Circle, Montana

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  After hitting 150.0, I’m 2/8, with today’s OSer . . . MT; 111/91; 4/10; 2; 151.5.  Here’s a somewhat-more-expanded-than-usual landing map, showing a cluster of landings around the peculiarly-named town of Circle.  Today’s landing is the eastern-most:

Here’s a broader view:

I landed in the Deer Ck watershed (my 10^th “Deer” watershed); on to the Yellowstone (47^th hit); to the Missouri (349^th hit); to the MM (744^th hit).

Here’s my GE shot, which shows that I landed in what appears to be an irrigated farm field.

Note the property to the SE seems to be quite the facility.  Here’s a closer view:

I’m mystified as to what this is.  It looks much more complex than a typical farm operation, and is far from any town.  Oh, well . . .

The nearest Street View shot I could find is five miles away.  Here ’tis, looking towards my landing:

You can see the shadow of the Googlemobile with what I presume is the camera sticking up out of the roof.

Moving on to Circle – it turns out that one of the clustered landings around the town of Circle occurred just before I started this blog, in November 2008.  In my email to you back then, I remarked on the cool logo shown on the town’s website:

You have to the love the slogan – “A Great Place to be Around.”

Back then, I remarked that I couldn’t find any information about the reason for the name “Circle.”  Well, that was then, and this is now.  Here’s a plaque in town:

If you read it carefully, you’ll see that one Major Seth Mabrey was a big time cattle driver/rancher, in the area, and the brand he used was a simple circle – thus the name.  Well, I Googled ol’ Seth, and out popped an amazing Old West story about Dodge City Kansas that mentions the good Major.  This book was written by an old cowpoke who was there in Texas (and in Dodge, I think) when the events discussed occurred.  Here’s the cover page of the book:

DODGE CITY,
THE COWBOY CAPITAL
and
THE GREAT SOUTHWEST
in
The Days of
The Wild Indian, the Buffalo, the Cowboy, Dance Halls, Gambling Halls, and Bad Men
BY
ROBERT M. WRIGHT
Plainsman, Explorer, Scout, Pioneer, Trader and Settler

(1913, 2nd. Edition)

I’ve lifted the story that mentions Major Mabrey.    I’ve done just a little editing here and there.  This is pretty long, but trust me, well worth the read:

Two of the greatest gamblers and faro-bank [an old west card game] fiends, as well as two of the most desperate men and sure shots, were Ben and Billy Thompson. Every year, without fail, they came to Dodge to meet the Texas drive [cowboys had an annual cattle drive from Texas up to Dodge Kansas, which had a railroad station]. Each brother had killed several men, and they were both dead shots. They terrorized Dodge City and Ellsworth county, the first year of the drive to that place, killed the sheriff of the county, a brave and fearless officer, together with several deputies, defied the sheriff’s posse, and made their “get away”.

A large reward was offered for them and they were pursued all over the country; but, having many friends among the big, rich cattlemen, they finally gave themselves up and, through the influence of these men who expended large sums of money in their defense, they were cleared. Ben told the writer that he never carried but one gun. He never missed, and always shot his victim through the head. He said, when he shot a man, he looked the crowd over carefully, and if the man had any close friends around or any dangerous witness was around, he would down him to destroy evidence. The last few years of his life, he never went to bed without a full quart bottle of three-star Hennessey brandy, and he always emptied the bottle before daylight. He could not sleep without it.

Ben was a great favorite with the stockmen. They needed him in their business for, be it said to their shame, some of them employed killers to protect their stock and ranges and other privileges, and Ben could get any reasonable sum, from one hundred to several thousand dollars, with which to deal or play bank.

Ben Thompson was the boss of gamblers and killers in Austin, and another man – Bishop, I think was his name – was the boss of gamblers and killers in San Antonio.  Great rivalry existed between these two men, and they were determined to kill each other. Word was brought to the Bishop that Ben was coming down to San Antonio to kill him, so he had fair warning and made preparations. Ben arrived in town and walked in front of Bishop’s saloon. He knew Ben was looking for the drop on him, so he stationed himself behind his screen in front of his door, with a double-barreled shotgun. Whether Ben was wise to this, I do not know, but when Ben came in, he fired through this screen, and the San, Antonio man fell dead with a bullet hole in his head, and both barrels of his gun were discharged into the floor.

Ben was now surely the boss, and numerous friends flocked to his standard, for “nothing succeeds like success”. Some say that this victory made Ben too reckless and fool-hardy, however.

Some time after this, the cattlemen gathered in Austin at a big convention – something like three thousand were there. At this convention, Ben was more dissipated and reckless than ever, and cut a big figure. There was a congressman who was Ben’s lawyer and friend (I won’t mention his name). After the convention adjourned, thirty or forty of the principal stockmen and residents of Texas remained to close up business and give a grand banquet (and let me say right here, these men were no cowards).

That night, Ben learned that they had not invited his congressman, to which slight he took exceptions. The plates were all laid, wine at each plate, and just as they were about to be seated, in marched Ben with a sixshooter in his hand. He began at one end of the long table and smashed the bottles of wine, and chinaware as he came to it, making a clean sweep of the entire length of the table.  Let me tell you, before he got half through with his smashing process, that banquet hall was deserted. Some rushed through the doors, some took their exit through the windows, and in some instances the sash of the windows went with them and they did not stop to deprive themselves of it until they were out of range.

This exploit sounded Ben’s death knell, as I remarked at the time that it would, because I knew these men.

Major Seth Mabrey [the Circle connection!] was asked the next day, what he thought of Ben’s performance. Mabrey had a little twang in his speech and talked a little through his nose. In his slow and deliberate way, he said: “By Ginneys! I always thought, until last night, that Ben Thompson was a brave man, but I have changed my mind. If he had been a brave man, he would have attacked the whole convention when we were together and three thousand strong, but instead, he let nearly all of them get out of town, and went after a little bunch of only about forty of us.”

After this, the plans were laid to get away with Ben. He was invited to visit San Antonio and have one of the good old-time jamborees, and they would make it a rich treat for him.  He accepted.  They gave a big show at the theater for his special benefit. When the “ball” was at its height, he was invited to the bar to take a drink, and, at a given signal, a dozen guns were turned loose on him. They say that some who were at the bar with him and who enticed him there were killed with him, as they had to shoot through them to reach Ben.

At any rate, Ben never knew what hit him, he was shot up so badly. They were determined to make a good job of it, for if they did not, they knew the consequences. Major Mabrey was indeed a cool, deliberate and brave man, but he admitted to outrunning the swiftest of them when the bullets started flying.

Major Mabrey would hire more than a hundred men every spring for the drive, and it is said of him that he never hired a man without first looking him over carefully.  Months after he could call him by name and tell when and where he had hired him.

The Major built the first castle or palatial residence on top of the big bluff overlooking the railroad yards and the Missouri River, in Kansas City.

A truly amazing look at the Old West.  The lawlessness can only be imagined!

I’ll close with this shot of the historic Gladstone Hotel in Circle  (photo by Arielle Lee):

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Daniel, Wyoming

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  The disappointment of landing in a long-time OS WBer . . . WY; 67/60; 4/10; 1; 151.1. . . .  was at least somewhat offset by landing near a town with a name that (I hope) is near and dear to your heart . . . “Daniel.”

Here’s my landing map, showing proximity to your namesake village (as well as Cora and Pinedale):

Here’s a broader view:

I landed in the watershed of Duck Ck (my 9^th watershed named “Duck”); on to the New Fork R (2^nd hit); on to the Green (27^th hit); on to the Colorado (152^nd hit).  As I typed this, I could hear ol’ blue eyes himself (Frank Sinatra) singing:  “It’s up to you, New Fork, New Fork . . .”

Here’s my GE shot, showing an arid landscape that looks like it’s in black-and-white:

I see on my landing map that I landed near “Cora Butte.”  Here’s an oblique GE shot, looking past the butte with Duck Creek in the background:

In focusing on Daniel, I’m giving short-shrift to Cora, even though I landed closer to her than to him.  Evidently, this is all there is to Cora (although this is quite the impressive post office):

On to Daniel.  Here’s GE shot, showing Daniel to be in a much greener area than my landing (of course, due to its proximity to the Green River . . .):

Here’s a picture of the Green (in a white coat) near Daniel:

Historically speaking, Daniel is best known as the site of the “Upper Green River Rendezvous.”  From Wiki:

Upper Green River Rendezvous Site is a site on the Green River near Daniel, Wyoming.

It was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1961. At this site, the annual spring Rocky Mountain fur trading fair was held, attracting Euro-American traders and trappers, such as Kit Carson and Jim Bridger, and Native Americans.

I’ve certainly heard of Kit Carson, but really have no clue who he is.  This is a pretty long piece (that I’ve edited/shortened from Wiki), but well worth the read:

Christopher Houston “Kit” Carson (December 24, 1809 – May 23, 1868) was an American frontiersman.  Carson left home in rural present-day Missouri at an early age and became a trapper in the West.  He gained notoriety for his role as John C. Fremont‘s guide in the American West.

During the summer of 1842, he met John C. Frémont on a Missouri River steamboat. Frémont was preparing to lead his first expedition and was looking for a guide to take him to South Pass on the Continental Divide. As the two men became acquainted, Carson offered his services, as he had spent much time in the area. The five-month journey, made with 25 men, was a success, and Fremont’s report was published by Congress. His report “touched off a wave of wagon caravans filled with hopeful emigrants” heading West.

Frémont’s success in the first expedition led to his second expedition, undertaken in the summer of 1843. He proposed to map and describe the second half of the Oregon Trail, from South Pass to the Columbia River. Due to Carson’s proven skills as a guide, Fremont invited him to join the second expedition. They traveled along the Great Salt Lake into Oregon. They determined that all the land in the Great Basin (centered on modern-day Nevada) was land-locked, which contributed greatly to the understanding of North American geography at the time. Farther west, they came within sight of Mount Rainier, Mount Saint Helens, and Mount Hood.

One goal of the expedition had been to locate the Buenaventura River, what was believed to be a major east-west river connecting the Great Lakes with the Pacific Ocean. Though its existence was accepted as scientific fact at the time, it was not to be found. Frémont’s second expedition established that the river was a fable.

The second expedition became snowbound in the Sierra Nevadas that winter. Carson’s wilderness skills averted mass starvation. Food was so scarce that their mules “ate one another’s tails and the leather of the pack saddles.”

The expedition moved south into the Mojave Desert, enduring attacks by Natives, who killed one man. When the expedition ventured into California, they crossed into Mexican territory. The threat of military intervention by that country sent Fremont’s expedition southeast, into Nevada, to a watering hole known as Las Vegas.   By August 1844 they returned to Washington, over a year after their departure. Congress published Fremont’s report on his expedition in 1845. It added to the national reputations of the two frontiersmen.

Along the route, Frémont and party came across a Mexican man and a boy who were survivors of an ambush by a band of Indians. The Indians had killed two men, staked two women to the ground and mutilated them, and stolen 30 horses. Carson and fellow mountain man Alex Godey took pity on the two survivors. They tracked the Indian band for two days, and upon locating them, rushed into their encampment. They killed two Indians, scattered the rest, and returned to the Mexicans with the horses.

“More than any other single factor or incident, the Mojave Desert incident from Frémont’s second expedition report is where the Kit Carson legend was born…..”

On June 1, 1845, John Frémont and 55 men left St. Louis, with Carson as guide, on the third expedition. Nearly a year later in Oregon, on the night of May 9, 1846, Carson was awakened by the sound of a thump.  Jumping up, he saw his friend and fellow trapper Basil Lajeunesse sprawled in blood. He sounded an alarm and immediately the camp realized they were under attack by Indians, estimated to be several dozen in number. By the time the assailants were beaten off, two other members of Frémont’s group were dead. One attacker was dead; he was judged to be a Klamath Lake Native.  Frémont’s group fell into “an angry gloom.”  Carson was furious and smashed the dead warrior’s face into a pulp.

To avenge the deaths, Frémont attacked a Klamath Tribe fishing village named Dokdokwas, at the junction of the Williamson River and Klamath Lake, on May 10, 1846. Accounts by scholars vary, but they agree that the attack completely destroyed the village; it was reported that the expedition killed women and children as well as warriors.

“The tragedy of Dokdokwas is deepened by the fact that most scholars now agree that Frémont and Carson, in their blind vindictiveness, probably chose the wrong tribe to lash out against: In all likelihood the band of native Americans that had killed [Frémont’s three men] were from the neighboring Modocs….The Klamaths were culturally related to the Modocs, but the two tribes were bitter enemies.”

It’s hard to imagine the mild-looking fellow pictured above living through all of this drama.  Also – every time I run across stories of Native Americans (which occurs fairly regularly here at ALAD), I’m struck by the mind-numbing tragedy of it all.

I’ll close with some pictures that I’ve lifted out of the Sublette County website.  Here’s the Green River Bar in Daniel:

And this, today’s entry into the “seen-better-days” category:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Tannersville, Virginia

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  Phew again.  From one solid USer (IN) to another . . . VA; 15/26; 5/10; 1; 150.6.  Here’s my landing map, showing that I landed near the “town” of Tannersville:

Here’s a broader view:

I landed in the watershed of a new river, the N Fk of the Holston, on to the Holston (2nd hit); on to the Tennessee (35th hit); on to the Ohio (120th hit); on to the MM (743rd hit).

Here’s my GE view, showing that I landed next to a road, at the edge of a farm field:

Here’s a Street View shot (looking northeast) right next to my landing.   You can’t see my landing spot from the road, because the field off to the left is elevated.  Anyway, my landing’s just 75 feet away (to the left):

Here’s a broader GE view, showing that I landed in the lovely ridge-and-valley region of western VA:

Here’s a GE Panaramio shot of Clinch Mountain, which is the ridge to the northwest of my landing (the photo was taken from a spot just west of my landing):

As one might expect, there is very little internet information about Tannersville.  However, there’s an active Major League baseball player from Tannersville and as a Phillies’ fan, it turns out that this is someone with whom I have some familiarity – one Billy Wagner.

From Wiki:

William “The Rat” Edward “Billy” Wagner (born July 25, 1971, in Tannersville, Virginia) is a pitcher for the Atlanta Braves.  Previously, Wagner pitched for the Houston Astros (1995–2003), Philadelphia Phillies (2004–2005), New York Mets (2006–2009) and Boston Red Sox (2009). During his career, Wagner has established himself as one of the best closers in baseball, and he is perhaps best known for his ability to throw a 100 mph fastball despite having a relatively slight frame for a pitcher.

As a youth, Wagner was a natural right-handed pitcher, but after breaking his throwing arm twice, he taught himself how to use his left arm by throwing nothing but fastballs against a barn wall.  He graduated from Tazewell High School, where he was named the 1990 Baseball Player of the Year.

My most vivid memories of Billy Wagner are not his time with the Phillies, but rather his time with the Mets.  From Wiki (about the 2007 season, the most memorable as far as I’m concerned):

Wagner had a good first half in 2007.  He converted 17 of 18 save opportunities with a 1.94 ERA.  July was his best month, as he recorded 8 saves in 8 chances and did not allow a run. During this month he produced an ERA of 0.00, giving up 2 hits, and pitched enough innings for a complete game shutout.  His first half performance earned him a spot on the All-Star team.

His second half was not as successful. Overall, he converted 13 of 17 save opportunities and had a 3.90 ERA [which doesn’t sound too bad.  Most importantly for a Phillies’ fan,] his performance declined during the last two months of the season.  On August 30, Wagner blew a pivotal save in the fourth game of a four game series between the Phillies and Mets, resulting in a critical four-game sweep by the Phillies.

This sweep gave the Phillies’ fans a glimmer of hope, although the Mets were still ensconced in first place.  Check out the standings on August 30th after the Phillies series.  This sweep was critical.  Note that just 5 games earlier, the Phillies were 7 games back.

Back to Wiki:

The sweep proved to be the difference, as the Phillies finished one game ahead of the Mets on the final day of the season.

I was at the ballpark for the second to last game of the season, when the Phillies won and moved into first place (the Mets lost their game that night).  I was also there for the last game of the season when the Phils won (and the Mets lost again), the Phils thereby clinching the Division.  OK, so we had to wait a year for the Phils to be champions, but September 2007 was incredibly exciting.

To be fair, let me say that Billy Wagner is having great success with the Braves this year.  He’s 3-0 with 4 saves, 22 Ks and only 5 walks.  Peculiarly, he has already announced his intention to retire at the end of the season.

So, back to Tannersville.  Poor ol’ Billy had a 20 mile commute each way to high school in Tazewell.  Here’s a landing map, shifted so you can see the route between Tannersville and Tazewell.

Billy’s route:  up the valley on Route 601; across two mountain ridges on Route 16, and then head over to Tazewell on Route 91.

Here’s a picture taken on Route 16, looking northwest towards Possum Hollow.  This is the view that Billy had day after day, looking out his school bus window. ( His bus had to cross the ridge in the distance also.)

I’ll close with this lovely shot of a sunset over Clinch Mountain:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Charlottesville, Indiana

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  Phew.  After an 0/4 run, I’ve landed in a US state I haven’t seen for almost a year. . . IN; 16/22; 4/10; 3; 151.2.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Charlottesville and Knightstown:

Here’s a broader view:

I landed in the Sixmile Ck watershed (my 34^th “x-mile” watershed, my 3^rd “Sixmile Creek”); on to a new river, the Big Blue (there’s another Big Blue R in Kansas, which is a much bigger Big Blue – I’ve landed there 11 times already); on to another new river, the Driftwood; on to the E Fk of the White R (4^th hit); to the White (8^th hit); to the Wabash (21^st hit); to the Ohio (119^th hit); to, of course, the MM (742^nd hit).

Here’s my GE shot, showing I landed right on the fence line between two farm fields:

I couldn’t find a closer Street View shot, but here’s a shot looking towards my landing, which is a little over three quarters of a mile away:

So, I landed near Charlottesville.  But before I address Charlottesville, let me mention the larger town to the east, Knightstown.  For all of you “Hoosier” fans (I’m speaking of the classic basketball  movie), the old gym where the movie was shot is in Knightstown. From the Hoosier Gym website, here’s some history:

In 1920, the Knightstown Community School had no gymnasium. Basketball games were held in Bell’s Hall above Jolly’s Drugstore and in the basement gym of the Presbyterian Church.  It was clear: the school needed a gymnasium of its own.

In February of 1921, a half dozen Knightstown businessmen met to discuss the situation. They were aware of the fact that Knightstown was lagging behind other towns in the development of a children’s athletic education and believed that area young people were entitled to physical education.

After much debate, a plan was developed and approved. A new gym would be built. Within weeks, their campaign raised more than $14,400 with donations from more than 250 private citizens and several local businesses.

Finally, on December 1, 1922, construction of the gym was completed. They had done it. At 105 feet long and 80 feet wide, the new gym was big enough to not only accommodate basketball games and spectators (with bleacher seating around the sides and end of the playing floor), but also many civic and community oriented events.

Here’s a shot of the inside of the gym:

On to Charlottesville:  A quick Google perusal shows that precious little information about Charlottesville is out there.  I did find that there’s a miniature horse and donkey farm, called Miss Kitty’s Minis.  Here are a couple of pictures from their website, http://www.MissKittysMinis.com:

From their website, here’s some interesting history about miniature horses:

The Miniature Horse has a unique and fascinating history. Ancestors of the true miniature horse of today were first bred in the royal courts of Europe during the 16th century.  As the great kingdoms of Europe began to decline, the miniature horses found their way into European traveling circuses. The breed almost became extinct. Fortunately, a few of the finest miniatures managed to survive and were scattered throughout the world.

In the 18th century, Miniature horses in the English midlands and in Northern Europe pulled ore cars in shallow-seamed coal mines. These coal veins were very narrow and only about four feet high, so miniature horses were used. These miniature horses were of the draft type and extremely powerful for their height.

The first herds of miniature horses brought to the United States in the early 1930″s were from Europe. Electric motors were not yet available, so they were also used to haul coal cars up from the depths of mines in Indiana, Ohio and West Virginia. Miniature horses were still working in some mines here in the United States as late as 1950.

Then I found some Flickr photos from “OldOhioSchools,” who evidently occasionally wanders over state lines.  Here are a couple of pictures of the erstwhile Charlottesville High School:

Just to make sure that the kids knew they were going to high school . . .

OldOhioSchools also took some shots of old motel signs along US Rt 40 in Indiana.   Back before interstate highways, there were thousands of mom-and-pop motels on major roads like Rt 40.  Here’s the sign for the erstwhile Gem Motel:

And this, from the R & R Motel:

I used to live near Route 40 (in Zanesville OH) and have memories of trips to New Jersey when we had to go from Zanesville to the PA Turnpike on Route 40 (I-70 wasn’t built yet).  We’d travel on Route 40 from Zanesville to Cambridge OH to Wheeling WV to Washington PA.  I remember following slow trucks on the two-lane road, waiting for that rare opportunity to pass. . .

Speaking of Route 40, it for the most part follows the old National Road (which, in fact, went through Charlottesville).  From Wiki:

The National Road or Cumberland Road was one of the first major improved highways in the United States to be built by the federal government.  Construction began in 1811 at Cumberland, Maryland, on the Potomac River.  It crossed the Allegheny Mountains and southwestern Pennsylvania, reaching Wheeling, Virginia (now West Virginia) on the Ohio River in 1818.  Plans were made to continue through St. Louis, Missouri, on the Mississippi River to Jefferson City, Missouri, but funding ran out and construction stopped at Vandalia, Illinois in 1839.

The approximately 620-mile (1000 km) road provided a connection between the Potomac and Ohio Rivers and a gateway to the West for thousands of settlers.  It was the first road in the U.S. to use the new macadam road surfacing.  Today the alignment is mostly followed by U.S. Highway 40 (and now, more generally, by I-70).

I’ll close with this old National Road mileage marker, located 11 miles west of Columbus OH:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Maupin, Oregon

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  Sigh.  I’m settling in to a slump (0/4) with this landing in . . . OR; 70/61; 4/10; 2; 151.8.  Enough of the Northwest already – my last three landings are OR, WA, OR.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Maupin:

Here’s a broader view:

My GE shot shows I landed in a steep-walled stream valley (Finnegan Canyon by name):

Here’s an oblique GE shot to give you a better idea of the topography:

For the seventh time, I landed in the Deschutes R watershed; on to the Columbia (135^th hit).  The Deschutes flows right around Maupin; here’s a picture of Maupin (to the right) and the river:

From Wiki, about Howard Maupin:

Howard Maupin (1815–1878) was an American settler who established a farm and ferry in Oregon at the present-day location of Maupin, Oregon.  He became famous for shooting the notorious Paiute war leader Chief Paulina on April 25, 1867 near the modern town of Madras, Oregon.

Chief Paulina (peculiar name, eh? I don’t think there was anything particularly feminine about him!) seems worthy of a little more research.

From Wiki:

Chief Paulina was a Northern Paiute war leader.  During the late 1850s and 1860s, Northern Paiute bands attacked both settler communities and Native American reservations in central and eastern Oregon. Chief Paulina became the most notorious war leader in those raids. He was known for the swiftness of his attacks and his ability to evade capture by both volunteer regiments and U.S. Army detachments.

He led a small band (including his brother Wahveveh) that stole livestock and horses, causing fear within nearby communities.  There has been some speculation that Paulina’s hatred for Caucasian settlers (and Indians living on reservations) occurred in April 1859 when Dr. Thomas Fitch led Native Americans from the Warm Springs Indian Reservation to attack a band of Paiutes.  The party killed ten Paiute warriors, capturing the women and children and the rest of the band.  Among those captured were Paulina and Wahveveh, both of whom were later sent to Fort Dalles only to be imprisoned for a short time.

While predatory bands such as Paulina’s certainly profited from their attacks, they ultimately contributed to the climate of hostility that increased the level of violence and the death toll in the region.  All the resident groups—settlers, native communities at Warm Springs and Umatilla, and the Northern Paiute—engaged in retaliatory actions that resulted in the deaths of dozens of people, including women and children.

Paulina and the other Paiute leaders agreed to sign a treaty in early 1865 after U.S. Army forces had captured a group of Paiute hostages late in the year before, including Paulina’s wife and son.  Despite the treaty agreement, Paulina and his group went on with their normal ways.

On September 15, 1866, Paulina and his band of fourteen Paiutes attacked the ranch of James N. Clark near the junction of Bridge Creek and the John Day River.  The raiders burned the house, stables and barn and stole two horses and a cow.  Fortunately, Clark’s wife was visiting her parents in the Willamette Valley at the time, but an unarmed Clark and his 18-year-old brother-in-law were collecting driftwood on the John Day when they saw the Paiutes. Paulina and his band spotted them and gave chase, but Clark managed to escape.  His brother-in-law hid in the river with only his nose out of the water for several hours undetected, although nearing hypothermia.

James Clark was able to gather a posse to try to salvage some of his stolen property. Seven months later, on April 25, 1867, Paulina was killed while eating a roasted ox during a retaliatory attack led by settlers Clark and Howard Maupin.

Quite the story – especially the part about the brother-in-law hiding in the river . . .

I’ll close with a couple of pretty pictures – first this, of a farm outside of Maupin with Mt. Hood in the background:

And this, of a sunset over the Deschutes at Maupin:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Hobart, Washington

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 jinxed.  I have no doubt about it.  My supposedly inexorable march to the 140s has once again been derailed.  And once again, the LG is messin’ wi’ me.  After sitting on the veritable brink (at 150.0), today’s landing marks my third straight OSer . . . WA; 46/44; 4/10; 1; 151.3.  I must stand up straight, throw my shoulders back, lift my head and move on . . .

Here’s my landing map, showing that I landed in an urban area:

I’ll step out a little more to show that I landed in the eastern ‘burbs of Seattle/Tacoma:

Here’s the broadest view:

I landed in the watershed of a new river, the Sammamish, which flows to Lake Washington (on the shores of which, I believe, Bill Gates lives).  Lake Washington is connected to the Puget Sound by the Lake Washington Ship Canal. This causes some consternation for me, because I like to define my watersheds as Mother Earth intended (before hydraulic engineers got into the act).  Here’s a map, showing Lake Washington and surrounding waterways as they are today.  Note the Sammamish coming in from the north:

Here’s a 1902 map, showing Mother Earth’s original configuration:

Here, it’s clear that Lake Washington discharged to the south into the Black R, on to the Duwamish R.  It looks like the Black River no longer exists!!  Note that the Cedar R used to flow to the Black, heading south.  Now, it flows into Lake Washington and makes it way to Puget Sound via the Ship Canal.  So anyway, I’ll add the ghostly Black R to my list of rivers (obviously, my first hit) as well as the Duwamish (also my first hit).

Moving right along – here’s a very-close-in GE shot, showing that I landed in the back yard of a house nestled all by itself near the acute angle formed by two roads (see landing map, also):

Here’s a Street View, showing the house:

Here’s a broader GE view, showing the low-density suburban area:

Because Mt. Rainier isn’t too far away, I had to do this oblique GE shot, with the majestic peak in the background:

So, I landed closest to Hobart (which garnered top billing).  I couldn’t find much about Hobart, although there is this post by Stan Orchard on Flickr.  First, Stan’s picture of Mt. Rainier, and then his write-up below:

Hobart = Heaven

For anyone who’s never been to Hobart in Washington State, this is the perfect place to view it.  A once thriving logging community is now a simple hamlet with mountains in the background and small farms, livestock, wildlife and families below.  The community you see between Mount Rainier and where I shot this is Hobart.  This trail takes you above it with panoramic views in all directions.  I could even see the highest skyscraper in downtown Seattle from here. It was behind me.

On this day it was quite breezy, but so incredibly warm. After recent record setting snow and torrential rain and flooding, it was like a dream come true in the middle of winter.

Hobart’s larger neighbor is Maple Valley.  From Wiki:

The area was first settled in 1879 by 3 men who were improving a trail and brought their families in. When a name for a future community was proposed, the names Vine Maple Valley and Maple Ridge were suggested. A vote was taken by writing the names on slips of paper and placing them in a hat. Vine Maple Valley won by 2/3, but the word “Vine” was later cut by the post office because it made the name too long.

The town’s early history mainly had to do with coal, lumber milling to build homes, and a railroad which ran through town. Coal was brought in from Black Diamond to the south, but the town itself also mined coal from Cedar Mountain. The mine was used as late as 1947.  More residents meant more lumber milling. More lumber milling meant more workers.

Note that you can see Black Diamond on the GE / Mt. Rainier shot above.  But anyway – coal, eh?  It turns out that coal mines underlie about 50,000 acres in central and western WA, including near my landing.  Some coal mines operated through the 1950s.  I never had a clue that coal was mined in WA.  Here’s a picture of a coal mine located just 7 or 8 miles SSE of my landing, not far from Black Diamond:

I’ll close with this shot of Mt. Rainier from a lake in Maple Valley:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Paisley, Oregon

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  A USer would have put me just across the line into the 140s.  But a USer is just wistful thinking, considering that I landed in a long-time solid OSer . . . OR; 69/61; 5/10; 4; 150.9.  Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to Paisley:

Here’s my GE map, showing that I landed in one of those huge circular irrigation fields:

Here’s a Street View shot of a nearby field; this shows an circular irrigated field on the left and the non-irrigated desert on the right:

Here’s an oblique GE shot, looking east towards Abert Lake (which is visible at the right hand side of the photo).  You can also see Abert Lake at the eastern edge of my landing map.

Speaking of Abert Lake, the Chewaucan R flows into it; and speaking of the Chewaucan, that’s the watershed in which I landed (for the first time).  Abert Lake goes nowhere, so the Chewaucan is internally-drained.

Here’s a shot of the “Abert Rim” the southern edge of the plateau that surrounds the lake:

From the town’s website, here’s a little about the town’s founding:

Not all the settlers crossing the continent on the Oregon Trail were bound for the fertile valleys of the Willamette River.  Many came west looking for the open country found around Paisley.  By 1870, the town was growing and by 1873, a Post Office was established.  An early Scot settler has been credited with naming the town of Paisley after the city in Scotland.

Always on the lookout for interesting geological features, I discovered Fort Rock, located about 50 miles away.  “Fifty miles!” you might say in disbelief, “You never stray that far from your landing!”  Guilty as charged.  But I downloaded some cool information and pictures before I realized how far away it was.  So anyway, this about Fort Rock from Wiki:

Fort Rock is a volcanic landmark called a tuff ring, located on an Ice age lake bed in north Lake County, Oregon, United States.  The ring is nearly a mile in diameter and stands about 200 feet high above the surrounding plain.  Its tall, straight sides resemble the palisades of a fort, thus giving the rock its name. The region of Fort Rock Basin contains about 40 such tuff rings.

Fort Rock was created when basalt magma rose to the surface and encountered the wet muds of a lake bottom. Powered by a jet of steam, molten basalt was blown into the air, creating a fountain of hot lava particles and frothy ash. The pieces and blobs of hot lava and ash rained down around the vent and formed a saucer-shaped ring of volcanic ash sitting like an island in the lake waters. Waves from the lake waters eroded the outside of the ring, cutting the steep cliffs into terraces 66 feet above the floor of Fort Rock Valley.

The wave-cut terraces on the south side of the ring mark former lake levels of this now-dry lakebed. Southerly winds, which are still predominant in this region, apparently drove waves against the south side of the ring, eroding the soft ash layers, breaching it, and creating a large opening on the south side.

Recent estimates put the age of the formation Fort Rock at 50,000 to 100,000 years. This coincides with a period of time when large lakes filled the valleys of central Oregon and much of the Great Basin of the western United States. At its maximum, the water in Fort Rock Lake was estimated to cover nearly 900 square miles and was about 150 feet deep where the Fort Rock tuff ring formed.

An extensive terrace on the side of Fort Rock marks one lakeshore about 14,000 years ago. Even higher water levels are recorded on the tuff cliffs and at one point only the tops of the tuff ring were exposed as rocky islands in this inland sea. An age of about 21,000 years ago has been found for this highest lake level.

Very cool, how the geology is right in your face.  You can see the eroded south side; you can see the terraces, you know when and how everything happened.

I’ll close with several pictures of Fort Rock.  This, from the north:

And this, from the south showing the eroded side:

I’ll close with this lovely Fort Fork / rainbow shot by ebutler:

I’d go to Fort Rock in a heartbeat!

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

New England and Regent, North Dakota

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  Oh my.  Poised on the brink of the 140s; praying to the LG for a USer to break through; I hit the button to generate the random lat/longs – and I knew instantly I was doomed to an OSer.  After all of this time, I’m pretty good at guessing where I’ve landed when I see the lat/long.  So, seeing something like 46N 102W, I knew I was in the Dakotas, or maybe MT; all solid OSers.  The state? . . . ND; 54/43; 5/10; 3; 150.4.

Here’s my landing map, showing my proximity to New England and Regent (I’m ignoring Havelock because it’s just too tiny):

Here’s a broader view (see why my guess was either the Dakotas or MT?):

For the sixth time, I landed in the Cannonball R watershed, on to the Missouri (348^th hit); on to the MM (741^st hit).

Here’s my GE shot, showing that I landed in a farm field.  What I can’t figure out are the green rectangles.  They’re pretty big (the two north of my landing are about 1,000 feet long).  I assume they’re farm fields of some sort, but I don’t understand their orientation, size and isolation. Very peculiar . . .

Anyway, I couldn’t find much on New England, the larger of the two towns (pop about 600).  But here’s what Wiki has to say about Regent:

The population of Regent was 211 at the 2000 census.  Regent was founded in 1910. Regent’s Centennial celebration is planned for July 2010.

Regent is home to the “Enchanted Highway,” a series of metal sculptures by artist Gary Greff. Greff and the town of Regent were featured on the “NBC Nightly News” on August 26, 2007.

The 1991-92 Regent Ranger Basketball team played Hettinger North Dakota in District playoff action. The score of the game ended up being Hettinger 4 Regent 2. This game made national news and the score of the game appeared on ESPN Sportscenter.

After a little (very little) research, I couldn’t find anything on the low-scoring basketball game.  Boys?  Girls?  High School?  Anyway, the Enchanted Highway also caught my eye.   From Wiki:

The Enchanted Highway is a collection of the world’s largest scrap metal sculptures constructed at intervals along a 32 mile stretch of highway in the southwestern part of the U.S. state of North Dakota. Artist Gary Greff conceived of, built it beginning in 1989, plans more sculptures, and maintains the project. The Enchanted Highway extends north from Regent, North Dakota to the Gladstone Interstate 94 exit east of Dickinson. Each sculpture has a developed pull out and several have picnic shelters.

The Enchanted Highway the N-S road north of Regent (labeled CR 4531 on my landing map).

Here’s a picture of my favorite sculpture, “Geese in Flight.”

For pictures of the other sculptures (and more information about the artist), go to the EnchantedHighway.net.

Here are a couple of pictures from near Regent, by Sacoo:

And this classy shot, also near Regent, by Drake Hokanson:

And this wonderful shot by Roma44  (also near Regent):

Enough of Regent; I’ll move on to New England.  Here’s a picture of quite the faded sign (it says “Food, Family, Fun”), welcoming you to New England:

Not far from New England are the Rainy Buttes.  Here are a couple of pictures from an a ND Geological Survey article “Caves in North Dakota” by Ed Murphy.  (The caves up on the Rainy Buttes are fractures/erosional features in sandstone.)  Here’s a shot looking out the mouth of Bear Cave:

And here’s a shot from the top of East Rainy, near Bear Cave:

I’ll close with this nice sunset shot of West Rainy Butte:

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Lycan, Colorado

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 was mumbling in disappointment (although somewhat amused by keeping up the every-other-landing OSer/USer pattern) when I assumed that I had landed in an OSer.  But this state, after spending years as an OSer, has inched its way into US-land; and landing there has put me oh-so-close to getting past 150.

The state? . . . CO; 63/64; 6/10; 2; 150.0.  See the red and bold?  That’s right, it’s a new record low Score.  Way back on September 19^th, my Score was 150.3.  Today, 89 landings later, I finally broke through.  We’ll find out soon if the LG sees fit for me to taste the 140s . . .

So, I landed in the crowded SE corner of CO.  Here’s my landing map showing my proximity to the KS state line and the towns of Lycan and Two Buttes:

Here’s a slightly-expanded landing map to show you how crowded the SE corner of CO is.  Today’s landing is the eastern-most:

For the second time, I landed in the N Fk of the Cimarron R; on to the Cimarron (12th hit); on to the Arkansas (102nd hit); on to the MM (740th hit).

Here’s my GE shot, showing (surprise), an agricultural area.  For scale, the square fields are a half-mile on a side.  You can see the state line just to the east of my landing (the N-S line on the east side of the brown field):

There were no Street View shots close to my landing, I had to settle on this view about four miles away from my landing (looking east toward my landing):

Looking back at my landing map, you see I landed closest to Lycan.  Well, Lycan is practically non-existant at this point in time.  Here’s an exciting GE shot of Lycan:

Basically, all I could find was from RockyMountainProfiles.com.  The website has a section about Colorado Ghost Towns, which contains a piece about Lycan.  I lifted some text and pictures:

Lycan ( Buckeye) Colorado Townsite – Ghost town

Little is know of this town. Only a couple buildings remain along with the usual assortment of machinery.  Apparently the town got the name from the town’s first school teacher and postmistress.  Post Office long gone.   This town is actually  “New Lycan,” as the original town of Lycan was located about seven miles north west of this location.

Here is a picture of the old school house at old Lycan THANKS to http://coloradopast.com:

A viewer writes November 24th 2009 –  I have enclosed a picture of the site of mom’s last place in far western Kansas, west of Manter, about a 1/2 mile from the Colorado line.  That place is still called “The Carter Section” (acc. to the man who still farms it) named after my grandpa and grandma (Ike and Lilly Carter), mom’s parents.   Here’s Mom’s homestead:

Also two stories below.

“Ice Cream Social.”  As told by Maxine Carter Montgomery, to her son Michael Carter McKenzie.

In the early 1930s, to celebrate the end of wheat harvest, my dad (Ike Carter) would drive his Model T up the road a couple miles west to Buckeye, Colorado (this place is now called Lycan) to get huge blocks of ice to make ice cream.  This ice cream social was a big deal, with neighbors and farmhands all invited, with women bringing in their own pies and cakes; and my mother (Lillie Carter) would make her famous angel food cake.  Occasionally she would make the cake a bit fancier, with streaks of chocolate or other food coloring, but folks loved the social atmosphere.

He would bring the ice home wrapped in blankets and tarps and quickly take it down to our cellar, to try and keep it as cool as possible for as long as possible.  Then, using a chisel and a sledge, he would break off large chunks, then wrap those chunks in burlap and break them up still further to fit around the freezer of the ice cream container–then folks would take turns cranking until the ice cream was ready.  What a treat!

“Herding Cattle,” as told by Maxine Carter Montgomery to her son, Michael Carter McKenzie.

In the 1930s we would frequently run some cattle in the eastern foothills of the Rocky Mountains, to take advantage of better summer pasture.  This was south and west of Buckeye.  When the season was over, the cattle would be brought down into small canyons or draws in eastern Colorado, to await the Kansas Brand Inspector.  My job was to ride herd on them, to make sure none got away.

I was pretty good on a horse, and dad would tell me to watch out for snakes, as they might cause the horse to buck and throw me, but I always stayed on!  I liked doing that, and felt as though I was being “responsible” in a grown-up way.

I landed fairly close to Two Buttes.  I’ll close with this picture of the two buttes:

This picture is from Penn State’s 1979 Geology Field camp (when shorter shorts for guys were the norm).  Geology field camp is typically a brutal five or six week stint out west when geology students learn about describing rock outcrop, deciphering complex geological structures and preparing geological maps and cross sections.  I did my field camp in the Black Hills while I was a grad student at Kent State, and brutal it was.  Up at dawn, hiking all over creation trying to figure out the geology; back to camp to spend most of the night trying to prepare maps and reports.  I could go on with numerous field camp stories, but I’ll spare you.

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day

Grasmere, Idaho

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (now pretty much an every-other-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 –  My pattern continues, 10 in a row alternating between OSers and USers.  Last time, an OSer, this time a USer . . . ID; 46/51; 5/10; 1; 150.6.  And give me a break.  I once again landed very close to a previous ALAD landing.  Back in January of 2009, I landed near Riddle, and as this landing map shows, I did it again.  Today’s landing is north of Riddle:

Because I highlighted Riddle once already, I figured that Grasmere (although a little further away) would be featured.

Here’s a broader view:

Here’s my GE shot – an oblique shot looking south towards the UT border:

Here’s a Street View shot, with my landing about a mile and half in the distance:

Before I get to Grasmere, I thought I’d share this Riddle picture, posted by Artemis Fartemis (note “Riddle” on the roof, so any airplanes in the vicinity can figure out where they are, I guess).

OK, so maybe the guy’s “name” is what caught my attention more than my interest in the photo.  But good ol’ Arty Farty also posted this shot of Grasmere:

Across the street from the above truck is downtown Grasmere, which I captured with this Street View shot:

From Ghosttowns.com, about Grasmere:

Grasmere used to be the only gas station and cafe on the road between Bruneau and Owyhee, NV. A couple of years ago, however, the owners, deciding it was unprofitable to maintain their desert oasis, decided to place the town up for sale. As of Feb. 2005 it remains closed and is rapidly disintegrating into the desert. It remains for sale, but with no buyers in sight, I imagine it will soon be completely gone. Submitted by: Tina DuBois

I stumbled on something quite interesting about Grasmere.  Author Jacquie Rogers picked a fictional Grasmere as the setting for her novel “Down Home Ever Lovin’ Mule Blues.”  Check out this Amazon.com review:

What a hoot!
Jacquie Rogers has an original and delightful imagination. This romance is completely different from anything you’ve ever read before. You’ll find yourself laughing out loud at the match- making animals. Rogers has created interesting characters and a hero and heroine you’ll adore. Brody made my heart race, but I have always been partial to cowboys. When you want to curl up with a good read, pick this book. From the first page you’ll be hooked, and there is no way you’ll be able to put it down.

There are five other reviews, all positive.  Here’s what Ms. Rogers herself has to say about selecting Grasmere as the setting for her book:

Where the heck is Grasmere Idaho?

It’s in Owyhee County, located in the southwest corner of Idaho.  This is one of the largest counties in the lower 48 states, and has about the same area in square miles as New Jersey.  Population is a about 1 person per square mile (twice as many people as when I lived there), although far less dense than that around Grasmere. (New Jersey’s population density is about 1,170 people per square mile.)

My editor was a bit stunned when I told her that there are twice as many characters in Down Home Ever Lovin’ Mule Blues as there is actual population in Grasmere, Idaho, where the story is set. Last I knew, Grasmere had phone service but not electricity, and outlying ranches have neither.  All appliances and electrical devices are run with generators or propane.

And exactly why did I set Down Home Ever Lovin’ Mule Blues in Grasmere?   Because I wanted to make communication a little more difficult, the lifestyle more contrasting to the urban life, and my heroine just a little bit ashamed of her roots.

Actually, Jacquie has more to say – click here for her blog, which includes a YouTube video of a song written about her novel.  Maybe I should add her book to my reading list . . .

Even though Grasmere doesn’t have much else; remarkably, it has an airport.  What with all of the air traffic, no wonder that garage in Riddle put “Riddle” on the roof!  Anyway, here’s a plane’s-eye view of the airport (photo from an Idaho state aviation website):

In closing, I stumbled on a motorcycle blog:  Adventure Rider – Ride the World.  It has a posting entitled “The Small Stuff, Idaho Style:”  I’ve copied some of the posting; for the entire post, click here. I’ll pick up on the action when the riders get to Grasmere (picture captions are from the blog):

What a step back in time this place [Grasmere] is. I rode for another ½ mile then turned onto a road that leads to Jarbige.

Traveling along this area is about as good as it gets, along some beautiful desert roads. It was decided that a detour to the Cat Creek area was necessary.

This is a scenic overlook of the area. Sam had done some research about the canyon and there was supposed to be an old homestead at the bottom, off everyone went looking for the trail. It was soon found.

Our youngest and most fearless member tore off down the steep road as the rest of us sized up the task. One by one the riders skidded down the trail arriving at bottom.

At the bottom laid the old homestead and a nice meadow by the river. I took a quick power nap realizing the ride out would be a bit dicey. The way out was a quite a bit more challenging; riding over hard rock covered with various sizes of gravel ranging from marble sized to softball size can be tricky.

That’ll do it. . .

KS

Greg

© 2010 A Landing A Day