Return to Placer County Archives

In my second visit to the Placer County Archives, I learned to following:

1) The abandoned water ditch I passed last year on my hike to Dix Mine and Mitchell Mine was the Breece and Wheeler Ditch. It took water from Indian Creek in the east branch of El Dorado Canyon to the Paragon Mine (Breece and Wheeler Mine) east of Bath near Foresthill. (From Historic Mining Ditches of Tahoe National Forest, by C.B. Meisenbach, Tahoe National Forest Cultural Resources, Report No. 28, 1989, pg. 32. This references Placer County Book K of Deeds, pg. 79.)

2) The Dix Mine (John Dix and Arkansas Consolidated Placer Mine) was owned by William Mitchell of the nearby Mitchell Mine. Dix Mine had an assessed value in 1872 of $50. By 1882 the value had increased to $750. (From Mining Claims of Foresthill Divide 1851 to 1902, by Amy Rebok, pg. 59.)

3) Hudson Bay Company fur trappers worked the North Fork of the American River as far up as Green Valley. Forty Niner Mahlon D. Fairchild found a fur trapper at work in Green Valley. The trapper had left Fort Vancouver (Washington) shortly after word reached there of Marshall's discovery of gold. (From Placer County's Own Mining Story, L.M. Davis, Roseville Historical Society, 1997, pg. 13.) Heretofore I had wondered if the trappers went beyond the confluence of the North and Middle Forks.

I made a contribution to the Archives, to be filed under business establishments, an August 1949 photograph of my grand-uncle at work in Halley's Barber Shop on Finley Street in Auburn. He had lived in Auburn but a few years. A search by an Archives staff member found no records of him in Placer County. Born in the Missouri Ozarks shortly after the turn of the century, he had come with his parents and several siblings to California from Oklahoma during the Depression. While he and his family never faced the hardships described in The Grapes of Wrath, they did move around California quite a bit as they sought better opportunities.

Dia de los Muertos

The Mexican holiday Day of the Dead combines an Aztec festival with Catholic traditions. On J Street in Sacramento, people built altars to dead family members and friends, complete with offerings. Some dressed up and had their faces painted for the event.

A Leisurely Hike to Euchre Bar

I'm enjoying a very relaxing two week vacation. I did some yard work, went with the better half for lunch in San Francisco's Chinatown, rode my Trek mountain bike, etc, etc.

My legs were in need of good exercise like an 1800 foot climb out of a canyon could give, so today I hiked my favorite trail, Euchre Bar Trail. I took no gold pan or shovel. I just wanted a relaxing early autumn hike, plus a look at the river level from our drought.

Yesterday on my first visit to the Placer County Archives I learned that the argonauts reached Euchre Bar in 1850. I went to the Archives to research three mines I've hiked to or have attempted to find: Southern Cross Mine on the North Fork American River (found), Clara Tunnel (found), and Mitchell Mine (got close per the GPS but couldn't reach the adit due to a steep hillside and heavy brush). As I was new to the Archives, I had to register and be placed in the database, and I was provided the list of rules (no pens, only pencils; packs and jackets kept in the storage lockers outside the research room). The staff was most helpful. They asked what I was researching, and showed me the shelves full of research materials on the mines of Placer County. Soon I was poring over large and heavy record books from the late 1800s and early 1900s with handwritten entries (what fine penmanship!) on locations of mines, proof of work improvements, and other details. There were binders with research by various people, and in the John H. Plimpton Collection, Volume IV - North Fork of the American River, Curved Bridge to Balance of the River, I found that Euchre Bar was discovered in early 1850. However, a source was not cited.

From this collection, I surmised that there are few historical records of the North Fork American River above Giant Gap, relative to the river below.

With that information in mind, today I hiked down historic Euchre Bar Trail, named after a favorite card game of the Forty-Niners. The weather was perfect. My vehicle was the only one at the trailhead at Iron Point, so I had the trail to myself. The mosquitoes were not too bad. The ground was a bit damp from the recent rains and the morning dew, and the forest had a rich smell. I heard an occasional train passing by high above, but otherwise I heard only birds and the river below. It took me about an hour to reach the footbridge over the North Fork. The sunlight had not yet reached down into this deep canyon. It may have well done so after I left, but I'm sure the rays of the sun don't touch the river here between November and January, so steep are the hills. The air temperature was very cool at the bottom of the canyon. The river was at the lowest level I'd ever seen. Not a single ripple was in the water. I ate my lunch and took some photos. A piece of sandwich bread I threw into the water hardly moved, so slow was the current.

I shouldered my pack and made my ascent. Climbing out of the canyon isn't so hard when you haven't spent hours shoveling river gravels. Well into my climb I met a man of about thirty with fishing pole in hand, headed to the river to catch trout.

Absent breaking your ankle on a lone hike in a remote section of canyon with freezing temperatures coming in the night, can there ever be a bad day in the Sierra?

Officers Down

The counties of Sacramento and Placer both lost one of their finest on Friday, October 24.

Sitting at home reading a book late that morning, I heard on my scanner about the shooting of a sheriff's deputy in Sacramento. The dispatcher described the suspect and his vehicle. The suspect was sighted a short time later in Auburn, the seat of Placer County. By then I was listening to the police transmissions on Broadcastify. I counted 12,867 listeners on the connection.

When the afternoon ended, the authorities had the suspect in custody in Auburn. He is an illegal alien, twice deported, and details on his criminal past are still coming to light. He was charged with the murders of Sacramento County sheriff's Deputy Danny Oliver and Placer County sheriff's Deputy Mike Davis Jr.. He was also charged with the attempted murders of Placer County sheriff's Deputy Jeff Davis and a citizen in Sacramento, both wounded by gunfire. Finally, he was charged on two counts of attempted carjacking.

Deputy Mike Davis Jr. died on the same October 24 day that his father, a Riverside County deputy, died in the line of duty in 1988.

Early this afternoon, I took a bike ride to downtown Roseville. Strapped to my brake cables was a Baofeng UV-5R, a UHF/VHF handheld ham radio that also receives some emergency frequencies. At about $35, I'm not going care if it gets broken or lost. I scan various frequencies as I pedal along. When I passed by the train yard and Amtrak station, I heard a transmission from the Placer County Sheriff's Department about a procession leaving Sacramento and getting onto Interstate 80, en route to Roseville. I knew this pertained to yesterday's shooting.

I got onto Miner's Ravine Trail and rode along Dry Creek. A side trail took me to Center Street. At Atlantic Street, a Roseville police officer was standing at the side of his vehicle, emergency lights flashing. People were scattered along Atlantic Street, some with small American flags in hand. I realized the procession from Sacramento would pass here. A man near me said it was going to a local funeral home.

The procession arrived a few minutes later, a motorcycle officer in the lead. The Roseville police officer at the intersection saluted as he passed. Some citizens along the route including me put hand to heart. Next came several police sedans, emergency lights flashing, followed by the hearse. Then followed many sedans from various law enforcement agencies - the California Highway Patrol, several counties, many cities and towns, and others.

After the procession passed, I followed it a few blocks to the Chapel of the Valley funeral home on Vernon Street. The time was about 2:45 PM. About one hundred citizens stood across the street and watched in silence as the Placer County Sheriff's Department honor guard carried the casket from the hearse into the funeral home. The crowd included a Boy Scout leader and some of his troops with an American flag. People had hats off and many had hand to heart. The press had large video cameras atop tripods at one corner of the funeral home's parking lot. Several police officers and their vehicles were on the opposite side of the parking lot. On Vernon Avenue, the Roseville fire department flew a large American flag from the raised ladder of a fire truck. After the body of Deputy Mike Davis Jr. was taken inside the funeral home, Placer County Sheriff Edward N. Bonner came outside to meet with several individuals. The crowd continued to watch in silence. A passing Union Pacific freight train in the nearby train yard sounded its horn at a level lower than normal.

The crowd started to disperse around 3:15 PM, and I rode home.

Stevens Trail with Grinding Rocks and Ladybugs

With the wildfires extinguished and the air free of smoke, I returned to Colfax to hike Stevens Trail to the North Fork American River. Few vehicles were in the trailhead parking lot when I arrived around 10 AM. Not a cloud was in the sky and the temperature would climb to the low 70s - a perfect day for a hike. The distance to the river is 4.5 miles and the slope is gentle. Stevens Trail was built in 1870 as a toll foot path between the railroad stop of Colfax and the mining community of Iowa Hill.

I encountered a few people on my descent: two Japanese men around age 60; three young adults of I think Indian heritage; and two pairs of joggers. I took videos as I walked in some sections, being careful of my footing as I looked at the LCD screen, for in places to the side of the trail there are sheer drops of ten feet or more, followed by a steep grade. Two men in one section of river were in search of gold, shoveling the gravels onto screens atop buckets, their sluice boxes nearby. This is Bureau of Land Management land and permits are not needed for this activity.

I arrived at the river by Secret Ravine at 11:45 AM. With the drought, the water was at the lowest level I've seen. The low water has attracted people in search of gold. I've come to this spot a few times with shovel and pan, alone or with another person, and have taken out small amounts of gold. The activity over the past summer was on a larger scale, suggesting people had spent long periods on the river. The gravels were worked to bedrock and moved around to divert water flow through sluice boxes. Assuming a decent amount of snowfall in the mountains this winter, the rushing waters from the spring melt will move the gravels about, erasing signs of mining activity and replenishing the gold.

I sat on a slate outcrop by the river and ate a lunch of two handfuls of almonds. The Japanese men were having lunch a short distance downriver. The three young adults had continued hiking upriver a bit. This slate outcrop contained several grinding holes made by Nisenan women over the centuries. I suppose they sat here and ground acorns and other nuts into meal when their group came to the river for the salmon runs. Today, the two dams downriver prevent any salmon from reaching this spot.

I left the river at 12:30 PM. After walking a few minutes I passed a large blackberry patch where ladybugs were converging to hibernate for the winter. In the few spots I looked, they must have numbered in the thousands, This entire patch may have had hundreds of thousands of them. I watched my step to avoid crushing them.

I reached the trailhead at 2:30 PM. Another great day in the Sierra.

Scratch That Hike

Mid-September usually marks the start of the hiking season in the Sierra foothills for me. Although the hills are still bone dry, the miserably hot temperatures have passed, allowing tolerable ascents from the canyons at the end of the day. And so, I looked forward to today's planned hike to the North Fork American River, on Stevens Trail near Colfax.

The smoke from the King Fire turned me around.

The King Fire started on September 13 near Pollock Pines in El Dorado County. It has burned 82,018 acres and is 10% contained.

Traveling this morning up Interstate 80, there was a slight smoke haze starting at Auburn, elevation just over 1000 feet. By the 2000 foot mark, the smoke was such that some people had their headlights on. I knew a hike today was out of the question, so I stopped at Colfax for some photos, and then returned to the Sacramento Valley.

Memphis

Work took me to Memphis for a few days in early September. It was easier adjusting to the two hour time difference than the humidity, summers in my Sacramento Valley being bone dry. Here's what I saw in Memphis.


Graceland

Dead since 1977, Elvis still brings in money. Opposite Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard, tourists were in line to board the small bus that would take them to the estate grounds. There were many visitors at this early hour of ten o'clock on Labor Day. My money stayed in my wallet, so I could only stand outside the large entry gates and look from afar up the winding roadway to the house. Countless people have scrawled graffiti over the years on the stone and brick wall along the front of the grounds.

Elmwood Cemetery

From the small Confederate flags and the inscriptions on headstones and monuments, I'd say the Confederate States of America still lives in this historic cemetery.

Lorraine Motel

The photographs taken of the motel balcony immediately after Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot are committed to memory, so seeing the balcony itself, preserved as it was on the day of the assassination, sent a chill up my spine.

Jacqueline Smith objects to money being spent on the memorial site. She holds her protest vigil at her booth across from the motel, telling all who will listen that the money used to operate and maintain the National Civil Rights Museum would be better spent on the poor residents of Memphis. I asked her if it was not proper to keep this site, so as to remember what happened here, and she said no. I didn't think of asking her about how the money spent by the many visitors helps the local economy. Only later did I learn that she had been an employee of the motel, and also its last resident after it closed.

Peabody Hotel Ducks

Wild Mallard ducks spend a few hours swimming about the fountain of the lobby of this historic hotel in downtown Memphis. At five o'clock each day, as they have been trained, the five ducks are led out of the fountain by the hotel's Duckmaster; and then, to the tune of John Philip Sousa's King Cotton March, with spectators filling the lobby, they march together along a red carpet to the elevator, to be taken up to their quarters on the penthouse.

Restaurants

I went to Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken for lunch at the recommendation of a friend. The place was filled with customers and I was fortunate to get a table so quickly.

Memphis is renowned for its barbecued ribs. I ate ribs at three restaurants. Central BBQ by the Lorraine Motel had the best ribs of the three. The other restaurants were Corky's BBQ on Union Avenue and Rendezvous in downtown Memphis.

I returned to California a few pounds heavier from my short stay in Memphis.

March 2004 Journal Entry Concerning Iraq

Work took me to the home of a Chaldean Christian family in the Dearborn, Michigan area in March 2004. The current ISIS atrocities bring to mind my talk with the homeowner's son, who predicted for Iraq the rise of the fundamentalists and the persecution of the Christians. When we talked it had been a year since the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Here's an excerpt from my March 2004 journal:

I met the son (in his thirties) and he welcomed me and asked me to sit and talk a few minutes. I couldn't say no, so I sat on the couch next to him. He asked his mother to get me some coffee. I couldn't refuse. He was as polite and as generous as he was talkative... He said they were from Iraq, and had come to the United States about twenty years earlier. He said they were Chaldeans, and gave me a quick history of these people. The talk quickly turned to the war. He said it was a mistake for the United States to invade Iraq. The danger in Iraq is from radical Muslims and Saddam kept these people under control (Iraq under Hussein was a secular state). As we talked the wife set a small plate of pastries in front of me, a date wrapped in some type of dough. I thanked her and took one to eat... The son said Saddam should have been allowed to keep Kuwait, as historically that was Iraqi land, and having occupied Kuwait Hussein would have kept the oil flowing to the West. He said Saddam kept Christians in his cabinet ... Since Saddam had fallen from power, the Muslims are now persecuting the Christians. The son said his family loved the United States but it was wrong to topple Hussein...

Fire Prevention Goats

Drought or not, much of California is a tinderbox is the summertime, as months go by without significant rainfall. Some communities are going low tech in their fire prevention efforts, using goats to reduce the tall dead grasses in fields near neighborhoods. Here's a herd of these goats near my house.

Hike to Tinker Knob

To mark the tenth anniversary of my open heart surgery, I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail from Donner Summit to Tinker Knob, a round trip of 15 miles.

I departed the trailhead (elevation 7,063 feet) at nine o'clock. A pair of runners took off ahead of me. This is a popular trail. I would see a few runners, and many hikers, including a few people walking the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail, from the border of Mexico to the border of Canada.

I've lost count of the number of times I've ascended the steep granodiorite face just beyond the trailhead. Sometimes I went to Donner Peak, other times to Mount Judah. A few times I went to Tinker Knob, elevation 8,949 feet. I know I've stood atop Tinker Knob twice. Maybe I've been atop it three times. I'd have to go through my journals to be certain. One thing I know - the camera has not been invented that captures the grandeur seen from the crest of the Sierra Nevada.

The trail in places is literally on the crest of the Sierra, rain on the west side of the trail flowing to the Pacific Ocean, rain on the east side flowing into the Great Basin.

Today I spoke with two women on solo hikes of the entire length of the trail. The first was an American, in her early thirties. Later I met a woman in her early fifties who spoke English with an accent, possibly Danish or Swedish. She said hiking the trail was the most incredible experience of her life. Over the years I've spoken with several women making a solo hike of the entire trail. I wonder how many were inspired by the book Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed.

I met a group of three men in their fifties, and spoke at length with one, a ham radio operator who inquired about the Kenwood TH-F6 radio attached to my Osprey pack. He said that this was the first day of a three week hike for his friends and him. They were hiking the Pacific Crest Trail from Donner Summit to Yosemite. They were from Oregon and go on many long hikes throughout the Western United States.

Most of my hike was spent alone, my thoughts going here and there, while I took in the views around me.

I reached Tinker Knob around 12:30 PM. Tinker Knob is the core of an ancient volcano. I spoke briefly with a couple coming down from the summit. There is no marked route to the top. I tried to follow the couple's path to the top, but could not find a safe route. I looked about. Nothing looked certain. This is not a good place to suffer an injury. I decided it best to turn around.

I made two 2-meter contacts with my Kenwood radio from the crest, both with 5 watts of power. The first transmission was on the west side of Anderson Peak. I was just above the headwaters of the North Fork American River, and my signal bounced down the canyon walls to the W6EK repeater in Auburn, a distance of about 50 miles. I spoke with a man in Foresthill, and he said I was his first ham radio contact. I regret not writing down his call sign, but perhaps we will talk again. Later, between Tinker Knob and Anderson Peak, I again reached the W6EK repeater, this time talking with a fellow member of the Sierra Foothills Amateur Radio Club. We switched to a simplex frequency, and my 5-watt signal made it some 75 miles to his house in Sacramento.

A strong breeze blew over the crest on the return hike, and the sun beat down, with the temperature about 85 degrees. (It was about 105 degrees in the Sacramento Valley). I was well-hydrated at the start of the hike. During the hike I went through 2.5 liters of water and 1 liter of Gatorade. Still, I was very thirsty on the last mile of the hike, and my thoughts turned to the cold beer in my refrigerator. I reached my vehicle at 4:45 PM, downed a half-liter of warm Gatorade, and headed home.

Approach to Tinker Knob, from the north

View from the east slope of Tinker Knob, to the south shore of Lake Tahoe

View west from the crest of the Sierra, between Tinker Knob and
Anderson Peak, to the canyons of the North Fork American River

B-29 Superfortress

The last flying B-29 Superfortress flew just to the south of my house a few minutes ago. My wife and I were sitting in the shade of the backyard when we saw it approach. The WWII bomber was headed in a northeasterly direction. It's based out of Addison Airport near Dallas and was at Mather Field in Sacramento for a show.

So Few Go Here Nowadays

Climbing out of a steep canyon in hot weather is the very definition of insanity, so with summer approaching, today I made perhaps my last hike on Euchre Bar Trail, until cooler temperatures return.

I wanted to try a new spot, about 0.25 mile upriver from where I panned last week. Google Earth shows a large rock outcrop along the North Fork American River. It looked promising for gold.

This hike being exploratory, I traveled light, my only panning gear a plastic pan and a trowel, inside my Osprey pack. The Home Depot five gallon bucket, folding shovel, and other gear remained at home.

The trail upstream beyond the footbridge at Euchre Bar is in need of maintenance. It's impossible not to brush against the poison oak. (I got poison oak on my hands from last week's hike.) In one spot, three trees had fallen across the trail, in close proximity, but it was easy to climb over them and continue. I think maintenance is done by volunteers, and that may be a long time coming.

I reached a terrace overlooking the rock outcrop. A terrace is a level spot carved into a hillside by the Forty Niners to make their camps. The outcrop and river were some fifty feet below, and the descent was steep. The place looked inviting for gold and I wanted to get down there. I poked about but found no safe route. During the Gold Rush I'm sure there was a simple trail from the terrace to the river, but now the area is overgrown with vegetation. Should I try to make it to the river? Absolutely not. Few hikers starting from Iron Point travel beyond the bridge at Euchre Bar. I could very well be the only person on this section of the trail today. The hillsides are tall (over 2000 feet above the river) and steep, and should trouble come there is no cell phone reception down here. Even getting a Personal Locator Beacon signal out is questionable. The more hiking partners you have, the more risks you can take. When you hike alone, you have to use common sense.

Before turning around, I stood for a few minutes looking at the river. At my feet was an iron pipe, built of plates and rivets, some 12 inches in diameter and several feet long. It likely dated to the late 1800s. Nearby was a water ditch used for mining operations.

So few go here nowadays, but the canyon was once busy with activity. The Nisenan of course were here, for centuries, and in the rock outcrops by the river one can easily find concave holes where the women ground seeds for meal. I don't think the fur trappers working the Sacramento Valley made it this far upriver, so the first non-natives here were likely the Forty Niners. They made their camps up and down the river, and scooped gold from the gravels with tin cups and whatever else was handy. They cut the trees on the hillsides and built large flumes through which they diverted the river, so they could reach the gravels at bedrock. The period of placer mining ended, and next came the hard rock mines, the Pioneer and the Southern Cross and the American Eagle, to name a few. The mine operators built dams and installed electrical generators. They slid stamp mills on skids down the steep hillsides and set them up by the river. There were telephones down here!

So much activity. In the September 12, 1896 San Francisco Call newspaper is a letter from a Mr. Muller, regarding trout fishing here. "The scenery along this route is grand, and the American is about the finest in the State for trout." He talks of anglers intending to spend a month on the river. He complains about mine employees illegally using explosives to get fish.

And then the mines shut down, some 100 years ago, and the people left. Equipment too large and heavy to carry out of the canyon remained in place. Fires destroyed the buildings. The trees grew back.

The iron pipes and generators and stamp mill parts, and the terraces and water ditches, remain to tell of the past activity. As I walk about these, I think about how hard it is to get to the river nowadays, there are so few access points. Yet, people once just went up and down it.

Iron Point and Lovers Leap

A late start today left insufficient time to hike Euchre Bar Trail as planned, so instead I did a little poking around. First I drove to Iron Point, where starts Euchre Bar Trail from the Alta side. Down below, some 1800 feet below, I saw two sections of the North Fork American River. My Magellan Triton GPS gave my UTM coordinates, 10N 692387 4340555. My compass gave the bearings to the two sections: 121 degrees and 170 degrees. Next I plotted the two sections on my topographical map. The section at 121 degrees was 1.8 miles away, the section at 170 degrees was 0.9 mile away.

My map reading exercise over, it was time to poke around. I was alone here. A trail led to the southwest. There was recent maintenance, for stumps of manzanita bushes stuck out of the ground, and manzanita branches were stacked neatly in small piles beside the trail. I followed the trail to see where it would go.

The trail was only a few hundred yards long, and at the end of it was this view of Giant Gap.

I then drove to Giant Gap and parked my truck a short distance from the top of the ridge.

The west side of the Lovers Leap prominence gave this view of the North Fork American River. I could see the Sacramento Valley. Had the day been clearer, I could have seen the Coastal Range.

The view from Lovers Leap proper, on the south end of the prominence, is always spectacular.

The east end of the prominence gives this view of Green Valley and Iron Point. Far in the distance is Tinker Knob, the core of an extinct volcano at the crest of the Sierra Nevada. In the several times I've hiked to Tinker Knob, I never knew I could see Giant Gap from it.

So today I learned that from Giant Gap, one can see both the crest of the Sierra, and across the Sacramento Valley to the Coastal Range.

J.W. Beardsley

While researching the history of Green Valley for an earlier post, I read in the May 8, 1876 Sacramento Daily Union of the death in Green Valley of J.W. Beardsley.

His occupation was not given, so I only assume he was a miner, for there was a good deal of mining activity in Green Valley back then. He had been in California for about 18 months.

On the evening of April 17, 1876, he got into a small boat, intending to cross the North Fork American River, but the river was swollen and the boat overturned. J.W. Beardsley was swept downstream. He was 43 years old, and had a wife and two children in Marquette, Michigan.

Two weeks and two days later, on May 3, 1876, his body was found in the Sacramento River near Courtland, downriver from Sacramento and a long distance from Green Valley.

His brother David Beardsley, of Nevada City, identified the body at the undertaking firm of Clark & Davis in Sacramento. He had the remains interred at Sacramento City Cemetery, in Tier 30, Grave 75 1/2.

While in Sacramento today, I stopped by Sacramento City Cemetery to photograph the grave marker for this post, but no marker remains. I spoke with a docent at this historic cemetery. She said that the brother may have wanted to save money on the burial by placing a wood instead of a stone marker on the grave. Only a handful of wood markers remain in the cemetery. "What about the 1/2 number on Grave 75 1/2?," I asked. More cost savings, she replied. After over two weeks in the river, what was left of J.W. Beardsley could fit into a cheaper half-grave plot.

International Space Station

A free iPad app called ISS Spotter advises when the International Space Station will be visible at a particular location. Today at 8:46 PM in the Sacramento area it appeared to the northwest. It looked like a star, only it moved across the sky, for a few minutes on a southeasterly course, 88 degrees above me at its closest point, until it faded from view as it entered Earth's shadow.

Return to Green Valley

Google Earth view of Green Valley, from above Euchre Bar,
looking towards Giant Gap, with the place mark on Joe Steiner's grave

What a difference a week makes.

Last Sunday the climb out of Green Valley was a challenge. Today, it was far less so. I made the ascent of some two thousand feet slowly, for sure, but without any cramping in the legs and with no twenty-minute siesta. I attribute this to three things: the last hike conditioned the leg muscles; I had not over-exerted myself, such as when I went bushwhacking last week; and I started this hike far better hydrated, having drank about 36 oz. of water before leaving home, rather than two cups of coffee. Hydration was likely the most important factor.

My Topo! map software gives a distance of 0.83 mile for the steep section of the trail, but with switchbacks I'll give it 0.9 mile. Let's compare this steep section of Green Valley Trail with Bright Angel Trail, which connects the rim of the Grand Canyon with the Colorado River.

Elevation difference:
- Bright Angel Trail 4,380 ft
- Green Valley Trail 1,600 ft

Distance:
- Bright Angel Trail 8.0 miles
- Green Valley Trail 0.9 mile

Average Grade
- Bright Angel Trail 10%
- Green Valley Trail 34%

Slope in Degrees
- Bright Angel Trail 05.74
- Green Valley Trail 19.67

I departed the trailhead at Moody Ridge at 8:50 AM. The trail soon reached a paved road and followed it a short distance. A small pickup truck approached. The driver stopped to talk. He lived up the road, and he asked if I was prepared for the hike into the valley. Yes, I was: I had water, a GPS, a personal locator beacon, and fire making items. I carry gear I would need to face a night alone. "Do you have a snake bite kit?" Yes, I did. We talked some more. Russell Towle had been his neighbor and friend. I said that Russell was the John Muir of the North Fork American River, and he agreed. We talked for a good twenty minutes, and exchanged contact information. He said trail maintenance events are held in Russell's memory. I would like to join these. Many years ago I joined Russell for a maintenance hike he arranged on Canyon Creek Trail.

I made my way down the steep section, and reached the junction where last week I had taken the trail to the right, leading to the west side of the valley. Today I took the trail to the left. Now I was in Green Valley proper, the steep hillside behind me. The trail was obscure in many places. Few people enter this valley and the old mining trails are becoming overgrown. I passed two old water ditches, now dry as they are no longer in use for mining operations.

Soon I was at the grave of Joe Steiner. Born in 1869 in Switzerland, he spent the latter part of his life in Green Valley, working his mine and managing a property. He died in 1949. Atop his grave were two rusted gold pans, the rusted head of a shovel, a kerosene lamp, and a broken ceramic coffee mug.

Joe Steiner's grave

The trail led to the hotel site, a level spot with rock retaining walls. People now use it as a camp site. Someone had placed a large anvil on the corner of the site. Looking across the river, I saw other rock walls. I don't think many people go over there anymore.

Site of the hotel

I followed the trail westwards, passing old mining sites, rock retaining walls, and pits with iron debris. I found plastic tubing from more modern mining activity, but I think such activity is limited. I reached the site of Joe Steiner's mine. The adit had collapsed long ago.

Site of Joe Steiner's mine

I made my way eastwards along the river, and reached a nice spot for lunch, water and a single Clif bar. Water is more important than food on a hike, so I eat little, if at all. I sat on the slate rock outcrop and enjoyed the view of the river. I was probably the only person in the valley.

Solitude

Then commenced the return hike. My going was slow on the steep section but my legs felt fine. I encountered a couple walking with their dog to the river. These were the only people I saw on the trail today. We talked a bit. They said they lived on Moody Ridge, so they were locals. Russell Towle had been their neighbor and friend. I asked them if many people hiked into Green Valley. They said no, the valley gets few visitors.

I reached the trailhead parking area at 2:05 PM. My truck was the only vehicle there. Thus ended another wonderful day on the North Fork.

First Hike to Green Valley

View upriver towards Euchre Bar

Three old mining trails lead to Green Valley, located between Euchre Bar and Giant Gap. Today, my first hike there, I took the trail commencing from Moody Ridge. The rim of the canyon is at 3,800 feet, with a descent of 1,600 feet over some 0.9 to 1.0 mile to the valley proper; then follows a leisurely walk to the river, elevation 1,800 feet. So from rim to river is a difference of 2,000 feet. The climb out of the canyon, with that 1,600 foot ascent over about one mile, is brutal.

I left the house at eight o'clock. The weather would be perfect for a hike, warm but not too warm, with plenty of sunshine. Approaching Colfax on Interstate 80, I passed a billboard for the Bunny Ranch Bar and Cigar. The Bunny Ranch is a brothel outside Carson City, Nevada. The Bunny Ranch owner claims these billboards are for his restaurant.

Taking the Alta exit, within minutes I was on Casa Loma Road, passing small patches of snow from the recent storm.  I reached the trailhead. My truck was the only vehicle in the small dirt parking lot. I shouldered my Osprey pack. It carried three liters of water, and I would drink almost all three before returning to the truck. I checked my watch: nine o'clock. I was on my way.

The digital watch, a recent purchase, is a Casio PRW3000-1A. Besides getting its time set by a radio signal from Fort Collins, Colorado, it has a compass, barometer, thermometer, and altimeter. The altimeter is handy for hiking the Sierra, where the challenge is less the distance ahead than the elevation above. My Magellan Triton GPS contains the local topographical map. Checking the watch's altimeter against the GPS point on the map, I found the altimeter to be accurate, within ten feet. The altimeter must be calibrated before setting off, as barometric pressure changes affect the altitude readings.

I made my way down the steep portion of the trail, getting nice views of the North Fork American River, Green Valley, and Giant Gap. I walked atop the peridotite of the Melones Fault Zone, which separates the Calaveras Complex (west - Permian - metavolcanic rocks) from the Shoo Fly Complex (east - Devonian - sandstone and siltstone and slate). The complexes were formed from different subduction events. Geologists deem the twisted rocks in both complexes an unholy mess. The peridotite contains serpentine, the state rock of California. Where serpentine is found, gold is close by.

The Nisenan had villages along the canyon rim, and they went into Green Valley to hunt game and net salmon. They put no value in the gold in the river gravels. Beginning in 1848, they were quickly displaced by people who did. Green Valley had two thousand inhabitants at its peak. Three trails led down to it. It had a hotel. When the placer gold ran out, the miners left, save for a few working the hard rock mines. When those mines closed, even fewer people remained. Then the valley was empty of inhabitants.

Probably fewer people walk into Green Valley each year nowadays than in the time of the Nisenan.

I may have been the only person there today.

Near the end of the steep section of trail, was a junction, the trail to the right leading to the west section of Green Valley, the trail to the left leading to the central and east sections. I took the trail to the right. I passed through a small meadow. How many dozens of tents had once been pitched around here? Water still flowed from a rusted iron pipe from the ground.

There are many trails in Green Valley. The trail I was on was not on the map in my GPS. I eventually reached the trail that parallels the river. This trail was on the map. I continued west on it. The trail was some forty feet above the river. In many places was debris from the miners - broken bottles, rusted cans, sections of iron cable.

The trail would continue to the river, but as I was getting no good views of Giant Gap, I decided to turn around and head east to the central section of Green Valley. I kept an eye on the map in my GPS.

And then reality intervened. What should have been a trail was a steep hillside covered with serpentine rock debris, possibly tailings from an asbestos mine. I decided to bushwhack a bit, to see if I could pick up the trail. I wound my way through manzanita bushes, scrambled here and there, and looked around. No trail. I considered my situation. I could very well be the only person in Green Valley today, it was an almost 2,000 foot climb to the canyon rim, my footing on this hillside was not stable, and a cold bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale was waiting for me at home. I decided to travel east no further. I made my way back to the trail, and commenced my return hike.

I walked slowly, drinking water regularly, as I made that climb out of the canyon. I looked at the altimeter on my watch from time to time. 2985 feet...2990 feet...2995 feet...

Beside the trail I found the remnant of ceramic bowl. I picked it up and examined it. The ceramic had fine cracks in it. How old was this? Did it date to the Gold Rush? On the inside curve was a small picture of a rose. How did this wind up here? My best guess was that someone found it in an old camp by the river, decided to bring it out, and either lost it or discarded it here. Please, folks, just leave the debris in place for others to discover. I put the piece back on the ground and continued my hike.

3115 feet...3120 feet...3125 feet...

And then I did something that I never do on a hike. I took a sit down break. I found a shaded spot and sat down in the middle of the trail, my pack still on my back, my legs stretched out level. And I closed my eyes and rested, for a whole twenty glorious minutes.

The siesta over, I stood back up. The time was 2:19 PM. The elevation was 3,360 feet. Just 440 more feet to the rim.

At one point my thighs started to cramp up, and I wondered if I would reach my truck while it was still daylight. I kept walking and the cramps went away.

Finally I neared the rim, and there I met the only others I would see on the trails today, three hikers heading down the canyon only a short distance, as it was too late in the day to reach the river. We exchanged some pleasantries, and I continued on.

I reached my truck at 3:12 PM. Only one other vehicle was in the trailhead parking lot, and I am sure it belonged to the people I met.

I arrived home. My black tee shirt had white salt crystals on it. I took a shower, and put on a clean tee shirt and clean cargo shorts. I opened a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I poured the beer into a tall glass. I picked up the cold tall glass of beer. I smelled the aroma of the cold beer. And then I took a taste of the beer.

It was delicious.

I plan to return to Green Valley next weekend.

Euchre Bar, Hike #1 2014

Today I went on my first hike of the year on my favorite trail, Euchre Bar Trail. I brought no gold panning equipment, just a camera. I wanted to give my leg muscles a good workout. I plan on a lot of hikes this year. I commenced the hike at Iron Point. The distance to the North Fork American River is about 1.25 miles, with a descent of about 1,800 feet. I wasn't the only person on the trail. Some people had carried their kayaks and inflatable rafts to the river.

While I was by the footbridge, I looked around at the terraces carved into the hillsides where the early miners set up their camps. I imagined what this place looked like in the early 1850s. The miners built their camps and worked the gravels, bringing out gold that had been collecting for thousands and thousands of years. I pictured all the trees on the steep canyon slopes being cut down for firewood and building materials. When the gold ran out and the miners left, this place was probably very barren. But the forest has renewed itself and it's now a scenic area.

From my several hikes in January, my legs were in good shape for today's return climb to the truck. Normally I have to take a few rest stops on my first hike up Euchre Bar Trail, but I made no stops today. If I could make a hike such as this two or three times a week, I'd be in exceptional shape. The early miners hiked trails like this all the time, but the benefits of exercise were offset by gunshot wounds, mining accidents, exposure, drowning, mule kicks, grizzly bear attacks, and the like. My biggest worry today was brushing against a poison oak plant.

Only about 1,000 feet (elevation drop) to the river!

People preparing to run the river

View upstream from the footbridge

Ham Radio Go Box

I have a General class ham radio license, but my house isn't configured to conveniently operate my radios indoors, and I can't install permanent antennas in my backyard. So I built a Go Box. It's a Gator Case with an Alinco DM-330MV power supply, an ICOM IC-7000 radio with an LDG IT-100 tuner (for long distance HF contacts), and a Yaesu FT-2900 2 meter radio (for local VHF contacts). I have a little more work to do on it - I'll install power cords with Anderson PowerPole connectors - but the box is operational. This weekend I set up a temporary HF antenna (10 meter dipole on a 12-foot mast) on the backyard lawn, with a 2 meter mobile antenna set on the air conditioning condenser. I placed the Go Box on the patio table. In two minutes I had the coaxial cables connected and the power supply plugged in, and I was on the air. I worked the ten meter band, which was wide open, making contacts in Poland, Venezuela, Japan, Michigan, Wisconsin, and St. Lucia. I tried to make a contact in Volcan, Panama (I've been there, twice) but the signal just faded away. For local operations, I listened to nearby repeaters but made no contacts.

I'll buy some batteries to operate away from the house.

I noticed beer tastes a bit better when I'm making DX contacts.

2014 Bok Kai Festival

Today I watched active duty Air Force members carry a large Chinese religious figure through the streets of Marysville, in a ceremony honoring the god of a Taoist temple.

Airmen from nearby Beale Air Force Base have volunteered for this duty for years. The figure is a dragon named Hong Wan Lung. The god being honored is Bok Eye, the primary god of Bok Kai Temple.

It was Marysville's 134th annual Bok Kai Parade. A good time was had by all.

The Chinese of Marysville built a temple early in the Gold Rush years to honor the gods they worshipped back in Canton Province. That temple was destroyed in a flood. The current temple was dedicated in 1880. The temple's name Bok Kai means North Stream, for the temple sits on the north bank of the Yuba River. The Taoist god Bok Eye (God of the Dark North) has powers over floods and rain, powers needed to protect a temple sitting next to a river.

The Chinese held annual festivals for their temple and its gods. The first dragon was paraded through the streets of Marysville in 1888. The non-Chinese started to get involved in the fun, what with the firecrackers and drums and bombs and cymbals and all. In 1910, the Marysville Daily Appeal noted that the white citizens were donating funds to defray the cost of the festival, adding "This is perhaps the first time in the history of this country where Christian people help carry out a barbarian or heathen celebration." In 1930, the Yuba County Chamber of Commerce joined the Chinese citizens of Marysville to put on the parade. What was a Chinese religious ceremony became a community event.

Today was my fourth Bok Kai Parade.

The parade started at eleven o'clock. First down D Street came a man holding a banner from the temple, followed by a Chinese man in traditional dress banging two gongs. Then came the leaders of the Chinese societies, the beauty queens, the Air Force honor guard (I held my hat to my heart as the colors passed), the politicians, the marching bands, the Mexican vaqueros (con una vaquera hermosa), the service organizations, the E Clampus Vitus members, and et cetera, until the grand finale, the dragon Hong Wan Lung, held aloft by the airmen. I followed the dragon to the intersection of D Street and 1st Street, the closest point on the parade route to Bok Kai Temple. There the dragon paused to bow its head in homage to the temple. The dragon then went east on 1st Street, turned north on C Street, and stopped at the Hop Sing Tong Building to pay homage while firecrackers went off. It then proceeded north a short distance, and stopped for the final firing of firecrackers.

After a quick lunch at China Moon Restaurant, it was time to watch the lions blessing the businesses. Those establishments wanting a blessing had heads of cabbage or lettuce hanging by a string outside their entrance. Affixed to the heads was a small piece of paper which I think represented a donation. A truck followed the two lions. In the truck bed were young Chinese men and women in red silk outfits banging cymbals and drums. Each lion consisted of two young Chinese men in red silk outfits. The man in the front carried the lion's head. The lion would go into a business and walk about, and then it exited the business backwards in respect. The back member then lifted the front member on his shoulders, allowing the lion to take the head of cabbage or lettuce into its mouth. The back member returned the front member to the ground. The lion then took the leaves apart, and with strong shakes it spewed the leaves into the business three times. This completed the blessing, and the lion would proceed to the next business.

Following the blessing of the businesses, I visited Bok Kai Temple. I had gone in prior to the parade but the crowds were large. Now there were few visitors. People were burning incense and praying to their gods. Food offerings were placed on tables.

Thus ended my Bok Kai experience, a nice slice of California that goes back to the Gold Rush.