The Slower Road

Continuing on from where we left off yesterday …

“It must be nearly six o’clock, a little later I am in the town and making my way to a pump at which I stopped to water my cattle. Leaving them, I went around the town until I came to a house with the sign ‘Hotel.’ I did not like the looks of it so went on and inquired for a first-class hotel.

“I was told to keep on down this street, turn to my first right, go on, turn to my left, and keep on and I will come to the best hotel in town. I went as directed, and on reaching the hotel inquired for the proprietor. A lady came in answer. ‘Madam, I inquired for the proprietor, are you the proprietor?’ ‘I am, sir, what can I do for you?’ ‘I am traveling with a horse, carriage, and cow; she is a fine-looking cow and fresh in milk. She has not been milked this morning and I would like to exchange the milk for something to eat.’ ‘Where is your cow? I would like to look at her,’ said she. ‘Just around the hotel, will you step there or shall I bring her here?’ I asked. ‘I will step around with you,’ said the landlady.

“She went with me and saw the cow. ‘My dear sir, what a fine-looking cow! Where have you and that cow come from?’ said the landlady. ‘I have come from Eureka, Humboldt county,’ I answered. ‘I know that place very well; have been there. Have you come from there with that cow?’ asked the landlady. I replied in the affirmative. She commanded me to take the horse and cow to the barn and give them what hay and grain they needed, and invited me in to breakfast as it was waiting. She seated me at table and said: ‘We have beef steak, pork steak, sausage, and boiled eggs, with tea and coffee.’ I took some beef and pork steak with fried potatoes. As I was eating, she questioned me [about my journey]. … Having answered many questions, I left the table and went to feed and milk the cow. Having done so, I carried it in, together with the last night’s milking, which she tested and pronounced good, and I gave it to her.”

Mr. Johnson has traveled quite a distance since we last checked in with him while he was in Ukiah, California. Now, in early August, he’s on the road to Reno …

“On the morning of the 11th, I was up before daylight, being very restless, having omitted to wind up my watch, which had run down; I thought, however, it must be near morning. I gave the cattle* liberty to graze among the grass; made a fire, boiled me some eggs and coffee and ate a hearty breakfast. It was a good early meal, you bet.

“By this time day was beginning to break. My cow I milked twice a day, getting my can full at each milking. [On August 1st, she’d given birth to a calf, which Mr. Johnson sold to a man in Sacramento.] I am fond of milk, but it does not agree with me so I sell it when I can; when I cannot, I give it or throw it away. This I have done many times.

“It is about four a.m., when I start this day’s tramp, and I will make the next town at about seven o’clock.

“I travel around the hills, bluffs, and mountains. My road is good buy very crooked, the road-bed very hard; so hard that the rains do not penetrate, making gullies or washouts. I am in sight of the town, the sun is up in about one hour. …”

.

* When referring to his horse and his cow together, Mr. Johnson calls them “cattle.”

.

Stay tuned for the rest of this installment of the journey, which I’ll post tomorrow.

 … About two weeks after his run-in with the Stagecoach driver, after stopping for days at a time along the way when, first, his horse ran away and, then, when she lost a shoe, Mr. Johnson drove from Little Lake to Ukiah.

“Little Lake is simply a station for the changing of horses for the mail coaches, and for drivers and chance passengers to eat and drink, the thirst being the greatest every time.

“About noon I was traveling a really good road, equal to a fair eastern road. I stopped, fed my cattle, made a fire, cooked some dinner and ate it all alone, no one around, not a house for miles, and had not seen one since leaving Latonville. Rested till half-past one o’clock, and then resumed the journey, passing what is known as Sherwood valley — coming to a cross-road I read on a board, ‘To Bartlett’s Spring and over the mountain to Sacramento.’ So far today have seen but one man. I do not have a chance to ask where does this road go, or how far is it to this place or that, yet I must soon come in sight of Ukiah.

“Presently I came in sight of a house, and then another, and I found myself in comparatively a large town. I urged Fanny along and soon we were in the city. I call it a city, not being positive it is, but it is one of the large towns in this part of California.

“On arriving in Ukiah, I made for a wheelwright’s shop to have my broken wheel repaired. If I knew the name of that rascally driver I would give it to show his meanness, yet doubtless he is telling the story to some of his boon companions as a good joke served on that eastern chap.

“I found a carriage shop and asked the proprietor if he could repair my wheel; I told him that I had, soon after crossing Eel river been run into by the stage driver, crushing one of my wheels. ‘Where is your carriage, let me look at it?’ ‘It is in front of your shop, sir, I have come all the way from Eel river with those splints on the wheel, as you see.’ ‘Those splints make a strong wheel.’ ‘Yes, but what can you do to make them stronger?’ I asked. ‘I shall have to take the wheel to pieces and glue the spokes anew.’ ‘How much will you charge me?’ ‘I will do it for $2.50.’ ‘Can you do it this afternoon?’ ‘Yes, this afternoon.’ It was then four o’clock.

. 

This reminds me of last Saturday, when we took our car (which had suffered a flat tire on our drive back to Kentucky from Georgia over Thanksgiving weekend) to get a new tire so we wouldn’t be driving around on the spare. We didn’t realize that the shop closes at noon on Saturdays, and we got there at about 11:30 a.m. They took us in anyway, and got it done quickly … but it did cost considerably more than $2.50.

When we left Mr. Johnson last week, he had been describing his circuitous method of ascending and descending the bluffs near Alder Point.

… “I am still but a short distance from Eel river. This river is a terror to those who have it to ford. No bridge – no ferry – it must be forded. Had it not been for this river, I should have started on my journey east the first of May [instead of on the first of June]. The rainy season had been longer in duration than in past seasons.

“When I arrived at the river there was a man, with a wagon and four horses ladened with goods. He was in conversation with another person. The teamster came to me and said: ‘We had better get this man to pilot us across, it is dangerous for us to ford.’ ‘What does he ask to help us across?’ ‘Two dollars each,’ said the teamster. ‘Where is this ford, I would like to look at it.’ ‘It is a few rods, just below the bluffs,’ replied the teamster.

“I went down to the bluff, to the river, looked at it a short time. I then took Fanny, my horse, from the wagon, got upon her back and rode into the water, and finding it much better than I expected, continued across. Returning, dismounted, put Fanny back into the carriage, got on and drove down the bank into the river and crossed over all right. The man with the team had just got to the river. I sang out: ‘Teamster, come across and save your money.’ He dared not do it, but gave the man two dollars needlessly, to guide him across. He might have known that if I could cross with my light load he could with his heavy wagon.” …

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post, in which we hear the rest of Mr. Johnson’s tale from that particular day, during which he has a run-in with a rather vicious stagecoach driver.