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Please Click Here for – Part Three
"Like a Puff of Dust on the Far Desert”
In hindsight, the second half of our adventure with Deb & Steve was an incredible multifaceted swing through Nevada. Reno is a fairly short drive from our home so we added a stop to the trip. Near Verdi, Nevada on the border between California and Nevada is an iron obelisk placed by Allexey Von Schmidt in 1872 during his survey mentioned earlier.
The Von Schmidt Monument Historic Park also sits on two historic routes – the Truckee/Donner Trail and the Henness Pass Road.
We also made a stop at the Patagonia Outlet. From across the store the Lady noticed a fly fishing vest. “It’s like the first Patagonia vest you got close to 40 years ago! I liked that vest.”
It was my size and half price, an excellent match up.
“I’m so excited. A new fly fishing vest for you!” the Lady cheerfully exclaimed.
Deb pulled off another hit with her talk “On the Trail of Female Prospectors,” to an enthusiastic audience that early evening.
With the long summer daylight, we made it to Fort Churchill’s campground along the Carson River to spend the night. It’s important to note that the Carson River from east of Carson City to the Carson Sink is a Superfund Site due to mercury contamination from the days of the historic Comstock Lode; a continuing legacy of our mining past where the robber barons carry off the riches and we pay for the cleanup.
We walked through the ruins of the old fort in the early morning.
We then made our way to Buckland’s Station.
After viewing the excellent video introduction, we toured the old home and the surrounding grounds.
There’s a plaque commemorating the legendary Pony Express ride of “Pony Bob.”
At this time, we had no idea how much the Pony Express would play in our adventure.
The drive east on highway 50 worked its magic as we traveled past Fallon. Traffic and signs of modern civilization fell away. We felt we were returning home. Deb, in their truck had a copy of Stan Paher’s Nevada Ghost Towns & Desert Atlas on her lap. She followed along on the maps as we drove. When we stopped at Cold Springs Pony Express Station, she asked about a petroglyph site noted on one of Stan’s maps. I mentioned that the site was marked on the USGS 7.5 quad. “Do you want to go see if we can find it?” she asked.
Our route took us past the ruins of Edwards Creek Station for the Pony Express.
There are more modern ruins close by.
It was a hike up a canyon to search for the petroglyph site. The canyon narrowed with high vertical walls. An obvious alcove appeared at the base; an ancient shelter. The back wall held pictographs, not petroglyphs. This was a great find.
Dstretch helps bring out the fading pigments.
The day was drawing to an end as we found a site along a narrow canyon road with enough room to shoehorn our two vehicles in to and set up camp. Having seen no one else since leaving pavement, it was quite a surprise when, near dark, a pickup pulled to a stop, and a woman climbed out. She explained the annual Pony Express Re-Ride on this section of the trail was the next day and that she was in charge of this part of the route. The riders were traveling west to east this year and she was hoping to gain access for the re-ride through a section of private property further up the road. She did not know how long her effort would take and she hoped she would not disturb us when she drove back out. We all greatly enjoyed talking with her.
Well, we knew this would be lonely stretch of the trail and we’d most likely be the only ones around to cheer the Pony Express rider on. Yes, we had to stay around to see the Pony Express rider! In the morning we moved back to the Edwards Creek Station as it would make an historic backdrop. We waited.
A Jeep drove up the road and joined us. It was John, one of the official photographers for the event. We waited. John launched his drone and sent it on a flight to try and find the rider. The Lady climbed the highest point with a radio to give a call if she saw anything. We waited.
I did my best to paraphrase Mark Twain’s story in “Roughing It” about waiting for and then watching the speeding horse and Pony Express rider gallop by.
Our anticipation and excitement ebbed and flowed. We knew rain nor sleet nor snow slowed down mail delivery. We pondered what in the world might slow down a horse and rider in good weather.
We waited. We watched for dust. We listened for pounding hooves. We could not let our guard down. I remembered that Twain noted in “Roughing It” that spectators barely caught a glimpse before the rider vanished “like a puff of dust on the far desert.”
And then she appeared.
Steve shot a video.
The Lady seized the high ground and that’s John the photographer getting into position and asking the rider to gallop for an action shot. Ringo the horse would have none of it. He was in charge.
The rider stopped and we all chatted. She was turning around here and riding a half mile back where trucks and trailers waited. The private property was closed and there’s not enough riders and horses to ride the entire Pony Express Trail.
It is guaranteed, I was told, that the commemorative mail is carried on horseback the entire 1966 miles. But at times the horse is traveling in a trailer. I should also note that this once male dominated association and event, like so many others, would not be taking place today without massive support and effort by women.
Here’s the mochila that was carried across Nevada this year.
We waved to the riders and support people as we drove past the trailers on our way back to pavement. Where would our adventure take us next?
Our adventure continues in the upcoming Part Five
