August 30, 2013
On Wednesday, I flew to western Michigan to photograph the carriages in this lovely carriage house (on the left); two sweet Morgan mares and a cute pony live in the barn on the right …
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As soon as I’ve downloaded and edited them all, some of the photos I took will appear in an upcoming issue of The Carriage Journal. Others will probably appear here on the blog, so stay tuned.
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To see a few off-topic-for-this-blog photos from my quick trip, head on over to my other blog: Sunlight on Stuff.
August 5, 2013
The morning after we last checked in with him, Mr. Johnson was on his way again.
“Bovine station I left early on the morning of the 17th, for Terrace. It was a dark, cloudy morning, looking as though it would rain at any moment, and should it rain there was no place for shelter. I said to myself, the next station in eleven miles; I must make it, rain or no rain. At half-past five I moved on, and at half-past six I heard thunder; it was dark, too dark for that time in the morning, so I crowded along as fast as possible; remember, it is all walk. Again I heard thunder and kept talking to my horse, saying, ‘Go on, Fanny.’ I was sure we were going to have something terrible; it was something new to have rain, I had seen nothing like it. To my right I could see a long distance, many miles; so flat was the surface. After having made about five miles, I saw to my right a very dark cloud, a black cloud. Thunder and lightning were more frequent and such streaks of lightning and thunder I never before witnessed. I stopped and made things on my wagon as fast as I could, put on my rubber coat, and went as fast as I could. Every streak of lightning went to the ground, the thunder was terrible. It seemed to me as if it had got out of patience with the lightning and was bound to smash things generally. The rain came but it was of short duration; then followed hail, as large as hen’s eggs and it fell with great force, striking on the head of the horse. I stepped back to the wagon, pulled out a sack and threw it over the horse’s head. Here I stopped for the storm to pass over. The cloud passed on and left behind it hailstones to the depth of four or six inches. This made it fine traveling on alkalic soil. I had about six miles to go, so we went on. It took me three hours to travel that distance, less than two miles to the hour. On my arrival in Terrace, I was informed that it was the severest storm ever known there.”
March 22, 2013
Continued from yesterday …
“‘Stranger, I hope you will. If you do succeed, just make a book of your journey.’ ‘I will, and you may get hold of one of them.’ ‘I should like to meet you somewhere down East; I would give more to see you in that Barnum’s big show.’ ‘Well, friend, I must be going on, I have got to tramp every day, and make big days at that before I reach the eastern states.’ ‘Well, stranger, I hope you will get safely through; goodbye.’
“It was about seven o’clock when I left him; I kept the railroad on my left. At eleven o’clock, I came to another station, called Brown’s Station. I made but a short stop at this place, just long enough to water and feed. This is a telegraph station; only two buildings, the depot, and a house. At half-past twelve I left and journeyed with the railroad on my left, and as I travel the desert is left behind me, my course now lying through Humboldt valley, the river of that name being on my right. I intended to reach Lovelock’s, but my trail led me so far to the right that I was obliged to return to the railroad, so made Granite Point instead. This station is nothing but a house for the boss of repairs and a shanty for his Chinamen.
“I took the horse from the carriage and fastened her as usual, with the cow opposite. After feeding, I made my bed and laid down, being only disturbed that night by a passing train.”
March 21, 2013
Continued from yesterday …
Mr. Johnson “left Mirage very early on the 27th [of August 1882] and made Granite Point that day, a distance of twenty-eight miles. It was one of the finest mornings I ever saw, and my road was a good one and I journeyed with good cheer. About half-past six o’clock I saw smoke in our front, and spoke to my horse, saying ‘Fannie, go on, we will soon have breakfast.’
“We shortly came to a station called White Plains. Here was a good house not painted brown like others, but white; there were several men around and as I came up bade them good morning. One of the men answered, ‘Where in hell are you from, and where are you going; you must have come from the East some time?’ ‘Yes, I came from the East.’ ‘But where are you now from?’ ‘I am from California and going East.’ ‘Yes, I know you are traveling East, but where do you intend to haul up?’ ‘In Massachusetts.’ ‘The devil you are, with that outfit; that cow will never see Massachusetts.’
“[I replied,] ‘But where are you from, and what are you doing with that derrick?’ I asked. ‘I am from New York and came here to make an artesian well,’ was answered. ‘I want a pail so that I can milk my cow; you can have the milk. By the way, I don’t suppose that you have any hay that I can get for my cattle?’ ‘Yes, I have some hay, you can have some of it for your cattle. Perhaps they would not eat it, but we will try them.’
“The hay was placed before them and they seemed to relish it very much from the greediness with which they ate it. I got a pail and milked the cow and giving it to the stranger, said ‘Will this pay for the hay?’ He answered, ‘Yes, and more; go into the house and get some breakfast.’ So I partook of breakfast with him. ‘How far have you come this morning?’ he asked. ‘From Mirage,’ I answered. ‘How far did you travel yesterday?’ ‘From Wadsworth, about twenty-five miles.’ ‘Now, stranger, you say you belong in Massachusetts and going home. Do you honestly think you can made that distance with that cow?’ ‘I do. Why not? You see, she has iron shoes* on her feet, and I think she will stand the journey as well as the horse. She has nothing to do but walk; I think she will make the journey.”
To be continued …
* To see a photos of iron shoes for, and the shoeing of, cattle, click here.
March 20, 2013
… “It was about half-past eight o’clock when I reached Mirage. I took Fanny from the carriage and fastened her to the left rear wheel, the cow opposite and gave them water and grain, made up my bed between them and laid down and was soon asleep. Some time in the night I awoke, my watch having run down I could not tell the time; all around was still. On my left at a long distance, I heard the cry of a coyote. I thought it was morning, still I could not see any signs of the sun having risen.
“I laid down and thought to sleep but could not. I spoke to my horse, ‘Fanny, are you asleep?’ She at once got up and I gave her some grain. This brought up Bessie; she wanted some too, so I gave her some and both were busily eating. Looking eastward, I was sure I saw a light and thought it must be morning and so made ready for moving forward. The light I saw was only about the width of my hand.”
The Slower Road 