7-23-2021 AFTERTHOUGHTS ON GOLDFIELD, NV

The Esmeralda County Courthouse
built in 1907

Good morning, t-loggers.  Well, it was late last night and there were a few more pictures I neglected to post. Lindy

The left arrow points to the Vapourpoint
Distillery - the right arrow points
to Noobee - Considerate of these folks to
put a distillery so close to our digs!

Entry arch to Diamondfield Gulch

Ron Matheny's Diamondfield Gulch,
where the elite meet!

Goldfield Hotel
built in 1907 at the height of
the gold boom
Original cost $450,000
(today ~ $9M)
Note the pillars made of individual bricks

Engine # 1 The Goldfield
Consolidated Mines Company ~ 1910

The Hearse Barn
hearses were horse-drawn wagons

7-22-2021 GOLDFIELD, NV

It is now plain for us to see that we need to spend more time in Goldfield.  At least a week should do it, maybe longer.  Yes, it is small and many establishments are boarded up, no longer functioning or abandoned, but the people are wonderful and there is a lot of interesting history.  The town began in 1902 as a gathering of about a dozen tents occupied by prospectors seeking their fortunes in precious metals.  When gold was found (And, Lordy, was it found!  The biggest gold strike in Nevada history!), a swarm of humanity converged and raised the population to 20,000 belly buttons.  By 1907, the little town boomed with hundreds of businesses, including restaurants, churches, medical facilities, more than 40 saloons and of course a bevy of hookers.  Goldfield became and still is the seat of Esmeralda County.  But then, in 1913, heavy rains and flooding swept through Goldfield, leaving behind catastrophic damage.  Dedicated rebuilding efforts and mining continued but 10 years later, a devastating fire destroyed 53 square blocks of Goldfield and delivered a fatal blow to the town.  Mining continued until the 1940s and then, the ore began to dry up and enthusiasm waned.  Now, the population of Goldfield is about 250 hardy souls and effort to revive the sleepy little community is back in motion.

 

Our day began with breakfast at the Dinky Diner.  There, we learned from Kristina about the blustery weather that sometimes deposits 3-foot deep snow drifts at her doorstep.  We also learned about Goldfield Days which will happen (and always does) on the first full week end of August.  It consists of music, parades, street fairs and general drunken debauchery.  Sounds to me like another bucket list item and we know just where to stay!  Jeri Foutz is the proud and talented proprietor of the Goldfield Stop Inn.  She and spouse have created a small, 3-room inn that is truly a labor of love and a work of art in progress. 

The hooker's crib room

One of her rooms is a relocated “crib” that was the place of “business,” shall we say, for an extremely popular and happy hooker back in the day.  The room is furnished with antique furniture and artifacts and the shower walls are corrugated steel sheets with a shelf intended for soaps and froo-froos.  I suggested to Jeri that the shower begs for a sign, “The doctor told me I should install a bar in my shower,” with a few bottles of booze on the shelf instead of soaps.  She laughed, loves the idea and said, “I know just where to get the bottles of booze!” 

Piano rescued from an old hotel

Jeri and Rob at the Goldfield Stop Inn    

 

More than 70 casks of vodka now aging

Rob taking a taste of Old Sam spiced gin

Indeed!  The community may be sleepy but not so much so as not to accommodate a distillery!  It was suggested that we pay Sam Wise a visit.  He was happy to show us around Vapourpoint, his distillery, and treat us to a taste of his vodka, whiskey and signature spiced gin, “Old Sam.”  Delicious!  But Sam is not allowed to sell us a bottle because he’s not a licensed retailer.  However, we were free to make a “donation” to the “Widows Fund” in exchange for a bottle of hooch.  Sam suggested that a lot of people like the spiced gin as an aperitif or mixed with lemonade or ginger ale.  (Tonic seems like good idea!)  A fifth is now safely in our custody.

Sam Wise, proud distiller and owner
of the Vapourpoint Distillery

 

Lindy at the Santa Fe Saloon

It was a hot and sunny day and a cool brew at the Santa Fe Saloon seemed like a good idea.  It is funky and very old.  The floor is worn wooden slats and burlap covers the ceiling in the small restaurant.  Lore has it that Wyatt Earp hung out here. At first, we weren’t sure the saloon would be open.  The locals explained that the owner has a hard time keeping employees.  They keep quitting.  Not because of the generous unemployment benefits now available but because of the bartender.  She was a crabby, nasty old bag.  The owner finally created a billboard that is posted here and there about town.  If you happen through Goldfield and see it, “Home of the Meanest Bartender in Town,” you know that it refers to Laurel who is (no longer) employed at the Santa Fe Saloon.

Rob and Patti

Burlap ceilings in the restaurant

Signs behind the bar at Santa Fe Saloon

 

We still had plenty of sunshine and a few hours left in our day so we were advised to visit Ron Matheny, the creator of Diamondfield Gulch, only 5 miles north on dirt roads. 

Hundreds of these dot the desert landscape

Along the drive, the desert is dotted with tailings and a few headframes, the remains of abandoned mining digs.  We arrived at Diamondfield Gulch to find no activity and were about to leave when Ron came out of his cabin and hailed us.  He is a friendly fellow and ran back to his shack to bring a cooler of beers to share while sitting on his rustic saloon patio.  He began his project by restoring some of the historic sites at Diamondfield and eventually, he expanded his enterprise into a little town which he named Diamondfield Gulch. 

Way to Diamondfield Gulch

Ron Matheny, craftsman of
Diamondfield Gulch, Nevada

Enjoying a quick beer

Ron gives us the tour of his digs

An energetic 76-year-old seasoned desert rat Ron is, hosting bbqs on the full moon of each month.  We had heard about this and kept hoping the moon would fill out and it came close.  Disappointing but another addition to the bucket list.  Anyway, we had a really nice few hours looking around and listening to his tales of adventure as he gave us a tour of his creation.  Finally, it came time to head for the homestead and begin the process of packing and battening down for the last leg of our trip.  Our homing beacons are flashing.

 

Home Sweet Home here at Red Rock Drive, just in time for cold toonies!  Until next time, Rob and Lindy send you love and best wishes!  Happy trails!

7-20-2021 HAWTHORNE, NV

 The drive here was very twisty with many 180 deg. turns, and the Donner Pass, elev. 7,000+ ft. was a challenge.  The horizon was virtually not visible for the last stretch due to wild fire smoke.  The rv park, Whiskey Flats, lay under a blanket of brown smoke.  We know that there are mountains all around but you couldn’t see them for two reasons:  smoke and stinging eyes.  Yesterday afternoon, a small thunderstorm blew through with a few scary bolts of lightning thrown in, just to make it interesting.  The folks here are delighted with the rain but not the lightning bolts which started some of the fires in the first place.

The Reno skyline while passing through

. 

Upon arrival at Whiskey Flats

This morning just before departing

The rain scrubbed the air some and the mountains around us reappeared by this morning.

 

Hawthorne really bustled in earlier days.  Nearby Walker Lake used to be a formidable presence, lying between the mines and ranches on the south side and supplies for the townsfolk on the north.  To the west were sharp cliffs and to the east were vast sand dunes so transportation of materials was difficult.  It required horse-drawn wagons that had to skirt about the difficult terrain and added hours to a single trip.  The word-of-mouth local lore has it that late in the 1800s, a fellow named Knapp arrived in Hawthorne from out east where he had been a riverboat pilot.  He stared at the lake and had a vision.  He acquired two steamboats and ports were established at the north and south ends of Walker Lake.  Not far from the southern port, the community of Hawthorne sprang up.  The steamboats trimmed more than 30 miles off of a one-way trip from north to south bringing food supplies, lumber and the nearby mines’ railroad repair materials to the residents of Hawthorne.  Business on both ends was brisk.  This didn’t last long.  The shipping railroads came along and the steamboats and the ports slowly faded to a distant memory. 

 

Later, Hawthorne became a significant military depot (the largest in the USA and the world after the one in New Jersey blew up) and once again the community thrived to some degree.  Walker Lake became a big recreational area with camping, boating and fishing tournaments.  The waters of Walker Lake are receding now because private water rights at the feeders have diverted the water supply to places where there’s more money in it;  from certain vantage points it is possible to see both ends of the lake at once. The lake is currently only 11 miles long and the dissolved solids in the water have all but obliterated the native cutthroat trout. 

Abandoned fishing boat on Walker Lake

The military presence is still active but greatly diminished and Hawthorne is quite depressed with a population of a little over 2,000.  There are a few restaurants and casinos, a sprinkle of gas stations and a grocery store.  The school and court house from earlier times in the 1900s are boarded up and closed, weeds and sand are what is left of the town’s landscape.  Leaves me with a rather forlorn feeling.

 

Under a clear blue sky and morning sun, we are packed up and rolling down the road to our next destination:  Goldfield, Nevada, to see what there might be to explore and discover.

 

 

7-17-2021 GRASS VALLEY, CA

 

The white arrow points to the approx.
location of Frolic Cove - Look
safe to you?

The reason I mentioned the shipwreck in my last story is because you can see a bit of Frolic Cove from the cliff where the Cabrillo Point Light stands.  The cove was not named for the fun little dance you do through the tulips.  The catastrophe occurred 170 years ago, but in theory at least, bits and pieces of the ship Frolic still lie beneath the surf there in the cove.  By the way, Capt. Faucon went to seek help from the locals to save the ship’s cargo but when they returned to the scene, they found nothing.  The Pomo Indians had looted every last scrap that wasn’t nailed down.

 

One other (trivia) thing:  We asked Mike, the camp owner at Fort Bragg, what the local politics are.  He hesitated and then said, “We-e-e-l-l, most of the people are communists….”  Moving along…

 

Now we take the same twisty, dipsy Route 20 inland, away from the sea, only this time, we go uphill, just to make things a little more “interesting.”  I was exhausted just watching Rob drive.  After it cleared and leveled out some, the scenery through the wine country and citrus groves was bucolic.  It is a bit brown and drought-stricken as California has not had rain for about 2 years, but some areas seem to be getting the water they desperately need and rightly so as these good folks make our wine.  In the signs department, here is the perfect one for this time.

 

Our Noobee among the pines

Who knew that a fairgrounds could have such a beautiful campground?  We’ve arrived, we’re leveled and fully-hooked-up at Nevada County Fairgrounds, for 2 days;  warm, sunny and sprinkled with 200 foot tall pines.  

Grass Valley is a pretty little town to visit.  There is an old historic district where Cirino’s, an old saloon with a gorgeous back bar, served us a fine lunch.  When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a pasty shop, Grass Vallley Pasty Company!  What to do, what to do…. It’s a tiny little establishment with 3 fellows working just inside the door behind the counter.  The owner, elbow-deep in flour, takes each piece of dough from the refrigerator, presses it flat with his roller that he flips around, then piles in the filling and deftly folds and presses the pasty into shape.  He paints it with a sauce that will make it shiny and into the oven it goes to bake.  The other two fellows assist him, keeping an eye on the beautiful pasties.  This place has been in business in this little kitchen for 37 years and was called by the name Cousin Jack’s because they made pasties for the the men who worked the mines, “Cousin Jacks.”   Women were called “Cousin Jennys.”  This little kitchen makes and sells 100 pasties per day.  It was impossible to choose which one to buy so we solved that dilemma by buying one of each, six altogether.  They are huge, weigh about a pound a piece and one, pot roast, will be quite enough for both of us for dinner tomorrow night.  The remaining  5 are safely tucked in the freezer.  What a lucky discovery and rare, one of only 2 or 3 other pasty settlements we have found across the fruited plain.

The master creates a work of art

In the kitchen of the 
Grass Valley Pasty Co.

A masterpiece - now in captivity
in the DLM Jailhouse

 

Seems many of the little towns in this area were settled by miners seeking their fortune in gold.  Another small town nearby, Nevada City, was established for the same purpose in the early 1800s.  Many of the old buildings still stand in the historic district including the old firehouse, which was built in 1850.  It has withstood the tests of time as well as fires that swept through the areas leveling whole villages. 

Firehouse built in 1850

The firehouse was still functional until 1979, 129 years in the biz. 

Nevada Theatre

Across the main street from the firehouse is the Nevada Theatre.  It was constructed in 1865 and has also survived through the decades until its door closed for the final time in 1957.  Celebrities who performed at the theatre included Mark Twain and Jack London.  Another small interesting place is named the Two Room Inn located right in the heart of Nevada City.  It was originally named the Teddy Bear Castle and was constructed in 1880.  Since its restoration by the current owners, it is now a tiny inn which can accommodate 6 people and is now on my bucket list, maybe sometime after California gets over its Covid hysteria.

New York Hotel, 1863, destroyed by
a fire that swept through the town

 

The New York Hotel, rebuilt in 1880.
The fire started in a nearby upholstery shop 
owned by John White.  In 1881, it was
rumored that a fellow named John
White was lynched "for starting a fire."

Two Room Inn - 1880

Lindy and Rob at the Nevada
County Fairgrounds RV Park

Tomorrow, we will be one step closer to home, traveling to our familiar digs at Whiskey Flats in Hawthorne, NV.    

7-14-2021 FORT BRAGG, CA

 

Does that tree on the left look big
enough for you?!

Again, the route to our next stop was not so far, 195 miles, but it was more than a 5 hour drive.  The signs alerted us to twists and dives and Noobee was slowed sometimes to 15 mph.  At the same time, the stunning, majestic redwood trees took our breath away.  Really a love-fear situation.

 

Our new campsite at Hidden Pines in Fort Bragg has it all over the last few camps.  First of all, Barry Murphy, our park baby-sitter, was a delightful, crusty old soul who looked like an old miner to me.  He never left us alone for a minute, couldn’t, had to help, and talked the whole time about this and that. 

Hidden Pines RV Park

Turns out he was, in his words, “nearly a professional chef at one point, by golly!”  On the spot right there near the bath houses, he gave me all the particulars of his signature French onion soup.  My mental tape recorder was running.  Do you want it?

My buddy, Barry Murphy

 

My Signature French Onion Soup by Barry Murphy, Nearly-Professional-Chef

 

In a baking pan, lay a big pile of meaty beef bones and beef scraps, onions, celery, carrots and whatever other seasonings you use.  You know, the usual.

Bake this in a 350F oven for 8 hours.  The meat will make a lot of juice.

Pour all of this in a soup pot, cover with water, bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer for an hour.

Turn the heat off and let the pot stand overnight on the pilot light so all the flavors can get familiar with each other.  The next day, bring it to a boil and reduce to a simmer for another hour.

Strain it, saving the broth and throwing the rest of it out.  Keep the broth hot.

Caramelize a lot of onions.  Add them to the broth.

Ladle into hot tureens.

Put a chunk of toast or croutons on the surface and cover with a slice of cheese.  Ready to serve.

(Me:  “But Barry, don’t you have to put it under the broiler for a few seconds to melt the cheese?”  Barry:  “Well, of course.  That’s just common sense.”)

 

An Indian tribe called the Pomo inhabited this area centuries ago.  They were basically hunters and gatherers and a peaceful people.  The Spanish missionaries came along in the early 1800s and convinced a lot of the Pomo to put on clothes and Christian up.  While they were at it, they pillaged a lot of the Pomo land, sea and hunting grounds, brought unfamiliar diseases to the tribe and pretty much decimated them.  Near the town of Fort Bragg, the sea meets the shore at a stormy area called Pomo Bluffs.  The name Pomo is sprinkled all over but that is about all that is left of the Pomo Indians.

Roberto on the Pomo Bluffs

 

The Point Cabrillo Light stands five miles south along the rocky coast.  The third order Fresnel lens is still intact and the light is still functioning to alert mariners, assuming the fog ever lifts, which it hasn’t since we arrived.  The original timer-clock has a 92 pound weight attached and it unrolls a cable which turns a set of gears that causes the light to flash about 15 miles out to sea every 10 seconds or 40 seconds per full revolution of the lens.  The lightkeeper had to rewind the cable every one hour and forty five minutes. 

Point Cabrillo Light

The lighthouse clockworks -
The weight attached to the rope
(or chain) turns the barrel that
turns the set of gears -
the top one rotates the light

Model of the ship Frolic

 

On July 25, 1850, a cargo ship, the Frolic, was sailing nearby and the first mate saw breakers.  He alerted Captain Faucon who said that was impossible.  The mate was right, the captain was wrong.  The Frolic was dashed upon the rocks and destroyed.  It was loaded with precious cargo and this was its last sail before they were to retire the ship.  (Never, ever say, “This is my last run.”  I learned this in downhill skiing.  You always say, “This is my penultimate run!”)  Well, as the ship foundered on the rocks, Captain Faucon managed to save 4 bottles of wine, 2 bottles of brandy and some crackers (for the appetizer).  At least the guy had his priorities in order.  Anyway, that took place in 1850 and it took 58 more years for the government to see the light, as it were, and construct a lighthouse on the point.  It was decommissioned for 27 years but then, it was wisely activated again in 1999.

 

This evening, an excellent seafood dinner at the Harborview Inn Restaurant.  We will now head east toward home.  Next stop, Grass Valley, California and maybe some sunshine.

7-11-2021 TRINIDAD, CA

 Mileage-wise, it wasn’t a long trip from Grants Pass to Trinidad, only 150 miles, but ultimately, the travel time was 5 hours.  The route was generally west and then southward and it was twisty. 

The map looks like intestines.  It was also very smoky from all the wildfires.  The sky was brown.  Rob drove the first part through what we thought was the worst of the up-down-snaky-smoky part, largely because I’m a chicken.  Then he turned the wheel over to me.  Oh no.  It was even twistier and upsy-downsy and then, My God, the sign said, “road narrows.”  What?  Narrows to what, for Godssake?!  Well, it narrowed.  Not only were my palms sweaty, even my feet were sweaty. 

 

We had no idea that part of our route would take us through the redwoods.  Breathtaking, spectacular, massive, majestic giants they are.  Thousands of years old.  Seedlings when Jesus Christ walked the earth.  The diameter of a few of them was about 15 feet and they are more than 200 feet tall.  Indeed, God’s little garden.   At one point our narrow road ran between two of these giants whose trunks were trimmed away from the road to create just enough clearance for vehicles.

 

The boys

We also had no idea that we would encounter a herd of elk!  The girls were all on one side of the road and the boys were all gathered on the other, kind of an Elks Club, in a way.  But then, the girls decided to join the boys.  You humans, deal with it!

The girls

"I need to go see the boys."  (or... Why did the 
elk cross the road?)

 

It was foggy and cold along the coast.  I am not familiar with the north coast of CA so I do not know if this is typical for July but, in sum, I don’t want to live here.  We arrived at our new rv park, “Sounds of the Sea,” at about 4PM, just in time for toonies.  It took just a bit of maneuvering to park the beast in the sardine can that was allotted to us.  The road up to our site was like a bike path or a slightly wide sidewalk.  “Sounds of the Sea?”  The only sounds we heard were the neighbors’ barking dogs.  Our slot is equivalent to an rv storage area.  We are not and could not get level, even with all the boards we haul.  Indoors, we walk uphill to get to our bedroom and the frig door keeps wanting to fall open.    Here’s the topper:  the restrooms are closed due to Covid.  This may be turning out to be a California thing.  I’ve been in California for about 72 hours and I’m up to here with it.  I’m not really good with “stupid.”  (Or maybe they are just sly?  They don’t have to clean their bathrooms.  Do we get a refund?)  On to more pleasant things that turn Grumpy into Happy.

Sardine-pack at "Sounds of the Sea RV Park"

 

The village in the cove here was originally named Tsurai.  A prehistoric Indian tribe, the Yurok, lived here in cottages hewn from the wood of the redwoods.  Their predominant occupation was whaling.  Spaniards Bodega and Heceta “discovered” the Yurok and their village in June, 1775 and began to infiltrate.  Turns out Bodega and Heceta were not the first guys to “discover” Tsurai but they were the first to land here.  They anchored on June 11, 1775, Trinity Sunday, and conducted a “formal act of possession” for Spain.  They erected a little cross and dedicated it to King Carlos of Spain.  They christened the area La Santisima Trinidad.  The Yurok gave up and disappeared by 1916.  In 1922, 333 humpback whales and one sperm whale were harvested in the local waters for the purposes of marketing the whale oil.  I suppose later, the Americans rode into town.  And there you have it… the Reader’s Digest Version of Trinidad, California.

Memorial monument to those lost
at sea - and Rob walking down the lane 

The bay at Trinidad

The fishing boats in the bay at Trinidad

 

In the sunroom at the Seascape 

Seascape is a cute little tiny restaurant near the water on the bay in Trinidad.  The sun burned off some of the fog by the afternoon and we had an early seafood dinner in the sunroom at Seascape.  Then, we strolled on the pier and breathed the salty air for a while.  Time to drift home and relax for the evening.

The Seascape from the pier