The Slower Road

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.

Several days after we left Mr. Johnson in yesterday’s post, he …

“Left Blocksberg on the 9^th and made Alder Point the same day, distance thirteen miles.

“Alder Point. — From Blocksberg to this place proved a very hard day’s journey, the road being very rough, hard, and hilly. It was hard on the cattle, wagon, and myself. The road had been sideling – very much so. It was bluffs, mountains, and canyons. Travelers do not go over the bluffs or mountains, but around them.

“In laying out this road, if it ever was laid out, which I suppose it must have been, as it is a county road, their work was crudely done. If you desire to reach a given point on mountain or bluff, say Alder Point, you start at the base and go on following the same until you have made a half circle, keeping to the right till you come to a point or plateau, you have made a mile. You then turn to the right, cross the end of the canyon, [and] this places you on the right of another bluff. Following its base you travel until you reach the point opposite where you started, thus making a second mile, and so on, until the summit of the bluff is reached. Could you have crossed the canyon at the first point two miles of traveling would have been saved.

“The foregoing gives an idea of the roads and the mode of crossing the bluffs, mountains, or canyons in northern and eastern California, outside of the valleys. I have said the roads are sideling and they are.

“Over the road on which I am traveling, the mail from San Francisco is carried three hundred and three miles in thirty-six hours, nearly nine miles to the hour, by two horses in a wagon that weighs eight hundred pounds; as this team tears round the bluff, it is no wonder that one rut is lower than the other.

“There is no money expended on the roads, only the bridges are kept in repair.”

After deciding that he really did want to undertake his massive journey, and after crossing the Vandozen river, Mr. Johnson gives us our first glimpse into a particular habit of travelers in 1880s California.

“Went on again, coming to the same river, which I had again to ford. I did not stop but drove down into the river and across all right. Ascended the bluff, leaving the river to my right, and soon came once more in sight of the river. I am now ascending a bluff; on my right down hundreds of feet is the river; the road is just wide enough for one team only. There is a precedent established for those traveling these bluffs. It is this: on ascending a bluff, mountain, or canyon, you are required to carry a horn or bell. On arriving at any turnout, stop, blow your horn or ring your bell. Should you hear no bell or horn in answer, go on to the next turnout and stop, ring bell or blow horn, and no answer, go on as before.

“Should you meet a team, the one ascending is required to back down to the turnout. This mode of proceeding has become a law, and so understood by those who travel.”

For our first foray into Mr. Johnson’s tale, we read that he started his journey from Eureka City, California, on June 1, 1882.

By the end of that first day, he’d reached Hydesville, having gone twenty-five miles and having passed through Humboldt, Salmon Creek, Hookton, Table Bluff, Springville, and Rohnersville.

From there, Mr. Johnson continued: “Left Hydesville June 2d and made Bridgeville the same day, having traveled twenty-five miles. On making this place, I found that there was a vast difference in roads. To Hydesville it had been good traveling. This day I found my journey had been over rough, hard, and dangerous roads. After leaving Hydesville, I came to a canyon, turning short to the left, descending about four hundred feet in less than eighty rods [about 440 yards], then turning short to the right, ascending the same distance on the opposite side. This is one way of traveling in California.

“Going on, I came to a large, broad river, and meeting a man with a team asked him if it was Eel river. ‘Oh no, it is not,’ said the man, ‘it is the Vandozen.’ ‘How is it about fording?’ ‘Oh, it is a good ford, but the water is rather deep now, with a good hard bottom.’ Went on, and came to the ford; stopped, looked at it, and continued to look at it. All of this time I was thinking. My thoughts were covering a large space — from the Pacific to the Atlantic. ‘Can this be done?’ I had struck out on a long, rough, and dangerous journey — from the Pacific to the Atlantic, with a horse and wagon, cow and dog. Can it be done, can this be accomplished, all alone, no one with me?

“Let happen what will, I decided to try it. I approached the ford; the water was deep; I was not able to see the bottom, with a strong, swift current.

“There I must decide, go on or go back. If I return back I should never be satisfied. If I go on and make a success, then I have accomplished a wonderful undertaking. I there decided to go on, and did. I put my little dog on the wagon, got on myself, drove down into the river and got across all right.”

And so his long journey has begun …