

G.C. Notley, whose tanbark and lumbering business on the Monterey county coast has assumed extremely large proportions within the past few years, has just obtained permission from the war department to erect a steam cable landing for the loading and unloading of vessels at the point of rocks adjoining the city dump. At this point he has already commenced the erection of a stout wooden framework, 30 feet high, from which a 1 1/2 –inch steel cable will be run to an anchor about 200 feet from shore. Here a vessel loading or unloading will anchor, attaching the end of the cable to the mast, and freight will be carried between ship and shore in a car running on the cable. A Steam winch and smaller cable form the means of a moving car, and by this means freight of all kinds can be handled very rapidly. It is Mr. Notley’s intention to use the landing for his own vessels plying between Monterey, San Francisco and his coast landing with tanbark, railroad ties, lumber, etc.

One of the city dumps in Monterey was located near Lover’s Point, near Pacific

Grove and west of the developed Monterey harbor. It is possible that this is where Notley established his landing in Monterey, as the cove is small, yet deep and relatively protected, and sits adjacent to railroad tracks. However, at this time Pacific Grove was experiencing a developing tourist economy that focused upon waterfront entertainment.

The city of Pacific Grove began acquiring waterfront property for public use, thereby transforming cultural interaction and private economic uses of the Monterey Bay waterfront. However, it may be possible that Notley’s Landing in Big Sur once sat adjacent to a city dump. Further research will be required to refine the exact location, or existence, of a C.G. Notley and Co. landing within the Monterey harbor (Page and

Turnbull Inc. 2011).

In August 1904 G.C. Notley Co. completed the shingle mill at Notley’s Landing.

In addition to the company’s schooner Confianza, the Acme from San Francisco also took

74 on cargo at Notley’s Landing, having loaded 400 cords of tanbark destined for San

Francisco on August 31, 1904 (MNE 1904b).

While it appears the final developments of C.G. Notley and Co. operations may not have been completed until 1904, schooners were loading at the Big Sur landing as early as 1896. An article in the San Francisco Call, titled “Monterey Tanbark Industry-

An Enterprising San Jose Firm Secures a Monopoly and Is Doing a Thriving Business,” wrote in September of 1896 that the schooner, Bessie K, loaded 118 tons of tanbark from

“Notley Bros. Landing.”

Figure 7. Packhorses with a load of tanbark in Big Sur, ca. 1900. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

Reliance on pack mules increased as the operations were forced deeper into the creek valleys and canyons to locate untapped stands. While business was thriving for the

C.G. Notley Co. the construction of a rail line was never seriously considered. All the bark would be hauled by mule to a peak above Notley’s Landing where it would be bundled and sent down the mountain in a flume (SFC 1896). Each pack mule would haul approximately 500 pounds from the extraction zone to the landing (Hale 1980:140).

Figure 8. Section 6 in “Map Showing resurvey of Section 5, T.18S., R1E., M.D.M. Surveyed for the G.C. Notley Company 1907.” Note “Notley Landing” and structures.

A 1906 article in the Monterey New Era, titled “Going Deeper after the Tan Bark” explained of G.C. Notley Co., that the “supply of tan oak on the coast is being cleaned out pretty rapidly, and it is reported that the company is about to establish a landing at

Pfeiffer’s, going into the more inaccessible sections of the coast for their supply of bark.”

Whether this endeavor materialized is unlikely. This same year Godfrey Notley died and the business began to splinter.

The company disintegrated in 1906 soon after Godfrey committed suicide in a

Santa Cruz saloon (Walton 2010:32). The rapidly declining tanbark was attributed to his

76 demise. Notley’s Landing was later sold to Kron or Eberhard Tanning Co., a Santa Cruz tanning company (Norman 1997). The final tanbark shipment from Notley’s Landing is unknown, but it likely soon followed the ownership transfer. The demise of the tanbark industry did not eliminate the use of the landing as it continued during prohibition because of its proximity to Carmel, yet adequate distance from authorities (Norman,

“Notley’s Landing”).

Bixby Landing

Charles Bixby served an early and important role in opening up Big Sur’s north coast to settlement and industry. He arrived at Bixby Creek (at the time called Mill Creek because of his construction of a mill at the mouth of the creek) in 1868 and eventually amassed a total of 1,100 acres (Woolfenden 1981:38). He and his father William extended the wagon road from Carmel to his ranch at Bixby Creek, a total of approximately 18 miles. He set to capitalize on his property’s timber stands, harvesting tanbark and using his mill to produce redwood shingles, shakes, and railroad ties (Hale

1980:146).

Hauling lumber to Monterey on the wagon road would have been economically infeasible, so he constructed a schooner landing to employ the ocean highway. The landing consisted of an apron chute that extended from a headland below Division Knoll northwest of the Bixby Creek mouth. He eventually discovered limestone deposits on

Long Ridge above Mill Creek and set to develop a quarry, build kilns, and construct roads that linked the extraction zone to the landing. Mules and wooden sleds were used to transport the processed limestone.

Figure 9. Bixby Landing, ca. 1911. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

A precise date for the construction of Bixby Landing is unknown. The 1888 T-

Sheet for this portion of the coastline does not indicate a landing there, yet Davidson

(1889) described a Hamilton’s Landing that matches the arrangement at Bixby Landing, including the location, chute, and a sawmill (1889:137). Davidson described the mill as having the capacity of 12,000 board feet of lumber a day. Furthermore, he mentioned tanbark shipped for the location as well. “Hamilton’s Landing” is illustrated on an 1893

U.S. Coast and Geodetic Map (Figure 11). The description and location of the map had led Clark (1991) to determine Hamilton Landing is indeed Bixby Landing. No further literature has been able to locate reasons for Davidson’s use of the name Hamilton.

Additional companies also operated the landing following Bixby, including the

Monterey Lime Company, incorporated by P.P. Austin and other San Jose capitalists in

1903. The company leased the Bixby and Weudt ranches, which owned the limestone deposits. In October 1903 the schooner Gualala arrived at Notley’s Landing to provide

78 lumber and 100 tons of firebricks for the construction of the company’s buildings and kilns. Upon leaving the Gualala was loaded with Notley’s tanbark destined for San

Francisco (MNE 1903). The Monterey New Era states that the company built a road from the landing to the quarry, a distance of about six or seven miles. It is not known whether the newspaper was describing Notley’s or Bixby Landing, but judging from the aerial tramway later constructed, which stretched three miles from the quarry to Bixby Landing, the distance of the initial road appears to correlate more accurately when mapped from

Notley’s Landing. The company would also use the redwood groves located on property to construct barrels to store and transport the lime (MNE 1903).

Figure 10. Two-masted schooner and slide chute at Bixby Landing. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

By late 1904 the Monterey Lime Company’s operations were very productive. On

September 14, 1904 the Monterey New Era explained how two to three weeks of operations had produced 2,700 barrels of lime that were waiting at Bixby Landing for shipment to San Francisco. The New Era later stated that the Company “is making extensive improvements in its works and landing there. A new thirty-horse-power engine will be shipped down today. . . More machinery for sawing out lumber and making barrels will be shipped in a few days.” In addition, “the lime, which the company is shipping in large quantities, is of the highest grade, and difficulty is experienced in supplying the demand for it” (MNE 1904a). Profits and optimism in the quarry’s volume were high, as the company invested in the construction of an aerial tramway that transported the lime approximately three miles from the quarry to Bixby Landing. The

Scientific American Supplement explained the aerial tramway in an article dated April 10,

1909,

An overhead wire-rope tramway, believed to be unlike any other, was recently erected for the Monterey Lime Company, San Francisco, Cal., at its plant about 40 miles below Monterey, by the Hallidie-Painter Tramway Company, successor to the California Wire Works, Oakland, Cal. The tramway runs from the company’s kilns to the ocean, approximately 2 ½ miles, and passes over very rough country. In one place there is a span about 2,600 feet long, and a number of others vary from 800 feet to 1,000 feet. The tramway handles lime in barrels, two barrels to each carrier. The barrels are enclosed in the carriers so that they are completely protected from the rain and heavy fogs, which are quite prevalent in that part of the country. Two attendants take care of the tramway, one at the loading and the other at the unloading end. The capacity is fifty barrels per hour. The operation is very simple: The carriers stop to load and unload automatically, and are automatically started when the next carrier comes in. The Monterey Lime Company has found the tramway of considerable benefit to it in the reduction of the cost of lime handling. Previously this was done by teams, and it is stated that the change in the mode of handling the lime has made such a difference to the company that where there was formerly a loss there is now a benefit.

It is estimated that during operation the kilns processed 75,000 tons of limestone (Hale

1980:146). An increasing lack of wood to fire the kilns and a large flood in 1911 prompted the demise of the lime operations and the eventual abandonment of the chute.

Figure 11. 1893 Pacific Coast Point Buchon to Point Pinos California, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey. Note “Hamilton Land’g.”

Point Sur

Davidson described a relatively undeveloped boat landing adjacent to Point Sur.

He wrote, “There is a boat landing close under the Sur at the south side of the neck, where the kelp ends, and the coasting steamers sometimes land freight there” (Davidson

1889:134). In early accounts the protrusion of rock at Point Sur was named “Moro

Rock.”

Figure 12. Point Sur Light Station, 1928. Note the landing structure at the bottom left and the light station on top of Moro rock. Photo: Winifred Young, Monterey County Free Libraries, Online Archive of California.

Construction of the Point Sur Light Station began in 1887. The isolation of Point

Sur made supplying construction materials a challenge. Initially, cargo was loaded at the

Big Sur River Mouth Landing and hauled three miles overland to Point Sur. A hoist railway was constructed at the base of Moro Rock’s east face. Once at the top it traveled halfway down the west face then turned north paralleling the ocean until it reached the lighthouse. The railway proved too expensive to maintain, so in 1900 a road was constructed that ascended the western and southern faces (O’Neil 2003).

Operation and maintenance of the light station required a consistent supply of coal, kerosene, redwood, and oak for fueling the light and the steam boilers. In 1907 plans were introduced for the construction of a supply landing at Moro Rock; however, it was not until 1911 that a landing platform was constructed on a manmade ledge cut into the leeward side of the rock. This consisted of a platform elevated 40 ft. above the ocean

(Figure 13). A derrick and hoist was used to load supplies from docked vessels onto the

82 platform. From there cargo would be transferred to the station by a hoist tramway that was hauled 300 ft. up the cliff face by a steam donkey (O’Neil 2003).

Figure 13. Big Sur Light Station landing deck. Photo: U.S. Coast Guard.

Big Sur River Mouth

The use of Big Sur River mouth as landing zone can be traced back to the early

1850s, when Juan Bautista Rogers Cooper settled and developed the Rancho El Sur land grant. A former sea captain and Yankee trader, Cooper would land cargo here to avoid the high tariff fees required by customs at Monterey harbor.

Davidson (1889:133) wrote of the anchorage at the Big Sur River mouth,

Off Sur River, to the southward of the kelp field, there is a fair anchorage with good boat landing during the summer months. Some tan bark is shipped from there, and occasionally an otter-hunting schooner anchors there in the latter part of the winter and early spring. To reach the anchorage, pass through an opening in the kelp from which the mouth of the Sur River bears northeast (NE): when inside

the kelp anchor in seven fathoms. The boat landing is under the north point in a small cove on a sandy beach. Freight and lumber have landed here.

An 1892 partition map of the Rancho El Sur demarcates a polygon at the mouth of the Big Sur River that states “Landing Reservation 12.04 acres,” yet no specific structures are indicated. An 1897 photo portrays a two-masted schooner landed at the Big

Sur River mouth with a smaller skiff likely employed to transport cargo to and from the schooner. This schooner likely landed to supply lumber for the construction of a new ranch complex when land ownership shifted to Eusebius and Andrew Molera (Davis et al.

1990:40).

Figure 14. Two-masted schooner landed at Big Sur River mouth, ca. 1897. Note the absence of the pier and the skiff headed towards shore. Photo in Cultural Resource Inventory: Andrew Molera State Park (1990), from Office of Interpretive Services, document no. I13.

The river mouth may have been one of the only locations in Big Sur to operate, or at least attempt to construct, a pier. There are no indicators of this pier in the 1897 photo,

84 which suggests the date of construction was some time after that date. An undated topographic map that predates the Rancho El Sur 1920 irrigation system illustrated a wharf at the mouth of the Big Sur River, suggesting the date of construction might be some time prior to 1920 (Davis et. al 1990). If the pier was ever indeed completed, no photos have been located that capture the structure.

This landing may have supported an experimental lumber transportation method unique in Big Sur and possibly all of California. The Big Sur Gazette, detailing the life of

Big Sur settler and lumberman Sam Trotter, described him as having constructed rafts measuring 100 ft. by 60 ft. and built of approximately 6,000 to 8,000 redwood fence posts. The rafts would be hauled from the river mouth to the port in Monterey. No details exist as to which vessels would haul the rafts (Harrington 1979).

Partington’s Sea View Landing

John James Partington, his wife Laura, and their five children settled Big Sur in

1874. Prior to the move Partington worked for an oil company engaged in drilling explorations in the Santa Cruz Mountains. They failed to locate productive reserves and he sought more lucrative ventures. The impetus to move south was word of large tanbark oak stands in the canyons south of Monterey. He formed a partnership with Bert Stevens to harvest and ship the tanbark. On January 30, 1883 Partington received a patent to 160 acres in what is now Partington Canyon. Partially located in current day Julia Pfeiffer

Burns State Park, the land patent contained the north and south banks of Partington Creek on the coast, including Partington Point and Inlet (BLM GLO 2016).

Figure 15. 1891 T-Sheet Pacific Coast from Partington’s Sea View Landing Southward, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey.

Partington Landing is one of the more iconic and unique doghole ports in Big Sur and all of California. John Partington and Bert Stevens spent three years tunneling a passageway through a cliff to access a comparatively deep and calm inlet that was to serve as their schooner landing for shipping tanbark and importing household commodities. Located just southeast of Partington Point and Creek is a promontory that shelters a finger-shaped coastal inlet. The passageway was constructed to meet the east face of the promontory, which forms the west side of Partington Inlet. A grade was cut along the cliff face to reach the south end of the inlet where hoist was mounted on a landing deck. Wire cables were winched to schooners docked at the platform and mooring lines would extend in each direction to eyebolts embedded in the cliffs.

Davidson (1889:132) described Partington Landing:

This open anchorage is nine and a half miles from the Sur, and three and a quarter miles southeast of Pfeiffer’s Point, which forms somewhat of a protection in breaking the heavy northwest swell. There is a small indentation in the shore line of about two hundred yards in breadth and depth, into which the small coasting schooners are hauled under a chute from the cliffs. They lie here in five fathoms of water to receive tan-bark, etc. But the anchorage is half a mile outside in twelve fathoms of water over rocky bottom. The anchorage and landing are considered good in the summer months.

Partington sought a degree of residential permanence beyond tanbark production.

In addition to constructing the necessary infrastructural elements necessary for tanbark operations, such as trails and a schooner landing, he also appeared dedicated to the development of the homestead and the wellbeing of his family in an isolated frontier. He built a seven room log house with a cellar, a dairy barn and sheds for cattle, hogs, horses, and chickens (McGlynn 1988:9). A schoolhouse was also built, named Sea View School, for his five children. Furthermore, the landing served more than just an export role, serving as a makeshift post office and importing household goods.

Figure 16. Confianza, at Partington Landing, 1900. Photo: Pat Hathaway Collection, CA Views.

John Partington passed away in 1888 and the tanbark company was transferred to his two sons. The tanbark operations in the Partington Canyon region would eventually land in the hands of Sam Trotter, who in 1902 led one of the final tanbark shipments from the landing. Trotter, with a crew of 40 men, “Brought out 10,000 cords with bark up to five inches thick. . . what is still regarded as the heaviest bark with the greatest content of tannic acid ever harvested in California history” (McGlynn 1988:10).

Anderson (Saddle Rock) Landing

James Anderson received a patent for 160 acres on July 5, 1883. The patent encompassed land located directly south of McWay Falls, including Anderson Canyon and Burns Creek. Later, on July 3, 1890, he received a patent for an additional 160 acres located further east in Anderson Canyon. His brother Peter Anderson also homesteaded the area, receiving a patent for 80 acres in Anderson Canyon on February 11, 1890 and an additional 160 acres in the same area on March 26, 1892 (BLM GLO 2016). James

Anderson, however, arrived in the region sooner than these patents indicate, likely in the

1870s to capitalize on the untapped tanbark stands. As one of the southernmost and isolated endeavors at the time, ocean transportation was imperative for the industry’s viability.

Davidson described the landing in 1889,

This open and unprotected anchorage is half a mile broad off shore, and about one mile to the west northwest of Hot Springs Cañon. It is eight and a half miles northwestward from Lopez Point, and seventeen and a quarter miles southwestward from Point Sur. The usual anchorage is just outside the kelp, in seven fathoms of water over rocky bottom. The boat landing is on a rock lying one hundred and ten yards from shore. Freight is then moved from this rock to the shore over a wire rope. The small coasting streamers land freight here.

Figure 17. 1891 T-Sheet Pacific Coast from Partington’s Sea View Landing Southward, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey.

Edward Robert Waters quoted in Big Sur a Battle for Wilderness: 1867-1985 (1981:89-

90), described the operations at Anderson Landing at an unknown date,

The bark was corded and made ready for shipment. A cable was taken out and over the schooner to three buoys, was pulled tight on shore and tied to a large tree. A donkey engine was anchored to another tree and an endless small cable was then attached to a platform which was loaded with one tier of bark.

About six men worked on shore to load the sleds or platforms which were lowered on the cable with pulleys until they were over the deck of the schooner. A cord was fastened so that it could be tripped and the bark would drop safely on deck. The cable was about 600 feet long and the donkey engine was operated by John Waters.

Peter Anderson, in a visit to his property 50 years after he sold it in 1889, recalled the wires and booms necessary to anchor and load or unload the vessel. It cost him eight dollar a ton to retrieve machinery and plows for his ranch (Hale 1980:144). In the 1900s tanbark operations near Anderson Canyon and Landing were taken over by Henry Majors and the Eberhard Tanning Co. of Santa Cruz. The tanbark was harvested deep in the canyons at this point, requiring over six miles of arduous overland travel to reach

Anderson Landing, where it would be corded and loaded upon the schooner Confianza

(MPH 1967).

Harlan Landing

In the 1880s the Harlan and Dani families homesteaded near present-day Lucia, which similar to Anderson Landing, was located in some of the most isolated territory at the time. On September 23, 1887 Gabriel Dani received a patent for 160 acres southwest of Twin Peaks and west of the west fork of Limekiln Creek. On May 5, 1889 Wilbur J.

Harlan received a patent for 160 acres northeast of Lopez Point, reaching just west of the headwaters of Vicente Creek on the north. Harlan would eventually expand his holdings overtime, adding 162 acres adjacent to the original patent on September 25, 1890, and another 167 acres a few years later. This latter parcel encompassed the coastline directly east of Lopez Point at the present day location of Lucia Lodge (BLM GLO 2016).

Life in this isolated section of the coast required a slightly higher degree of self- sufficiency. The Harlan family worked to clear land for agriculture and orchards. Despite this, families couldn’t accomplish complete self-sufficiency and relied upon the delivery of household goods via ocean-based commercial connections to San Francisco markets.

Harlan Landing is not described in Davidson’s Coast Pilot. Neither was this study able to locate historical maps or historical photographs documenting the landing.

Evidence of this landing rests on oral accounts. Clark (1991:205) states that the landing was located along Wilbur Harlan’s property. He explains that in 1885 a cable extended from Chute Rock to an offshore rock. Woolfenden (1981:62) explained directly below

Lucia Lodge are located two large rocks in a small cove where vessels would land. He explains that initially supplies were unloaded on wooden sleds and hauled up the steep trail by mule trains.

Harlan later constructed a pulley platform that replaced the wooden sled, yet the power was still supplied by mule and horse. Hale (1980:138) similarly described a cable operation that employed mules and horses. The importation of household goods, rather than the exportation of extracted resources, appears to be the primary role of this landing.

Although, it does appear Harlan harvested and shipped timber on a small scale.

Schooners were chartered from San Francisco once a year to deliver goods that could not be procured on the isolated south coast of Big Sur, including sugar, salt, flour, rice, bedding, and woolens (Hale 1980:138; Woolfenden 1981:62).

Coulter (1922) briefly described operations at the landing, “In 1885 when Mr.

Harlan settled at Lucia he put up a cable landing, and small vessels delivered freight at

$7.00 a ton from San Francisco.” Bonita was the two-masted schooner Harlan would charter once a year from San Francisco. Rather than employ the schooner to land machinery for timber harvesting, Harlan hauled the cargo from King City, an approximately 30-mile trail of steep and unpredictable conditions.

Rockland Landing

The Rockland Lime and Lumber Company had business roots in Maine. During the late 19th century Francis Cobb II dominated the lime industry in Rockland, Maine and elsewhere in the state. Unionism and labor unrest pushed Cobb to seek opportunities out of state, eventually landing him in California. He encountered an already developed and near-monopolized lime industry in Santa Cruz. At this time the region was run by powerful and productive companies, such Henry Cowell Lime & Cement Co and Jordan

& Davis Lime Company of Santa Cruz. In 1956 the latter produced 19,331 barrels of lime (Piwarzyk and Koch 2002:8). He was directed to property in the sparsely settled and undeveloped Big Sur. Cobb’s son-in-law, James S. Hanley, purchased land south of

Lucia, in present day Limekiln State Park. On May 20, 1887 the company was incorporated in San Francisco, and immediately set to developing the infrastructural elements necessary for a large-scale lime operation. Hanley and a group of thirty men began constructing roads, bridges, structures, mills, and kilns (Grindle 1971:94). By the spring of 1888 two patent kilns were in operation, and they would eventually add two more. Through 1888 three thousand barrels of lime were shipped from Rockland Landing

(Piwarzyk and Koch 2002).

William Irelan Jr. (1888:411) in the Eight Annual Report of the State Mineralogist of 1888 wrote of the operation’s high potential,

There is an inexhaustible supply of lime rock and a large forest of redwood, pine, laurel, and oak, from which to obtain fuel and material for the maintenance of barrels. A road three thousand seven hundred feet long, with a slight downgrade, and cut almost in solid rock, leads from the works to the shipping point. The latter is located on a bold point extending into the ocean, and about one hundred and fifteen feet high.

Piwarzyk and Koch (2002:15) describe Rockland Landing:

At Rockland Landing, a steel cable (probably 1-inch diameter) 1,000 feet long extended out to a heavy anchor that laid in 10 fathoms (60 feet) of water. (The anchor was reported as being two tons by one source and thirty tons by another. Although the design of the anchor is not known, the former weight does not seem like it would be heavy enough.) A captain was said “to be under the wire” when his schooner was properly positioned for loading, about 400 feet offshore. A pallet (or basket, a bucket, or a box) was hung from a “traveler” that rode the cable on wheels. Another cable probably ran from the pallet to a winch at the “chute house” onshore. The exact rigging is not known. The winch, powered by steam (probably a “donkey” engine), lowered the loaded pallet to the ship and pulled back the empty pallet. This process was reversed if a ship was being unloaded. The steam schooners used were much easier to maneuver into position than the old sailing schooners. A smart captain would point his bow to sea for a quick departure in case a storm arose suddenly without warning.

An October 1888 Coast and Geodetic Survey map, Sketch of Twin Peak Cove, plots “Hanley’s Landing” at the location of Rockland Landing. This map illustrates a chute that projects southeast from the point at Rockland Landing. During production of this map the landing was named after J.S. Hanley, the president and manager of the

Rockland Lime and Lumber Company. Following this, the 1890 Coast and Geodetic

Survey map, Pacific Coast from Rockland Landing to Lopez Point, illustrates “Rockland

Landing” with a “Smoke Stack” and “Ware House.” This 1890 map reflects the descriptions provided by Irelan (1888) and Piwarzyk and Koch (2002). At this date the company was operating full-scale and employing a cable chute and donkey engine to transport freight from land to schooner.

The Coast and Geodetic Survey Report for 1904 describe Limekiln Smokestack and Limekiln Ware House. The Ware House was a whitewashed building measuring 90 ft. long and located on the cliff side bluff above the ocean. The Smoke Stack was a structure and hoisting engine approximately 10 ft. high and 10 m. from the warehouse

(A.F. Rodgers 1890, in U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey Report 1904:728). In 1888 the

Monterey Democrat reported that operations at Rockland “give employment to 100 men as coopers, hoop, stave, and wood cutter, carpenters, firemen, teamsters, quarrymen, etc.”

In addition, the structures on the property include ten dwelling houses, a stable, cooper shop, blacksmith shop, and tool houses (MD 1888).

Figure 18. 1888 Sketch of Twin Peak Cove, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey.

The Rockland Lime and Lumber Company ceased operations in 1890, after about three years of business. Piwarzyk and Koch (2002:9-10) pinpoint several factors related to the rapid dissolution of the company. First, the limestone deposit was much thinner than initially anticipated. The quarry existed on a cliff face below a rock talus that only proved 100 to 150 ft. deep. Secondly, the “inexhaustible” supply of forest soon

94 demonstrated limited capacity, pushing the company to distant canyons to maintain the continuously burning kilns and the need to construct lime barrels. Thirdly, the distance to markets and the difficulty of loading and transporting lime on schooner may have played a factor. While no record of the schooner loss has been located, Stan Harlan stated that the last schooner to load at Rockland Landing took on water in rough seas and chemical reactions with the lime caused the vessel to sink (Piwarzyk and Koch 2002).

Figure 19. 1890 T-Sheet Pacific Coast from Rockland Landing to Lopez Point, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey.

The loss of company operations resulted in the demise of the landing, drastically reorienting commerce and transportation for the settlers that remained. Henry Cowell

Lime and Cement Company bought the 4,252-acre Rockland property in 1903 for approximately $22,000. However, the company never reinitiated operations at the quarry or landing (SFC 1903).

Mill Creek

The Mill Creek watershed provided abundant timber stands for logging operations around 1900. No documentary evidence addressing the logging company and its operations has been located. A vague US Forest Service National Register documentation form explains the existence of a “cable rig” at the mouth of Mill Creek used to load cargo onto schooners. Railroad ties were the primary product shipped from the landing (Lopez

1978).

Pacific Valley

Davidson (1889:132) provided the only documentary description for Pacific

Valley Landing, or Cox’s Hole: “Off the mouth of the canon there is summer anchorage in six to eight fathoms of water, with a good boat landing on a sandy beach. There are a few houses and a schoolhouse here. The remains of an old chute were still standing in

1885.” The 1888 T-sheet labeled the small cove at today’s Sand Dollar Beach as Pacific

Valley Landing. The south end of the cove contains a group of large rock outcrops projecting into the ocean and is labeled “boat landing.” This may be where the chute once existed. In the late 1800s and early 1900s sawmills existed in Pacific Valley, which would have produced the lumber for shipment from this landing.

Figure 20. 1888 South Coast of California from Fancher Ranch to Prewitt Cr., U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey. Note “Pacific Valley Landing” and “Boat Landing.”

Cape San Martin

One of the larger-scale industrial endeavors in Big Sur occurred in the Los Burros

Mining District. Located in the far southwest corner of Monterey County near the headwaters of Alder Creek and throughout the Willow Creek watershed, the mining district experienced extensive development of placer and hard rock claims. Initial gold mining in the southern Santa Lucia Mountains dates back to the 1850s when Chinese settlers began working placer deposits. The Chinese prospectors, said to number over one hundred, began mining outside of Jolon, but were pushed west into more rugged territory because their workings took place on the Milpitas Grant (Irelan 1888:405).

Figure 21. 1888 South Coast of California from Fancher Ranch to Prewitt Cr., U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey. Note, “boat landing” south of San Martin Rock.

The Los Burros Mining District was formally established on February 5, 1875 with H.C. Dodge as chairman, A.C. Frazier as secretary and W.D. Cruikshank as recorder of claims. According the Los Burros Mining District records, located at the Country

Recorder’s Office, the boundaries of the district are as follows: “Commencing at the

Mouth of the San Kapoho [San Carpóforo Creek] following the Pacific Ocean Northerly to Prewitt’s Trail. Thence following said trail to McKerns. Thence to the place of beginning.” The Last Chance Mine, discovered on March 24, 1887 by William D.

Cruikshank, initiated the boom phase for the district. The boom lasted through the 1890s and at its peak contained over 2,000 mining claims and a small boomtown, Manchester,

98 with a population of about 350 people. The extreme isolation and ruggedness of the landscape, along with a lack of railroads or developed wagon roads, required innovative transportation methods to import mining equipment and ship out extracted ore.

The ocean was the most cost effective and least labor-intensive method to transport machinery to the mining district. A small cove at Cape San Martin was used to land vessels and unload equipment. The specific conveyance method is unknown. Mule trains would then haul the cargo eight miles up the ridge to the mining district (Grover

2005). This method beat the overland route, which would require approximately forty miles of travel via mule teams from King City, located east in the Salinas Valley, where the Southern Pacific Railroad arrived in 1886.

Davidson (1889) explained, “There is said to be an anchorage under the south side of the cape, but it is only a lee for small craft against heavy northwest winds.” While several sources exist that describe the reliance on coastal shipment, no other documentary records have been located that describe the location and the construction of the landing.

Alder Creek

Davidson (1889) does not describe this landing. The single reference to it is the T- sheet South Coast of California from White Rock No. 2 Westward that labels “boat landing.” The landing is indicated as being immediately adjacent to “P. Phillips Ranch,” with a trail switch-backing down the cliff side to the exposed cove. It is likely that this landing served as a supply point to distribute household commodities to local settlers, rather than export extracted materials.

Figure 22. 1888 T-Sheet, White Rock No. 2 Northward, U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey. Note “Boat Landing” and “P. Phillips Ranch.”

A Frontier Landscape

Big Sur was a coastal frontier zone that was transformed into a maritime cultural landscape of extraction and resource transportation. The rugged and inaccessible coastal frontier gained a regional identity by extractive-minded groups that colonized and developed the land according to previous cultural understandings, economies, and technologies. As a periphery to the metropolis, the newly settled Big Sur region fed and was guided by exterior market demands.

Environmental and technological adaptation was necessary to tame the unique obstacles of the maritime frontier. Tied to the growing cities’ demands for construction materials, these frontier ports illustrate the commercial link and transition of resources from the extraction camps to the metropolis. Ideas of the economic potential of the

100 region, market fluctuations of the metropolis, and technological advancement of industry were shared at these nodal points. The inclusion of the Big Sur frontier into the expansion of the Pacific Coast’s market economy was strictly tied to its identity as region of extraction. If it wasn’t for the location of resources and the development of transportation infrastructure the frontier region would have developed a different identity; one more detached from the metropolis.

Additional Maritime Elements: Lighthouses and Shipwrecks

Lighthouses are extremely meaningful elements of the maritime cultural landscape. These structures are often built along parts of the coast that proved hazardous and occasionally tragic, thereby embodying important cultural significance beyond just the structures themselves. Point Sur is the one lighthouse within the boundaries of this study area. Piedras Blancas lighthouse, slightly south, is visible along the southern reaches of Big Sur and has served, and continues to serve, an important navigational role for the Central Coast since 1875.

Point Sur is unique and random projection of metamorphosed rock that projects above a low-lying coastal terrace (Henson and Usner Jr. 1993:311). Also known as Moro

Rock, it forms a distinctive landmark in the Big Sur maritime cultural landscape. South of the rock the coastline turns southeast, forming a shallow and rocky shoreline until it reaches the mouth of the Big Sur River. North of the rock the coastline consists of sandy beach and offshore rocks until it meets the steep and imposing Hurricane Point, where the coastline continues a rocky and jagged trail until Monterey. This irregular direction and landforms of Point Sur has repeatedly proved hazardous to navigation. This can be traced

101 back to early European maritime activity, such as Juan Cabrillo who noted the Point Sur rock in his 1542 reconnaissance of the Alta California coast (O’Neil 2003).

Several shipwrecks dated to the industrial doghole port era have occurred in the

Point Sur vicinity. The Ventura was one of the earliest shipwrecks. On April 20, 1875 the ship departed San Francisco in transit to Los Angeles. The vessel carried 186 passengers along with 400 tons of wagons and linens. Around 5:00 p.m. the ship encountered dense fog off the coast north of Point Sur. Fog cleared enough for the crew to recognize a concentration of offshore rocks immediately ahead. It was too late for the ship to navigate around and it crashed directly in the outcrop. Sinking was initially slow, allowing several boats to launch and transport every passenger the three hundred yards to shore. However, very little of the cargo was saved before the ship fully sank. The offshore outcrop today is named Ventura Rock (Semones 2012).

Point Sur would soon claim another. The Los Angeles was travelling to San

Francisco from Newport Beach for the Midwinter International Exposition in April 1894.

The ship was carrying 36 crewmembers, 49 passengers, and a cargo of various items ranging from produce and dairy products to lumber, wool, and cinnabar. While conditions were clear and the ship was in sight of the lighthouse it somehow struck submerged rocks west of Point Sur. Many of the passengers were able to escape on lifeboats and were further aided by the steamer Eureka. However, six perished in the accident (Heubner 2015).

The SS Majestic also found its resting place near Point Sur in December 1909.

The Majestic was a steam schooner built just a year earlier and had earned a reputation as one of the most capable vessels plying the Pacific coast at the time. The ship was headed

102 north from Redondo Beach when it encountered a severe storm off the Big Sur coast. A malfunctioning propeller came at the wrong time as the large swells and heavy wind pushed the schooner onto shore slightly south of Point Sur. All the crew survived but the ship itself was unsalvageable. Crewmembers searched the seemingly deserted coastline for help until they encountered the Pfeiffers, one of the initial homesteading families. The ship sat abandoned on the beach allowing the waves and elements to scatter pieces across the beach and into the ocean. The remaining intact elements were sold in a private auction, while the nameplate was given to the Pfeiffers for their assistance with wreck victims (Reinstedt 1975).

No shipwrecks directly related to doghole port operations have been identified in the documentary record. The oral testimonies provided by Stan Harlan describe a schooner having sunk after taking on lime barrels from Rockland Landing, but this has not been corroborated elsewhere in documentary records (Piwarzyk and Koch 2002:12).

The wrecks described above appear to have occurred due to inexperience in navigating the coastline or negligence regarding navigational hazards.

The 1875 wreck of the Ventura became the catalyst to petition the county for a lighthouse at Point Sur. However, it was not until August 1, 1889 that a light station was finally built and in operation. The station included the lighthouse, keeper’s residence, assistant dwellings, barracks, pump house, barn, blacksmith/ carpenter’s shop, cistern, and oil house (Bookwalter 1990). The coastline, often blanketed in dense fog, necessitated further navigational aids, including an offshore horn. The light station was initially supplied by a hoist railway that transferred goods and cargo up the east face of the rock.

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Environmental obstacles delayed construction and influenced early operations at the light station. Ingenuity in engineering was required to make the promontory a suitable navigational aid and settlement. Before construction began the peak of Moro Rock had to be reduced by 80 ft. to provide a level grade suitable for structural development.

Additionally, supply was hindered by the steep cliffs surrounding the graded flat, which led to the construction of the hoist railway. The railway method soon became obsolete and a road grade was constructed on the southeast face of the rock. This road also faced its challenges, as it was consistently plagued by rockslides. Supply was further exacerbated by the slide-susceptible Coast Road linking Monterey. Overall, isolation was a big factor in the light station’s operation and the closest boat landings, including the southeast side of Moro Rock and the Big Sur River mouth, were rather undeveloped.

A second, yet less substantial, navigation-related site existed at Cape San Martin.

This consisted of a beacon that stood atop a white wooden pyramid. Little is known of its initial date and operational existence, let alone its construction. Its location is labeled on

1949 USGS Cape San Martin 7.5-minue topographic quadrangle map, but is not depicted on the T-Sheets.

Decline of Ocean Shipment and Doghole Ports

In Northern California the introduction of railroads improved the efficiency of transportation, eliminating double handling of resources at the large markets in San

Francisco. Railroads allowed for direct transportation of lumber to consumers, reducing the necessity of doghole ports and oceanic transportation (Terrance 2010:158). The decline of doghole ports in Big Sur, however, is directly tied to the overexploitation of

104 the natural resources in which industrial companies targeted. Timber companies were forced to push deeper into the interior canyons in search of untapped stands, making overland transportation to the landings more time consuming and expensive. Mining and quarrying companies either reached an obsolete point in the workings.

In addition to a decline in natural resources, industry was also affected by the expanding tourist economy. The onset of the 20th century witnessed increasing construction of land-based transportation in Big Sur. The construction of the Carmel-San

Simeon Highway began in the 1920s, but even prior to this several Big Sur residents had established resorts to attract urban populations with grand vistas and wilderness appeal.

Historic Context and Archaeological Survey

The production of a historic context can greatly assist archaeological survey at historic-era sites. The researcher becomes aware of the property types to be expected in a certain geographical region and timeframe. This spatial and temporal demarcation, to a degree, enables the researcher to expect an archaeological record to reflect certain patterns as elucidated in the documentary record. With regard to doghole ports, this is reflected in site and feature types and locations. It might be expected that temporal and spatial proximity amongst sites can create certain archaeological patterns. On the other hand, it can elucidate special circumstances, such as technological innovation, that might be unique to a certain site. For landscape-scale studies the historic context has the capacity to assist in defining spatial relationships and links amongst sites.

Overall, the historic context helps define what may or may not be deemed significant as defined by National Register criteria. This study declares the period of

105 significant for this doghole port maritime cultural landscape as encompassing the era in which they were utilized for extractive export. During this period the landing were instrumental in regional development and contributed to statewide economic growth.

Figure 23. Doghole port locations, companies, and industries.

Landing Name Location Individual/Company Primary Industry Coal Chute Whaler’s Cove Carmelo Land &Coal Co. Coal Strader’s Mal Paso Creek Monterey Coal Mining Co. Coal Notley’s Palo Colorado C.G. Notley & Co. Tanbark Bixby Mill (Bixby) Creek Charles Bixby & Co.; Monterey Lumber; Lime Lime and Lumber Co. Point Sur Point Sur Unknown; Various Supply Big Sur River M Big Sur River mouth Unknown; Various Lumber; Supply Partington’s Partington Inlet John Partington & Bert Stevens Tanbark Anderson Anderson Canyon James Anderson Tanbark Harlan Lopez Point/Lucia Wilbur Harlan Supply Rockland Limekiln Creek Rockland Lime & Lumber Co. Lime Mill Creek Mill Creek Unknown Lumber Pacific Valley Sand Dollar Beach Unknown; Various Lumber Cape San Martin Cape San Martin Unknown; Various Gold mining Alder Creek Alder Creek Unknown; Various Unknown; Supply

Figure 24. Doghole port dates, chute type, exposure, and current day management.

Landing Name Dates of Operation Method Exposure Ownership Coal Chute ca. 1891-1901 Slide/Apron Open/ North CA DPR Strader’s ca. 1870s Slide/Apron South Private Notley’s ca. 1890s-1906 Cable Open BSLT Bixby ca. 1890-1910 Slide/Apron South Private Point Sur ca. 1911-1930s Cable Southeast CA DPR Big Sur River M. ca. 1850s-1920s Pier South CA DPR Partington’s ca. 1878-1902 Cable Southeast CA DPR Anderson ca. 1872-1880s Cable Open Private Harlan ca. 1885-? Cable Southeast Private Rockland ca. 1887-1890 Cable Open CA DPR Mill Creek ca. 1890s-1900 Cable Open USFS Pacific Valley ca. 1880s-1900 Unknown Open USFS Cape San Martin ca. 1880s-1890s Unknown Open USFS Alder Creek ca.1888-? Unknown Open USFS *Dates of operation are specific to the extractive era and do not include episodes in which landings were used during Highway One construction or Prohibition (1920s-1930s).

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CHAPTER 4 ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEYS AND SITE RECORDINGS

Archaeological Survey Locations

Four doghole ports were targeted for archaeological pedestrian survey and site recordation. Three of these surveys were conducted on portions of California State Park property, including Andrew Molera, Julia Pfeiffer Burns, and Limekiln State Parks. The fourth survey was conducted on a portion of Big Sur Land Trust property. These four locations span disparate geographical sections of the Big Sur coastline. Furthermore, they served different industrial enterprises and encompass divergent timespans and environmental obstacles.

Reconnaissance was performed at two additional maritime sites on California

State Park properties; including Coal Chute Point in Point Lobos State Reserve and

Signal Rock in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. A description of the features encountered at these sites is provided below, yet additional archaeological survey may be required to complete California DPR 523 archaeological site forms for these properties. Signal Rock is a rock outcrop immediately adjacent to the coastline that displays evidence of signal fires used to guide schooners seeking Anderson Landing.

Pre-field Research and Documentary Evidence

Historical maps, photographs, and documentary records were examined prior to on-the-ground archaeological survey. This pre-field research assisted in determining sites and feature types and locations. U.S. Coast and Geodetic survey T-Sheets, such as depicted in the previous chapter, were particularly useful for Partington and Rockland

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Figure 25. North coast of Big Sur doghole port and survey locations.

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Figure 26. South coast of Big Sur doghole port and survey locations.

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Landing. These maps illustrated some of the important structures associated with each landings’ operation. For example, the T-Sheet containing Rockland Landing illustrates a warehouse and smokestack on the coastal cliff ledge immediately south of Limekiln

Creek. The location of these structures as determined by the map facilitated the identification and interpretation of otherwise elusive historic-era materials. These maps were georeferenced on ArcMap geographical information systems (GIS).

A record search was performed at the Northwest Information Center (NWIC) to identify sites within or adjacent to each study area. The search encountered “National

Landing.” These one to two page documents, completed in the 1970s, contain little to no descriptions of features or artifacts. Furthermore, no historic-era maritime sites were located within or immediately adjacent to the other doghole port survey areas.

Archaeological Survey Goals

Since these sites are primarily unrecorded resources, one of the ultimate goals was to determine the type, amount, and condition of archaeological signatures still present.

Another priority of the archaeological survey was the identification of features or artifacts that display activities that require links between land and sea. Identification of these features can help bridge the shoreline gap that has been previously employed during maritime site recording. While this study isn’t performing underwater reconnaissance, locating and correctly interpreting this feature category can raise awareness that these sites have the possibility to extend beyond the shoreline. In addition, such features can assist future studies in determining the type or location of underwater resources. This

110 study also emphasizes the inclusion of the terrestrial transportation infrastructure. For example, wagon roads and mule trails were expected to display the maritime orientation and reliance of early land-based industries.

On a similar note, archaeological survey sought to locate features that display the methods or technologies used to transport cargo to and from the shore and moored vessels. In the case of cable chutes, the primary method used in Big Sur, this may be indicated by the presence of wire cable or steam donkey platforms or hoist foundations.

Archaeological Survey Methods and Approaches to Site Recording

Crews of three to five transected the coastal bluffs, cliff sides, and accessible intertidal areas encompassing the doghole port and surrounding landscape in an attempt to identify archaeological features and artifacts. Archaeological materials were mapped with a Trimble geographical positioning system (GPS) and recorded on California DPR

523 forms. Dimensions were taken for structural remains, foundations, or road grades.

All features and artifacts were photographed and site overview pictures were used to capture the surrounding coastline and maritime context. The extent of the archaeological feature and artifacts determined the extent of site boundaries, except when property boundaries or hazardous conditions forbade entrance or further survey.

As previously mentioned, Big Sur’s Santa Lucia Mountains produces the steepest coastal slope in the contiguous United States. These steep conditions make archaeological survey difficult and require extreme caution. Several hazards were encountered and avoided during archaeological survey. This includes steep cliffs, slippery rocks, and large swells. While it cannot be entirely discounted, one may conclude that such areas would

111 have similarly been avoided in the past. Additional obstacles include dense coastal vegetation and extensive poison oak, causing limited ground visibility and difficult access to shrouded features or artifacts.

As indicated in the literature review, there are no systematic guidelines for documenting historic-era maritime landscapes. This currently leaves a degree of flexibility in determining the boundaries of doghole port sites. An important priority of the site recording was the identification of features that contribute to the understanding of these sites as elements of larger economic networks that link, and are linked by, the sea and land. That is, these sites must not be perceived to exist in isolation at the water’s edge. In addition, the survey sought to recognize important landscape features, either cultural or natural in construction. Areas in which a schooner could land were dependent on environmental factors, and the resulting human constructions reflect this influence.

Overall, a major goal is to illustrate these sites as nodal points of extractive and commercial activity and reflective of human-environmental interactions.

The approach to site recording also necessitated the consideration of impact factors, including public visitation, highway construction and maintenance, and corrosive elements. The landings’ proximity to the corrosive and destructive properties of saltwater and large waves undoubtedly contributes to more rapid degradation of cultural materials, such as metal and wood. In addition, prehistoric, historic, and present human populations are repeatedly attracted to specific destinations along the coast. For instance, many doghole ports locations coincide with Native California shell midden sites and current day recreational areas, such as hiking, surfing, or fishing destinations. These successive layers of cultural occupation influence what remains to be documented.

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The landings located on State Park property, the Big Sur River Mouth, Partington

Landing, and Rockland Landing, are located directly adjacent to Highway One and are incorporated into present-day hiking trails, making public access easy and frequent. This is most prevalent at Partington Landing, where a designated hiking trail exists along portions of the historic-era mule trail, through the tunnel, and across the landing platform remains. Rockland Landing at Limekiln State Park does not contain a designated hiking trail, yet a footpath exists along the historic-era road grade that leads out to the coastal cliffs and the graded flat, which appear to be frequented by hikers and fishermen.

The parcel containing Notley’s Landing has been held in private hands for decades. The property owners succeeding the Notley brothers and the Eberhard Tanning

Co. do not appear to have made any further developments or constructions. The Big Sur

Land Trust acquired the property in 2001 and continues to limit public access. This has positive influence for the preservation of archaeological resources, yet a hands-off conservation approach has allowed for the growth of dense coastal chaparral, making for limited ground surface visibility.

Another important impact factor to consider during archaeological survey was the degree of destruction caused by the Carmel-San Simeon Highway. Highway construction began in the mid-1920s and was completed in 1937. This scenic highway parallels the

Pacific Ocean, adjusting elevation based on topography, the presence of canyons, and geological structure. Construction required massive removal of earth in the creation of road grades. This earth was often used as fill to connect the road across opposite ends of the canyons. This activity was extremely damaging to coastal ecosystems and archaeological sites.

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The proximity of Rockland Landing to Highway One likely makes it the most physically impacted site visited in this study. A large concrete bridge and highway through-cut exist immediately northeast of the headland where the landing warehouse and smokestack existed. The highway bisects the historic-era wagon road that connected the landing to the limekilns where the south point of the bridge meets the through-cut.

A further distance exists between Partington Landing and the highway, which reduced the direct impacts of construction. Rather than building a bridge to span

Partington Canyon, residual earth from cliff grading was used as fill to connect the north and south faces of the canyon. The base of the fill is located approximately 200 m. east from the north end of Partington Tunnel, far enough to avoid direct impacts on landing features. Yet, the fill destroyed portions of the historic-era trail that led from the landing into the canyon. Following highway construction, the trail leading to Partington Inlet was transferred to the north side of the canyon where it now appears as a fire road. The current Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park hiking trail, named accurately enough, the Tanbark

Trail, is located east of Highway One and parallels the south bank of Partington Creek.

Some segments of this trail may be the historic-era mule trail used to transport tanbark out of the canyon to the landing.

Partington Landing was used during highway construction to deliver materials and machinery. Construction began in the Partington Canyon region around 1922 and may have been completed around 1924. Supposedly a load of cement and a steel reinforcement fell from the landing platform and settled on the seafloor of the inlet

(McGlynn 1988). During this timeframe priorities shifted from the exporting of natural resources to the importing of construction materials. This operational shift may have

114 demanded adapting conveyance technologies more oriented towards importing machinery and construction materials.

The degree of highway impact on Notley’s Landing appears to be fairly minimal.

According to historical maps and field observations of old road cuts the current location of Highway One appears to be slightly west of the historic-era Coast Road. Historical maps indicate the presence of company town structures adjacent to the Coast Road; therefore, some degree of detrimental impact due to highway construction is possible.

The Big Sur River Mouth Landing is the furthest from Highway One, approximately 0.6 mi., making construction impacts highly unlikely.

Archaeological Surveys Results

Below is a description of the archaeological features and artifacts located at each doghole port site. The surveys and site recordings are arranged in geographical order from north to south. This section then concludes with a comparison of features at each landing and a discussion of additional submerged features that may be linked.

Notley’s Landing

A record search at NWIC provided the National Register of Historic Places Site

Inventory Form for “Notley’s Landing,” although it only describes a “Site of tanbark sheds and a cable for landing ships with tanbark. Sheds no longer remain. A ring for cables is still intact, however” (MacChesney). In addition, the record search indicated the presence of a prehistoric shell midden site immediately north of the landing on the

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Figure 27. Aerial image of Notley’s Landing.

116 adjacent private property parcel (Hamson 1980). This survey observed portions of this site extending into the Big Sur Land Trust parcel and the site of Notley’s Landing.

As presented in the previous chapter, a 1907 property survey map indicated eight structures at Notley’s landing, which likely included the chute house. Several historical photographs corroborate this map, displaying the construction and location of several structures. The Coast and Geodetic Survey mapped this segment of the coastline in 1876 and again in 1983 but both T-Sheets display the site as undeveloped.

The survey of a portion of the Big Sur Land Trust parcel was completed on 12

November 2016. This segment of the property consists of a slightly sloping marine terrace on the ocean side of Highway One. The western boundary of the survey area consists of an approximately 120-ft. high steep granitic cliff side that descends into the

Pacific Ocean. The steep relief of the cliff side restricted access to an isolated ledge below the hoist features. At the time of the survey the property contained dense coastal scrub with extensive poison oak, which made systematic transects and ground visibility difficult. Despite these obstacles numerous landing-related features were observed.

Several features directly related to the landing of vessels and the conveyance of cargo to and from shore were located. One of the more substantial and intact features was the hoist foundation to the cable shute (Figure 28). Located on a graded flat immediately adjacent to a small cove, the rebar-enforced concrete foundation is P-shaped with 6 sides and measures 14 ft., 4 in. in total length and 8 ft. in width. The foundation contains reinforcing on its sides similar to cast-in-place counterforts, or buttressing, for retaining walls. Several anchor bolts and a secured, yet eroding, wooden beam exist atop the foundation. Remains of a wire, likely from the cable chute, were also observed

117 immediately adjacent to the northwest side of the foundation. An eyebolt embedded within the soil is located approximately 4 ft. southwest of the foundation. Directly west- southwest from the concrete foundation, in the direction of the ocean and immediately before the cliff becomes too steep to walk, were the remains of a wooden platform. Three intact support posts were observed and several degraded beams laid atop them, which likely served as components of the decking. The remains of this platform measure 20 ft.,

7 in. wide. Both the concrete foundation and the wooden platform were oriented west- southwest, in the direction of the small rocky cove where the vessels would land. The concrete foundation likely housed the steam donkey and the hoist structure while the wooden platform may have served as the staging area for loading or unloading cargo from the cable chute’s basket.

Figure 28. Concrete foundation remains of cable chute hoist at Notley’s Landing.

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About 20 ft. south-southwest from the hoist foundation is another rectangular concrete foundation oriented in the same direction as the hoist foundation. Scattered between the two concrete foundations is a locus of loose brick and mortar. It is likely that the two concrete foundations, the brick and the wooden platform originally existed as part of a single structure.

Eight fastening hardware features were observed on the granitic cliff side downslope and slightly south from the hoist and wooden platform. Two features consist of intact ringbolts measuring 4 in. in diameter. Five features consist of concrete footings containing highly eroded pins that likely once held rings. A large chain link driven into the bedrock exists at the far southwest corner of the ledge. The link is elliptical in shape and measures 9 ½ in. and attached to a “U” shaped iron pin. This piece is secured to the anchoring bolt embedded in the granite bedrock. This feature is highly corroded due to its exposure to saltwater and waves. The one eyebolt located on the flat adjacent to the concrete hoist foundation likely served chute operations rather than vessel fastening.

A cistern feature was located approximately 130 ft. northeast from the hoist foundation. It is square in shape and constructed of concrete walls measuring 5 ½ in. wide. Its dimensions measured 9 ft. by 7 ft., 8 in. The cistern was likely covered with milled lumber, due to the presence of several planks submerged within the feature itself and scattered about its exterior. A drainpipe exists on the west interior face of the cistern.

Water was present in the cistern at the time of recording, but depth could not be determined. Structural remains were observed on the cliff ledge north of the hoist foundation. The type of structure could not be determined due to the leveled nature of the milled lumber. Additional loci of milled lumber were scattered on the north boundary of

119 the property. Additional cultural constituents include window glass fragments, an intact clear glass bottle, amethyst glass fragments, ceramic pipe fragment, and wire cut nails.

Figure 29. Ringbolt embedded in cliff with mortar at Notley’s Landing.

Big Sur River Mouth Landing

A record search indicated the existence of several prehistoric sites within the vicinity of the river mouth and one historic-era site on the meadow northeast of the river mouth. This historic-era site consists of a creamery associated with the cattle grazing operations at Rancho El Sur.

Portions of Molera Beach and Headland were surveyed on 22 December 2016.

Five features were identified during archaeological survey. Four of the features consisted of pilings for what appears to be two separate pier structures. These features were visited at a low tide of 1 ft., whereby the water level was 2-3 in. above the base of the pilings.

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Figure 30. Aerial image of the Big Sur River Mouth Landing.

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All pilings were aligned parallel to shore and embedded in sand and cobbles within the intertidal zone. Additional pilings may exist, but shifting beach conditions caused by changing river flow and sandbar development likely influence feature exposure. The pilings varied slightly in height and diameter, potentially the result of variations in timber size and deterioration due to wave action. The western set of pilings measure 11 ft. from each other, while the second set are a distance of 4 ft. from each other. The latter set is located approximately 120 ft. east of the former. The pilings averaged approximately 2 ft. in height above the cobble beach. Their diameter ranged from 8 ½ in. to 11 ½ in. An eyebolt was located on a rocky outcrop below the headland west of the river mouth. It was located approximately 4 ft. above the medium tide line. This was the single fastening hardware feature located.

Figure 31. Remains of pier pilings near the mouth of the Big Sur River.

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Partington Landing

The 1891 T-Sheet greatly assisted in the location and identification of features during the survey of Partington Landing. The map illustrates “Partington’s Sea View

Landing” with a trail paralleling Partington Creek, traveling beneath a ridge, and arriving at a landing platform near the southwestern end of Partington Inlet. The map indicates two creek crossings east of Partington Tunnel and two structures near the westernmost crossing. A circa 1900 photograph indicates a landing platform extending several feet over the water from the cliff ledge, stabilized by support posts extending towards the water below. Located on the landing platform is a hoist consisting of two parallel upright beams with a possible wire pulley system and winch. A two-masted schooner is fastened adjacent to the platform with mooring lines extending in several directions, including the opposite side of the inlet.

A record search at the NWIC indicated no historic sites in the immediate vicinity of Partington Landing. The search did indicate a prehistoric shell midden site on the ridge northwest of the inlet that separates Partington Inlet and Creek. During the archaeological survey eroding deposits of this midden were observed along portions of the trail between the south end of the tunnel and the landing platform remains. This was noted in the archaeological site record.

Pedestrian archaeological survey was performed on 1 April 2016. The survey concentrated along portions of Partington Creek, through Partington Tunnel, and along the western cliff ledge of Partington Inlet. The eastern side of Partington Inlet could not be accessed due to steep terrain. The survey was successful in re-identifying several features discernible in the historical maps, photographs, and descriptions of the landing.

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Figure 32. Aerial image of Partington’s Sea View Landing.

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The 113-ft. passageway that was bored though the ridge that separates Partington

Inlet and Canyon is one of the site’s most defining features (Figure 33). When considering the tunnel’s internal wooden frame, it average 6 ft., 3 in. in height and 6 ft., 6 in. in width. While structural elements have been restored, the current construction likely resembles the original. The internal structure consists of support beams, wall posts, and rafters with plank board walls forming an arch at each entrance. Remains of floor joists are located in several sections of the tunnel and areas along the trail south of the tunnel.

While indiscernible in historical photographs, these may have served as joists for a boardwalk leading to the landing platform.

Figure 33. Tunnel leading to Partington Landing.

The landing platform foundation remains are another important feature that illustrates activities linking land and sea. The platform is located at the end of the graded

125 trail segment where it meets a relatively flat, yet convoluted granitic ledge approximately

28 ft. above sea level. Documentary evidence indicates that following its initial establishment of the landing platform supplemental constructions were made. This makes determining original components of the foundation and hoisting mechanism difficult, yet historical photographs assist in diagnosing the timeframe for some elements. Mapping the plan of the foundation indicates a distribution of seventeen metal stakes embedded in the granite ledge. There are 6 separate concrete footings with the most eastern (closest to the ocean) containing the base remains of a wooden beam bolted into the footing, which likely served an important role in the operation of the windlass or levering arm. This feature may be associated with a later constructed loading mechanism at the landing. In a

1924 photograph the landing platform consists of a crane-like system with an upright beam and levering arm that lowered to vessels moored in the inlet.

Figure 34. Remains of beam associated with hoisting mechanism at Partington Landing.

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Four definitive eyebolts were identified. Several highly corroded and embedded metal stake-like features in proximity to these features may have once been eyebolts but eroded overtime due to exposure to weathering elements. One eyebolt is located 185 ft. north of the landing platform on the west side of the inlet (Figure 35). Another two are located 115 ft. south of the landing platform at the southwest point of the inlet. One is located on a cliff ledge approximately 20 ft. higher and 25 ft. west of the landing platform. Historical photographs and descriptions of the landing illustrate a mooring line extending to the east side of the inlet, a distance of approximately 110 ft. (McGlynn

1988:5). As mentioned above, the east side of the inlet could not be accessed. Binoculars were used to scan the cliff side for signs of eyebolts or other hardware, yet none were observed.

Figure 35. Eyebolt embedded on cliff in Partington Inlet.

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Rockland Landing

The T-Sheet for Rockland Landing indicates a schooner landing consisting of a

“warehouse” and a “smokestack,” which was likely a steam donkey used to power the basket of the cable chute that traveled between shore and vessel (Rodgers 1890). No historical photographs that directly depict the landing have been located. A 1930s photograph depicts an expansive overview of the coastline looking north towards Lopez

Point north of Rockland Landing. This photo portrays a standing structure at the southern extremity of the landing’s point, but it is too distant to make any conclusions regarding its construction or purpose (Norman 2004:103).

The “Limekiln Landing” National Register of Historic Places Site Inventory Form does not address the landing, but rather described a site that produced “man-made ready lime for use in tanbark industry” (Lopez). No further information is provided regarding archaeological features. The record search indicated a prehistoric shell midden site immediately east of the landing (Garsia et al. 1986). Deposits of the midden were observed during the archaeological survey and site recording for Rockland Landing.

A pedestrian archaeological survey was performed at Rockland Landing on 15 and 16 November 2016. Survey focused on the western side of Highway One where a southwest oriented ridge extends to form a coastal headland. The rocky headland has been culturally modified through leveling and grading, forming 3 of the 5 features identified during survey. The grading has formed a structural flat approximately 120 ft. above mean sea level. Transects with a metal detector covered the graded flat areas.

The southern and larger of the graded flats measures 145 ft. north-south by 30 ft. east-west. The smaller and northern graded flat measures 40 ft. north-south by 33 ft. east-

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Figure 36. Aerial image of Rockland Landing.

129 west. Dividing the two flats is an area of extreme erosion, only crossable by a small foot trail. The road grade, oriented north-south into Limekiln Canyon, travels approximately

250 ft. before it is destroyed by the through-cut of Highway One. The remains of a road grade are present on the southeast face of the ridge leading to the graded flat.

Georeferencing of T-Sheets on ArcMap indicates that the historic-era trail exited on the northwest face of the ridge. It is likely that the latter grade is associated with highway construction.

The survey did not locate many features or artifacts directly related to maritime activity. No eyebolts or ringbolts were located. While it could not be immediately accessed, a stake was observed embedded in a rock outcrop detached approximately 50 ft. from the main coastline. The location of this feature is oriented south of the graded flat, which corresponds to the documentary data that explains the chute cable as extending south to the submerged anchor. Another stake was located approximately 6 ft. downslope from the southern point of the graded headland. This stake, loose from the bedrock, measured approximately 14 in. and bent 90 degrees at midpoint. The two stakes appear to be lined up with the remains of a concrete foundation. This foundation is linear in shape and oriented in a north-south direction, measuring approximately 25 ft. long and

3 ½ ft. wide.

A defining feature of the site and conclusive evidence of the lime industry was the presence of lime deposits in several areas across the southern graded flat. The white chalky substance was observed primarily eroding down the southeastern cliff face, with the largest locus measuring approximately 35 ft. in diameter (Figure 37). Two areas containing pieces of milled lumber were embedded in the soil and lime deposits. The

130 dimensions to the milled lumber measured approximately 3 x ¾ in., with one piece containing what appeared to be the remains of a wire cut nail. Several highly corroded nails were also observed in the lime deposits. The milled lumber may have served as construction material for the hoist or warehouse depicted in the T-sheet.

Figure 37. Lime deposits eroding downslope from the graded flat at Rockland Landing.

The metal detector survey located a drop, or keyhole cover, of a Mallory Wheeler

“Smokehouse” style padlock (Figure 38). This lock company operated between 1865 and

1910, making it contemporaneous with operations of Rockland Lime and Lumber

Company. This padlock may have been used to secure entrance to one of the landing’s structures, likely the warehouse pictured on the T-Sheet. Further structural evidence exists in two loci of large in situ wire nails located on the southern flat. The nails were hammered into the bedrock shale with no apparent pattern, yet they appear to be located

131 where the T-Sheet plots the warehouse. Additional cultural constituents include dispersed wire cult nails, un-diagnostic metal debris and small fragments of window glass.

Figure 38. Mallory Wheeler keyhole cover to smokehouse style padlock.

Coal Chute Point

On 21 November 2016 Coal Chute Point in Point Lobos State Reserve was visited in an attempt to relocate features related to the apron chute operated by the Carmelo Coal

Company. The single feature located at Coal Chute Point was a large and highly corroded ringbolt (Figure 40). This was located mid-slope on a knoll approximately 15 ft. from the shoreline and 20 ft. above mean sea level. The portion of the ringbolt located in the loop of the embedded stake had severely eroded causing it to detach and erode down slope.

The ring measured 6 in. in diameter.

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Figure 39. Aerial image of Coal Chute Point in Whaler’s Cove.

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Figure 40. Ringbolt located on bluff at Coal Chute Point.

Signal Rock

Signal Rock is located on the southwest corner of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park.

It consists of a rock outcrop that displays burn evidence of signal fires used to guide schooners aiming for Anderson Landing (Clark 1991). On 29 November 2016 a pedestrian reconnaissance was able to relocate Signal Rock. This feature consists of a large rock face approximately 12 ft. high that extends towards a precipitous cliff overlooking the ocean. The rock face is oriented south. Blackening from signal fires is most prevalent directly at the base of the outcrop. It extends nearly to the top of the rock, covering an area of approximately and 11 ft. by 8 ft. It is located approximately 1.3 mi. north of Anderson Landing.

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Figure 41. Aerial image of Signal Rock.

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Figure 42. Signal Rock. Notice blackening on rock face from signal fires.

Unrecorded/ Inaccessible Features

Documentary sources and agency correspondence with California State Parks and

NOAA indicated the existence of additional underwater features located in the vicinity these sites. In 2008 during an underwater survey at Notley’s Landing, NOAA researchers discovered a submerged anchor located offshore in about 59 ft. of water (King 2016). The

“fuzzy” latitude and longitude places the anchor roughly 600 ft. west-southwest from the hoist foundation, the same orientation of the hoist itself. The location of this feature likely makes it the mooring anchor for the cable extending from the hoist. Further underwater documentation and mapping of this feature may require the expansion of the established site boundaries for Notley’s Landing. No underwater archaeological reconnaissance has been performed at Rockland Landing, but an anchor similar to the one located at Notley’s landing allegedly exists 500 ft. offshore at a depth of 60 ft.

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Site Patterns and Differentiation

These surveyed archaeological sites illustrate both unique and shared characteristics. First, the hardware related to fastening vessels is distinct to each site.

When discounting undiagnostic and highly eroded pins and stakes, Notley’s Landing consisted exclusively of ringbolts and a large chain-bolt feature. These features were primarily concentrated on a single granitic rock face immediately below the hoist and loading deck. A single eyebolt was located at Notley’s Landing, immediately adjacent to the hoist foundation. The location of this feature makes it more likely tied to the operation of the cable chute rather than the fastening of vessels. Similarly discounting undiagnostic stakes or pin remnants, fastening hardware at Partington Landing consisted primarily of eyebolts. As opposed to Notley’s Landing, these were distributed in distant locations that radiated in each direction from the landing deck. The Big Sur River Mouth

Landing was the only site that had contained a single eyebolt and it was further unique in its close proximity to the waterline. That is, it was located approximately 4 ft. above the ocean, rather than an approximate 20 ft. at other landings.

On the other hand, the only potential fastening hardware observed at Rockland

Landing was the stake located on the offshore rock outcrop and the loose stake located down slope from the southern graded flat. The lack of fastening hardware may be tied to several factors. The overall amount of features and artifacts located at Rockland Landing is relatively low when compared to other sites. This may be related to dismantling of structures and machinery following the cessation of operations. Additional cleanup or dismantling may have occurred during the construction of the Carmel-San Simeon

Highway. This still wouldn’t quite explain the lack of fastening hardware, as bolts or

137 rings would likely exist on the cliff face down slope from the flat. It is possible that more fastening hardware exists on offshore rock outcrops. These were inaccessible at the time of the survey and only visible on their north faces. Additional survey from sea may illuminate more fastening features on the south face of these rocks.

Each site contains the remains of at least one foundation with additional structural remains, yet these feature categories are much more prevalent and intact at Notley’s

Landing. The prevalence of structural-related features is directly tied to the fact that a company town site existed there. The preservation is likely due to the property ownership and conservation-oriented land management over the years.

The foundation remains of the chute hoist mechanism varied significantly between sites. Undoubtedly, the most physically imposing was Notley’s Landing, which contained an intricate design of internal rebar, buttressing, wooden beams, and anchor bolts. This stout and consolidated design varied significantly from the dispersed layout of concrete footings used for the Partington Landing deck. In the Partington design, separate concrete footings held support posts for the wooden platform.

Little information could be gathered from the highly-eroded concrete pad located at Rockland Landing. The linear shape oriented north-south somewhat resembles the orientation and layout of the hoist foundation at Notley’s Landing. However, little of the structural design could be interpreted from its highly eroded and leveled state.

Both Notley’s Landing and Partington Landing contained a wooden landing deck for staging the loading or unloading of cargo. Again, the remains of the deck were much more intact at Notley’s Landing. Little wood remains were located at Partington, these mostly associated with the tunnel structure and evidence of what may have been a

138 boardwalk along the trail south of the tunnel. Wood elements were present at the Big Sur

River Mouth Landing in the form of pier pilings. In a sense these may be viewed similar to Notley’s wooden deck or Partington’s concrete and wooden footings, as they both provided foundational support to staging and loading activities.

Each site contained components of terrestrial transportation infrastructure. These varied from small mule trails, as in the case of Partington, to larger wagon road grades, as observed at Rockland Landing. Partington Landing contained several important terrestrial features directly related to doghole port access from the canyon. This includes the tunnel bored beneath the ridge, the mule trail with retaining walls and the remains of two creek crossings. Road grades were observed at both Notley’s Landing and Rockland Landing.

Two grades were observed at Notley’s, with the northern one more likely serving the purpose of providing a flat for the staging area of the hoist. The southern grade leads from Highway One (formerly the Coast Road) to the remains of a structure. The Big Sur

River Mouth Landing did not contain any direct links to terrestrial transportation, but it is likely that the present day hiking trails that link to the beach were former trails used to connect with the landing.

For future recording and management purposes it is important to emphasize how archaeological features highly outnumber archaeological artifacts across sites. This disparity may be tied to several factors, including public visitation and collection, cleanup, and natural erosive forces or decay. While artifacts, if located, are undoubtedly important components of these sites, the features present at each site serve as the foundational elements for the analysis in the following chapter.

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These surveys distinguished several prominent categories of doghole port features that may be present at sites encountered in future surveys or studies. Determining a typology of these features may contribute to more systematic documentation and analysis as the maritime cultural landscape and doghole port studies advance.

It is important to note that not all doghole ports may demonstrate multiple and diverse features. For example, as garnered in historical photographs and record Coal

Chute Point once contained extensive landing-related developments. A visit to the site was only able to locate a single ringbolt. It is not known how the landing constructions and landscape modification were removed and diminished, but it is likely tied to subsequent land use and ownership.

Figure 43. Doghole port feature categories.

Feature Category Examples Mooring/ fastening hardware Eyebolt, ringbolt, chain, wire Chute component Landing/staging platform, deck, hoist, concrete footings or foundations, wire cable Terrestrial transportation infrastructure Road cut, trails/path, tunnel, bridge, crossing Ancillary structure Barn, warehouse, shed Landscape modification Structural flat, loading/staging flat Natural feature Natural cove, navigational obstacle, cliff face, rocks or trees serving as navigational aids

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CHAPTER 5 PIECING TOGETHER THE MARITIME CULTURAL LANDSCAPE

Using the archaeological and documentary data outlined in the previous chapter, this analysis addresses relevant research and management issues for the identification, documentation, and study of maritime cultural landscapes and doghole ports. Beginning with the archaeological data, this section begins by explaining the specific physical elements that define a doghole port. This analysis then explores elements of the maritime cultural landscape, including the importance of defining linking and infrastructural elements. Following this, the issue of bridging archaeological boundaries at the shoreline is explored. This section concludes with an examination of the role that doghole ports in the settlement and industrial development of Big Sur’s maritime cultural landscape.

The succeeding section employs the landscape learning framework to explore episodes of technological innovation or environmental adaptation at sites across the maritime cultural landscape. This analysis traces prior knowledge, influences of new environments, shifts in technology or methodology, environmental misunderstandings, and conservativeness in the maritime context.

The final section provides recommendations for future maritime cultural landscape studies, including the framework’s capability to benefit documentation and evaluation under the National Register of Historic Places. Other factors, such as linking sites, archaeological layers, and site boundaries are explained. The section concludes with a discussion of future research avenues for the Central California coastal landscape, including further doghole port recordation, underwater archaeological reconnaissance, and examinations into other industries, such as whaling.

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Elements that Define a Doghole Port

The documentary and archaeological data gathered in this study illuminate certain physical characteristics that define a doghole port. This includes features linking land and ocean activities, adaptive use of natural features, landscape modification, and technological adaptation.

Aside from the pier remnants at the river mouth, all landings utilized a hoist and chute system that extended from a platform on a cliff ledge or marine terrace. The cable chute was the most popular method, being located at no less than eight of the fourteen landings. The cable chute became a popular loading mechanism in Northern California during the 1870s. The introduction of this technology coincides with the late introduction of industry and doghole ports in Big Sur, likely explaining its prevalence. The two apron- style chutes were located at Bixby Landing and Coal Chute Point.

Features that display links between land and ocean are prevalent amongst the sites surveyed and are valuable pieces of information that demonstrate human-ocean relationships. These features diverge in their specific purpose, yet each illustrates a process performed during maritime-oriented activities. The most prevalent links are associated with the chute or hoist system and the fastening of ocean-going vessels.

Ringbolts and eyebolts were prevalent features at Partington and Notley’s Landing. A single eyebolt was present on the cliffs at the Big Sur River Mouth Landing.

Furthermore, a single ringbolt was the sole terrestrial feature located at Coal Chute Point.

These fastening features illustrate one of the initial tasks in the doghole port process. Incoming vessels would require mooring prior to any transfer of people or cargo.

Ropes would harness the offshore schooner to the onshore fastening hardware, physically

142 linking ocean-bounded features to the land. The location of these features display understandings of the maritime context by individuals that constructed and worked at the landings. Fastening hardware must be accessible to those on shore and provide stability against elements such as swell, wind, currents, and rocks. Each doghole port displays unique strategies for fastening vessels, reflected in the location of hardware based on the specific environmental obstacles and the availability of useful natural features. For instance, the eyebolt located at the Big Sur River Mouth Landing is on a low rock outcrop that extends from the headland. It is unique in that it was the closest to sea level, located approximately 4 ft. above the ocean level at a tide level of 1 ½ ft. There appears to be a balance established between technological and methodological limits and the environmental factors at play.

An additional linking element is present in the remnants of a wire cable adjacent to the hoisting foundation at Notley’s Landing. Likely remains of the wire cable that formed the chute, this feature would have been secured to the hoist and fastened to a submerged anchor offshore. Similar to the ropes used to moor a vessel, this feature illustrates an activity that transcended the both the shoreline and the waterline.

Furthermore, the wooden loading deck located west of both the hoist foundation indicates links between the land and ocean. Situated directly on the cliff ledge, this feature displays evidence of the final step of terrestrial activity; that is the loading of baskets used to convey cargo to the schooner.

The pier pilings near the mouth of the Big Sur River diverge from the typical patterns observed at other sites. These were the only physical features located during survey that were directly within the foreshore (Figure 44). This locates them within the

143 fuzzy space located outside both the boundaries of terrestrial and underwater archaeological sites. Piers are similar to the cable chutes in that they extended from land into the ocean. However, rather than angled from an elevated cliff ledge the pier would have extended horizontally from a near sea-level landmass, in this case, Molera Beach.

Figure 44. Coastal terms. Note the location of the foreshore. Shore Protection Manual, 1984.

The rugged natural landscape features of Big Sur, typically perceived as obstacles or hazardous to human activity, were adapted and utilized as substitutions for human- made technologies or constructions. These landscape features, ranging from steep ocean cliffs to blockading ridgelines and hazardous rocks, were frequently used or modified to facilitate transportation, moor vessels, and convey cargo. The degree of landscape modification varied based upon the environmental obstacle and the task pursued.

Archaeological survey indicates the most visible features are graded flats, road grades, rock outcrops at the waterline, and the tunnel at Partington Inlet.

This modification and substitution of environmental features for human-made constructions is visible at several locations. Partington Inlet contains a cliff ledge that

144 served as a substitute wharf-like installation. Exiting the southern end of the tunnel the trail skirts along a cut in the western cliff ledge of Partington Inlet until the cliff face slightly flattens out near the south end of the point. The landing platform was constructed on the natural flat where it sits 28 ft. above mean sea level. The cable loading mechanism on the platform appears to be small-scale, resembling a loading mechanism on a wharf.

Areas in which these modifications existed were areas of bustling activity. For instance, the graded flat at Rockland contained the cable chute hoist and a large warehouse where barrels of lime were likely staged for conveyance to a moored vessel offshore. The landscape element, in this case a coastal headland, was modified for a specific purpose and to achieve a specific task. This task involved the stock and transfer of barrels of lime. However, once operations ceased these zones of humming activity were left to the dismantling elements of humans and nature. Over a century of abandonment leaves these landscape modifications in a state resembling natural landscape features.

The innovative use of natural features and the adaptive use of technologies is an additional pattern observed in the archaeological record. This formed cultural features that are primarily natural in appearance. This is observed in the placement of eyebolts and ringbolts. Rock outcrops in treacherous area exposed to swells and tidal surge were chosen as choice locations for fastening hardware. Nearly imperceptible eyebolts on the rock outcrop at the southern point of Partington Inlet make the natural rock outcrop an important cultural component of Partington Landing operations.

An elusive element at the doghole ports was evidence displaying the industry and resources in which the landing served. This is understandable for industries that harvested

145 mostly organic materials, such as tanbark and redwood. Yet, in the case of lime, the sturdiness of the substance makes it more resilient to decay. This is indicated at Rockland

Landing, with the presence of lime deposits eroding down the cliff face; tangible representations of the processing activity located in the interior extraction zone.

Managing the Doghole Port Site

As illustrated above, the doghole port is a particular site type harboring a unique combination of archaeological features and artifacts. The distribution and concentration of these site attributes demarcate each site’s boundary. For management purposes they are bounded archaeological resources, but they are also element of a larger landscape that links these sites and other elements based on archaeological and temporal dimensions.

The maritime location, orientation, and identity of these sites may require unique approaches to management. As waterfront sites they often exist in culturally valued and protected zones, albeit protection largely oriented towards natural resources and viewshed. Furthermore, these zones continue to serve important positions in the recreational values of society, and property ownership allowing, receive heavy human traffic. They are also on the frontlines against the powerful erosive and destructive nature of ocean storms, swells, and wind.

Many of the features that embody these sites have become absorbed into the surrounding natural landscape. They are still visible; however, they resemble and take on the form of natural features. This quality traces back to the original construction of the landings; for example, using natural features to assist in cultural activities. Without persistent preservation or reconstruction these sites will continue their reversion into the

146 natural landscape. Eyebolts will continue to rust and erode, road grades will slump and concrete will disintegrate. This isn’t necessarily undesirable, as change is a process of the natural landscape, which the doghole port and the maritime cultural landscape are attentive and reliant upon. However, this factor makes documentation a prompt priority.

When zooming in from the landscape scale these sites develop their own boundaries within the larger landscape. The elements surrounding each site continue to hold significance as they shaped the location and activities of the site; however, the archaeological resources within the site boundaries require different approaches than natural landscape elements with cognitive attributes. Clearly defined physical features, such as Partington Tunnel, can receive strategies for management and interpretation. This can be managed similar to many other terrestrial features; however, its maritime orientation, proximity, and overall founding incorporate it into the maritime realm.

The landscape approach illustrates how these sites exist as an element of a larger system; one of several categories inventoried and studied as an element of the greater maritime cultural landscape. They are unique elements in the landscape as they contain physical features that are direct links to the activities once performed. That gives these sites a potential distinctive role in interpretative scenarios.

Elements that Define the Doghole Port Maritime Cultural Landscape

The scale of this study did not allow for a complete and comprehensive inventory and analysis of all Big Sur’s maritime cultural landscape elements. Additional doghole ports will require archaeological recording to more comprehensively understand the use, adaptations, and perceptions once embodied in the landscape. The following analysis

147 focuses upon several select elements that can provide a foundation for future studies across Big Sur’s maritime cultural landscape.

Westerdahl’s (1992) holistic definition of the maritime cultural landscape defines categories that integrate diverse elements, including natural and cultural factors, and tangible and intangible qualities. This includes shipwrecks, land remains, traditions of usage, natural topography, and place names. In considering these categories this study principally illuminates land remains, natural topography, and traditions of usage.

Land Remains- Terrestrial Transportation

In the context of this study, land remains refer to the terrestrial layout of the doghole ports. Each surveyed doghole port contained a unique layout influenced by the surrounding natural topography and bathymetry. These natural factors shape where and how a chute and associated structures could be constructed and operated. The location and orientation of the chute’s hoist was not a haphazard decision, but rather planned and engineered based upon knowledge of surrounding topography, sea floor, and swell or wind patterns. For example, the hoist foundation at Notley’s Landing is oriented west- southwest. If the cable of the chute followed this same trajectory it would avoid several semi-submerged rocks that undoubtedly served as obstacles to near shore navigation.

Land remains can include navigational aids, such as Signal Rock, which served a key role in the maritime cultural landscape. Although Signal Rock can be deemed a land remain its existence is solely dependent upon activities that took place offshore, specifically the navigation of a schooner. Recognizing its purpose blurs the shoreline

148 boundary of Signal Rock. It didn’t necessarily serve those who created the fire, but rather those who saw it several hundred yards offshore.

Westerdahl emphasizes the acknowledgement of local road systems and other terrestrial transportation methods to develop comprehensive investigations of the maritime cultural landscape. A goal during archaeological site recording and documentary record analysis for the Big Sur project was establishing the location and type of road systems associated with doghole ports and the surrounding landscape. An important zone in the transportation infrastructure and overall landscape is the junction where transportation methods changes. This is what Westerdahl (1992) terms the “transit point.” Such a shift is clearly present at doghole ports where transportation of cargo shifts from wagons, mules, or aerial tramways to schooners and sea routes.

The terrestrial transportation infrastructure of Big Sur clearly demonstrates a maritime orientation, whereby wagons roads and mule trails radiate from doghole ports to homesteads and zones of resource extraction. This was clearly indicated by both the documentary and archaeological record at Rockland and Partington Landing.

In the case of Partington Landing, there was an immense time and labor investment required to reach the cove. The tunnel constructed by Bert Stevens and John

Partington took approximately three years to complete (Woolfenden 1981). Such an investment of time and finances may demonstrate several conditions. First, the terrestrial transportation for accessing markets was undeveloped to the extent that carving 113-ft. tunnel through a ridgeline appeared as the best bargain. Secondly, there was a degree of permanency perceived in the timber stands and the use of the landing. Construction of the tunnel took time and money away from harvesting tanbark and developing homestead

149 properties. It is not known whether the tunnel paid itself off, but the tenacity of its construction illustrates optimism and permanence regarding the breadth of timber stands.

Additional companies’ extensive capital investment in terrestrial infrastructure displayed a hopeful perception of permanence. This includes the Monterey Lime and

Lumber Company that invested in a three-mile aerial tramway. This immense construction travelled directly from the canyon-based kiln operations to the landing. The destination illustrates the company’s maritime orientation and reliance. A similar situation exists at Coal Chute Point. It is not known whether the narrow gauge railway from the mine to the landing was completed; yet even the consideration of the six-plus mile construction reveals the company’s optimism in sustainable profits. Both companies appear to have ceased operations soon following the transportation investment.

Overall, with the maritime cultural landscape framework we recognize that these land remains, or terrestrial features, are no longer purely terrestrial. They are contextualized as integral elements to the activities that transgress the shoreline. Features, whether on land or in water, should receive equal weight in analysis of the maritime cultural landscape. That is, they become maritime, rather than land or sea, elements.

Traditions of Usage

Westerdahl explained traditions of usage as mental maps of those that actively used a coastline. This is often demonstrated by the location of well-used havens and sea routes, or knowledge of wind, current, and swells (Westerdahl 1992:8). Traditions of usage could extend back centuries, yet in Big Sur the chronology of doghole port maritime knowledge is comparatively short lived, a half century at the most.

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Only certain areas of the Big Sur coast were suitable havens for constructing doghole ports. These locations were sought for environmental factors conductive to landing boats and allowing the operation of a chute system. This includes coastal bluffs or terraces, coves or shelter from large swells, deep water close to shore, and a lack of submerged hazards. These locations and their environmental benefits became important landmarks within the mental image of those who lived and worked the extractive-era coastline of Big Sur. They developed into transportation and communication links, serving as social and economic nodal points for nearby inhabitants.

In addition to doghole ports, additional maritime elements held important cultural value. Davidson’s Coast Pilot along with the Coast and Geodetic Survey T-Sheets of the late 19th century illustrate important natural and cultural landmarks. These documents were produced to facilitate navigation of the coast; therefore, it is to be expected that their landmarks are those that facilitate safe and efficient travel. A survey of Davidson’s landmarks between Cape San Martin and Point Lobos indicate several categories of significance (Figure 45).

This cognitive map reflects people’s understanding of their maritime environment. The steep mountains, jagged coastline and rough ocean formed formidable barriers to those that inhabited Big Sur. However, even the initial homesteading utilized the ocean and coast as a conduit of transportation and communication. For instance, the early inhabitants in the Lucia region would charter a schooner that would dock off Big

Creek, drop boxes of cargo off the deck, then allow them to wash to shore (Wall 1989).

The reliance and use of the ocean as a conduit would only evolve further with the introduction of industrial companies to the region.

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A landscape was created both by the physical constructions at doghole ports and the development of symbolic understandings related to the use of, and reliance on, the ocean. The physical and symbolic elements are demonstrated in the cognitive maps unique to each doghole port. Although only those individuals that consistently operated the landings held a true and historically accurate perception, speculate on these cognitive understandings can be made using archaeological and documentary evidence. This is present in the location and distribution of landing-related features that reflect the patterns of human-environmental interaction. Furthermore, the documents illustrate perceptions of the environment and priorities for those that dwelled therein.

Figure 45. Categories of culturally significant landmarks from Davidson’s Coast Pilot.

Name Geographical Feature Cultural Significance Cape San Martin Coastal Ridge/Point Navigational landmark/Anchorage San Martin Rock Offshore rock Hazard Cox’s Hole Shoreline/Bight Navigational landmark/Anchorage Lopez Point Terrace Navigational landmark Lopez Rock Offshore rock Hazard Devil’s Cañon Coastal ridge/Point Navigational landmark Anderson Landing Open anchorage Boat landing Partington Landing Open anchorage Boat landing Pfeiffer’s Point Coastal ridge/Point Hazard Cooper’s Point Coastal ridge/Point Navigational landmark Danger off Cooper’s Point Offshore rocky islet Hazard Sur River River mouth/beach Boat landing False Sur Hillock Navigational landmark Dangers south of Pt. Sur Offshore shoal spots Hazard Point Sur Point Navigational landmark/ Anchorage Pt. Sur Whistling Buoy Whistle buoy Navigational landmark Pico Blanco Mountain Peak Navigational landmark Mount Carmel Mountain Peak Navigational landmark Little River Hill Hillock Navigational landmark Lighthouse at Pt. Sur Lighthouse Navigational landmark Ventura Rocks Offshore rocks Hazard Soberanes Point Point Navigational landmark/hazard Piedras de los lobos Rocky islets Hazard Yankee Point Point Navigational landmark/hazard Yankee Point Breaker Offshore islet/rock Hazard Hamilton’s Landing Open anchorage Boat Landing

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Linking Maritime Cultural Landscape Elements

Cultural landscapes require certain shared characteristics that link distant sites or features across occasionally large geographical areas. For instance, Carter (2012) linked coastal sites across the Otago Harbor maritime cultural landscape based upon navigational hazards, abandoned ships, and culturally induced environmental change.

This study seeks to link sites that cover nearly 75-miles of coastline. The study boundaries are directly tied to the distinctive topographical and environmental coastline formed by the Santa Lucia Mountains and the resulting cultural activities and adaptations to the land and its resources. The activities left specific physical and symbolic traces that spatially and temporally link distant elements across the frontier maritime landscape.

Furthermore, the maritime infrastructure created and assisted by these activities produced attributes that further link distant sites.

To illustrate this point, each doghole port in Big Sur embodies unique qualities.

This ranges from the industry it served to its loading technology, terrestrial transportation systems, and specific environmental obstacles. Yet, this individuality is strictly the result of adapting a prescribed technological and methodological approach to the shipment of resources. That is, they are variations of an established doghole port site typology.

Linking mechanisms are further enhanced through temporal association, economic orientation, and role in settlement.

Westerdahl (2011) defined categories of sub-landscapes that exist within the maritime cultural landscape. These sub-landscapes help illustrate the link amongst sites and the degree of reliance that inhabitants had on the ocean. Most applicable to this study is of the sub-landscape of transport and communications. Westerdahl (2011:746) defines

153 this sub-landscape as “routes, seamarks, pilotage, harbors, roads, portages. Not to be overlooked is the exceedingly important factor of navigation, including transit lines, and the assignment of place-names that order the landscape, its points and borders.” The doghole port physically and cognitively embodies many of these qualities. This is primarily evident in the nodal characteristics of the doghole port. They connect the extraction zones with the city markets and through this influence the surrounding infrastructural development and landscape appearance.

The doghole port is used as the foundational linking element because many of the historic-era industrial and maritime cultural landscape components in Big Sur are directly tied to the navigation to, and operation of, these nodal points. For example, Signal Rock could not be understood without incorporation into the maritime cultural landscape context. It did not exist in isolation, but was rather an element of the maritime cultural landscape directly tied to the operation of Anderson Landing.

While more intangible than archaeological data, the stories of specific industrial companies, inhabitants, or even schooners contribute to establishing linkages amongst places across the maritime frontier. For example, Sam Trotter is a legend in Big Sur, having been instrumental in its development and having worked up and down the coast for multiple lumbering ventures. Oral testimonies of Trotter link places with activities across the landscape. The only mention of a Big Sur company-owned schooner is the

Confianza, owned by C.G. Notley & Co. This schooner, having plied the Big Sur coast for years, can be considered a linking element. Its resting place is unknown, along with the names of the captain and crew that navigated it. However, it is pictured in several historical photographs moored at various doghole ports taking on shipments of tanbark.

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While ephemeral and intangible, through photographs and written accounts it symbolizes the knowledge, methods and approach to navigation, transportation, and communication along a maritime frontier.

The landscape is also linked by similar and predictable lifecycles for these sites.

As an economy based upon resource extraction these companies were susceptible to boom and bust episodes. This had direct influence on the lifecycle of doghole ports, which diminished as timber stands were depleted and quarries exhausted. This landscape of industry is linked by the fate of all those that operated there, that is, abandonment.

Maritime Infrastructure

Maritime infrastructure is typically defined as the facilities, structures, and installations that enable the practice of marine-oriented activities (Kaushiva 2012). The location and distribution of doghole ports illustrates a specific maritime infrastructure built upon the economical and reliable loading and transportation of extracted resources to the city markets. Efficiency hinged on the distance of extraction areas to landings and the distance of landings to city markets. The further south in Big Sur a company established the further they were from the markets of Santa Cruz and San Francisco. In addition, the further a landing was from the area of extraction the more a company was required to invest in terrestrial transportation infrastructure.

GIS serves an important role in displaying the spatial patterning of maritime cultural landscape elements. It is important to note that temporal factors are difficult to display in this type of GIS analysis, as not all industrial corporations and landings operated contemporaneously. Doghole port locations were digitized on ArcMap and the

155 distance between neighboring landings was measured using a simulated sea route that considered coastal hazards. The furthest distance between any two landings is between the Big Sur River Mouth and Partington Landing, a distance of 12.1 mi. Central to this region is the Big Sur Valley, one of the initial places of homesteading that contained, and continues to contain, one of the higher population densities in the region. During the doghole port era the valley was the terminus of the Coast Road, which directly influenced the strategies for communication and transportation for those that inhabited the southern stretches.

Figure 46. Distance between doghole ports.

Landing Sea Miles to Straight Miles to Landing Coal Chute Point 4.8 2.7 Strader’s Strader’s 6.5 6.2 Notley’s Notley’s 2 1.6 Bixby Bixby 5.3 4.7 Point Sur Point Sur 2.7 2.7 Big Sur River Mouth Big Sur River Mouth 12.1 11.8 Partington Partington 3.2 3.1 Anderson Anderson 11.2 10.5 Harlan Harlan 2.5 2.3 Rockland Rockland 2.4 2.2 Mill Creek Mill Creek 4.8 4.4 Pacific Valley Pacific Valley 3 2.3 Cape San Martin Cape San Martin 4 3.3 Alder Creek

The shortest length between any two landings is the two miles between Notley’s and Bixby Landing. Documentary evidence indicates these landings operated contemporaneously, yet focused on different resources and employed different chute methods. The Monterey Lime and Lumber Company employed an apron chute to load barrels of lime onto schooners. C.G. Notley and Co. employed a cable chute to load lumber onto schooners. Notley’s Landing was employed to assist Monterey Lime and

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Lumber Company’s operation along Bixby Creek. Construction materials for the kilns were delivered to Notley’s Landing, likely because transporting cargo to shore via a steam donkey-powered cable chute was easier than a gravity-dependent apron chute.

The average distance between landings is 3.7 miles. This distance may indicate investment dedicated to the development of terrestrial transportation infrastructure.

Rather than the difficult and perpetual effort involved in road grading the steep canyons of Big Sur, it may have been easier to establish landings that were linked to extraction zones. The documentary evidence indicates the companies sought to establish landings that assisted their individual enterprises, including Partington, Anderson, Bixby, and

Notley. This distance may also reflect the unsuitability of the coastline for safe boat landings. Safe areas for landing and loading vessel are dispersed and dependent upon geological and bathymetric factors that are infrequently found along this coastline.

As indicated above, a concentration of doghole ports does not exist in any particular stretch of coast, and neither is there an exceptional void. Rather, a degree of narrow separateness distinguishes their distribution. While they served community functions, the principal reason for establishing landings was the economically efficient transportation of extracted resources. A company may have staked claim to a specific geographical area, pushing others to develop other locations. Furthermore, the establishment of a landing was a difficult process. In the case of Notley’s Landing, the company needed a permit from the War Department to proceed in construction. Thirdly, while specific companies owned their own landings they appear to have shared the place with both the community and different companies when specific situations required it.

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Navigational aids are important components of maritime infrastructure. While others undoubtedly existed, Signal Rock was the single archaeological feature documented in this study that strictly served a navigational purpose. The fire appears to have been made immediately south of a rock face that stands approximately 14 ft. tall. It is not known whether it served mostly as smoke signals during the day or for flames at night. It is likely that ships would be travelling from the north; therefore, navigational aids to guide schooners would generally be expected to be north of their destination. The aspect of the rock face, location south of Partington Landing and proximity to Anderson

Landing, make it likely associated with navigation to the latter.

The technological mainstay of the doghole port landscape was the apron or cable chute. These often required natural landscape features to properly function, such as an elevated marine terrace for gravity production in the case of the apron chute, or descent angle for the cable chute. Fastening hardware required sturdy rock outcrops in precise locations. This use of natural features to assist in or substitute for human constructions is a pattern recognized across the maritime cultural landscape.

Bridging the Shoreline Divide

A defining attribute of the maritime cultural landscape framework is its capability to bridge archaeological sites boundaries at the shoreline. While underwater reconnaissance was outside the scope of this study, correspondence with State Parks and

NOAA indicate the existence of submerged components in the vicinity of two of the sites surveyed. This includes a large submerged anchor off the coast of Notley’s Landing

(King 2016). Although the latitude and longitude is somewhat fuzzy, it places the anchor

158 at a reasonable location to conclude it likely served as the mooring anchor to the cable chute. The location lines up with the orientation of the hoist foundation and is a distance and depth from the coastline to have allowed vessels enough space to avoid navigational hazards. This submerged feature is clearly instrumental in the operation of Notley’s

Landing. Further underwater reconnaissance may require reconfiguration of the site boundary to include submerged features, such as this anchor.

An additional strength of the maritime cultural landscape framework is its ability to place previously isolated coastal or underwater sites in context. In addition, it has the capability to instill a degree of value to features that may not have been acknowledged before as archaeological resources. This situation is indicated at the river mouth in the form of the pier pilings, which prior to this study, were not formally documented.

In traditional archaeological investigations the remains of these pier pilings would likely elude archaeological recording. In fact, this situation took place during a 1990 cultural resource inventory performed at Andrew Molera State Park. The remnants were mentioned in a brief paragraph, yet did not receive site designation. In the context of a maritime cultural landscape inventory, these intertidal features display an integral link between land and sea. The pier pilings, while meager remnants of what once may have existed, illustrate maritime-oriented activities that bridged the shoreline. The pier transformed the sea from a barrier to a facilitator for transportation and communication.

Where the terrestrial infrastructure blurs into or strictly becomes maritime is a difficult boundary to define. While it may require a case-by-case approach there are certain patterns observed in the archaeological record that can guide decision making. All sites contain a land-based, ocean-oriented transportation network that connected the

159 extraction zone to the doghole port. To a certain extent this makes that said network a maritime element, yet it would be unreasonable to include the whole segment within doghole port site boundaries. That being said, the purpose of this transportation network could not be accurately understood without recognition of its maritime orientation.

Figure 47. Linking Notley’s Landing chute foundation to the submerged anchor.

There are also site components that are conspicuously maritime. This is best illustrated in fastening hardware features, which as opposed to mule trails or wagon roads, are single-use features only employed during the mooring of a vessel or stabilization of the chute. Considering these factors, one sees a slight dissolution of the maritime aura as one extends from these features. The rapidity of this dissolution varies from site to site. It may be necessary to acknowledge a segment of the terrestrial

160 transportation network, or other intermediary elements, that connect the ocean-based activities with the land-based activities, such as resource extraction and processing.

Managing Boundaries

In exploring management of the maritime cultural landscape there are several factors that need consideration. Physical remnants are reflected across the landscape in sites, features, and natural landscape elements. Furthermore, there are intangible elements, often reflected in cultural knowledge related to natural landscape elements, or navigational routes and hazards. For management purposes these diverse elements often need defined boundaries.

As detailed above, archaeological sites contain the most standardized and persistent boundary drawing in management contexts, mostly associated with the existence and concentration of physical features and artifacts. Boundary definitions get fuzzier when considering intangible and natural landscape elements. These elements gain their significance by oral or documentary sources that describe them, and unless explicitly stated, their boundaries do not incorporate specific physical features, but rather somewhat arbitrarily-defined margins.

The inventory of culturally significant maritime features in Davidson’s Coast

Pilot (Figure 45) provides one window into this intangible component. These elements don’t contain physical human constructions, but rather cognitive values, and necessitate their own category in the maritime cultural landscape. In lieu of considering physical remnants, as in the case of archaeological sites, these cognitive sites can be documented and managed for the role they once served. This management, which might include

161 consideration of the viewshed at lookout areas or navigational obstacles and natural resource protection, such as tanoak or redwood groves, corresponds with current day natural resource protection. However, it is important to recognize that landscapes are dynamic and prone to change over time, so these natural landscape elements cannot be preserved in a vacuum. Furthermore, this is a situation in which place names reflective of past actors or activities can assist in interpretations and management of cognitive elements, even when physical remnants are non-existent at those sites.

Figure 48. Linking elements in the 1890 T-Sheet for Rockland Landing.

. Management at the landscape level is context specific and subject to the types of cultural resources, the agencies’ or individuals’ land and resource management agenda, and the local, regional, or federal resource protection laws operating within that landscape. The maritime context in Big Sur, particularly the natural resource setting, is

162 well protected and culturally valued. However, the natural environment perceived and valued is the product of past cultural activities. Therefore, a greater understanding of past activity, particularly extractive and waterfront industry, will contribute to the understanding and protection of Big Sur’s contemporary maritime cultural landscape, which values viewshed protection, natural resource conservation, and recreational access.

An overlay of maritime cultural landscape elements can contribute to explanations of current day environmental or cultural activities and advise future management based on cultural and environmental patterns inferred from the past.

The importance of the landscape approach is its capability to include elements in the landscape polygon when they cannot be incorporated into a site polygon. That is, the landscape approach is a shift in scale and analysis. For example, Rockland Landing contains discrete activity zones that encompass specific features. However, in expanding the scale beyond the site polygon these activity zones are blurred into the polygon of a landscape that incorporates resource extraction, processing, and transportation (Figure

48). At the landscape scale tangible and intangible elements contextualize each other to form holistic interpretations of the landscape.

Reassessing the Landscape: The Role of the Doghole Ports

In the late 19th century Big Sur was a maritime frontier consisting of isolated homesteads and industrial companies. Terrestrial transportation infrastructure was undeveloped, limited mostly to the upper and lower coast trails that were restricted to the horse, mule, or occasional wagon. These trails required arduous journeys that lasted up to several days to reach destinations like Monterey or King City. For example, Wilbur

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Harlan occasionally would deliver hogs from Lucia to King City, which would take about three days (Wall 1989). Hauling loads of tanbark, redwood lumber, or barrels of lime overland would have proved uneconomical and time consuming. In addition, the coast trails were unpredictable, often being washed out after the first winter rains.

The key to profits for industries operating in the frontier was establishment of rapid and reliable transportation that would efficiently deliver the extracted resources to the city markets. The doghole port was the solution to the time consuming, arduous, and unreliable coast roads. That being said, an extensive amount of labor and capital was already required by companies to construct terrestrial transportation networks that linked extraction camps with doghole ports. For extremely isolated companies, such as

Rockland Lime and Lumber Company, the construction of terrestrial transportation networks beyond this link, such as to the railroad in King City, was entirely infeasible.

Consequently, the doghole served as an economic lifeline.

The doghole port shifted how inhabitants perceived and used the ocean. That is, the water was transformed from a barrier to a facilitator. The western end of the continent was not the end of activity but rather an area where new activity begun, that is oceanic commerce, and made possible industrial ventures in isolated frontier regions. The doghole port developed into a social and economic nodal point by linking two divergent transportation methods and connecting the extraction zones to city markets.

The location and expansion of industry in Big Sur is directly tied to the location of doghole ports. The earliest lumber activities existed adjacent to the ports, yet as the immediately accessible resources dwindled activities were forced to radiate deeper into the coastal canyons. This is well illustrated in the case of Rockland Lime and Lumber

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Company. The company presumed it was entering a region with an “inexhaustible” supply of lime and lumber; yet, within a couple years the company was forced to expand into distant canyons to harvest enough lumber to fire the kilns. A similar situation emerged for C.G. Notley and Co., who according to early 20th century newspapers, were forced farther south and east from Notley’s Landing in search of tanbark, eventually forcing them to ship from Partington Landing and consider developing a landing near

Pfeiffer Beach (MNE 1906).

The doghole ports were zones of important social and economic activities that reflect particular cultural attitudes and views towards the landscape and its resources.

Terrestrial features such as the Partington Tunnel, staging flats and trail networks demonstrate a high degree of maritime investment and orientation. As points of interaction between the land and ocean, these culturally constructed landscape features shaped and were shaped by inhabitants’ perceptions of both the ocean and land. They were physically altered to achieve specific tasks and symbolically perceived as a conduit of transportation and communication to distant centers. The location of these ports shaped ways in which inhabitants, particularly the maritime reliant ones, could interact with their environment. As opposed to travel overland, the Big Sur maritime infrastructure contained limited landing zones. It was at these distinct areas where information and resources would be transferred from ocean to land, and vice versa.

In opposition to the environmental conservation mindset that guides current Big

Sur land management and recreation, the late 19th century industrial mindset valued landscapes in terms of extractable resources. The economic effectiveness of doghole port shipment contributed to the exasperation of natural resources. The conclusion of Big

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Sur’s industrial driven doghole port era is directly tied to resource exhaustion. For timber harvesting cases, companies were forced to harvest areas successively distant from the doghole ports; eventually reaching a distance where transferring tanbark or redwood overland to the dogholes became too time consuming and unprofitable. The impacts are visible today in the landscapes surrounding the doghole ports. Old growth redwood stumps, often with notching and springboard planks, can be seen dotting the watersheds of Palo Colorado, Partington Canyon, Limekiln Canyon, and others.

Duncan (2011) explains how maritime cultural landscape studies require holistic interpretations that embrace both material and cognitive components, including activities and perspectives of both land and sea, and links between them. Future recordation of doghole ports and related activities are required for more thorough understandings of the perspectives and activities of those that inhabited and worked the coastline. This analysis has illustrated the importance and necessity of the ocean for achieving a specific task; that is shipment of extracted resources. However, the overall cultural reliance on the ocean during this era may not extend beyond these distinct industrial-related activities.

Reliance on the Coastal Commerce

The doghole ports when viewed in the context of a maritime cultural landscape illustrate the essential role that oceanic shipment played in the development of Big Sur.

However, is reliance sufficient to label these industrial era inhabitants a maritime society, or are additional factors required to achieve such a label? The historical characters of Big

Sur extend beyond the industrial companies to include the important, yet more archaeologically ephemeral, pioneering families. Some of these homesteaders settled on

166 the waterfront, such as the Harlans. This family built their own landing and relied on coastal shipments that arrived once a year. In addition, Harlan occasionally shipped lumber on a small scale. However, other pioneering families were strictly land oriented and inhabited the interior canyons. These inhabitants primarily relied on the Coast Road for transportation and communication.

Industrial corporations were fully reliant on the sea for efficient transportation, yet it was not every day or every month that required doghole port use and coastal commerce. It was typically the placid seas of the summertime that initiated doghole port activity and reliance. The inhabitants’ use of the ocean undoubtedly extended beyond doghole ports to include recreational or subsistence-related activities, yet whether this was a societal necessity is unlikely. The use and perception of the ocean was structured by the location, activities, and communicative attributes generated by doghole ports.

Firth (1995) provided certain requirements for coastal communities in order to be labeled as a maritime society. He explains, “the qualifier ‘maritime’ indicates that the locale, prerogatives, institutions or identities of the society are shaped by the contact of its members with the sea” (Firth 1995:3). A society must embrace these four aspects of sea to be labeled ‘maritime.’ The ocean served an important social and economic position for many inhabitants of the Big Sur frontier, particularly in regards to activities of shipment or communication. However, a reliance strictly hinged upon periodic shipment may not amount to a maritime society. Furthermore, those most reliant on the ocean, such as the industry workers or managers, were rather transient groups. Partington, who homesteaded and invested heavily in the landing, may be one exception that sought a higher degree of permanence. Nevertheless, the overall industrial community was ocean

167 dependent; however, did not establish the foundational and enduring cultural qualities that structure a maritime society.

A Unique Maritime Cultural Landscape

Big Sur became a maritime industrial frontier that reflected adaptations similar to its northern counterparts, yet diverged because of distinctive environmental and cultural factors. Similar to the northern California coastline, those inhabiting Big Sur had to adapt to similar environmental obstacles consisting of isolated, dangerous, and rocky coastlines. Donald Hardesty described a “frontier mining pattern” in which a “cross- cultural type” inhabited geographically isolated regions on a world periphery for the sole purpose of extracting metals (Hardesty 2011:25). This pattern “reflects a distinctive ecological adaptation to similar biogeophysical and social environments” (Hardesty

2011:26). While an exhaustive comparative analysis of archaeological sites between the

North Coast and Big Sur is outside the scope of this study, it is surmised that the doghole ports of both regions display similar adaptive characteristics that link them in a type of

“frontier maritime pattern,” to somewhat invoke Hardesty’s above-mentioned category.

As noted above, doghole ports are linked together by their specific techniques and technologies used to convey cargo from land to sea, and vice versa.

The Big Sur maritime frontier is unique when compared to the extensive linkages of California’s North Coast doghole ports. The Big Sur coast represents a detached and isolated corridor of doghole ports. The coastlines north and south of Big Sur contain physically different and geographically gentler characteristics. This shaped, and is shaped by, distinctive economies that contribute to the identities of these coastal regions. North

168 of San Francisco the California coastline is characterized by an exposed and rocky geology that, aside from a few small protected harbors, stretches beyond the Oregon border. This forms a near continuous maritime cultural landscape bounded in space and time and reflected in patterns of physical remnants. Big Sur continues this pattern, albeit later in time and geographically detached.

In addition, this isolated chain of doghole ports served a diversity of industries.

The industrial companies and their extraction camps in Big Sur were much smaller in scale than those along California’s North Coast. This influenced the degree of capital investment and landscape alteration, although large amounts of both undoubtedly occurred in Big Sur. These factors influenced how industrial companies, their extraction zones, transportation networks, and doghole ports, interacted with and constructed a distinctive landscape unique along the Pacific Coast.

Landscape Learning in a Maritime Frontier

The landscape learning framework provides a means to study technological innovation and adaptation based on the accumulation of environmental knowledge. The initial homesteaders and industrial corporations colonized an environment that was previously unoccupied by Euro-Americans and uninfluenced by their extractive economies. The region proved attractive for settlement because of the location of specific and familiar natural harvestable resources that are were proven profitable in California’s growing market economy. This includes tanbark, redwoods, limestone, gold, and coal.

While these resources were familiar and carried with them an established method of extraction, the Big Sur environment presented unique challenges and obstacles that

169 required innovation and adaptation. Below is an application of Rockman’s (2009) three processes of landscape learning. Following this is an analysis of prior knowledge, arrival into new environments, changes in knowledge or technology, explorations of environmental misunderstandings, and aspects of maritime conservativeness.

The locational knowledge involved in landscape learning is dependent upon the social and economic values of the colonizing population. The economic goals of the industrial corporations in Big Sur hinged on the availability and accessibility of extractable resources. Their social needs required participation in the market economy.

The location of dogholes, the nodal points of the frontier industry, may reflect certain values pertaining to social, economic, or environmental factors. Its location was undoubtedly valued for its capacity to allow safe landing of a schooner. In addition, locations were likely sought for their proximity to extraction zones and the metropolis.

Limitational knowledge addresses the constraints of a specific environment. In

Big Sur this could be the quantity of tanbark or redwood in a given riparian zone, or the extent of specific limestone deposits. In addition, this has capability of addressing limitations concerning transportation networks. Factors such as seclusion and ruggedness due to steep mountains and the ocean put constraints on certain cultural activities.

Furthermore, this could address environmental restrictions that define suitable areas of the coast for doghole port construction. Industrial companies undoubtedly recognized that transportation along the steepest coastal slope in the contiguous United States would be one of the largest obstacles to economic profitability.

Social knowledge describes how a population gathers, shares, and employs locational and limitational knowledge. It is through this process that the ocean became

170 understood as a facilitator rather than a barrier. The limits of transportation and the nodal points of communication and transportation were established throughout increased interaction and industrial activity. The locations of landings and the activities undertaken there illustrate how company employees and community inhabitants began to understand and interact with their maritime environment.

Prior Knowledge

The industrial corporations entered the Big Sur region with prior knowledge and methods of extracting and shipping resources. The doghole port that was initially mastered along California’s North Coast was adopted in Big Sur. The chute system had been in operation at least a decade or more before its first construction in Big Sur. It is not known where exactly the first Big Sur doghole port operators learned the chute technology; however, knowledge of the technology and methodology was likely gained from experience in the lumbering or limestone regions of the North Coast and Santa

Cruz. Environmentally speaking, the requisite factors for frontier industry, isolation, and ruggedness, were similar in Big Sur and the North Coast. Prior to entering the Big Sur frontier industrial companies knew that maritime adaptations mastered along the North

Coast would be required for successful and economically viable operations.

Some of the early industrially-minded settlers had experience in timber extraction in other regions before settling in Big Sur. Prior to settlement at Palo Colorado the Notley brothers were involved with lumber operations in the Santa Cruz Mountains. In addition to harboring experience in the lumbering trade, one of the Notley brothers was involved in the construction of a cable chute off the Santa Cruz coastline (MNE 1903). This

171 indicates that the Notley brothers entered the Big Sur frontier with an established methodology for extracting resources and shipping them to the markets. However, the initial Notley shipments of the tanbark from Palo Colorado was not via ocean, but rather hauled by mule overland on the Coast Road to Monterey, where it would then be shipped by rail. However, as operations were forced to expand deeper into the coastal canyon in search of untapped timber stands the overland strategy was determined uneconomical.

The lack of calm coves in Big Sur leave the majority of doghole ports entirely exposed to ocean swells, wind, and current. However, they appear to capitalize on even the slightest point or headland that might offer the slightest protection from north swells.

While further archaeological survey will be required to solidly determine patterns, the majority of doghole ports contained a chute system that was oriented south. Many of the landings located along the northern California coast display this pattern as well. The knowledge gained in the construction of doghole ports along the North Coast, such as utilizing headlands or points that create southern oriented coves, appears to have been adopted in Big Sur. Although there was a degree of systematization involved these constructions, particular environmental obstacles were unique to each doghole port and the broader maritime landscape, impelling specific adaptations for sites and landscapes.

New Environments

The industrial corporations that colonized the Big Sur coast encountered new environments with specific obstacles. In seeking economic efficiency and profit companies adjusted preexisting technologies and environmental understandings. This required accumulations of new knowledge built upon repeated interactions with the new

172 environments, in this case the coast zone required for transportation and the canyons harboring the resources for extraction. This process transformed a wilderness frontier into a cultural landscape of extraction and transportation.

Incoming companies knew that oceanic transportation would be the only economically efficient means of shipping extracted resources. Prior to full-scale operation they would need to construct the proper infrastructure. First, they would need to determine the location and extent of resources. Following this, a headland or cove would be chosen for the construction of the doghole port and the proper chute methodology would be chosen. Terrestrial transportation would link the landing with the extraction zone.

Ocean behavior, including swells, tides, and currents are hazardous environmental factors that likely required accumulations of knowledge. This would be a prerequisite for navigation along the coast and particularly important when mooring and transporting goods. The Big Sur coast can experience large and unpredictable swells during any month of the year; however summertime was the preferred season for shipping. The central California coast can experience large south swells during summer but storm activity is significantly mellower than the winter. Even the slightest swell can cause surging on the cliffs. Recognizing patterns in swell timing and location would be required for safe and efficient coastal activity, particularly boat landing and cargo transfer.

Patterns in swell activity were likely a factor in choosing landing locations.

Local understandings of environmental, climactic, and oceanic behaviors influenced the type and location of doghole port features. The preferred locations for the

173 chute and fastening hardware were areas believed to ensure safe and reliable landing and provide suitable zones for constructing chute systems.

Changing Technologies and Environmental Understandings

The doghole port era in Big Sur lasted approximately 50 years when including their use during highway construction and prohibition. Aside from Partington Landing, many of these landings fell into disuse after an average of about 10-20 years; even as little as three years in the case of Rockland Landing. A common trait amongst the different landings is the endurance of loading methodology once it was constructed. If a company chose a specific loading method, such as a cable chute, they typically stuck with it; although in a few cases there is indication that methods were adapted.

Records indicate that the Rockland Lime and Lumber Company built a wharf at

Limekiln Beach prior to the construction of the cable chute (Piwarzyk and Koch 2002). It is not known whether the operation of the wharf existed during the exportation of lime, or whether it only existed during the initial import of construction material. Either way, the wharf proved to be inefficient, likely due to its exposure to large swells. The wharf likely experienced extensive damage, and deciding against constant maintenance, the company decided on the construction of a cable chute.

The boat landing at the river mouth operated without a chute or loading mechanism until the potential construction of two piers sometime after 1900. The single eyebolt located on the cliff ledge adjacent to the river mouth likely illustrates the earliest methods of mooring a vessel in the cove. Once moored skiffs would be used to transport cargo from shore to vessel. This shifted when the piers were constructed; thereby altering

174 how workers interacted with the coast and reflecting capital investment and perceptions of the cove as suitable for pier construction. It is not known how long the pier withheld, but it is likely to have failed after a few winter seasons, being taken out by large winter swells. The inability or reluctance to constantly rebuild the structure likely contributed to its eventual demise.

In the years following its initial construction, the chute mechanism at Partington

Landing was altered either through repair, technological innovation, or to suit different tasks. The earliest photographs of the landing display upright parallel beams supporting a wire hoisting mechanism with a windlass at the base of the deck. Following this is a hoist mechanism with a crane-like beam used to lower and receive or drop cargo into vessels.

It is important to note that many factors were left unchanged, such as the landing location, the terrestrial networks, and the mooring hardware.

The overland transportation networks that conveyed extracted goods to the doghole ports illustrate shifts and advancements overtime. In these situations landscape learning is portrayed in greater capital investment. The decision of the Monterey Lime and Lumber Company to construct an aerial tramway illustrates specific understandings of the environment. The company determined the use and maintenance of wagon roads was unreliable, time consuming, and uneconomical. The production output of the kilns outpaced the wagon supply so the company invested in an effective and reliable transportation method. Details regarding the efficiency of the tramway have not been located but it undoubtedly outperformed the previous strategy. Although the tramway was an efficient solution to transportation issues in a rugged landscape, its construction

175 demonstrates an economic risk taking based on beliefs in sustainable productions at the quarry. Industrial companies may have misjudged the productivity of their environments.

Environmental Misunderstandings

While there is evidence of adaptation to specific and unique environmental circumstances among the users of Big Sur dogholes, there are also indications that industrial corporations did not learn or properly adapt. This is illustrated in the archaeological record by a prevalence of abandoned features. Abandonment in industrial contexts such as this is often reflective of a failed or obsolete enterprise. While specific abandonment reasons range from catastrophic fires to resource overexploitation, it typically marks the final phase of an industry’s lifecycle. The environmental misunderstandings embodied in abandoned features at doghole ports are collaborated by documentary evidence that illustrate episodes of rapid abandonment due to environmental factors that were initially overlooked by companies developing the area.

Companies invested large amounts of capital into the construction of extensive processing facilities and efficient and reliable transportation systems. However, it appears that soon after their completion many of these systems were abandoned. This is well demonstrated by the Monterey Lime and Lumber Company’s aerial tramway. The company began operations in 1903, completed the tramway system in 1909, and ceased operations in 1911. The brief extent of tramway operations makes it questionable whether the construction reaped financial benefits. Even features that served their role successfully for extended periods of time, such as the hoist foundation at Notley’s

Landing, were eventually deserted because they no longer served a productive purpose.

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Abandonment is a theme often studied in historical and industrial archaeology.

Hammer (2011) explains two types of abandonment behavior portrayed in the gold mining towns of the Klondike frontier. First is planned permanent abandonment. This involves inhabitants initiating the decision to abandon and deciding which item to leave and which to take. Several factors guide decisions about what to bring, including the distance to the next site and how one gets there. This often results in an absence of usable goods in the archaeological record of the abandoned site. The next type of abandonment is unplanned. This is often the result of immediate or unforeseen circumstances, such as fires. This pattern produces records that contain useable artifacts.

Big Sur doghole ports display both abandonment patterns. The Rockland Lime and Lumber Company realized the declining production of their quarry and timber stands and likely made plans for departure. They misjudged the extent of the limestone deposit to the point where quarrying, processing, and shipping to distant locations became unprofitable. This was similarly the case for C.G. Notley and Co., which began experiencing shortages in tanbark and was forced to penetrate deeper into the canyons in search of untapped stands.

The most archaeologically visible signs of abandonment specific to doghole ports include hoist structural remains and foundations, fastening hardware, structural and staging flats, and pier pilings. During the lifetime of the landing these features demonstrated adaptation, yet the degree to which they were perceived to be permanent is indiscernible. The documentary record for the larger corporations often illustrates rapid abandonment, which can reflect disasters or little foresight into the productivity of harvestable resources. The latter situation would be an illustration of environmental

177 misunderstanding in which companies misjudged the sustainability of their production rates. In this case, the abandoned features seen today serve as monuments to industrial mentalities that prioritized impermanence and overexploitation rather than economic sustainability. This economic strategy allows companies to rapidly accumulate capital, but is prone to boom and bust periods that are governed by resource extent, accessibility, and technological improvements.

Mining sites and landscapes often experienced the introduction of new technologies that created boom and bust periods in which various layers of feature systems reflect different and subsequent mining strategies and geological understandings

(Hardesty 2010:20). Aside from a few cases, the lifecycle of Big Sur doghole ports oppose this pattern of cyclical occupation and abandonment. Doghole ports occasionally experienced augmentations in development and investment, yet technologies often remained persistent until abandonment. Once abandoned the sites were rarely reused and eventually began to decay or were deconstructed for their material use elsewhere.

Maritime Conservatism

A common pattern across doghole ports and maritime activity in general, is the conservatism in technology and knowledge. If a certain technique or method worked it was often preserved (Hunter 1993:263). It appears the technology and methodology employed at doghole ports illustrates adaptation of existent technology to fit unique environmental circumstances, rather than complete technological innovation. That being said, landscape learning is illustrated in an industrial company’s ability to adapt technologies to use or minimize unique environmental factors.

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One of the more important technological innovations for doghole ports was the introduction of the cable chute in the 1870s. This technology predated the industrial expansion in Big Sur; therefore, the cable chutes constructed in the region were adapted technologies rather than technological innovations. Each chute system was adapted to the specific environmental factors unique to each landing.

Companies were forced to learn how to adapt or use specific environmental obstacles prior to commencing landing developments. They would likely learn quickly if they choose a poor strategy, as one large swell, storm or loading mishap would be inevitable. Companies would determine how far from shore the chute must be for safe schooner landings. This would necessitate analyzing factors such as ocean depth, the location of submerged rocks, and elevation of the loading deck. These factors would determine the orientation, angle, and length of the cable or slide.

The location of submerged anchors used to stabilize cable chutes may demonstrate spatial patterns across sites. Documentary evidence describes the Rockland

Landing cable as extending approximately 1,000 ft. from the shoreline. The proper mooring position for the schooner would be approximately 400 ft. offshore (Piwarzyk and Koch 2002). The latitude and longitude for the Notley’s Landing anchor places it approximately 600 ft. offshore. Both anchors lie at a depth of 60 ft. While a larger sample set is required, the depth of the cable anchorage may reflect established knowledge for cable chute construction.

In the most simplistic conclusion the doghole port was a successful adaptation to a lack of efficient terrestrial transportation. Generally speaking, and discounting isolated mishaps, no doghole port ultimately failed in its role of conveying cargo from land to sea.

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Those operating the doghole ports recognized environmental obstacles and adapted technologies to create efficient and reliable transportation. They succeeded in recognizing the sea as the most economically efficient means of transportation. A company’s eventual decline was rather tied to the exhaustion of resources and the lack of efficient terrestrial transportation as timber stands became more distant and expensive to harvest.

Supporting Frameworks

The Doghole Port as a Taskscape

Ingold (2010:64) defines a task as “any practical operation, carried out by a skilled agent in an environment, as part of his or her own normal business of life. . .

Every task takes it meaning for its position within an ensemble of tasks, performed in a series or in parallel, and usually by many people working together.” The taskscape is the resulting patterns of these “dwelling” activities.

The doghole port illustrates a specific task in a series of patterned industrial activities. The ways in which people acted, performed and moved in their environment is reflected in the archaeological and documentary record. One of the most important tasks performed at the doghole port is the transfer of cargo from land to schooner. The archaeological record illustrates a linear progression of resources from the extraction zones to ocean linking elements at doghole ports. As discussed above, this includes hoist foundation remains and fastening hardware. Additionally, this is reflected in the documentary records, particularly historical maps illustrating transportation and conveyance related features. The performance and progression of these tasks from the

180 interior canyons to the coast and finally to schooner produced a taskscape of extraction, processing, transportation, and conveyance.

In the case of Notley’s Landing no other task is more archaeologically visible and spatially defined than the staging, hoisting, and transferring of cargo. This stage in the industrial and commercial chain is both the temporal and spatial intermediary between the extraction zones and the city markets. In other words, the position of this task is the central link in a chain of diverse tasks that ultimately end in the delivery of resources to a predetermined metropolis destination.

Each feature reflects a stage or task in the conveying of cargo. Fastening hardware, such as eyebolts and ringbolts, reflect the earliest steps of mooring a vessel.

Once moored the vessel would be attached to the cable chute. Goods for shipment would then be staged at the loading deck, such as the platform remains at Partington and

Notley’s Landing, and transferred to the vessel. This process undertaken at the transit point is but one subsystem involved in a series of linear steps that transfer resources from the extraction zones to the markets.

The Doghole Port as a Feature System

As mentioned in the literature review, Donald Hardesty (2010:16) defined a feature system as a “group of archaeologically visible features and objects that are the product of a specific human activity. Hardesty has applied the feature system model to document and study activities in historic-era mining landscapes. For instance, he explains the production of a feature system “historical model” for the beneficiation process employing the arrastra technology. Written accounts and photographs were used to

181 produce a model displaying the associated technology and various morphologies of these features. This model is then used to assist in the identification of structural features that reflect the various stages of arrastra beneficiation.

The feature system is a suitable model for documenting and studying the physically distinct, yet culturally linked, activities performed at doghole ports. The operation of a chute is a process that requires systematic stages of activity, each with specific methods and machinery. Similar to the documentary records used to produce the historical model for the arrastra, this study employed written descriptions and photographs to specify distinct chute technologies and morphologies.

As discussed above, the archaeological morphology of the chute system may include hoisting foundations, fastening hardware, landing platform remains, cable, or structural remains. Furthermore, the distribution of these features may vary significantly from site to site. For example, fastening hardware at Notley’s Landing is concentrated on a rock face below the hoist foundation, while fastening hardware at Partington Landing is distributed hundreds of feet in various directions radiating from the landing deck. Despite these variations in location and density these features symbolize the task of vessel mooring, an essential step in the operation of a doghole port.

The inclusion of submerged archaeological resources would be a novel issue in application of the feature system model. Doghole port feature systems, primarily the cable chute, would often require submerged cultural features for the anchoring of the cable to the ocean bottom. In this context the feature system assists in linking elements that transgress the waterline. Feature categories as presented in Figure 43 of Chapter 4 can assist doghole port studies that seek to employ the feature system.

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Looking Forward: Future Site Recording and Studies

This study hopes to illustrate how a maritime cultural landscape framework can transform understandings, management, and appreciation of historic-era maritime sites.

Prior to this study these sites were either unrecorded or briefly mentioned in dated

National Register of Historic Places Inventory Forms or other cultural resource inventory reports. In applying a maritime cultural landscape framework these previously acknowledged, yet archaeologically and historically overlooked, sites assume greater cultural importance with illumination of their role in regional settlement and industry.

Groundwork has been set for future maritime cultural landscape and doghole port studies. It has addressed relevant issues related to the framework, including landscape and site boundaries, linkages, layers, management, and legislation. These research and management questions will be further refined with an increase in related studies. Below is a synopsis of relevant categories, ideas, and directions to help guide future studies and management decisions.

The Maritime Cultural Landscape and National Register Nomination

As expressed throughout this study the importance of the maritime cultural landscape framework lies in its capability to integrate diverse elements that otherwise would have been left unrecorded or studied in isolation. In the case of Big Sur, each doghole port and their associated maritime elements are individual pieces of a larger picture. The day-to-day activities and experiences of those working and living at each doghole port were undoubtedly diverse and deserve future study. Yet, when expanding the scale beyond the individual site it becomes possible to recognize a geographically

183 defined frontier employing similar technologies and harvesting specific perspectives of the ocean. The landscape-scale analysis is required to understand the true role of doghole ports in shaping the settlement and industry in Big Sur. It is for this reason that a maritime cultural landscape framework is recommended for identifying, evaluating, and registering these property types to the National Register.

Several questions will need consensus if the maritime cultural landscape framework is to become the acknowledged approach for National Register documentation and evaluation for integrated coastal and submerged archaeological resources studies.

The first set of questions follow the structure of the National Register bulletins for historic properties:

 What is a maritime cultural landscape?  What are the types of maritime cultural landscapes?  What are the physical and symbolic characteristics of a maritime cultural landscape?  Are there recognizable patterns and processes in a maritime cultural landscape?  How does one conduct historical and archaeological research for a maritime cultural landscape?

Other questions and issues unique to maritime cultural landscapes will require further refinement with an increase in related studies. These are outlines below:

 How does determine site boundaries for a sites that incorporate both land and ocean elements?  How does one temporally and spatially demarcate a maritime cultural landscape?  How do we include and document the importance of natural features?

In order to be eligible for listing to the National Register under criterion D a property or properties must contain information considered important in contributing to our understanding of local, regional, or national history. As illustrated in this study the examination of doghole ports have a greater historical and archaeological value when examined as elements of a maritime cultural landscape.

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Defining Archaeological Site Boundaries

The doghole port as a site represents a nodal point that links two drastically different transportation methods. In the case of Big Sur, this can be terrestrially-bound aerial tramways and mule trails linked to ocean-bound schooners. While these methods drastically differ they are incorporated into the same transportation network. They just require a mechanism that transfers the cargo from one context to the next, i.e. the doghole port. The activity in which landings served extends far beyond the staging and loading zones located on the coastal bluffs. The site links the extraction areas of the deep hinterlands to the bustling commercial ports of San Francisco. Considering this factors how does one establish a site boundary?

This study found a historic context as a necessary prerequisite to archaeological survey. Determining the types of technologies and transportation methods and networks can inform much about the strategies. Certain natural features may require inclusion within archaeological site boundaries. The inlet that forms Partington Cove, the area in which schooners would land, holds just as much cultural significance and use as the eyebolts and landing platform remains. In fact, it is the foundation of all activity, for if it wasn’t for the geological formation the landing may not have ever existed.

Landscape Links, Boundaries, and Layers

Certain characteristics physically define and geographically demarcate a maritime cultural landscape. These are often spatially and temporally bounded factors that produce patterns in material and symbolic elements of the landscape. This is reflected in

185 geographically demarcated adaptations to specific environments, particular economies and technologies, and understandings or knowledge about the coastline and ocean.

Factors such as geography and topography serve to both link sites and define landscape boundaries. In the case of Big Sur, the steep coastal topography produced similar adaptations that linked distant sites. In addition, the same factors bounded those adaptations based on the availability of resources and environmental factors unique to that geographical region.

Temporality is an important linking element when studying maritime cultural landscapes. Several studies have addressed long-term human interactions with the ocean, linking cultural adaptations such as settlements and subsistence across the landscape across millennia (Rönnby 2007; Staniforth 2003). Regarding Big Sur, the doghole port era is comparatively short lived, comprising a whole half-century at most. Even in this short timeframe not all doghole ports operated contemporaneously. However, the technologies, methods, and knowledge employed across the maritime cultural landscape are products of repeated and time-tested strategies that date back deeper than the industrial lifespan of Big Sur.

It is important to recognize that the cultural adaptations, use, and perceptions of the coast prior to and following the doghole port era produced specific layers with their individual maritime cultural landscape attributes. These layers are bounded in time and space but often overlap geographically. For instance, the industrial-era maritime cultural landscape examined in this study exists atop a Native California maritime cultural landscape. The archaeological signatures of these layers display different interactions, use, and perceptions of the ocean. Yet, they often coincide in location. Archaeologically

186 speaking, the Native California coastal sites often display subsistence-related activities, while the Euro-American displays transportation, communication, or habitation.

Integrating the Natural and Cultural

As discussed above, maritime cultural landscapes are often a composition of human constructions and natural features imbued with cultural meaning. For instance, natural features can be environmental obstacles, navigational landmarks, or coastal bluffs suitable for chute construction. Natural features shaped where and how cultural activities could be performed at the waterfront. Simultaneously, cultural activities physically and symbolically shaped the natural landscape. This natural and cultural interaction influenced the technological innovations and cultural adaptations unique to each doghole port. Elements such as winds, currents, and swells not only increased navigational risks, but also made loading cargo a difficult task. Occasionally, the natural obstacles were transformed into cultural tools, such as waterfront rock outcrops used to install eyebolts and other fastening hardware. The location of these natural features dictated where cultural activities could occur. Cultural activities were constantly battling, utilizing, and seeking equilibrium with natural forces.

Research Directions for the Central California Coast

Additional Doghole Port Recording

A number of additional doghole ports exist unrecorded along the Big Sur coast.

Several of these are located on land managed by the Los Padres National Forest. This includes: Mill Creek, Pacific Valley, Cape San Martin, and Alder Creek. Several more

187 exist on private property, including important landings such as Anderson and Bixby.

Archaeological research at these properties will expand understandings of the extractive- era maritime cultural landscape of Big Sur.

Underwater Reconnaissance

The Big Sur coastline contains submerged archaeological resources that can expand understandings of the maritime cultural landscape. Numerous shipwrecks dot the coastline, several whose date of demise is contemporaneous with the doghole ports era.

Furthermore, many of the cable chutes along the coast likely required a submerged anchor. This is definitely the case for Rockland Landing, whereby an anchor was supposedly dropped in 60 ft. of water 1,000 ft. south of the cliff. Additional features or artifacts related to landing activities may be submerged immediately adjacent to areas in which tasks were performed.

Whaling, Naval Operations, and Fishing

Point Lobos State Reserve is located on the far north boundary of this study area.

This landscape contains multiple layers of human interaction with the ocean, including the operation of Carmel Bay Whaling Company, a shore-whaling station, between 1862 and 1879. This industry is an important and understudied element of California’s maritime history. The Portuguese whalers that settled and operated in Point Lobos constructed settlements and used specific hunting and processing technologies that may be visible in material and cognitive aspects of the landscape.

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The Point Sur Light Station provides additional avenues for research. In additional to the navigation-related activities, the surrounding landscape served as a naval base during World War II. Remnants of the naval base operations are still visible in the presence of barracks and additional structures adjacent to the light station.

In the 1930s Monterey was the “sardine capital of the world,” containing extensive fishing and canning developments along Cannery Row. While Monterey’s industry has shifted to site seeing and tourism, fishing continues to be important economic activity and a part of the heritage for contemporary fisherman. Structural remnants of canning operations are still visible along the Cannery Row waterline.

Interpretation

The maritime cultural landscape holds great potential for interpretive presentation.

Doghole ports and related sites are links in a chain that span the coastline and contain unique features that display divergent human interactions and perceptions of the coastline than current held today. Many people that encounter these features likely have questions regarding their age and purpose. Future research may be capable of devising strategies on how to interpret this information for public display.

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