Only 45 minutes away, though as time has stood still (in a good way), is the little town of Markleeville. We have been here a number of times but today was special as historian/author/friend Karen Dustman was meeting us for a private history lesson.

This was a town created by desires for silver. In 1861, Jacob Markley took up a 160 acre claim and built a bridge and toll station on the banks of a stream crossing a heavily trafficked road. Two years later he was killed in a gunfight while still having given his name to the future County seat, Markleeville, and the creek of the same name.
Our first stop was to visit the museum and learn as much as we could. Karen has crafted a wonderful video of this Historical Complex. It's a must watch! I have been a member of the Alpine County Historical Society since 2012 and this is the first time we have visited.
The silver boom was a boom for Alpine County which was created in 1864. At this point, the population had grown to more than 11,000. Miners left the rich gold fields of Bodie, only 80 miles away, and came here. Silver Mountain was the first County Seat of Alpine County and the location of the Mine. The excitement was short-lived, however. As the Silver Mountain ore proved too stubborn to recover at a profit, men began to leave the area, and by 1868, Alpine County had fewer than 1,200 people. The finishing blow came with the demonetization of silver in 1873, collapsing prices and closing the remaining mines. Today, this is still a very roomy county. There are only two people per square mile. Amazing really and so beautiful, too.
I love when I discover something that surprises me. Learning about Snowshoe Thompson's history in this county was cool, but seeing this record song about him was ϋber cool. Produced as a promotional record by Capitol (Walt Disney Music Corp) it was written by Paul Mason Howard and Buddy Ebsen (in 1952). Yes, that Buddy Ebsen (Jed Clampett in the Beverly Hillbillies, the title character of Barnaby Jones and so much more). Wild right? And look who sang the tune... Tennessee Ernie sans the Ford part of his name. Oh man, I love museums.
In addition, we 'met' artist Walt Monroe (1881-1945) via his work displayed in the museum. This talented local boy was born in the mining town of Monitor, south of Markleeville. When he was 16, he had his first art exhibit at a hotel in Carson City, and was deemed "a genius in his way". Walt was a prolific artist, though canvas and other art supplies were non-existent in Markleeville at the time. If he didn't have canvas, he painted on wood, cardboard, tin, even pans and anything else he could get his hands on. The artist never married, perhaps because he was often on the road traveling, riding his motorcycle with a sidecar packed with clothing, canvas, paints and other art supplies. Doesn't he sound like a neat guy?


Neighboring town, Woodfords, holds title as the oldest non-native settlement in the entire region. It is rumored that Sam Brannan left supplies near a spring here in 1847 on his way to Salt Lake City, and Brannan Springs, as it was then called, was ideally positioned to take advantage of traffic on the booming road to California. After a brief period during which the settlement was known as Carey's Mills, the Woodfords name came into common usage following the establishment of an official post office near a hotel by Daniel Woodford in 1849. A post office opened in Carey's Mills in 1858, the name was changed to Woodfords in 1869, and was closed in 1914. The post office was re-established in 1962, only to close for good in 1974.
I was very intrigued by this scrapbook created by Josephine Steinger Falconer (1874-1958). Beginning in about 1912, she removed all the fabric pieces out of a large catalog of fabrics for men and affixed within it a variety of images. I had to know more. It turns out that beginning in 1894, "Scrapbook-making is one of the fads with which a coterie of women beguile leisure hours. A woman, in the early days of Mount Holyoke, is responsible for the innocent pastime, which is not without its permanent advantages. Long before photographs were even known, pictures (illustrations) were common. A schoolgirl, who is now a grandmother, began to save the flew illustrations of notables, historic landmarks and works of art that came in her way, and has continued the habit zealously. The pictures, beginning as they did fifty years ago, and continuing through the present era of generously illustrated tourist books and catalogues, magazines and newspapers, furnish an interesting history of illustrative art." Who knew?
An interesting component to this area's history is the impact of the Basque sheepherders. We have heard about their tree cravings or arborglyphs, yet this one on display was unique, carved within the already damaged part of a tree. As a matter-of-fact, the Basque artwork is perhaps the most studied of all arborglyphs. Basque immigrants left their native Pyrenees Mountains to work as shepherds throughout the western United States, beginning in the mid-19th century. Because their occupation would have them alone for months at a time in some of the most remote forests, they took to perfecting the art of tree carving -- leaving behind drawings and poetry delicately etched into the wood as living artifacts. I loved this one.
Steve is standing beside a Basque Bread Oven which was discovered in Hope Valley and moved to the historical complex, intact, by Karen's husband, Rick.
A tour of the Old Log Jail, narrated with Karen's enthusiasm, was so informative. After the county seat was moved from Silver Mountain City in 1872, a new jail was needed. This one was constructed from logs, with the builders using a mortise and tenon method. This was a special building method where the tenon "tongue" is joined into the mortise "hole" making this jail quite unique. In addition, it contains two iron cells that were originally at the Silver Mountain City jail. Oh the stories these walls could tell.

The Old Webster School House is a California Historic Point of Interest and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It was built by the local Markleeville residents in 1882 and was in use until 1929. Still on the walls are images drawn by a young Walt Monroe. And there is still a bullet hole in the chalkboard where a disgruntled student fired a shot at his teacher. History does repeat itself, sadly.

Karen also shared with us Captain Jim's Cave and his story. This Washo Chief and his tribe used this cave as a shelter in winter and as a ceremonial spot for their medicine man. In 1864, a new toll road was needed going from Markleeville to the booming mining camp of Silver Mountain. William A. Johnson, road superintendent for Carr & Co., not only had to pay Captain Jim to build there, but he lost his warm coat in the process. History really can be found everywhere.
No trip through a historical town is complete without a visit to the cemetery. Thankfully, Karen pointed the way.
Hidden on a hilltop, this small cemetery seems unpopulated until you look closer. Recently, a team scoured the grounds with a cadaver dog and found several 'missing' residents. The museum has a list, compiled by Karen, of twenty-two people known to have been buried in the cemetery with some details of their lives. Next time, we'll linger longer.


I felt for poor Arthur Chestnut. First they totally misspelled his name for all of eternity (Auther Chesnut), he apparently was a timber-cutter who died while rolling logs when a heavy log rolled over him, crushing him so severely that he died within five hours. Arthur was estimated to be between 38-42 years of age at the time of his death. A brother had predeceased him. Sadly, before his death he requested that his friends in Nova Scotia might be informed of the manner of his death, but the bystanders failed to obtain either names or locality of said friends. Man!

The road to Markleeville traverses Hope Valley so we delighted in Day #3 of Fall Colors. I will never tire of them.


This photo is probably my favorite! It screams GLEE to me. I am getting hugged by a tree. So sweet.

Steve and I wandered around Taylor Creek in hopes of seeing the Salmon spawning.

The area teemed with nature. I especially loved the frolicking mergansers.

There was only a hint of the presence of salmon. Our salmon, the kokanee, is non-native to Lake Tahoe and was "accidentally introduced" into Lake Tahoe during the '40s from a hatchery on the North Shore. Now they are prized by fishermen and the subject of festivals.
What a beautiful Blue Heron.
Evidence of beaver life was everywhere.



Hail, intense rain, thunder and the most incredible lightning strike ended our afternoon exploring but it was fun while it lasted.

Our Talking on Paper hostess, Karen, chose a prompt we all found challenging and asked for a few moments extra to compose our usual 5 minute essay "Write about HIM". Here's mine.

He would tuck me in at night while saying, "Good night Fred. Good night Tom" to the imaginary monsters in my closet.

He would always answer the phone with a funny "Yellow".

He would patiently teach me to drive a stickshift so I would be in control of every kind of car driven.

He would never walk me down the aisle or hear my sons call him "grandpa".

He would never know me as the evolved woman I've become.

But he will always be my dad and I will continue to miss him as I have since the day he passed away 33 years ago.

The weather outlook is calling for rain and knowing how destructive a storm can be on trees, Janet, Karen and I headed out to admire the Fall Colors as not to miss them.

The colors were not in full force but we were not disappointed in the least.



 


There was more beauty found than just in the Aspen leaves.

Karen even shared a history lesson with us. I have mentioned Snowshoe Thompson numerous times in this blog. John A. Thompson saw an ad, “People Lost to the World; Uncle Sam Needs a Mail Carrier.” in the Sacramento Union in late 1855 and applied for the job. To make his 90-mile mail delivery, during the winter months in blizzards and over the Sierra snow pack, he used homemade 10-foot long, 25 pound oak skis (hence his nickname). From 1856 to 1876, he delivered mail between Placerville, CA and Genoa, NV and later Virginia City, NV. His mail run took 3 days from Placerville to Mormon Station (Genoa) and two days on the return trip. Thompson always wore a Mackinaw jacket, a wide rimmed hat, and covered his face in charcoal to prevent snow blindness. He carried no blankets, but he did carry matches to start fires, and his Bible. He snacked on dried sausage, jerked beef, crackers, and biscuits. When winter weather prevented him continuing on, he would take shelter in caves formed by overhanging boulders. Local legend says that this cave alongside the Carson Mormon Trail, was one used by Thompson on his winter mail runs. How very cool is that?
What a spectacular day.

This was written for my AAUW Talking on Paper gathering that is happening tomorrow.

I've officially reached 56 1/2 years of age, with time to reflect. The mirror seems to be a betraying friend. I'm almost overwhelmed by the creases that have not so gradually appeared upon my face. I know I earned these aging reminders as I did not take care of myself like I knew I should. Maybe it was the fact that I have olive skin and a seemingly inability to sunburn. Or maybe it was because I have a huge head and have struggled to find hats that fit. Or maybe it was the selfish young Denise not watching out for the old Me. Each moment spent looking reveals the errors of my youth. Whatever the cause, I am indeed wrinkled and when I gaze upon my reflection I see, more often than not, my own mother looking back at me.

Shakespeare penned, "With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come." Okay, so maybe that's the cause, maybe I'm more mirthful than my smooth skinned contemporaries. While I'd love to believe that is the cause, I know better. Though I am mirthful, I have only myself to blame!

Olivia Williams said, "My skin may have wrinkles but it's because I'm smiling so much. That might sound like some terrible American Greetings card, but I feel it's immoral for me to castigate my body for getting older, when it does everything I ask of it." With each crease, I do recall events that caused me to smile and each day I awake, I am grateful for my chance to be here even longer. Olivia is so right.

When I think of all the wonderful adventures I experienced in glorious sunshine, I do smile. My life has been fortunate, gleeful and overall incomparably incredible. I wouldn't trade any of it, any day. Oh but I would, if I had the chance to do it all again, wear sunscreen and a hat.


Since there is nothing more to be done about what has already happened, I'll be better protected in the sun and I'll continue to seek out quotes that provide me solace. I especially appreciate the one by Clarence Day who wrote, "Age should not have its face lifted, but it should rather teach the world to admire wrinkles as the etchings of experience and the firm line of character." Admire wrinkles... I like that idea a lot.