Mr. Johnson’s trek

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July 23, 2013

cows, cows, and more cows

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he was leaving Wells, Nevada.

“On the morning of the 14th [of September 1882], I left Wells. About eight o’clock I reached Cedar station. This is simply an accommodation station for the drawers of wood; on my right there is cedar timber in abundance. So far my trail has been good but hilly, the surrounding country rolling; no more alkalic deserts for the present. …

“At Wells I was informed that at Independence I should find grass in abundance. On our arrival I found some grass, but more cattle than grass. There was a large meadow fenced with wire, and when we came to this fence I stopped. The trail had been fenced in. I turned sharp to my right and crossed the railroad, going on until we came to a small creek. Before crossing, I looked around and saw a herd of cattle rushing after me, and we were soon surrounded by them. I should think there were seventy-five of them. I was a little frightened, so was the cow, but the horse was not. I took the dog out of the wagon and set it at the cattle, which made them scamper away. Then I crossed the creek over a plank bridge and followed the trail; in fact, the road, as money had evidently been expended on it. I went on, leaving the railroad on my left, and in front a high bluff or mountain range. I saw that I was leaving the railroad to my left, and supposed the track was obliged to go round the other side of this mountain and my trail would come on it again, so continued onward.

“The sun was fast going down. I crowded along as the day was getting darker and I could see no houses, but to my right there was a light. I think the horse saw this, for as soon as the horse came to the trail she took it, and after traveling about forty rods we came to a log cabin. Two men were standing in front, to whom I said, ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ ‘Good evening, stranger.’ ‘I am traveling east. Am I on my right road to Ferrice?’ ‘You are not; you are from the west, I suppose, as you answer to the description of the man that is traveling from California to Massachusetts. When you were at the creek near the railroad, you should have taken the trail to the depot, this side of the bridge.’ ‘Must I turn back?’ ‘Yes, you will have to return to the depot.’ ‘Can I stay here tonight? I see you have hay and I would like some for my cattle.’ ‘Yes, you can have all the hay you wish, and I will not charge you a cent.’ ‘I carry grain, and when not able to find grass or hay, I fall back on grain.’ ‘There is the hay, help yourself to what you want; down there a few rods, you will find water, and good at that.’

“Taking my basket to the cabin I asked permission to make some coffee. ‘Yes, if you like, but, stranger, you can take some supper with me.’ ‘Thank you, I have plenty to eat, as I carry tea, coffee, sugar and milk.’ ‘I see you have a fine-looking cow. Does she give milk?’ ‘She does. I will milk her and you can have the milk; it may be a luxury to you.’

“At five o’clock on the morning of the 15th, I left Cabin Ranch for a return to Independence station. My taking the wrong trail had made fourteen miles of extra travel.”

 

June 26, 2013

Wells, Nevada

Posted by Jennifer under history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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At the end of his visit to Wells, Mr. Johnson included this brief description of the town:

“Wells is situated on the Central Pacific Railroad, about two hundred and twenty miles from Ogden. It is a smart, lively, business town. Large amounts of freight are brought here, left and taken by teams to the mountains and mining camps.

“On entering the town from the west, you travel up Main street; on your left are the railroad and station house; on your right is a long block of buildings, mostly brick. These buildings are mostly occupied by stores, with many kinds of merchandise. Post office, express office, and a hotel with a livery stable. On the side streets are blacksmith, carriage, and harness shops.”

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What was once a lively town is now a verrry sleepy-looking town. Unfortunately, an earthquake in 2008 damaged many of the town’s historic buildings. But you can see photos of these, including the ones that Mr. Johnson himself may have seen, at the Wells, Nevada, page on the Roadside Peek website.

 

June 25, 2013

harness repair

Posted by Jennifer under history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he was just getting himself out of a muddy fix that broke the tugs on Fanny’s harness.

Later that morning, he made his way into Wells, where he met and shared his story with some men outside the post office. At their insistence, he enjoyed a large lunch with several of them at the hotel. After lunch, he milked Bessie, offering to give all the milk to the hotel proprietor. Everyone it town, it seems, had heard about Mr. Johnson before he’d arrived in Wells, and they wanted to help him in his journey. So the hotel proprietor accepted some of the milk and encouraged Mr. Johnson to take the remainder to the train station and, with the conductor’s permission, to sell it to the passengers on the train. This he did, making two dollars and sixty-five cents. …

“At this time the gong sounded for dinner and the landlord bade me go in, I saying that the lunch had taken away my appetite. He said, ‘I am glad of that; you will not eat as much.’

“After dinner I inquired for a harness shop, and was told there was one down the street, two doors this side of the barn. I went to the shop taking my harness with me and said that I wanted my harness repaired; yesterday my horse broke these tugs in two. ‘You must have been in a tight place to break such good tugs,’ said the proprietor. ‘Sir, I will tell you a part of the story. It is lengthy.’ I then told him of my mishap and said, ‘How much are you going to charge me to splice them?’ ‘I will splice them for one dollar, as it is you; if it were any of my customers I should charge them one dollar and fifty cents, but under the circumstances I will charge you but one dollar.’ ‘Can you do them this afternoon, as I wish to leave early tomorrow morning?’ He agreed to do so, and late in the afternoon I called for the tugs, asking, ‘Have you spliced those tugs?’ ‘I have. They are much stronger than before.’ ‘If I mistake not, your charge is one dollar?’ ‘That was the price, but I have concluded to do better than that, I will not charge you anything. You have come a long distance and have a much longer one before you. I do not think you can accomplish the undertaking.’ ‘Friend, I thank you for this favor, I appreciate it. My funds are almost exhausted and I can have no more until reaching Ogden.’

“My cow is doing finely; her milk helps me much. I sell it when I can for money and when I cannot I exchange it for something to eat. When I left Sacramento, she was fresh in milk; she is milked twice a day. I would use what I can and carry the remainder, but it would go sour and I should have to throw it away. I have done this many times, so I have changed my milking time. For instance, if I were at some ranch or station and could part with it, I milked; when away from a ranch or station I did not milk, but let the cow carry it, as it does not sour it in the bag. I have taken milk from the cow as many as five times a day and have met tramps who have asked me if I had anything to eat. ‘Yes, my bread is crackers, you can have some.’ I would then take out from my wagon the lunch basket and hand out the crackers. ‘Have you any meat?’ ‘No, not a bit.’ If the tramp was a fair sort of fellow, I would milk the cow and give it him with the crackers. This I have done many times. Some have offered money, but as yet I have never taken a cent.”

 

June 5, 2013

stuck in the mud

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he was on his way to Wells.

The next morning …

“I left the ranch at Hallocks on the 12th [of September 1882] and reached Wells on the 13th, a distance of about thirty miles. It was about break of day as I awoke from my sleep and got up and gave the cattle their liberty to eat hay or grass as they choose, and then went back to bed again. It was a cold and frosty morning.

“After a little while the owner of the ranch came out to me saying, ‘Well, stranger, did you sleep well, and could you keep warm during the night?’ ‘I did, sir.’ ‘It is a cold, frosty morning, come into the house, I have a good fire. Your cattle are all right and doing well; go in.’ I took my lunch basket and went into the house; the lady was making the breakfast ready. While this was going on, I went out and greased my wagon, which I do every other day. As I was returning to the house I met my friend with two pails of grain, which he gave me for my cattle. After breakfast I prepared to leave and turning to them, said, ‘Friends, what can I say to you for your hospitality? I shall ever gratefully remember you; good morning.’ ‘Good morning. Success to you, I trust you will get along all right. I should like to hear how you get along on your journey.’

“It was just half-past five o’clock as I left the ranch. After traveling about a mile, I came to the river, which I successfully forded. My road now lies between the railroad and the river, the latter on my right. It is a fine morning, a fine trail, and we are all feeling finely. Shortly we shall leave this long alkalic desert.

“About half-past six the express train we met and at eleven o’clock we came to a stop. It was where I could get down to the river to water my cattle. Here I made my dinner. While we were resting, the emigrant train from the west passed by, the hands on the train saluting us, as they still remembered me and my outfit. At one o’clock [we] resumed the journey toward Wells, and at half-past two we came to the river once more, that had to be forded again and for the last time I had been informed. I have followed this river, right and left, for more than three hundred miles, crossing and re-crossing many time, and only once on a bridge. This ford looked a nasty one, with only about thirty feet of water to cross; the rest appeared to be all mud.

“I got on to the carriage and spoke to the horse, saying, ‘Fanny, this is a nasty, muddy hole, but we have got to cross, so let us try it.’ We went down the bank into the mud, the horse sinking up to her knees at every step and on getting to the water there was good stepping, as we were then on a sunken bridge. Here I stopped to let the cattle drink all they needed, and having drunk all they would, I spoke to the horse, saying, ‘Fanny, go on.’

“After stepping about eight or ten feet, she left the bridge, got into the mud and floundered over, breaking both of her tugs, and bringing me and the dashboard face downwards into the mud and water, leaving the carriage, cow, and dog in the creek. I was a muddy fellow, you bet.

“My thoughts quickly comprehended my situation: here I was, far from any help and nothing to get my carriage out of the creek with. What to do, was the question: I want two ropes about thirty feet long. First, I detached the cow and the dog from the carriage, then unloaded my goods and secured my horse to an alder tree, let the cow loose to graze for herself and then started for Wells for some means of extricating the wagon out of the creek. I knew that Wells was a large town for that part of the world. The railroad was about fifteen rods to my left. I took the railroad and went on traveling, I think about four miles an hour. About five o’clock I saw a man with two horses about a quarter of a mile from the railroad and went to him. He was traveling West, where he did not just know. He had made a fire and was cooking beans for his supper. I told him the fix I had got in, in crossing the river and was on my way to Wells for two ropes, so that I could hitch them on the forward axles and make them fast to the tug buckles, then I thought my horse would drag the carriage out of the creek. He replied, ‘Stranger, if I had not these beans cooking, I would break camp and go back to help you. But I can let you have the ropes, they are on my horses; take them. I can hobble one of them, the other will not then go away and you need go no further.’

“I took the ropes and went back, finding all right but the cow; she was nowhere to be seen. It was dark, so that I was not able to see any distance. For a few moments I had some peculiar feelings. Where can she be and where gone? On going for the ropes I remembered seeing a herd of cattle, so I thought that she might have strayed off with them. I called for her, ‘Bessie, Bessie,’ and the horse would call after me, for a time without success. I continued calling for the cow, when after a time she came scampering back into camp with a large herd of cattle after her. I had been feeling pretty blue, but her appearance cheered me up. I caught and made her fast, giving her some grain.

“My wagon was still in the creek and in the wagon was a box made to fit the body of the wagon. In this box I kept all needful articles, and now I wanted my lantern and some kerosene oil. I took off my boots, stockings, pants, and drawers, put on my overcoat, fastening the skirt tight around my waist and went into the creek and got my lantern and oil, and made the ropes fast to the front axles of the carriage. With the oil I filled my lamp and the balance I poured on the ground and set it on fire. The water I used to wash me. After this, I re-dressed and ate a cold supper, not being able to find wood for a fire. Then I fed the cattle and went to bed to rest, as I was very tired. During the night I was awakened by the passing express train. And the herd of cows that my cow had become acquainted with, kept around the camp all night and disturbed me some.

“Early on the morning of the 13th, I was up and connected the ropes with the tug buckles, and then hitched my horse to the ropes, and it was not much trouble to drag the carriage out of the creek. I put my things back in the carriage and got all ready for moving on.”

 

May 19, 2013

settling in for a night’s sleep

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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… After conversing with his host, Mr. Johnson said, “‘Friend, it is now about time to milk my cow, can you let me have a pail and I will go and milk her and give them some water and grain.’ ‘I will go with you, we have plenty of good water.’ While I was milking my host came with two pails of grain for my cattle. This was wholly unexpected. I gave the grain to the cattle and then carried the milk into the house, giving it to the wife, when she remarked, ‘Sammy, what a lot of milk his cow gives, more than all ours put together. Well, stranger, I suppose you would like to go to bed soon?’ ‘Yes, I feel as though I would like some rest.’ ‘Any time when you are ready I will show you to your room.’ ‘But, friends, I always sleep with my cattle; I have had good beds offered me, but I always decline them. I dare not leave my cattle; should someone borrow them I fear they would not return them in season. I carry my bedding, make the cow fast to one wheel and the horse to the opposite, and myself and dog lay between them. Many nights I have been awakened by the snorting of my horse. I always keep my lantern burning. Many times I have been awakened by the wolves around me, but as yet have come to no harm. Tomorrow I would like to reach Wells. What is the distance.?’ ‘Wells is about thirty miles from here. You can not travel to Wells in one day, can you?’ ‘I travel about two and a half miles an hour, day and night if I wish; sometimes I crowd three miles into an hour and sometimes only two, but I average the two and a half miles. I suppose I am not far from the river?’ ‘The river is north of us, about a half mile, and a half mile from here you ford the river, then there is a good road to Wells.’ ‘I must reach Wells tomorrow. I can travel that distance in fifteen hours, with stops, and should like to start at six o’clock. If you make a good fire, I will take advantage of it and make myself some coffee. I have some good [coffee] that I brought with me from San Francisco, so you see what I carry with me. Well, friends, I will go to bed with my cattle.’ ‘Stranger, you had better sleep in the house, it looks like a cold, frosty night; your cattle will be safe.’ ‘You do not know that. When coming through Hallecks I intended to have stopped there overnight, but things did not suit me, so I came on here. Perhaps some of those I saw may follow me; I have been advised to look sharp after my cattle.’ So lighting my lantern I left them for the night and went to my quarters, securing the cattle for the night and laid down for sleep.”

 

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