Wells, Nevada

Wells, Nevada is one of those forgettable places. People whiz by on I-80 or stop for gas and probably never remember its name.
    For thousands of years Wells has been a place where travelers pause to replenish. Shoshone Indians, Hudson Bay fur trappers and mountain men camped in the area. Covered wagons traveling the California Trail stopped in the 1800s before tackling the rest of the trail west. They camped not far from what today is downtown, about eighty miles from where Idaho and Utah meet. It was a good place to rest a while. It had a dozen springs and meadows with plenty of fresh water and grass. The area became known as Humboldt Wells and was the source of the Humboldt River, which those wagon trains followed all the way to the Humboldt Sink just outside of what is today Lovelock, Nevada. When the Central Pacific established a division point in Humboldt Wells, a town grew up around it and the name was shortened to Wells.
    Shortly after 6 am on February 21, 2008 a 6.3 magnitude earthquake rudely awakened the residents. Its epicenter was just 11 miles away. Virtually every house, 700 of them and all the businesses sustained some sort of damage. Luckily only three people were hurt. But the historic district along Front Street was devastated.
    March is my usual month to do what I call my walkabout, which is simply to mosey around Nevada and see what can be seen that I haven’t already sighted and to revisit favorite places. After attending Shooting the West in Winnemucca, another one of my favorite habits, I shoved off for Ely, but first there had to be a stop in Wells to see the damage. As I walked along historic Front Street, I harkened back to my last visit, long before the earthquake. I remembered that not all of the buildings were occupied then. Some were definitely showing their age, looking as if the only thing holding them up was their next-door neighbor. I surveyed the damage to these old buildings and thought, “To restore them will be a big job, costing a ton of money and requiring townspeople to unite behind the effort.” Is Wells up to that? I don’t know, but where there’s a will, there’s a way and rural Nevadans are hardy souls who have a lot of grit and determination. They just might pull it off.

Trinidad, a hidden gem

Bet you’ve never been to Trinidad. You’re probably thinking I mean the island off the coast of Venezuela, but I’m not. I’m talking about the small hamlet in Northern California. If you’ve traveled the 101, twenty-three miles north of Eureka, you’ve probably zoomed on by, ignoring the billboards that say “Discover Trinidad.” It’s easy to do; Trinidad is well hidden behind the trees. I ignored the signs until one day I took the off ramp and wow! There sat a funky little village, just the bare necessities, overlooking a beautiful bay.
    Trinidad has two rather famous distinctions: it’s the smallest, oldest, most westerly California town and in 1914 the lighthouse, not the replica shown here, but the one that sits on Trinidad Head, was struck by the highest wave ever recorded on the West Coast. It was the result of an unusually high tide coupled with the force of a violent winter storm. The wave shot up the face of the bluff and literally fell onto the top of the lighthouse, which stood 196 feet above sea level. It burst through the windows and snuffed out the light just as the light keeper was busy working in the lantern room. Can you imagine the look on his face as he turned and saw what he described as “a sea of unusual height?” There was no permanent damage to the building or the light and the keeper had everything back in service several hours later...after changing his shorts, no doubt.
    We love to camp a few miles north of town. Our favorite site is at the edge of a slope overlooking the ocean. In front of us are large bushes, ferns and ivy-covered trees; it’s like being in a tree house. A short distance from shore we can see several rock formations. On one of them a group of sea lions is usually doing their basking routine. They talk to each other most of the time and their barking can be heard quite clearly. They do stop once in a while, probably to rest their vocal cords or maybe to pause and scratch an itchy place. I wonder if they ever think about the noises coming from land? Nah, their thoughts are all about food, rank, sex, and who’s trying to eat me? And then there are the “words” of the big males, “Hey, you quit messing with my ladies.”
    It is great fun relaxing in our “tree house” listening to the barking seals. Trinidad is definitely one of those places that I have placed on my “Come-Back-To” list.

More Trinidad Images

Picture #1 is the residential area of Trinidad. The village is hidden behind the houses to the left of the church at the top, center of the picture.














Picture #2 is a view of the bay looking northeast along the shoreline.
















Picture #3 is a view of the bay and
Trinidad Head looking out to sea.

















And the last picture is the view looking down from the top of Trinidad Head. That is the lighthouse that was struck by the humongous wave.

Crescent Beach, WA

You want to know our favorite place to park our motor home? It’s up in Washington on the Strait of Juan de Fuca at Crescent Beach & RV Park. Their motto is “Surf, Sand, Serenity” and that’s for sure.
    The park doesn’t have a lot of amenities, but the view from the sites is to die for. It’s in a sheltered cove with a half-mile long beach and the strait practically at your doorstep. The area is heavily forested like many places in the northwest and deer often come down in the evening and browse. All of this makes for a very private place to just sit, admire the view, relax and take life easy.
    In the late 1800s, the area was called Port Crescent, which was envisioned as a deep-water harbor for ocean going vessels. Timber freighters were to be loaded with logs bound for foreign ports. Ambitious plans were conceived and put into operation. Port Crescent town site was laid out calling for 20,000 lots on a nearly square grid. They began dredging the harbor and almost immediately misfortune struck. A hidden reef was discovered, making it impossible to continue, so those plans were abandoned, however, the plan for the town continued. Soon there were two saloons, a couple hotels, stores and all the things that went into making a frontier town. Port Crescent continued to exist well into the 1920s, and then the town died when a fire swept through it. A careless beachcomber had left an unattended log burning on the beach. A fire on a sandy beach usually is of little concern, but unfortunately the sand was soaked with oil from the old oil house. The sand caught fire, which spread to the wharf, which spread to one of the hotels and before long all the other buildings were ablaze. Sadly today, all that is left is a postscript in the history books and the old cemetery next door to the RV park. Other than that, there is no trace of the old town.
    We‘ve spent many idyllic days there, looking out at the strait, watching big container ships and atomic submarines go by, flying my kite, strolling along the beach and venturing out, once in awhile, for some sightseeing. We haven’t been back there in a long time, but I’m sure it’s still pretty much the way we left it the last time. One family owns the whole area and they want to keep it the way they found it. And you know, in the case of Crescent Beach, I think that’s a really good idea?

Burney Falls

Situated on the Modoc Plateau east of the Cascade Range, McArthur Burney Memorial State Park is home to a wonderful waterfall. Two large cascades plunge 129 feet while numerous ribbons of water pour out all along the rock wall. The result is unlike any waterfall I’ve ever seen. To the casual observer it would seem that Burney Creek provides a continuous supply of water for the falls. But during part of the year the creek is bone dry and still millions of gallons of water tumble over and seep out through the rocks. One must understand volcanism and how lava flows and about subterranean lakes and streams to fully appreciate why there is a falls even when the stream is dry. All that water in various places underground feeds springs, which provide a year round supply of water for the falls. How much water is there in Burney Falls? How about an estimated 100 million gallons per day! It is one of handful of waterfalls in California that has a good flow throughout the year. It is not the highest or the largest waterfall in California, but it is quite possibly the most beautiful cascade of water, if not the most spectacular in the state. From the falls the water flows down Burney Creek and feeds into Lake Britton.
    Burney Falls was named for a pioneer, Samuel Burney, who settled in the area sometime in the 1850s. Later, the McArthurs arrived and set up housekeeping. The two families saved the land surrounding the falls from being developed, by buying the property and then giving it to the state in the 1920s.
    The waterfall drew the attention of a famous outdoorsman, Teddy Roosevelt, who called it the eighth wonder of the world. I can just imagine him seeing the falls for the first time. The sun glinting off those famous pince-nez, the toothy grin, the riding breeches, his roughrider hat at a jaunty angle. “What do you think of the waterfall, Mr. President?” “Bully....bully falls.” “Beg your pardon Sir, that’s Burney Falls.”

Little Bighorn, a visit to a battlefield

Several years back Linda and I, while traveling through Montana, stopped off at Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument. We were just going to make a quick visit and be on our way, but the rangers were so darn interesting, we wound up sitting through four hours of lectures. They spoke on every aspect of the famous battle, from weapons to uniforms to food to Indians to topography and we sat there in rapt attention.
    Five thousand books, let me say that again, FIVE THOUSAND books and 100 films and documentaries have been written and produced about the Battle of Little Bighorn, also know as Custer’s Last Stand and to the Indians as the Battle of Greasy Grass Creek. That's more publications than any other battle in the history of warfare. Why is that? For one thing, this was the high water mark in the 400-year struggle between the white man and the Indian. And secondly the way in which Custer and his men died is fodder for great speculation and drama.
    After all the research, multiple investigations, and lengthy military hearings, the debate as to the cause of the Army’s defeat continues to this day. There were no eyewitnesses to the Last Stand, and those Indians and soldiers who took part in the campaign, but were not with Custer at the time had conflicting stories; consequently the truth was very difficult to come by. Add to that the larger than life nature of Custer’s life and you begin to get a sense of just how difficult it was. Hollywood with its proclivity to exaggerate and romanticize hasn't shed any light on the issues; they've just muddied the water. After all, Errol Flynn was just playing Errol Flynn.
    So what do the historians and pundits say was the reason Custer was so soundly defeated? Some say Custer was done in by his arrogance and ambition. Some have maintained that he violated orders. Or they say it was the lack of good military intelligence, poor communications, or a number of other possible factors. But they all must agree about one thing, one undeniable conclusion… the Indians won and the soldiers lost. The Indians were better soldiers on that day, June 25, 1876.

NOTE: Looking at the picture, the headstones were placed where dead soldiers were found near the body of Custer (black headstone). The Indians were down in those trees, which are on the banks of the Little Bighorn River.

Zzyzx, a desert oasis

If you wanted to be the last entry in the telephone book, what better name to have than Zzyzx (ZYE zix). I didn’t make up that name, in 1944 Curtis Howe Springer, self proclaimed doctor and Methodist minister, radio evangelist, and an enterprising con man made it up, proclaiming it to be the last word in the English language. He planned and built a sixty-room hotel, a radio broadcasting station, a church, a health spa, a private airstrip, a pond with a fountain and several outbuildings on a spring fed oasis near Baker, California on the edge of an enormous playa, out in the East Mojave Desert. Springer solicited donations from guests for his special cures for all sorts of afflictions from hemorrhoids to hair loss to serious diseases. The elixir was a concoction made up a celery, carrot and parsley juice. He also offered what he called “Antedeluvian Tea” that he said would definitely prolong life.
    Unfortunately for Springer the federal government caught up with him and successfully challenged his mining claims. He was charged with squatting on federal land and in 1974 he and his followers were evicted. He was later arrested and convicted of false advertising.
    In 1976, the Bureau of Land Management allowed a consortium of California State Universities to take over the management of the property and its facilities. Today, scientists and students who study desert fauna and flora, and people who attend special classes and workshops use the facility.
    The first time I went to Zzyzx, it was for a photography workshop. As I bumped along the dirt road, I asked myself, “What in the world am I getting into, it’s the bloody Sahara out here.” I was tempted to turn back, but I persevered and I’m glad I did. As soon as I saw the pond and the buildings I started to change my mind. And after the first day, I fall in love with the place. It’s a special world, that beautiful little oasis with palm trees, with its spring, with comfortable funky buildings and with the sun and the wind providing electricity. For a brief moment the world’s problems simply don’t matter. Springer’s elixir was not in his dubious concoctions, but in Zzyzx itself.

Pioche, Nevada

Pioche (pee-OACH), that’s the way the locals pronounced it, has a population of about 2100, which makes it too small for large shopping centers and strip malls. That’s probably a good thing because Pioche seems to be getting along nicely without such modern conveniences and I have the feeling, after meeting a couple of the residents, all that falderol, to use their words, would not be welcomed. That fits with what I’ve found in other out-of-the-way small towns. They all seem to have that same rugged independence. The rest of the world is far, far away and that's just fine with them.

After an initial look around, I checked into the Overland Hotel and Saloon and then headed for the museum, which is my usual starting place in a new town. There is always a knowledgeable person sitting behind a desk waiting to greet you. They almost always know what's going on in town and the displays show the local history, all of which help to point out what to see and explore. I had a nice conversation with the lady who was on duty that day. We spoke of many things, but the one that really had my attention was when she told me about the water situation. Water starved Las Vegas is buying up water rights up and down the east side of Nevada just as fast as it can. While she spoke, I kept thinking of the book “Cadillac Desert.” Then Owens Valley was the target and Mulholland and the boys nearly sucked it dry watering Los Angeles. It looks like history is being repeated, this time in Eastern Nevada.

Pioche was named for wealthy San Francisco financier, Francois L. A. Pioche, who developed the town after buying up mining claims, which eventually added millions to his wallet. In its early years, Pioche was certainly a rough and tumbled place. From 1871-1872 60% of all the killings in Nevada occurred in Pioche. They like to tell the story of how 75 men were buried in the cemetery before anyone died of natural causes. Silver was the draw that caused fortune searchers to flock to Pioche. During the boom years from 1870 to 1877 $20 million worth of silver was mined. Seventy years later, long after the mines had closed, a second economic boom occurred. Only this time it was a different kind of ore. The area became the second largest producer of lead and zinc in the nation during WWII. Today there is very little mining left. Pioche is the county seat and government is now the main focus.

Pioche is home to the famous or infamous $1,000,000 courthouse, called that because of mismanagement, excessive overruns, underhanded kickbacks, bungling and out and out fraud that went into the building of it. In 1872 the county budgeted $26,000, but building ended up costing nearly a million by the time the debt coupled with all the financial shenanigans and the interest from multiple refinancing were all added up. It wasn't until 1937 that the debt was finally paid off.

They recently built a fine new elementary school to replace the old one. An old timer I spoke with said, with a good amount of disdain in his voice, “They did that not because they needed a new school, but simply because they wanted one.” He told me the district sold the old school. $50,000 was the price tag and according to the old timer, it was done underhanded without any public notice. I check it out; it’s a handsome mission-styled building. The new owner occupied it and soon fell into disfavor with the townfolks. “He was doing all kinds of drugs and stuff like that, so we ran him out of town.” That will teach him to run afoul of Nevadans. The building has been condemned, so who knows what fate has in store for it.

Spring Valley just east of Pioche is what its name implies. It has over 150 natural springs feeding into it. Now you know why Las Vegas has its eye on the area. But it’s definitely not going to get that spring water without a long protracted fight from the locals, who say quite openly and loudly, “Get hosed Vegas.”

My last contact before leaving town was with a retired gentleman whose daughter owns the local café. I asked him what he liked about living in Pioche. “It’s the peace and quiet, the people and the good weather.” The café was closed because they were painting the interior, so the gentleman gave me a standing invitation to come back and try the food the next time through. I think I will. I like Pioche a lot.

Pioche, Additional Photographs

From the top:
#1...This is the Gem Theater, which it would appear has been closed for a long time.
#2...This is the old school whose owner was run out of town.
#3...This is Godbe’s Mill that processed the ore carried to it by the tram system.
#4...This is the tram, which operated in the 1920s and 30s. It carried ore from high on Treasure Hill down to the Godbe’s Mill in the valley a couple miles away. It was powered for the most part by gravity, with the aid of a five-horse power engine. The momentum of the loaded buckets going down hill was enough to cause empty buckets to move back up to the top of the hill. The little lawn mower sized engine was there just to help out when help was needed.
#5...This is a portion of the Pioche Golf Course. It’s a 9-hole, 1656-yard course with 7 par 3 holes and 2 par 4 holes. The rules say you can carry a small artificial swatch of grass to use after teeing off. Hope is alive that they will be able to expand the course, build a clubhouse and include a driving range. They even hope to have real grass someday. Right now it may not be the prettiest course, but it's a start.