A Landing a Day

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Archive for January, 2010

Dryden, Texas

Posted by graywacke on January 30, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  I’m bouncing from one extreme to the other; my last landing was in the max OSer (MT); and today’s is in the max USer . . . TX; 129/162; 5/10; 1; 152.6.  Here’s my landing map, showing that I landed out in the middle of nowhere:


Here’s a somewhat expanded view, showing my proximity to Mexico:


And here’s my very-much-expanded view:


I landed in the Lozier Creek watershed, on to the Rio Grande (34th hit). I close this post with a lovely shot of Lozier Canyon.

Here’s my GE shot, showing a desert landscape carved by streams (that you can bet are mostly dry):


From TexasEscapes.com:

Dryden was named for Chief Engineer Eugene E. Dryden of the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio railroad when it arrived at this site in 1882.  Dryden became an important cattle-shipping point through the early 1900s. The community had a post office by 1888.

In 1908 the town had a hotel and four years later a school was built which did triple duty as a church, school and community center.  By 1929 the population was 100 people but during the Great Depression the railroad closed its Dryden depot and the population was reduced by half.

The area’s ranches broke up and sold out. The population declined to 50 by the mid-1960s.  By 1988 Dryden’s population was a mere 13 people and the post office was still in use.  The population remained thirteen in 2000.

From the same website, here’s a picture of what used to be a post office:

And this picture of what used to be a school:

From Steve’s Dryden Photostream on Flickr (click here to see all) – here’s a close-up of the P.O. (with the caption below):

Here we have Dryden, situated right there on highway 90 about 20 miles east of Sanderson. It’s an eerie mixture of a Texan ghost town and middle-of-nowhere / barely-alive old frontier town. Incredible.

And, still from Steve, this shot of the one viable business still open:

Here’s a funky picture taken by one David Lynch (from the far side of the above building).

I tend to believe that Mr. Lynch took this picture as he came upon it (rather than setting it up . . .)

Here’s yet another shot of the P.O. (by cobaltski):

Dryden is in Terrell County.  From kingsnake.com:

Terrell County (pop 1081)  is dedicated ranching country with a local economy dominated primarily by the sheep and goat industry and is accordingly sparsely populated.  Most of the county population resides in Sanderson (pop 861) [leaving 220 people to populate the rest of the county]. A few hardy individuals also live in the county’s only other town of Dryden, which is nearly a ghost town at present.

The area of the county is 2,358 square miles.  That comes out to about 1 person for every 10 square miles.  Wow.

Here’s a landscape shot taken very close to my landing (north of Dryden):

As promised earlier, I’ll close with this picture of my landing watershed (Lozier Canyon), taken along Rt. 90:


KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Powderville, Montana

Posted by graywacke on January 28, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  Ouch.  Well, I just landed in the 800-pound gorilla OSer . . . MT; 107/89; 4/10; 1; 153.3.   After a string of 10 landings at 5/10 & above, I’m down to 4/10 . . .

Here’s my landing map:


You can see that I landed very close to the Powder R (10th hit); on to the Yellowstone (46th hit); to the Missouri (340th hit); to the MM (727th hit).

Here’s my broader landing view:


Here’s my GE shot, showing that I landed in the agricultural Powder River valley (as opposed to the rather arid looking uplands on either side of the valley).


Powderville doesn’t really exist as a town.  But I did manage to find out a little.  From TravelMontana.com:

Powderville was originally a stagecoach stop (for the stagecoach that ran between Deadwood SD and Miles City MT) and was known as Elkhorn Crossing.  Still visible is the route the wagons took in fording the river here.  Powderville takes its name from the river it is located next to, the Powder River in the southeastern area of the state

A point of interest maintained by the Powder River County Historical Society is Boot Hill Cemetery, west of the present Powderville Post Office, which was established in 1872.

Speaking of the Post Office, MontanaTom1950 posted this shot of the Powderville Post Office on Flickr, which documents a motorcycle trip (caption below):


The door was locked. I was unable to mail my credit card payment.

MontanaTom1950 and I may have something in common.  I’m guessing he was born in 1950 (as was I).  I could be JerseyGreg1950 . . .

Here’s another MontanaTom1950 shot, with the caption below:

I rode 138 miles of dirt. Saw 2 pickups in the first 100 miles. I love the Southeast corner of Montana.

Here’s a slightly more expansive shot of the Post Office (from GE Panoramio):


Mentioned above is the fact that there’s a “Boot Hill” cemetery behind the Post Office (can’t see it in the above photo).  Anyway, dozens of western towns have a “Boot Hill Cemetery,” the most famous being the one in Tombstone AZ, where the folks who died at the infamous “shootout at the O.K. Corral” are buried.  Here’s what Wiki has to say:

Boot Hill is the name for any number of cemeteries, chiefly in the American West. During the 19th century it was a common name for the burial grounds of gunfighters, or those who “died with their boots on” (i.e., violently).  Also, Boot Hill graves were made for people who died in a strange town without assets for a funeral, known more formally as pauper’s graves.

The rest of this post will be pretty much a picture show. Here are a number of shots of the Powder River near Powderville:

I landed about 20 miles N of Broadus. Hey, Dan, remember my pre-blog landing near Broadus – the wavingest town in the west?


Anyway, I’ll close with two great weather shots, from Brian Morganti of StormEffects.com, taken near Broadus (about 20 miles SSW of my landing). Click here for more of Brian’s pictures (“Best of 2007”).


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Gayville, South Dakota

Posted by graywacke on January 26, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  Back to a solid WB OSer . . . SD; 49/46; 5/10; 10; 152.8.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Gayville, a few other small towns, the city of Yankton and the Missouri R (which is the state border with NE):


Here’s my broader landing view:


For the second time, I landed in the watershed of the Vermillion R, on to (of course), the Missouri (339th hit); on to the MM (726th hit).

Here’s a very-close-in GE shot, showing that I landed what I presume is some sort of agricultural field.  But whatever’s going on with the parallel white stripes, I haven’t a clue (maybe the farmer just limed his field???).


Here’s a somewhat broader GE view, showing Gayville as well:


Gayville (pop 418) has a Post Office.  Here ‘tis (doesn’t look like they paid the architect much money):


From Wiki, this about Gayville:

Gayville is the self-proclaimed “Hay Capital of the World”.  Gayville is also constantly in competition with nearby Meckling, the self proclaimed “Hay Capital of the Universe.”

I don’t mean to be a butinski, but it seems to me that I’ve landed in other towns with strong hay connections.  Let me check . . . .from my Baileyville KS post:  “Baileyville was founded as ‘Haytown.’”   From my Newport NE post:  “Newport, platted in 1884, was once the largest prairie hay-shipping center in the world.”

I did find the website of Freeburg Hay Farms in Gayville:

Freeburg Hay Farms

Gayville, SD

“Where everyday is a hay day”

Freeburg Hay is located in the Missouri River Valley of Southeast South Dakota. Owned and operated by Gary and Amy Freeburg for over 30 years, it is a family run farm specializing in alfalfa and mixed grass hays.  We keep around 2500 acres in alfalfa.  An early cut, high quality, tested and barn stored product is our goal.

The farm is easily accessible off a major four lane highway. The hay is barn stored with an onsite scale. We guarantee our product and your satisfaction.

You can contact Freeburg Hay at (605)267-4426.

For those of you who, like me, wouldn’t know alfalfa if we fell in it, here’s a picture from the Freeburg’s website:


And here’s a picture of the hay being cut and laid out to dry:


And this, of the bailing machine:


Moving right along:  The most happenin’ place in Gayville is the Gayville Hall, which has its own website, gayvillehall.com:

Welcome to Gayville Hall!

Gayville Hall is a music hall started in 2001 that features many genres of music, including folk, country, pop, and jazz.  It is located in the small town of Gayville, South Dakota, 10 miles east of Yankton and 14 miles west of Vermillion. Established in an 1879 mercantile building that had been a grocery store for 120 years, the hall features a small raised stage surrounded on three sides by 160 chairs. The acoustics of the room are very good, and audiences and musicians love the hall’s intimacy and simple setting.

Most [but not all!] also love the fact that Gayville Hall is a non-alcoholic, non-smoking venue. Patrons come for the two-hour music show, not for smoke and alcohol.  Soft beverages and snacks are available.  An art gallery and historical displays of music and Americana dress up the hall.  Come see a show!

If any of my readers would like one of these:


They’re available for $12 plus $3 shipping & handling at the Gayville Hall website.

I checked out the GE Street View and came up with this shot showing the Gayville Hall and what I guess is a bank across the street:


Here’s a shot of a crowd having a gay old time at Gayville Hall:

Here’s one of those “are you kidding me?” moments.  Check out this place recently sold in Gayville:

504 Merchant, Gayville, South Dakota
$19,900

Nice Mobile home on concrete basement with 2 bedrooms and 1 bath. This would make a nice home or investment property. Includes fenced back yard and deck.

By the way, in spite of an intense search, I was unable to find the origin of the name “Gayville”.   I’ll bet a guy named John Gay was an early settler . . .

I’ll close with a sunset shot over Gayville (you can see the water tower that’s behind the Post Office . . .)


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Piru, California

Posted by graywacke on January 24, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  Hangin’ tough with another USer . . . CA; 87/99; 6/10; 9; 152.4.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Piru and Fillmore:


I landed in the watershed of a new river, the Santa Clara, which flows directly to the PO.  Here’s a shot of the Santa Clara near Piru:


Here’s a somewhat broader landing view, showing my proximity to LA and the PO:


Here’s my broadest landing view:


Here’s an oblique GE shot, showing that I landed in some rugged mountain country:


Here’s a broader oblique GE shot:


My first GE shot is actually looking west, towards Toms Canyon (which, according to StreetAtlas, becomes Hopper Canyon) and has an unnamed tributary in it.  Anyway, this unnamed trib flows south out of the mountains, crossing Rt 126 very close to where the railroad tracks also cross Rt. 126, just west of Piru (you can see this on my landing map).

GE’s Street View gives us this shot of Hopper Canyon in the background and the unnamed trib (with the railroad bridge over it):


So,  during a rainstorm (which I assume are fairly infrequent here), precipitation landing on my landing (“landing on my landing”??) would end up rushing undernearth first the railroad bridge and then the Rt. 126 bridge, on its way to the Santa Clara (which is located just south of Rt. 126).  In fact, here’s the view looking south from the same place, showing the unnamed trib headed towards the Santa Clara (not too far away, but not visible):

Wow.  Very funny thing just happened – I just wrote the words about infrequent rains, and I thought about the fact that CA is being pounded by weather as I type.  So, I went to Weather.com, and checked out the weather radar for Piru.  Take a look at this!


It’s raining hard; even snowing in the higher elevations.  In your minds eye, add some water to that picture above!

About Piru, from Wiki:

The area was originally inhabited by the Tataviam Indians.  They left information about themselves chiseled into and painted on rocky overhangs and secreted caves throughout the local mountains.  The name Piru (originally pronounced PEE-roo) in English is derived from the Tataviam language word for the tule reeds growing along Piru Creek that were used in making baskets.

Here’s a 1910 picture of Juan Jose Fustero, supposedly the last full-blooded Tataviam Indian known to be alive:


Back to Wiki:

Legend has it that the pronunciation was changed by conductors of Southern Pacific Railroad trains, who would shout out, “Pie-roo!” when pulling into town.  Another story tells of a Piru restaurant known for good pies. The owner hung a sign proclaiming, “We Put The Pie In Piru.”

There was quite the fire near Fillmore in September 2009.  Here are a couple of pictures from the mountains above Fillmore:


Back to Piru . . . here’s a picture of a house known as the Piru (or Newhall) Mansion:


Here’s a shot showing that the house is right up near the mountains:


The website PiruMansion.com features this house, which is available for filming and events.  From the website:

Filming has resumed at the Newhall Mansion in Piru, California, following a four year restoration.  The Mansion has been used in many films and TV products, including:

  • Murder, She Wrote
  • The Incredible Hulk
  • Charlie’s Angels
  • Payne
  • Ping!
  • American Wedding
  • Reno 911
  • and many more

Notable actors appearing in films shot at the Newhall Mansion include Shelley Winters, June Allyson, Buddy Ebsen, Ricardo Montalban, Robert Duvall, Patty Duke, James Garner, Angela Lansbury, Shirley Jones, John Larroquette and others.

In addition, the town itself has been the site of many movies, too numerous to mention here . . .

Staying with the Hollywood theme, from DivaReport.com, about Christina Aguilera:

Check out Christina Aguilera as she started filming her new upcoming movie, ‘Burlesque’ in Piru, California on November 17, 2009.  Christina Aguilera was on set filming a scene where her character packs up and leaves for El Lay to pursue a singing career and eventually gets hired by Cher to work at her burlesque club.  The story centers on Ali, an ambitious small-town girl with a big-town voice (Aguilera) who finds love, family and success in a neo-burlesque club.

“Grey’s Anatomy” star Eric Dane will round out the ensemble cast of Screen Gems’ upcoming musical.  Dane will play Marcus, a charming, successful businessman who offers to buy Tess (Cher) out of the burlesque club and vies for Ali’s heart.

OK, I’ll admit it:  I’m an old fuddy-dud who wouldn’t know Christina Aguilera if I bumped into her . . .

Just north of Piru is the Lake Piru.  Here are  some photographs of the lake, starting with a very artsy shot of the dam and lake:

I’ll close with this lovely piece of art by Kendra Page, entitled “Early Morning,” which depicts a springtime scene just outside of Fillmore (check her out at KendraPageFineArt.com):


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Copake, New York

Posted by graywacke on January 22, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  Today is one of those relatively rare visits to the Northeast.  But wouldn’t you know it, I landed in a solid OSer . . . NY; 37/30; 5/10; 8; 153.0.  Actually, when I look a little closer, the Northeast is generally OS.  Here’s the Northeast States rundown:

OSers:  CT (5/3); NH (10/6); NY (37/30); RI (2/1); VT (8/6)

USers:  ME (19/21); NJ (3/5); MA (4/6)

Doing the math, and the region is 88/78 – rather OS, eh?

Anyway, here’s my landing map, showing that I landed out in the country, not near any larger towns (just a bunch of Copakes).  The state boundary triple point you see is between NY, MA and CT.


I landed in the Noster Kill watershed; on to the Bash Bish Brk; to the Roeliff Jansen Kill (I have deigned this to be a new river; more about this in a moment); on to the Hudson R (13th hit).

Here’s my broader landing view:


And this, my GE shot, showing that I landed in a farm field, between an island of woods and a peninsula of woods.

I wonder about such islands (and peninsulas).  Why wasn’t it cleared for farming?  A rocky patch?  A wet patch?

Anyway, using GE Street View, here’s a shot that almost shows my landing.  The photo is taken from the road east of my landing (near the buildings), looking SW.  The island of woods mentioned above is the woods you see in the distance from this photo.  My landing is just behind them:


OK – back to my new river – the Roeliff Jansen Kill.  So you probably know that “kill” is Dutch for “river” or “water channel.”  Kind of like with “bayou,” I take it upon myself to decide if a given bayou or kill should make it into ALAD’s “river” category.  Well, the Noster Kill is obviously a little creek (and it flows into a brook!).  But the Roeliff Jansen Kill is clearly more substantial.  It’s over 40 miles long, and the lower reaches are shown on StreetAtlas with with a mappable width (as opposed to just a line).  Enough for me.

Truth moment:  I just remembered that the Hudson is tidal, and the lower section of the Roeliff Jansen Kill is probably also tidal (resulting in an wider stream than would otherwise occur).  Therefore, the “mappable width” argument holds less water, so to speak . . . (but I’m still calling it a river!)

So the towns near my landing (the various Copakes) don’t have much to write about.  But I suspect that you noticed two interesting stream names:  Bash Bish Brook and the afore-discussed Roeliff Jansen Kill.

I’ll start with the Bash Bish.  From skyweb.net:

-Quote from “Haunted New England, A Devilish View of the Yankee Past, by Mary Bolte, 1972

Before the white man came to North America, many Algonquin tribes populated the northeast, among them the Mohicans of western Massachusetts. Within their society, polygamy was not uncommon and divorce was frequently countenanced. Adultery, however, was an intolerable offense and was punishable by death. This legend revolves around a beautiful Mohican woman named Bash-Bish who was accused of this gravest of crimes, found guilty, and condemned to death as prescribed by tribal law, despite her persistent protestations of innocence. For the execution of her sentence, Bash-Bish was to be lashed to a canoe in the swift water upstream from a waterfall, which was then to be released and drawn by the current over the fateful cataract.

At the appointed hour, the Indians, including the woman’s infant daughter, White Swan, solemnly gathered for the ceremony. Suddenly a curious thing happened. A fine mist began to slant in from the sun while, simultaneously, a ring of bright butterflies circled Bash-Bish’s head. As the Mohicans fell back in awe of the unexplained phenomenon, the condemned woman broke away, dashed to the edge of the falls and flung herself over the cruel shawl of water, the butterflies spiraling downward behind her. The pool below has never given up her body.

Here’s an alternate explanation of the name:

-Quote from “The Book of Berkshire, by Clark W. Bryan, 1886”

Bashbish has been said to be an Indian onomatopoetic name, suggested by the sound of the falling water.  Miss Sedgwick [whoever that is] thought it to be of Swiss origin.  These are both errors, for the name is undoubtedly of vulgar origin, coming to its present form from the Dutch corruption of English.

I don’t really understand.  Could bish be a bastardization of bitch?  (Do you like the way I put bastard and bitch in the same sentence?)  Bash Bish isn’t very nice, in that case. . .

I couldn’t find anything else about the name origin.  I think I better vote for the Indian Onomatopoetic falling water theory.  Bash . . Bish . . . Bash . . . Bish . . . goes the water over the falls.  What falls , you may ask . . .

Well, you can see Bashbish Falls State Forest on my landing map, just over the State Line in MA.  It turns out that there is a very lovely waterfalls here which is, I assume, the waterfalls mentioned in the story about the Mohican maiden.  Here are some photos, showing the different moods of the falls:

Here’s a GE shot, (looking SW towards my landing) that shows the falls (in the steep mountain valley) relative to my landing (the yellow peg is just visible):


So, moving on to Roeliff Jansen Kill.  The definitive article that addresses the issue is way too long for ALAD, so I have copied some, skipped over some, and distilled some.  It’s still a little long, but hey, my readers need to know about how the Kill got its name, right?:

A Legend Gives A Community Its Name
by James Polk
from A History of the Roeliff Jansen Area
Used by Permission
The Roeliff Jansen Historical Society
Copake Falls, New York

Roeliff Jansen, the man for whom this area of New York State is named [the “Roe Jan” area, and after whom the Kill is named], was a sometime sailor, sometime farmer, and sometime government official.  By myth a man whose influence extended through the whole colony of New Netherlands, by legend a pioneering explorer and by local folklore the first European resident of this area.  Jansen was really none of these things.  Instead, he seems a fairly average individual whose life saw successes and failures in about equal measure and whose passage is marked by nothing so much as the plain ordinariness of it all.

My distillation:  Jansen was dispatched to New Amsterdam in 1630 by his “patroon,” Kiliaen Van Rennsalaer, to farm about 10 acres near Fort Orange (the first Dutch settlement in the New World), near Albany.  I never realized that the first Dutch settlement was in Albany, not New York City (New Amsterdam).  Anyway, in about 1632, Roeliff had been given some authority, and was named a “schepens” who served as an agent between the patroon and his tenants.  However, Roeliff caught some negative attention from his patroon (back to the article):

In April 1634, the patroon wrote Wouter Van Twiller, the director general (governor) of New Netherlands, and displayed the beginnings of disappointment:

“I see that Roeloff Janssen has grossly run up my account in drawing provisions,
yes, practically the full allowance when there was stock.  I think that his wife,
mother, and sister and others must have given things away, which can not be
allowed.”

My distillation:  So, Roeliff decided enough was enough, and he decided to take up farming on an island downstream a bit from Albany – Manhattan Island.  He moved to Manhattan, worked for someone else for a couple of years, and saved enough money to buy a 62-acre plot of farmland on Lower Manhattan.  (Imagine – working for a couple of years is enough to afford 62 acres of Manhattan real estate!)  Back to the article:

On what was decidedly mediocre farming land the new owner apparently planned to raise tobacco and perhaps some varieties of grain, but before he was able to do much beyond clearing the land, Roeliff Jansen died.  Behind him he left his widow, Anneka, still in her early thirties, her mother, four or perhaps five surviving children – and the 62 acre farm.

I skipped a bunch of less-relevant details about the Mrs. and the kids.    Back to the article:

So far this brief history has not come anywhere near the Roeliff Jansen Kill, much less the Roe Jan area.  The man never lived here, was never that important to the record of his times, so why has his name been plastered with such unconcern through the region?  For the answer we must rely on a typical mixture of myth, legend, folklore, possible invention and of known historical fact, none of which is definitive in itself but whose sum is the closest we shall ever come.

According to this story, the post of schepens required some travel, at least as far as New Amsterdam, to report on conditions upriver and to receive instructions in return.  Again according to one version of events, Jansen embarked on one such trip in late winter or early spring of one year, probably 1633.  He made his report to the authorities, received his orders and began his return voyage, probably in the company of settlers and supplies.

At that time of year travel on the Hudson was uncertain for the flimsy wooden krags and, while still fifty miles short of their goal, the ice closed in and held the little vessel fast.  As the freeze grew harder, the passengers were able to walk to the nearby shore where they encountered a small and fortunately friendly encampment of Indians as well as the mouth of a fairly prominent stream which until that time had somehow remained undiscovered and unnamed by passing traders and settlers moving upriver.

The ice held the party in its grip for a full three weeks during which time they had frequent and altogether pleasant encounters with the Indians and made some tentative explorations of the land nearby.  Finally, the boat was released and their long captivity came to an end.  Before setting off on the voyage home, however, the members wished to memorialize their adventure somehow and since the stream by which they had been stranded for lo these many weeks was still virgin territory so far as Dutch cartographers were concerned, what better monument to their passage than a name for the creek?  The name of one of their number perhaps?  The government official?  Roeliff Jansen?

So that, and until someone comes along with a better story, is how the Roeliff Jansen Kill, and by extension the Roe Jan area got its name.

Well readers, was it worth it?  Anyway, I’ll close with this shot of the upper reaches of Roeliff Kill (by mudder_bbc on Flickr):


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Roosevelt, Oklahoma

Posted by graywacke on January 20, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –  Doh!  I just missed the SB, but instead landed in . . . OK; 50/42; 5/10; 7; 152.6.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Roosevelt:


Here’s my broader landing map:


For the 2nd time, I landed in the N Fk of the Red R; on to the Red (45th hit); on to the Atchafalaya (52nd hit).

Here’s my GE shot, showing that I landed in a farm field.  I expanded the view so Roosevelt would show up:


Using GE Street View – my landing is about a half mile down this road:


So Roosevelt is not a Google-rich town.  I did find this, from RebelCherokee.labdiva.com.  I like its down-home feel:

Long before the white man came, or even before the Kiowa and Comanche settled in the area, Roosevelt was already a booming, thriving town.  Homes, families, work and play were to be found there just as much as it is today. How could that be, you’re probably wondering!  Well, Roosevelt was first a large Prairie Dog Town.

Roosevelt began life as Parkersburg, named for a Mr. Parker, who headed the Parkersburg Development Company, which had plans to develop a town somewhere in the county that would be served by a railroad.

Parkersburg proved to be an unsatisfactory name for this little town.

No clue as to why it was unsatisfactory.  It seemed to work well in West Virginia . . .anyway . . .

Charley Hunter, who was well known as an organizer of townsites and townsite companies, had been a “Rough Rider” under Theodore Roosevelt.  He was deeply impressed by the man who later became president, so he selected the name Roosevelt when a new name was needed.

About 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt made a trip to the town that was named after him. The President had heard of United States Marshall Abernathy’s skill in catching coyotes alive and wanted to see him in action.  That brought him to Oklahoma.  He also wanted to come to Roosevelt to see Charley Hunter, one of his “Rough Riders”. The President came by rail to Snyder, then rode horseback to Roosevelt.  Unlike the retinue that accompanies the president today, he traveled practically alone.

The land around Roosevelt was good rich farming soil and the town early on became a good trading center. The fall of 1901 was very dry, but rains came in March 1902, making it possible for the homesteaders to start breaking their sod. They raised more cotton in 1902 on their new plowed ground than they could pick. They were still picking in 1903.
As World War I, II, Korea and Vietnam came along, Roosevelt sent her young men and women off to fight on foreign soil. The town has stayed a small and busy trade center. As with many small towns, the young people drifted away to find jobs in other places.  Roosevelt remains———–surrounded by farmland——- and life continues.

Here’s a picture of Roosevelt City Hall.  It used to be a bank . . .


Here’s a 2002 shot of Main St.:


Here’s part of Main Street not doing so well:


Note the IOOF.  That’s the International Order of Odd Fellows.  Remember my Antimony UT post where I discussed the Odd Fellows at some length?

You’ll notice a large lake on my landing map – that’s Tom Steed Lake.  Here’s a shot taken by someone standing on the dam looking upstream:


I’ll close with this sunrise shot looking over the lake . . .


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Smithville, Mississippi

Posted by graywacke on January 18, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –   Today’s landing is in the SB (a new abbreviation meaning “Southern Block” of USers) . . . MS; 28/29 (barely . . .); 6/10; 6; 152.2.

Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Smithville and Amory (and the Alabama State line):


Here’s a broader landing view:


The large river just west of my landing is the Tombigbee R (7th hit); on to the Mobile (20th hit); on to Mobile Bay.

Here’s my GE shot, showing I landed in a mostly-wooded area.


Notice all of those ponds?  My guess is that they’re sand and gravel pits that have been abandoned and then flooded.  It’s common for sand and gravel pit operators to dig below the watertable, pumping the groundwater out as they go.  Then, when pumping gets too expensive, they turn off the pump, and voila – a pond.

I wonder what that large field is, just north of my landing?  No row crops – maybe a cow pasture?  Here’s a close-up, showing what looks like a house perched right on the edge of a pond (the white is sunlight reflected off the water).  If that’s a backyard, it’s a lot to mow!

From the local Smithville website:

Smithville was first used as a trading post as early as 1820. The land where Smithville stands today was first owned by a Chickasaw Indian by the name of Cochubby, who had received the land through the Pontotoc Treaty.  Cochubby later sold the land to a man by the name of Couch, who sold to a man by the name of Evans who sold to a man by the name of Smith (who was honored by having the town named after him).

Smithville has enjoyed the longtime services of several doctors. One of them, Dr. B.C.Tubb, practiced for 65 years before his death in 1973.

Check out Dr. Tubb’s office building:


I love it!!  Seems like his rates must have been pretty reasonable . . .

Moving down river to Amory.  They have a famous daughter, Lucille Bogan.  From Wiki:


Lucille Bogan (April 1, 1897 – August 10, 1948) was an American blues singer, among the first to be recorded. She also recorded under the pseudonym Bessie Jackson. Bogan sang straight-talking blues about drinking (“Sloppy Drunk Blues”), prostitution (“Tricks Ain’t Walking No More”), gambling, lesbianism and other facets of what her generation called ‘the life’.

Phew!  This was one spicy lady!!  Her song “Shave ‘em Dry” (recorded in the 1930s) is something else.  You’re on your own if you want to check out the song (warning:  sexually explicit language.)   Here are some printable lyrics of another song:

Drinkin’ Blues

Blues has got me drinkin`, trouble`s got me thinkin`,
and it`s goin` to carry me to my grave
And I`m goin` to keep on drinkin`, the rest of my worried days

Don`t a woman look real funny, when she wakes up cold in hand,
and the broad ain`t got a dollar to give the house-rent man

Trouble`s got me thinkin`, and I just can`t keep from drinkin`,
and I`m tryin` to drive my worried blues away
How I been worried each and every lonesome day

Now my heart is achin`, and whiskey`s all it`s takin`,
just to drive these blues away
And I stay drunk each and every worried day

On to Amory proper.  Here are a couple of back-in-the-day shots from AntBrotherArms.com.  First, an 1880s shot of the town:


And this, a shot of Amory “Trade Days” in 1935 – Amory was a happenin’ place!


You’ll notice on my landing map, that the Tombigbee R looks a little, well engineered, with some lake-like sections and some very straight sections.  It turns out that this is actually part of the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway, or the “Tenn-Tom.”  From the Tenn-Tom website:

The United States is served by an extensive inland waterway system unparalleled in the World. Completed in December 1984 after 12 years of construction at a cost of nearly $2 billion, the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway is one of the most modern components of this world class transportation network. It provides a low cost and energy efficient trade link between the Sunbelt states and 14 river systems totaling some 4500 miles of navigable waterways that serve mid-America.

Here’s a map showing the Waterway, and how it connects the two watersheds (Amory is shown on the blown-up map insert):


And this, about the “Divide Cut,” where they had to simply cut a channel through the uplands separating the Tombigbee & Tennessee watersheds.  From the same website:

Ten years of work, at a cost of nearly $500 million, were needed to excavate a canal through the divide that separates the watersheds of the Tennessee and Tombigbee Rivers. The deepest cut is 175 feet and the average depth of excavation along the entire 29-mile reach is 50 feet. While the breadth of the cut at the top of the natural terrain is nearly one-half mile wide, the canal itself is 280 feet wide and 12 feet deep. The 150-million cubic yards of earth removed (nearly one and one-half times that excavated in building the Suez Canal) were carefully deposited and landscaped in the valleys along the canal.  This successful disposal of so much excavated soil solved one of the most potentially serious environmental problems confronting the construction of the waterway.

Here’s a picture of the Divide Cut:


More local to my landing, here’s a shot of the Lock located at Smithville (the caption below):

Wilkins Lock has a lift of 25 feet and cost $34 million. It is located in northern Monroe County near Smithville, Mississippi The Lock is named after a former administrator of the Tenn – Tom Waterway Development Authority, who was instrumental in making the waterway a reality.

I find it amazing that this old-school type of project was completed in 1984!  I wonder if, with 20-20 hindsight, it was worth it?

I’ll close with this shot of the Waterway:


That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Eatonville, Washington

Posted by graywacke on January 17, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –   Here’s one of my long-time WB OSers . . . WA; 45/43 (just as WA was inching towards PS-land); 5/10; 5; 152.9.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Eatonville:


Here’s a somewhat broader view, showing Tacoma, Seattle & Puget Sound:


Here’s the broadest of the broad landing views:


Here’s my GE shot, which shows what looks like a fairly upscale housing development carved out of the woods:


The river you see on both my landing map and the GE shot is a new river, the Mashel (my 1053rd); on to another new river, the Nisqually (my 1054th); on to the Puget Sound (7th hit for the Sound).

On to Eatonville.  It’s a former mill town (more about that later).  From Wiki:

For centuries, Indian people roamed the rivers and streams of the Eatonville area. An Indian guide known as Indian Henry was one of those.  In 1889, he guided the town’s founder, Thomas C. Van Eaton, from Mashell Prairie to the present site of Eatonville. It is said that upon arrival, Henry declared, “This good place. Not much snow.”

The Wiki quote makes me cringe . . .

Here’s a picture of the big saw mill in Eatonville back in 1942:


Speaking of 1942, here’s what downtown looked like:


Moving back a few years (to 1918), here’s a picture of a Fourth of July parade in Eatonville:


From BrokenArrowDesign, here’s what may be a sawmill waste burner building in Eatonville:


Just upstream of Eatonville on the Mashel is Boxcar Canyon.  From B. Dudley’s Flickr photostream, with his caption beneath:


Boxcar Canyon A beautiful place to have a quiet picnic. Boxcar was so named by the locals, its been said that a boxcar jumped its track and went over the side and into the creek below. No remanants of the boxcar is to be found in or about the creek. The canyon walls are very high and steep. To get here requires some rearend sliding.

Here’s another shot of the Canyon:


You’ll notice on my landing map (south of my landing), is the little town of Lagrande.  Here’s a picture of the Canyada Hotel (1916) located in Lagrande.


Eatonville’s close to Mt. Rainier.  Here’s a somewhat expanded map, showing Mt. Rainier about 20 miles east of Eatonville:


Here’s a very cool oblique GE shot:


Here’s a more traditional picture of Mt. Rainier from Eatonville:


And this, from a little further north (Tacoma Harbor):


I’ll close with this shot of the headwaters of the Nisqually River, up near Mt. Rainier:

That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Nanty Glo, Pennsylvania

Posted by graywacke on January 14, 2010

First timer? In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48). I call this “landing.” I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near. I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –   This landing is within 10 miles of the site of a project I worked on back in the 1980s, in . . . PA; 26/27; 6/10; 4; 152.4.  I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m beginning to work my way back down closer to a Score of 150.  Here’s my landing map, showing that I landed between Nanty Glo (great name!) and Ebensburg:


Here’s my broader landing view:

I landed in the watershed of a new river, the Conemaugh (my 1051st river); on to another new river, the Kiskiminetas (1052nd); on to the Allegheny (6th hit); on to the Ohio (116th hit); on to the MM (725th hit).

The name “Kiskiminetas” caught my eye.  Locals call it the Kiski.  Paraphrased from Wiki:

There is no definite interpretation of the origin of the name.  According to regional historians in the area, the name has historically had several possible meanings, including: “river of the big fish,” clear, clean stream of many bends,” and “plenty of walnuts.”   One possibility is that the name comes from Gieschgumanito, signifying “make daylight” (likely a word of command, given by a warrior to his comrades at night to break up camp and resume the journey).  Another possibility – the Indians called this river Kee-ak-ksheman-nit-toos, signifying ‘cut spirit’.

As usual, I have to weigh in.  My vote is for “plenty of walnuts.”

Here’s my GE shot, showing that, as for several recent landings, I landed in the middle of the woods!


Anyway, about my comment above about a project I worked on – I was project manager for a consulting firm (SMC Martin) that had a contract for a Bureau of Mines research project.  We looked at the impact of deep coal mining on overlying groundwater supplies.  The coal mine (which I selected) was located near Ebensburg.  Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out where my old site was, although I think it was between Ebensburg & Nanty Glo, close to my landing.  I have a copy of the report, but the location was confidential, so there are no location maps.  Anyway, here’s the cover:


In particular, we looked at long-wall mining, which is where this huge coal-eating machine cuts a wide swath through a coal seam.  For our project site, the coal seam was about 5 ½ feet thick, and the swath was 585 feet wide.  The coal seam was located about 550 feet below the ground surface.  The coal is conveyed off to the sides (where passageways through the coal already existed), and then up to the surface.  Behind this huge machine, no attempt is made to prop the mine open, so it simply collapses.  In the study area, this machine kept going for 2900 feet, before they dismantled it and set it up to do the same thing elsewhere.

Here’s a page from the report showing the mine.  The “swaths” are called “panels.”


The overall mine extends for many miles in all directions.  Quite the operation, eh?

As one might expect when the mine collapses behind the machine, the land surface actually subsides; and all sorts of cracks develop in the rocks between the mine and the surface.  Here’s another page from the report, showing the subsidence.


Well, if a homeowner has a water supply well (which might typically be 100-300 feet deep), it is drawing water from those very rocks above the coal seam.  Once all of the cracks open up, water tends to drain vertically down into the mine (where, to prevent flooding of the mine, it is pumped up to some nearby river or stream).  Anyway, this can cause wells to go dry, as all of the groundwater drains away.

So, in our study, we put in a bunch of monitoring wells over the longwall mining study panel (before the mining began), where we kept track of water levels.  We also hired a surveyor to do regular surveys of the land to check on subsidence.  We did a bunch of other stuff, too detailed for me to go into now.  We ended up with a 130-page report that showed a maximum subsidence of nearly 2’ and a maximum drop in the groundwater level of over 150 feet.

Here’s a postscript to the story:  I left the company (SMC Martin) just before the report was finalized.  But I supervised (and participated in) all of the field work; I wrote essentially the whole thing; I designed all of the graphics, put together all of the tables of data, etc.  After I left the company (which I did on good terms, by the way), my stupid boss saw an opportunity to give himself some publicity.  So he listed himself as the primary author!!!!!   Here’s the abstract page of the report.  You can see the arrows I drew, switching the authors . . .


I’ll guarantee that he wouldn’t have pulled that if I had stayed with the company.  I can’t tell you how angry I was about that!   Even though it has been more than 25 years, just thinking about it makes me angry again.  The project went on for about two and a half years, and I poured myself into it.  So, Dennis Pennington, wherever you are – shame on you!

Well, after that little personal detour (although I trust you learned a little about long wall coal mining). . . from nantyglo.com:

When coal was king: State records indicate that Cambria and Somerset County mines employed 21,300 workers in 1950, compared with only 1,280 in 2000. Cambria County in 2000 produced 2.3 million tons of coal, of which all but 56,590 tons came from surface or “strip” mines. In the heyday of coal mining in the area, almost all that was produced was converted to coke to fuel steel furnaces. Now, the coal produced is used almost entirely to produce electricity.

Here’s a picture of the facilities associated with the first coal mine in Nanty Glo:


And, how did Nanty Glo gets it’s name?  It’s Welsh for Valley of Coal.  In fact, there’s a town called Nanty Glo in Wales.

Here’s a picture from Nantyglo UK, with the caption below:


The Round Towers at Roundhouse Farm in Nantyglo, Wales, were built by industrialists Crawshay and Joseph Bailey, who, by the early 19th century controlled much of the iron resources in the region, including the massive iron works at Nantyglo located about a mile south of Brynmawr. Fearing that their workers would one day rise against them, in 1816 the Baileys built the last fortified tower in Britain as a place of refuge against a potential worker’s revolt. Today these ruins stand as unique and important reminder of the region’s industrial strife.

So, Nanty Glo isn’t the only town in Wales with a namesake in PA – Bryn Mawr is a Philadelphia Main Line town, and home of Jody’s [my wife’s] alma mater, (of course), Bryn Mawr University.  Interesting that we Yanks tend to take a one word Welsh name and make it two . . .

Here’s a back-in-the day shot from Nanty Glo, from Shorpy.com (“Always Something Intersting”), with the caption below:


1937. Salvaging coal from the slag heap at Nanty Glo, Pennsylvania. Coal pickers get 10 cents for each hundred-pound sack or two dollars a ton. One man can make from 10 to 20 sacks a day. Photograph by Ben Shahn.

Here’s a shot of downtown Nanty Glo back in the heyday (1943):


I’d like to see the second car get out of that parking space.  Here’s a recent picture of a “boney pile” (a pile of mining waste), just outside Nanty Glo.


I found this picture in an Indiana University of Pennsylvania Geography Department website that featured a bicycle trip on an abandoned section of the PA Turnpike and through one of the abandoned tunnels.  From the website:

Ghost Pike Bike Hike

September 7, 2008

A Spell-binding peddle along the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s abandoned Rays-Sideling Hill Remnant

Once part of a magic motorway that was the epitome of modernity and the envy of the Free World, these abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike tunnels are now the haunt of lost souls and Satan worshipers…

…And we are going to bike through them!

You can too (if you dare).

Here’s a picture of the old Sideling Hill tunnel (which I remember going through on many occasions):


Hard to imagine, but this tunnel carried two-way turnpike traffic (as did all 7 tunnels until sometime in the 70s when two of the tunnels were abandonned and five new tunnels drilled so that all tunnels carried one-way traffic).   I remember as a kid (on vacation, coming from Illlinois and then Ohio to visit family in New Jersey and go to the Jersey shore) when we might have a big truck behind us and a big truck in front of us and then have a stream of big trucks coming the other way.  It made Ma nervous, but Dad and I loved it.

That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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Ramon, New Mexico

Posted by graywacke on January 12, 2010

First timer?  In this (hopefully) once-a-day blog, I have my computer select a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”  I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.  To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is and what the various numbers and abbreviations mean), please see “About Landing,” (and “Abbreviations” and “Cryptic Numbers”) above.

Dan –   I landed in that very large block of adjacent USers (which includes, west to east:  NM, TX, AR, MS, AL, GA & FL).  LA is currently PS, so doesn’t quite fit into the block.  Anyway, today’s USer is the western most . . . NM; 64/74; 6/10; 3; 153.1.

Here’s my landing map (today’s landing is the southern-most; the other landing was 10/27/08).


Wow, did I ever land out in the middle of nowhere.  You can tell by the scale that there isn’t much anywhere close to my landing. Ramon isn’t really a town (more about that later).

Here’s my broad landing view (with the entire stretch of USers discussed above shown):


Anyway, I landed in the watershed of the Fivemile Draw (my 30th watershed named “X-mile something-or-other”); on to the Pecos( 10th hit); on to the Rio Grande (33rd hit).

Here’s the rundown (from my landing spreadsheet) of X-milers (sorted by length; you see today’s landing is #9):

State River Watershed Name
1 WY Belle Fourche 3 Mile Ck
2 WI Buffalo 3 Mile Ck
3 IA Grand 3 Mile Ck
4 MT Tongue 4 Mile Ck
5 OK Caney 4 Mile Ck
6 NM Internal 4 Mile Well
7 ME Big Black 5 Mile Brk
8 WY Wind 5 Mile Ck
9 NM Pecos 5 Mile Draw
10 UT Green 5 Mile Wsh
11 OR Internal 6 Mile Canyon
12 KS Smoky Hill 6 Mile Ck
13 LA Calcasieu 6 Mile Ck
14 WI Eau Claire 7 Mile Ck
15 FL Steinhatchee 8 Mile Ck
16 NM Internal 8 Mile Well
17 OK Cache 9 Mile Ck
18 WV Kanawha 10 Mile Ck
19 MO James Bayou 10 Mile Pond
20 TX Red 12 Mile Bayou
21 MA Chicopee 12 Mile Brk
22 UT San Pitch 12 Mile Ck
23 NM Internal 12 Mile Well
24 MS Big Black 14 Mile Ck
25 WI Internal 14 Mile Ck
26 AR St. Francis 15 Mile Bayou
27 WA Sanpoil 17 Mile Ck
28 NY St. Law 18 Mile Ck
29 WV Gauley 20 Mile Ck
30 UT Escalante 25 Mile Wsh

Amazing that I keep track of such things, eh?

So, here’s my GE shot, which looks like an unidentifiable desert landscape:


From my landing map, you can see that I landed near Rt 285.  From a miscellaneous travel post by “Lukeache” on City-Data.com:

What are some of the most desolate stretches of highway in New Mexico?!  I don’t know if this would be the one, but I remember Highway 285, between Roswell and Vaughn! Scary!  96 miles of nothing, no gas stations, no motels, maybe a handful of homes? You drive almost 60 miles to get to a tiny village called Ramon, NM in the middle of nowhere. Then, you drive another 35 miles to get to Vaughn, NM population: 539. It would be scary to break down somewhere between Roswell and Vaughn

Here’s an expanded landing map, showing the afore-mentioned 96 miles between Roswell and Vaughn:


As noted above, I landed nearby back in October 2008.  At that time, I was emailing you (i.e., Dan) with some discussions thrown in.  My email for that landing included a photo of Rt. 285, showing its desolation.  Check this out:  I would have copied the photo from the internet to email, and then I copied the email to a Word document (as a sort of archive of my pre-blog landings). Wanting to include the photo in today’s post, I copied it from the Word document, pasted it into MS Paint, and then saved it.  Check out the artsy shot that I unintentionally ended up with (after all of that electronic copying)!


Here’s the original:


I like the artsy one better . . .

My October 2008 landing was in the Dead Mexican Draw watershed.  Here’s some verbiage from my October 2008 email to you.  I thought it was pretty funny:

FYI, I landed just north of “Dead Mexican Draw.”  One can only imagine the story behind the name.  Let’s honor the memory of the Dead Mexican with a 15-second moment of silence.

Funny aside:  The “Arroyo De La Mora” runs through Dead Mexican Draw.  I don’t speak Spanish, but thought maybe it meant the arroyo of death.  Well, I just looked up “mora” and it means blackberry.

Moving right along – I was able to find a little more about Ramon this time around.  Here’s a picture of what I believe is the only building in Ramon.  Given the dearth of gas stations, I assume that it used to be one . . .


Note that it’s labeled “Ramondar.”  I just looked up “dar” in a Spanish-English dictionary and found out that “dar” means “to give.”  I haven’t a clue if this makes any sense . . .

GE Street View has photos all up and down Rt. 285.  Here’s a view of Ramon, showing the same building (and the fact that it stands alone).

With Street View, one can look in all directions.  Trust me, there’s nothing else in Ramon . . .

That’ll do it.

KS

Greg

© 2009 A Landing A Day

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