Carson City - November 2015

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Roughing It on my birthday

The Lady had a day off for Veterans Day; pretty handy as Veterans Day is also my birthday. My birthday was so long ago that my Mom and her family always called it Armistice Day, the holiday celebrating the end of World War One.

My birthday, a day off midweek, clear weather, what should we do?

"Anything you want to do for your birthday!" was the Lady's answer.

"Let's go look at graves. Would that be appropriate?" I asked.

The Lady trusts me and we were off.

After breakfast at the Gataway Cafe in Meyers - it was 12° outside - we headed over Luther Pass and dropped into Hope Valley. This was a day trip and we were enjoying the Lady' new Subaru XV Crosstrek. This cold morning we were learning about modern features in new cars, such as heated seats. Returning to the car after picking up a warmed up cinnamon roll at Sorensen's, we looked at each other. It was 10°.

"Think it's cold enough to try the heated seats?" I asked the Lady.

"Yeah, let's do it!" the Lady said while looking for the controls. "High or Low?" was her question after finding the switches.

"High," I answered.

That lesson learned, we now call heated seats Butt Burners.

SnowshoeThompson is a legendary figure of the Tahoe Sierra and the patron saint of all Sierra Nevada backcountry skiers. He had the honor of our first stop.

He rests in the Genoa, Nevada cemetery. A large bronze statue is downtown.

Dan DeQuille also wrote for the Territorial Enterprise, Virginia City, Nevada's famous newspaper, during  Mark Twain's tenure with the paper as a writer.  DeQuille was responsible for many of the contemporary stories about Snowshoe's exploits. A local historian has just published the newest book on Snowshoe.

Genoa is Nevada's oldest settlement and had its beginnings as a trading post along the Carson River Route of the California Trail.

In 1873, a fellow named Von Schmidt had the task of surveying the boundary between California and Nevada. He didn't get it quite right and his line is a bit east of the now, more accurately surveyed, official state line. A few of the old markers on the "Von Schmidt Line" still exist, such as this one that shows the line running through the center of the Genoa Courthouse.

Mark Twain's classic, Roughing It, paints a humorous, wonderful picture of Twain's time spent in Nevada, the Sierra Nevada, and the Mother Lode area of California. His stories in Roughing It immortalized many local historic figures. 

Hank's grave in Carson City's Lone Mountain Cemetery was our second stop to pay our respects.

Many other historically significance people rest nearby in the older section of this graveyard.

Three graves marked with small headstones piqued my curiosity, all young men from Japan.

Lone Mountain Cemetery was properly appointed for Veterans Day and we did take time to reflect on and honor the veterans interred here.

 

On this clear cold fall morning - a perfect time to visit - we returned to Carson City's Historic District. We enjoy walking the quiet streets and seeing the historic homes.

John Wayne's last movie, "The Shootist" was filmed in the Historic District. Here is the home used for Lauren Bacall's boarding house in the movie.

With the fall storms dropping snow in the high country above, deer have moved down into Carson City.

We would not have been "Roughing It" if we didn't find Mark Twain's brother's house.

This was a delightful way to spend a few hours.

Have you ever wondered who started the tradition of sending holiday cards? Louis Prang is the guy to blame, the "Father of the American Christmas Card".

Our last stop was right across the street from the Governor's Mansion. The Bliss Mansion was once the largest residence in Nevada.

In celebrating my birthday we stepped back into time, walked quiet streets in a busy city, and paid our respects to characters brought to life by the writings of delightful characters themselves.

Green Creek - November 2015

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Winter is coming. Whether it will be a drought busting winter that all are hoping for, time will tell. We are paying attention to the changes we see - shorter days, dropping temperatures, and the first storms rolling through turning the high country white.  The signs are coming together and, after last week's storm, the Lady wanted to run back over to the East Side and see the changes there.

"I just want to," was the Lady's answer when I inquired more about her reasons. "I just want to be there again!"

That was good enough for me and we lit out of here  right after work on Friday. We thought about dinner at Sorensen's Resort in Hope Valley but as we drove by it looked busy and we did not have reservations. We continued down to Gardnerville and stopped at Hamdogs on the south side of town. Hamdogs is a 24 hour Nevada roadhouse affair also turned into a sports bar with more flat screen televisions then the White House Situation Room. It boasts an open pit red oak BBQ so we were carnivores once again. It was early and the regular crowd had not yet arrived. It was quiet. That made it more our style and we enjoyed talking with the waitress. The food was as you'd expect, good and serviceable amid the throwback charm of the place.  The highlight was they are not shy about slopping on the spices and condiments. The Lady's turkey burger had garlic and pepper as described in the menu. Fresh horseradish graced my beef pit sandwich as promised. I was breathing in when I took my first bite, a mistake. The horseradish instantly cleared my sinuses and I saw Jesus, twice. Adjusting my eating style, I really liked this old fashion, straight forward BBQ sirloin sandwich. Tears came to my eyes. I couldn't help it. The Lady reached across the table and took bites of the bread topped with white fire. She loves horseradish. She saw the Virgin Mary.

We continued down highway 395 enjoying the night and the drive. Where would we stop? We'd decide when we got there. The parking area at Travertine Hot Springs was busy, too busy for us to try a soak. 
"I want to go to Green Creek!" the Lady said as she looked over at me and smiled.

"Could be snow as the road climbs," I said.

"Let's go see," her gaze was straight out the windshield now as I drove.

"Well, I'll bet there is no one up there." I looked up to check the outside temperature display. The Lady beat me to it. "It's 28°," she said, "Warm for Bridgeport."

Snow partly covered the sage but the road was clear as we climbed Green Creek Road away from 395. We remembered the turnoffs to campsites as we drove up the valley in the dark. In several places water puddles stretched completely across the road. We broke through hard ice as we continued onward. The road was snow covered when we reached the big rock and pulled in. As expected, we were alone. There was no sign of other campers. The Milky Way was vivid overhead. The usual sound of flowing water was almost silenced by ice. The cold was refreshing and alive.

"How 'bout some hot chocolate tonight?" I asked as I started in on my usual outside setup chores.

"Just so long as you're ready to be up peeing tonight in the cold," the Lady voice exited the camper as she raised the top.

"Winter. I love winter!" I said as I looked up at the cold star filled sky. "Turn on the furnace. Get it warmed up, and I'll be in to help with the chocolate."

I heard the furnace come alive. I finished up outside.

"There's no propane to the stove. The stove won't light." The Lady explained as I climbed in the camper. She was right. I turned off the furnace and then tried the stove. It lit but with only a weak flame. Somehow the propane supply was compromised.  Running the furnace took priority. No hot chocolate for us tonight and thus I was saved from two or three shivering trips outside.

What a morning we woke to.

The ground was frozen hard. The wind was still. The rising sun lit up the peaks beyond. 

It was cold, 20°; not near as low as we expected. The propane supply problem mysteriously healed itself overnight. We could make coffee and run the furnace.

We bundled up and walked; enjoyed our surroundings and the bite of cold against our faces. 

Winter and ice are taking over.

A fading sign still posted at the Hoover Wilderness trailhead told a sad story.

Sunlight broke over the ridge and streamed through frosted pines as we returned to the truck.

We decided we'd cut the trip short, head home, investigate, diagnosis, and fix the propane problem. Winter is coming.

We didn't need to hurry. First stop was that long awaited hot spring soak. 

As the morning sun melted the frost from the sage, it exploded with its wonderful fragrance. The Lady was in heaven. She loves the smell of sage.

There was a large group of young people camped just outside the hot spring area. They moved into the main pools as we walked out. Happy, healthy and fit in appearance it was disturbing to see all of them drinking beer at nine in the morning.

We got a late breakfast in Bridgeport and then continued toward home. We pulled to the side of 395 to watch two buddies, a golden eagle and raven, enjoy the warm morning sun.

We checked out the propane system at home Saturday afternoon. It was a simple fix and another good lesson for camper owners. Returning home early allowed us to be good homeowners. Sunday morning we took care of many chores such as clearing all the pine needles from the roof, gutters, and roads. We started up both snowblowers, changed the oil, and filled the extra gas container. Winter is coming.