After months away from home in Alaska, the Felters are finally back in Los Angeles. Finishing their brief stop near Mt. Shasta, they speed south on the Southern Pacific lineĀ and finish their journey on August 26th, 4 months and 5,000+ miles later. Ending this letter is a bittersweet moment for the Felters, they are glad to be home in the sun again, but also miss the adventure and excitement of travel. They end their long letter to their New York cousins hinting at future trips to Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon. If they ever did travel there, no letters of their trips survive. This is the last contact between the Felters and their east coast family I’m aware of.
There is a lot of big game in the forests of these mountains and ’tis said a hunter must be a brave one to attack the Grizzly Bear. We therefore hurry away as quietly as possible, and, leaving the bear undisturbed in his home, retire to our berths, while the train speeds on to San Francisco.

Arriving there in the morning, we get a good breakfast, and spend the day in taking a last farewell of the Cliff House, and other points of interest. About Five in the afternoon we step aboard the No. 10 Express, and are carried Southward through the beautiful Santa Clara, and the San Joaquin valleys. Day break finds us climbing the Tehachapi Loop, and later we descend into the Mohave desert.
The air now grows warmer, and by the time our train reached Los Angeles, at 1-30 in the afternoon August 26th, we feel well satisfied that the journey is at an end.
Our trip has been to us one long delightful day of pleasure, yet we are happy to return to this beautiful city of sunshine and flowers,- to call it home,- and have to spend our second winter in California.

In the not too distant future we hope to visit the Yosemite Valley,- Yellowstone Park, and the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River, but for the present you can all remember us as living where the winter is the pleasantest time of the year,- and where the doors and windows may be always open,- to let in the balmy air of this most glorious climate of Southern California.
Asking that you will not criticize too severely my first attempt at description, and thanking you for your patient attention,
I am truly and affectionately yours,
F.L.
This post is part of a longer travelogue written by Frank L. Felter of Los Angeles, a distant relative of mine, as he and his wife Nell journeyed up to and around Alaska in 1900. To read the previous part, click here.
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