early roads

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August 22, 2013

deep, sticky mud

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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… Continuing on from the previous post …

“On the morning of the 21st, I was up as usual, that is, early, getting ready to leave. I was strongly urged to stay and get breakfast before starting. Having been well cared for I could but stop; a good breakfast was at my disposal. While getting my breakfast I inquired for the lady of the house, when soon she came. I bade her good morning and said, ‘I am about to leave you and thought I would like to bid you goodbye.’ ‘Why need you start so early?’ she said. ‘It is my custom; if I make an early start I can make a long or short day as I choose. I am informed that I shall have many sloughs to get through, some of them are deep and will be troublesome to get through.’ ‘Yes, I am afraid you will, and bad to get over. The rain we had a day or two ago made the marshes bad. I suppose it will be of no use to offer you any more than I have already done for your cow?’ ‘Madam, you have already offered me more than she is worth. I have been told many times that I could not get her East. At all times I have thought to the contrary, and it is my desire to give it a fair trial. The cow has not been milked this morning, but I intend to, give me a pail and I will milk her.’ I milked and gave the the lady the milking, saying, ‘My dear friend, this is all I can do. I have but one dollar; that is all the money I possess. I have as much grain as will last me to Corinne. Then I can get a sack and have as much as will pay for the same.’ ‘Stranger, your cow has paid your bill and more. Here is a lunch for the day,’ she answered. ‘Thank you, good morning.’ ‘Good morning, I hope you will get along all right.’

“It was just six o’clock as we left Kelton and on passing the blacksmith’s shop he called out to me, ‘Here, friend traveler, is something you will need after crossing the sloughs. It’s worth all I ask. You can not travel until you get rid of the mud; you will know more after you have crossed one.’ ‘What do you ask for it?’ ‘Oh, I sell cheap. It will be nothing to you, that is cheap enough.’ After thanking him I moved on, soon coming to one of these sloughs.

“These sloughs are flat or level pieces of land, of from forty to one hundred rods in length, composed of sand, mixed with salt and alkali. When rain falls on this soil, it becomes soft like mortar, for plastering. It is not deep, from one to three inches, but its adhesion to the boots, wheels, or feet of animals is very strong.

“I drove on to this slough, mud we will call it. As I walked through, my feet seemed to double in size; so did the horse’s and cow’s, and the rims of my wheels became very thick and clumsy. It does not fall off as ordinary mud will; it hangs like a load-stone until you scrape it off with some instrument. The blacksmith had given me the right kind of an instrument, it was nothing more or less than a shovel; the blade was two inches wide, three inches deep, and about one-eighth of an inch thick and about one foot long.

“After crossing one of these sloughs, I would have a half mile or more of good road before coming to another. After passing through one, I would clean off the mud from my boots, the horse’s and cow’s shoes, and from from the rims of my wheels, but with the latter I was not so particular. I found it best to remove the mud at once before it became dry, as it hardened as quick as cement.

“In traveling about seven miles I crossed five of these sloughs. At noon I stopped, giving my cattle water and grain and took a bite myself.”

 

August 19, 2013

“she’s a daisy”

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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The next morning, Mr. Johnson “was up as usual getting ready to move onward. I gave the animals their breakfast and was greasing the wheels of my wagon when my friend of the station came along. ‘Well, stranger, I see you are making ready to go on. How did you sleep last night?’ ‘Well, the first part I slept with my eyes open, and the latter much better with them closed, the trains having passed.’ ‘Our breakfast is about ready, come in and have a dish of hot coffee. It takes milk to make good coffee, I find.’ ‘Yes, it improves it very much.’ I went and took breakfast with them, and as I was leaving said to them, ‘Friends, I feel very grateful to you for the kindness to me. I am sure, could my cattle speak, they would also. Good morning.’ ‘Good morning,’ was answered. ‘Take the first right trail after crossing the railroad, it is the best and the nearest.’ It is just six o’clock as we move on another stage of our journey.

“After crossing the railroad I left the road to my left, my trail taking me down into the canyon, while the railroad went around, both coming together again before reaching Kelton, which place I reached at eleven o’clock. I drove down to the stockyards and asked the proprietor if he would sell me some hay to bait by horse and cow. ‘Lead your cattle into the yard and we will feed them on hay.’ ‘How much will you ask me?’ ‘Fifty cents a head.’ ‘Will you sell me some to take outside of the yard?’ ‘No, not a pound.’ I went down town, coming to a small barn. I stopped and went into the barn and heard someone say, ‘Whoa, Fanny, whoa.’ On looking around I saw a lady putting a saddle on a horse and I said to her, ‘Madam, I have just come into town and stopped back at the stockyards to see if I could buy some hay for my cattle; I have a horse and cow. I am a traveler, I have come a long distance and still have a longer distance before me.’ ‘Where are your cattle?’ ‘Outside the barn.’ She stepped out, saw them and said, ‘You have a fine-looking cow. Where have you come from?’ ‘I have come from California.’ ‘Not with that horse and cow?’ ‘Yes, I have.’ ‘Drive to the barn, take the horse out of the carriage and lead her into that stall, put the cow into the next and give them all the hay they wish; there is grain, help yourself,’ said the lady. I did as told. ‘How long do you intend to stay?’ she asked. ‘I would like to stop over until tomorrow morning. The cow gives milk, but she has not been milked since last night.’ ‘I would like the milk; I keep an eating-house on Main street. I will get a pail for the milk,’ she said. She brought me the pail, I milked and gave it to her, when she said, ‘This is a fine mess and a large quantity of milk; I would like that cow. Come in and have some dinner.’ I took dinner with the lady and as we were about to leave the table, a gentleman came in and sat down to dinner.

“The lady said, ‘This is my husband, stranger. This man says he has traveled from California to this place with a horse, carriage, cow and dog, and is going east, to Massachusetts.’ ‘Then you are the man I read of in some Western papers?’ he said. ‘I am, sir.’ ‘You are a gritty fellow to undertake such a journey. There is not a young man that dares do as much.’ ‘His cattle are in our barn, go and look at them after dinner.’ ‘I will, wife.’ He went to the barn and looked my cattle over, saying, ‘He has got a fine-looking cow and a good one.’ ‘John, look in this pail and see what a large mess of milk he has taken from her,’ said the lady. The husband left, but as he went out he told everybody that I had arrived, and the people came to see me. The landlord said to a friend, ‘Bill, the man from California had got along with his horse and cow; they are in my stable, come and have a look at them; my wife thinks everything of the cow.’ They came. ‘Well, stranger, you have a fine horse here.’ ‘Yes, she is a Morgan mare.’ ‘I see she is. Where is the cow?’ ‘Here she is.’ ‘She is a daisy; handsome and beautifully marked. Have you come from California with this horse and cow?’ ‘I have, sir.’ ‘You are a brick, well burned. If you succeed in this enterprise we will run you for next president.’ “

… to be continued …

 

August 16, 2013

Mr. Johnson travels on

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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When we last heard from Mr. Johnson, he had braved a huge thunderstorm on his way into Terrace.

“On the morning of the 19th I left Terrace for Kelton. It was six o’clock when I started; the morning was cold and cloudy and I hesitated about starting, but being anxious to reach Ogden, I went on. I was told after traveling a mile to cross the railroad, as the trail on the south side was the best for traveling. My trail was anything but good. Having made the first mile and could see no crossing I stopped and looked for it, but found none. I carry four pieces of wood, two by four feet long. This timber I put on the side of the rails so that my carriage wheels would run over the rails without straining my wagon. At first-class stations there is timber laid for the crossings. I looked around for a suitable place to cross and found a good one; I laid my timbers and crossed the track and struck a good road and went on with good cheer. About noon I made Matlin station and stopped, giving my cattle a feed and went to the station. Here I found a man sitting reading a newspaper beside a stove. I passed the compliments of the day with him, and said, ‘I am traveling east to Ogden. Will you give me the privilege of making some coffee on your stove?’ ‘Oh, yes; with pleasure.’ I made some coffee, boiled some eggs, and ate my dinner. …”

“… I returned to my cattle and found that the horse had not eaten her grain, so I gave it to the cow and she soon ate it up. It was now almost raining, there being a heavy, cold mist. No sheds being nigh in which to shelter, I go on to Ombey, which is ten miles further. Traveling on until about five o’clock, I came to some grass. Here I stopped and allowed the horse and cow to have their fill of it, and they seemed to relish it well. ‘Well, Fanny; we must make the next station, Ombey.’ We moved on and reached there about half-past six. This is a section station, a house for the boss and a shanty for his assistants.

“I went to the house and in answer to my call, a man came to the door asking, ‘What do you want, stranger?’ I answered, ‘I am traveling with a horse and carriage and have come a long distance, as far as from California, and have led a cow that distance; today I have come from Terrace. It has been a hard day for my horse and she is not feeling well, having refused her dinner at Matlin. Now, friend, what can you do for my cattle and me?’ ‘I have no shed or wood-house for your cattle, but I can find a place for you.’ ‘Friend, you have got what I want some distance back, that would suit me.’ ‘What is that?’ ‘It is your hand-car shed.’ ‘I never thought of that; you can use it for your horse and cow.’ This hand-car house was but a short distance from the boss of repair’s house. He went with me and ran out the hand-car and put in my carriage, horse, and cow. ‘Friend, I am all right now. Will you give me something to milk in, and I will give you the milk?’ The lady of the house handed me a pail in which I milked and filled it full, and gave it to the lady. By this time, the lady had made some coffee expressly for me. I carried in my lunch basket, but it was not needed, as she had provided plenty of eatables. After supper many questions were asked, such as where I was from, where going, how long had I been on the road, and whether or no I would ever make Massachusetts. ‘Friends, I am tired and would like to retire; if you will go with me to the shed, you may lock me in, but you must let me out in the morning.’ ‘You may stay in the house if you wish.’ ‘I prefer to sleep with my cattle; I have done so every night since I left California.’ We went to the shed, found all right, and the cattle seemed satisfied with their quarters. I gave them water and grain, made up my bed and laid down for the night; the stranger saying as he left me, ‘I think it is best not to lock you in; should anything happen, you will be able to get out and let us know.’ ‘Very well, perhaps that would be best. Good night.’ My thoughts of accidents troubled me until the trains which meet at this station had passed, then I slept soundly the rest of the night.”

 

August 15, 2013

a street scene

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, horses & driving
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Now that the World on Wheels is finished, I’m digging out from under a mountain of CAA membership renewals that have come in lately. That project kept me busy enough yesterday afternoon that I forgot to post anything here.

For today, here’s a view, c. 1907, of Burlington, Vermont — Church Street, looking north from College Street. There are a lot of electrical lines, a bare-bulb street light over the intersection, a streetcar, and several wagons and horse-drawn delivery vehicles.

 

July 29, 2013

getting a little lost

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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Continuing from Friday’s post, as I didn’t have a chance to post anything over the weeked. …

Mr. Johnson says, “It has been my custom to follow the railroad as close as I could, so that should I become sick or disabled I could have ready access to the railroad. This custom I have generally adhered to. I have often been told that the old emigrant trail was always the best, and now I am advised to keep the old trail to Terrace, and on leaving this station there is but one trail for some distance. I took this trail, traveling with the railroad to my right, until about one o’clock in the afternoon, when I came to some grass known as bunch grass. This grass grows in bunches, some as large as a bog. The small bunches look beautiful, on the alkalic plains and among the sage bushes. I stopped here, taking the horse from the carriage, removed her harness, and turned her loose, and the cow also. This they enjoyed for about an hour and at two o’clock we resumed our journey.

“In front of us was a mountain, a noble looking fellow. It appeared to be about five miles away, yet it might be twenty-five. We went on, the railroad was out of sight. I could not see a telegraph pole and began to feel uneasy, and wished I had taken the other trail. The more I thought, the more foolish I felt and concluded to change my course. All around me was a flat surface; the sage bushes were quite thin and scattering, and I was bound to find the railroad that I had left to my right. I had been traveling east by the sun. I then struck out on a southeast line and continued on that course for two hours; the sun almost down and no railroad in sight. I changed my course to the right and just as the sun was dropping out of sight, I came to the railroad.

“I then changed my course to the left and came on the railroad trail near to Bovine station, which I soon reached. It had got dark and cloudy, no moon to be seen. My lantern was minus oil, I having neglected to fill it. I poured some oil on the ground and set it on fire, then I filled the lantern by its light. Having a light, I then saw a house close by and went to it, to ascertain if I could get water. I knocked at the door and a voice asked, ‘Who is there?’ ‘Madam, I am a stranger and have come a long distance; I have a horse and cow and would like some water for them, they have not tasted [any] since this morning. I want some good; I dare not give them alkalic water. All the way from Wadsworth I filled my cans from the cisterns at the stations.’ ‘Where have you come from?’ asked the lady. ‘I have come from California; I am going east to Massachusetts, which is my home.’ ‘I dare not let you in; my husband has not yet come home, he will be here soon.’ ‘I do not care to come in; all I want is water for the cattle.’ I had to wait.

“I went back to the camp and gave the cattle some grain and got ready to go to bed; as I was about to retire the freight train from the west passed by. I made my cattle fast to their post, went to bed and soon fell asleep. About one a.m., I was awakened by a passing train, which came to a dead stop. Two men got off the train and went to the house. Soon after, these men came to where I lay; my lantern was hanging on the hub of the wheel, burning. I called out, ‘Halt! Advance and give the counter-sign.’ They stopped, right short. ‘We have just got off the train and went to the house where we belong. I am boss of repairs. My wife said there was a man on the other side of the railroad, with a horse, carriage, cow, and dog from California, going east, to Massachusetts. Is that so?’ ‘It is; I told her every word of it.’ ‘Is that true?’ ‘It is true; I have come from California and it is my intention to go east, to Massachusetts.’ ‘Stranger, come into the house and take a bed; you shall be welcome.’ ‘Friend, I thank you; I never have left my cattle alone over night. All times, day and night, I am with them. I do not intend to have anyone take my horse or cow without my knowledge.’ ‘Your cattle will be safe here.’ ‘Perhaps they would, but I do not intend to take any chances. Friend, my cow ought to be milked, she has not been milked since yesterday morning; she will be more comfortable. You get me something to milk in and you can have it.’ He went for a pail and I filled it, about four quarts. He took the milk into the house and gave it to the lady. ‘Stranger, there will be a train from the west soon. Is your horse afraid of the cars?’ ‘No, not the least, but the cow is.’ ‘Well, stranger, if you will not come in and sleep, we shall have to leave you out for the night. Good night.’

(I hope Fanny and Bessie got some water to drink!)

 

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