LaGrange and Hawk Springs, Wyoming

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2236; A Landing A Day blog post number 664.

Dan:  Yet another new state since I revised my random lat/long landing procedure . . . WY.  My Score has dropped from 1203 to 1139.  Here’s my regional landing map:

And my local landing map:

Here’s a local streams-only map, showing that I landed very close to Bear Ck, which flows into Horse Ck, and on to the North Platte River (31^st hit). 

 

Zooming back:

The North Platte makes its way to the Platte (68^th hit); to the Missouri (403^rd hit); and, of course (although not shown) on to the MM (874 hits).

Time for my Google Earth (GE) spaceflight in to SE WY.  Click HERE, enjoy the trip, and then hit the back button.

It turns out I have excellent GE Street View coverage.  I expanded the map a little so you could get a good look at the bluffs east and north of my landing (more about them later):

Zooming in, note the tree:

And here’s what the orange guy sees (with my landing spot very precisely located):

I also checked out Bear Ck on Street View, and was able to get this lovely shot of my watershed creek about a mile upstream of my landing:

As mentioned earlier, Bear Ck flows to Horse Ck.  Here’s a GE Panoramio shot by GilmoreGirlz of Horse Creek down near LaGrange:

Speaking of LaGrange, it’s time for me to head east to check out this teeny town (pop 450).  Here’s a cool poem written by Betty Jo Mathis and posted prominently on the home page of the town’s website:

LaGrange is a village on the Wyoming plains
(A state that’s free with its wind but not with its rains.)

We’re surrounded by ranches where cowboys you’ll meet,
And farms with vast acreages and great strips of wheat.

To the west – Bear Mountain, to the North, ‘Sixty-Six’
And folks in our town are an interesting mix.

We have contractors, plumbers, guys who dig trenches,
Realtors and teachers and mechanics with wrenches.

There are guys who climb windmills and preachers – a score!
(There Is a Bible school here with students galore.)

A maintenance man sees that our town’s trim and neat,
And the clerk’s at the hall where the town fathers meet.

There’s an athletic field and a rodeo ground
And our Mini Fair is known for miles all around.

Churches, library and a post office, of course,
A nice senior center and a bar – the “Dead Horse”.

There’s a grocery store here with caf in the back
Where the hamburgers and fries are better’n Big Mac

There’s an elevator here to handle our grain
And they send out a truck to deliver Propane.

Our fire trucks, they are manned by some great volunteers
And we have trained EMTs who quiet our fears.

We have a busy tree farm and two new gas pumps.
We’re a great little town – and we’ve only two grumps!

We’re on Road 151 out here on the range
So stop in to see us – we will show you LaGrange!

I noted: “Bear Mountain to the West, to the North, Sixtysix,” and wonder what the heck Sixtysix was.  It certainly isn’t Route 66 . . .

Well, Bear Mountain was easy, as you can see it plain as day on my local landing map.  Here’s a picture of the Bear Mountain area (the bluffs to the north and east of my landing as noted earlier; (GE Panoramio shot by OEWL):

After some sleuthing, I figured out that Sixtysix is also a mountain, and found it on GE:

I found out how Sixtysix mountain got its name.  One of two choices (from WyomingPlaces.com):

1.  Dater and Co. owned a ranch near Horse Creek Mountainand their brand was 66.  Gradually, the name of the mountain switched from Horse Creek to SixtySix.
2. Another story as to the origin of the name is that sixty six emigrants were trapped by Indians on the north side of the hill. All were killed but Ed Stemler. Mr. Stemler had red hair and because the Indians believed red hair was a sign from the gods he was allowed to escape.

Choice #2 is pretty damn grizzly.  It seems to me that the killing of 66 emigrants would have enough historical significance that — if it actually happened — the naming of the mountain would be confirmed.  In spite of the interesting detail about Ed Stemler, the ALAD Truth Patrol gives option 1 a 95% chance of being true . . . 

Here’s a picture of Sixtysix mountain (also from Wyoming Places):

By the way, if you’re a long-time regular reader of this blog, these mountains (especially Bear Mountain) might look familiar.  That’s because of my numerous landings in western Nebraska (not at all far from here) that featured similar-looking landmark rocks like Scott’s Bluff and Chimney Rock.

Before I leave LaGrange and head north to Hawk Springs, here’s a shot of the town, on the Tentmakers Bible Mission website:

About Hawk Springs, from Wyoming Tourism:

Located south of Torrington in Goshen County, Hawk Springs was named after saloon keeper “Black” Hawk.

Of more interest is this from Motorcycle-USA.com  “On the Road to Sturgis II” by Bryan Harley:

We stop for a quick photo shoot and encounter the self-appointed historian of a tiny town in Wyoming when we park the Victory 8-Ball in front of the Hawk Springs Trading Post, one of only three buildings in the town.

She is a sprite elderly lady in her paint-stained pants and floppy hat who was mowing dead grass in a makeshift park across the street. She lets us know that the building was once a fire department before it was a trading post, but now “some guy just lives there.” The worn-down building next to it was a movie house in the ‘20s too, she continues.

Going back to her task of mowing the sparse weathered grass, Eric, my traveling partner and Motorcycle USA’s videographer, walks into the park to ask her the population of the town and almost steps on a bull snake while wearing flip flops. She takes up arms, grabbing a spade to kill the snake in defense of “the bikers who might stop in the park.”

“Rattlesnakes are bad, too this year,” she continues, and in five minutes Eric and I have been made honorary citizens of Hawk Springs by this friendly old lady.

Here’s a picture of the Victory 8-Ball in front of the Hawk Springs Trading post:

The trading post is one of the three buildings in downtown Hawk Springs (photo from mapio.net):

 

I don’t think anything’s open.  Also from mapio.net is this shot:

I wonder if the shot with the car was taken after the shot without the car?

As is my wont, it’s time for some local Pano shots.  I found two by GilmoreGirlz taken about three miles east of my landing.  First this one, of cows doing a so-so job of actually staying in the shade:

I’ll close with this lovely pastoral scene . . .

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Show Low, Arizona

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2235; A Landing A Day blog post number 663.

Dan:  I landed in another new state (since I began my new random lat / long landing procedure) . . . AZ.  My Score was 1277, now it’s down to 1203.

Here’s my regional landing map:

And a somewhat-more-expanded-than-usual local landing map:

Here’s my local streams-only map:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of the Little Bonito Ck; on (predictably) to the Big Bonito Ck; to the Black River (2^nd hit); to the Salt R (12^th hit).

Here’s a more expanded view:

The Salt discharges to the Gila (36^th hit); and although map doesn’t show it, the Gila kinda sorta makes its way to the Colorado (175^th hit).

I had to do a little research to see why my StreetAtlas map doesn’t even bother connecting the Gila to the Colorado.  From Wiki, about the Gila R.:

Indigenous peoples have lived along the river for at least 2,000 years, establishing complex agricultural societies before European exploration of the region began in the 16th century.

During the 20th century, human development of the Gila River watershed necessitated the construction of large diversion and flood control structures on the river and its tributaries, and consequently the Gila now contributes only a small fraction of its historic flow to the Colorado.   The historic natural discharge of the river is around 1900 cfs (cubic feet per second, or 850,000 gallons per minute), and is now only 247 cfs.

I don’t think the small flow is an excuse for dropping the river course from the map . . .

I used Google Earth (GE) Street View to find a bridge over the Gila just outside Yuma AZ, near where it discharges into the Colorado.  Here’s what the once-mighty Gila looks like today:

Speaking of GE Street View, the closest view I could get of one of my streams is the Salt, about 45 miles downstream from my landing.  Here’s a map showing Street View coverage, and where a bridge crosses the Salt:

Here’s a closer view, showing the crazy path of US Route 60 near the river:

And here’s what the orange dude sees:

 

Wow.  What a beautiful shot!  This is one of the prettiest Street View shots I’ve come across . . .

I put the orange dude a ways up the hill.  Here’s what he sees:

I figured that this area would have a few GE Panoramio shots.  Wow.  I’ll say it does:

And as always, I did the leg work for you guys, and looked at most (if not all) of the shots.  Here are the two best.  First this shot by DieselDucy, taken from the same place as my second Street View shot:

Nothing like low-angle sunlight to greatly enhance the photo, eh?

And here’s one by Anne C. Schmitt, from a little higher up (another great shot):

Oops.  I’m deep into my post, and I haven’t yet presented my GE space flight to my landing!  Well, better late than never.  Click HERE to check it out (and then hit your back button).

http://screencast-o-matic.com/watch/colbI8hxA3

Here’s an oblique GE shot, looking up my watershed valley:

 

Mount Baldy is about 9 miles ENE of my landing.  Here’s a shot looking WSW past Mount Baldy towards my landing:

Here’s a GE Pano shot by tijopics of the somewhat-less-than-dramatic summit:

And a little information about Mt. Baldy, obtained by a right click on GE:

Mount Baldy is the second highest point in the state after the six summits of the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff. With a summit 11,420 feet above sea level, the peak of Mount Baldy rises above the tree line and is left largely bare of vegetation, lending the mountain its current name.  Mount Baldy is one of the most sacred mountains to the Apache of Arizona.

Back to my landing, here’s as close as I can get (about 9 miles away) for Street View coverage:

And here’s what the orange dude sees:

Evidently, the GoogleCam driver decided that he wasn’t going on a dirt road!

So anyway – I’ll finally get around to my local landing map, which I’ll let you see one more time:

As you can see, there are numerous little towns, and it was a bit of a stretch for me to travel all the way out to Show Low to be my titular town.  Obviously, I checked out all of the closer-in towns, and could find no hook.

But Show Low?  There must be a hook in that name  . . .

FamilySearch.org had the best discussion of how the town got its name:

Two men laid claim to the land around what is now Show Low:  Martin Clark and Corydon Cooley.  They realized they could not be partners, so decided to peaceably settle their dispute with a winner-take-all card game.

They agreed to play a card game of “seven-up” to decide which one would move. When the last hand was dealt, Clark ran his cards and said “show low and you win.”. Cooley threw down his hand containing the deuce of clubs, and was declared the winner.

I checked out the rules for seven-up, and a point is scored for the person with lowest trump card in his hand (the trump suit is different for each hand played).  Evidently clubs were trump, and Cooley had the two.  It must have been a close game, and one point made all the difference . . .

But check this out.  Here’s a Google Map view of “downtown” Show Low:

Yes, the main drag in town is Deuce of Clubs Avenue!  And, they have a statue commemorating the epic card game (GE Pano shot by cberry):

Time for some Pano shots near my landing.  Yes, there is skiing in Arizona!  This shot (by BLilley) is of Sunrise Ski Park (just north of Mt. Baldy):

Here’s a shot near the summit of Mt. Baldy by Cobweb1:

I’ll close with this lovely shot (by tijopics) of  Hawley Lake, about 10 miles north of my landing:

Doesn’t seem like Arizona, does it?

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Eufaula, Oklahoma

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2234; A Landing A Day blog post number 662.

Dan: My Score is down from 1323 to 1277 thanks to today’s landing in . . . OK.  No idea what I’m talking about?  Type “Grand Rapids” in the search box and check it out.  Don’t care?  Then simply continue by taking a look at my regional landing map:

And my local landing map:

My watershed analysis wasn’t quite as straightforward as I first thought, landing as close to Lake Eufala (the dammed-up Canadian River) as I did.  Here’s a streams-only map:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of Lick Creek, on to Longtown Creek, on to the Canadian River (44^th hit).  By the way, I had to do a little sleuthing to determine if (before the reservoir was built) the Lick flowed into the Longtown, or vice versa.  It turns out there’s a very small town named Longtown right on the lake where the erstwhile creek flowed into the river (the town showed up on Google Earth, although not on StreetAtlas).   Based on this, I surmised that Longtown Creek was the major player, and the Lick flowed into it.

You, dear reader, may be perplexed as to why I need to know which little creek flowed into which little creek.  Well, I, the dear writer, am equally perplexed, but for reasons known only to the Landing God, will continue to care deeply.

Back to my watershed analysis:

The Canadian flows to the Arkansas (119^th hit) and on to the MM (873^rd hit).  FYI, the Arkansas ranks 6^th on my list of river hits, behind the Mississippi, the Missouri, the Colorado, the Columbia and the Ohio.  It is fairly well ahead of the St. Lawrence (in 7^th place, with 102 hits).

It’s time for my Google Earth (GE) spaceflight in to SE Oklahoma.  Click here and then hit the back button.

I have pretty decent Street View coverage:

Although the orange dude can’t see my landing thanks to trees:

Just down the road is a spot to check out Lick Creek:

And here ‘tis:

After checking out Eufaula and other small towns in the general vicinity, it turns out that this entire area is truly:

The only (and I repeat only) thing that caught my eye was this little reference in Wiki:

In Popular Culture

The TV Show, “Dirty Jobs” filmed part of an episode in Eufaula.  The episode featured Catfish Noodling in one of the pilot episodes that aired in November 2003.

I don’t know about you, but I had no clue what the heck “catfishing noodling” could be.  Off to the internet . . .

Although there was a Dirty Jobs catfish noodling video listed on You Tube, some sort of copyright issue makes it so you can’t view it anymore.  So, while on You Tube, I simply searched for catfish noodling.

And here’s the first video I saw (posted on You Tube by Jerry Baker).  Pay close attention to the guy in the water who goes under the tangle of branches:

 

Are you kidding me?  I can’t imagine doing that.  Here’s another video (from the Travel Channel) with some more noodling action, but this time with narration from a professional noodler.  I couldn’t embed this video, so you’ll have to click HERE for this one.

Time for a couple of GE Panoramio shots of Lake Eufaula.  First this by Grant Humphreys, taken about 5 miles NW of my landing:

And the requisite sunset shot over the lake, this one by bruway63:

 

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Flatwillow and Winnett, Montana

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2233; A Landing A Day blog post number 661.

Dan: Here’s a big ol’ state that I hadn’t landed in since I changed my random lat/long landing procedure . . . MT.  That knocks my Score from 1419 all the way down to 1323.

Here’s my regional landing map:

And my local landing map:

 

It’s time for my Google Earth (GE) space flight on the back of a big yellow push-pin on in to Central Montana.  Click HERE and hit your back button.

Zooming back a little on GE, I was able to trace out my drainage path, which shows an unnamed creek flowing to the Musselshell River (14^th hit):

And here’s a streams-only StreetAtlas map, showing that the Musselshell makes its way to the Missouri (403^rd hit):

Of course, the Missouri hooks up with the MM (872^nd hit).

Here’s a GE Panoramio picture of the Musselshell 10 or so miles NE of my landing (by Hank Snowbirdpix Jor):

So, I have two very small towns to feature.  As one might expect, they are pretty much:

Of course, I checked to see what Wiki had to say about Flatwillow.  Well, the only information they provide is this fascinating history of the Flatwillow Post Office:

Flatwillow’s post office first opened in1883 but then closed in 1907, only to be reopened in 1908. The post office was closed in 1946.

But wait!  Jeremy Lurgio from the University of Montana Journalism Department made an awesome Vimeo video all about why Flatwillow is still on the map.  You must check this out!  (Click below, and it’ll open a new window for your viewing pleasure):

<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/29827420″>Flatwillow</a&gt; from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user6898324″>UMontana Journalism</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

 

Moving on to Winnett.  There’s a little something to check out in the Wiki “History” section:

Winnett was named for Walter Winnett, who was born in the Queen’s Hotel—in Toronto, Canada. Winnett ran away from home as a boy, seeking adventure in “Indian country.” His excellent marksmanship abilities helped him get jobs with outfits who were always looking for someone who could keep them in fresh meat.

When he was captured by Sioux Indians and later adopted into the tribe, he was given the name Eagle Eyes because of his remarkable shooting skills.

Winnett established a ranch in Montana Territory in 1879 near an active trading post and the Hangman’s Tree used by vigilantes in the area. The massive ranch house, which he built in 1900 housed his own family and served as a gathering place for the community. Dances, weddings, funerals, church services, and school were all held here.

In 1910 he built a store and petitioned for a post office—and with that, Winnett became an official town.

But more importantly, Winnett also has its own video!  This is from Montana Pictures:

 

Time for some Panoramio shots.  First this, of some open country east of my landing, by Dick Wille:

Here’s a shot of what it looks like coming into Flatwillow from the south, by the Montana Geographic Society:

I’ll close with this great shot by the same guy that who took the Musselshell river shot, Hank Snowbirdpix:

 

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Brownwood, Texas

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2232; A Landing A Day blog post number 660.

Dan: .AYKM*????  After just 16 landings with my new random lat/long landing procedure, I have now landed five times in one state.  The state, of course, is . . . TX.  My Score remains stalled at 1419 (instead of going down as it would if I landed in a new state!).

            * Are You Kidding Me?

Anyway, here’s my regional landing map:

And my local landing map:

Here’s my local streams-only map:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of Steppes Creek (which, oddly, was labeled on the map even though the stream course was nowhere to be seen; thus my hand-drawn approximation).  Steppes Creek makes its way to Pecan Bayou (2^nd hit). 

Zooming back a little, you can see that the Pecan Bayou discharges to the Colorado River (26^th hit; not to be confused with THE Colorado River):

Zooming back even further, here’s the entirety of the not-so-mighty Colorado:

It’s time for my Google Earth (GE) spaceflight in to central TX.  Click HERE, then hit the “back” button.

Here’s a map showing GE Street View coverage:

And this is what the orange dude sees:

And while I’m at it, here’s a map showing Street View coverage of Steppes Ck:

And here, in all its glory, is Steppes Creek:

So how about Brownwood?  Well, I see that one Bob Denver was raised in Brownwood and graduated from Brownwood HS.  Time for a nostalgic trip back to Gilligan’s Island (1964 – 1967, when I was 14 – 17 years old, a perfect age for the show).

 

I then perused Texas Escapes’ webpage on Brownwood, and found this story (from which I extracted excerpts — or was it from which I excerpted extracts?).  It is worth the read . . . 

The Boy With Two Tombstones; or

Iraan’s Little Boy Lost

by Mike Cox

A broken piece of sandstone can’t tell a story, but Edna (Snooks) Collett sure can.

Collett is curator of the museum in the town of Iraan.

Iraan certainly caught my eye.  One of my recent TX posts featured Iraan!  Back to TexasEscapes . . .

In early May 2003, Collett got a telephone call about a flat stone in residential flower garden bed that appeared to be a tombstone.  Here’s the inscription:

Ellis…Son of [missing] Born March 3, 1870 – Died Nov. 28, 1872.

Not only was it odd to discover a tombstone in a flower bed, the dates it bore presented a mystery on top of a mystery: Iraan’s history as a town dates only back to 1926 with the beginning of the oil boom. In 1872, that part of Pecos County was nothing but unsettled, open country.

Collett got the Iraan Archeological Society to excavate the flower bed. But a thorough search revealed nothing else (certainly no evidence of a grave).

The incident moved Collett to verse. Here’s the poem she wrote for the Iraan News not long after the stone was found (written from the perspective of the little boy):

“Mother, dear Mother, please don’t weep
And search for the tombstone
Of your little lost sheep
Kind strangers have found it
After all the long years
So search no more, Mother,
And no more tears,
May your spirit find rest now,
Look no more for my stone.
God knows where I’m sleeping
And He’ll take me home.”

In 2008, Collett got a call from William Perhealth, a minister from Andrews who’s interested in genealogy. He said he thought he could determine the identity of “Little Boy Lost.”

“I thought, ‘Sure you can,’” she said, “but sure enough, he did.”

Online, Perhealth found that an Isreal Ellis Clements, born March 3, 1870 in Brown County to Israel and Harriet C. Anderson Clements, died on Nov. 28, 1872 and is buried in the Roberts Cemetery north of Brownwood.  Perhealth checked the cemetery and discovered that the child indeed still has a tombstone bearing that information.

That, of course, brought on the next mystery: If the little boy has one tombstone, why did he need another? And why was it more than 200 miles from Brown County?

“His mother was an Anderson, and they had a ranch in Pecos County,” Collett begins with her theory. “The Iraan tombstone is similar to the ones found in the cemetery at Fort Stockton (in Pecos County), which was in operation in 1872. She must have ordered a tombstone from Fort Stockton, but for some reason it never got to Brown County. I think the wagon carrying it got this far and something happened – the tombstone fell out and broke or the wagon was loaded too heavy and they had to toss it out.”

That, she continued with her thesis, probably happened at the Pecos River crossing.

Another familiar ALAD reference:  In another one of my recent TX posts, I wrote about the difficulties in crossing the Pecos (i.e., steep banks and quick sand).

Sometime later, someone must have found the tombstone near the river and carried it to Iraan either as a curiosity or a garden stepping stone.

While the actual circumstances will likely never been known, Collett is content in knowing that the Little Lost Boy got found.

Time to close with a Panoramio shot; this one taken by Joe Gordon of a sunset over Brownwood Lake (about 7 miles NW of Brownwood).

 

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Crosby, Minnesota

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2231; A Landing A Day blog post number 659.

Dan: Only 15 landings since my new random lat/long procedure, and five landings have been repeaters.  The latest is . . . MN.  So, my Score didn’t go down, but is stuck at 1419.

Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Check out my Grand Rapids post . . .

Here’s my regional landing map:

And my local landing map:

Here’s my streams-only watershed map:

There isn’t much topo here, and the actual flow path of a drop of water that falls on my landing is rather vague (and the drop probably spends some time in one or more lakes), but I’m reasonably certain that it ends up on the Ironton Creek; on to the Rabbit River (2^nd hit); on the MM (871^st hit).

It’s time for my Google Earth (GE) spaceflight in to Central MN.  Click HERE and then hit the back button.

My Street View coverage isn’t very good (the closest coverage is almost 2 miles away):

Here’s what the orange dude sees:

 

Of course, I checked out all three towns (Ironton, Deerwood and Crosby), but Crosby was the clear winner.  Here are some excerpts from Wiki:

This was a town that was built for the sole purpose of mining. The town was named for George Crosby, a businessperson in the mining industry.

In the 1932 local elections, the voters of Crosby elected Karl Emil Nygard as President of the Village Council and thus became the first city in the United States to have a Communist mayor.

In August 1957, Dr. David G. Simons, a 35-year-old Air Force major, climbed to nearly 102,000 feet above the Earth as part of Project Manhigh. The flight, which was launched from the Portsmouth Mine Pit Lake in Crosby, helped the country take its fledgling steps into space exploration. Simons returned to Crosby in 2007 to mark the anniversary of the Man High project.

Not great hooks, but here goes.  I’ll start with mining.  All three towns are mining towns, there because of the Cuyuna Iron Range mining district.  From Wiki:

The range was discovered by Cuyler Adams, a surveyor who discovered traces of magnetic ore in 1895 while doing land surveys. The word “Cuyuna” is an amalgamation of the first three letters of Cuyler’s name with “Una”, the name of his dog.

Cool way to name an iron ore deposit, eh? Back to Wiki . . .

Mining started on the range in 1911, and continued until 1984 when the last mine was closed, due to competition from mines in the Mesabi Range where the ores are closer to the surface and more economical to extract.

So how about the Commie mayor?  Not that much of a story here.  Karl Nygard (who’s given name was Emil Nygard and who probably took “Karl” in honor of Karl Marx), was a Cuyana Range miner who was involved in miners’ strikes and union organizing.  He was elected Mayor after two unsuccessful attempts, but only served one term.  One of the things he did (probably not lasting) was to make May Day an official holiday in Crosby.

Here’s a pic from TheNorthStar.info:

Moving on to the Man High Project.  From Spacedoc.com:

The folks in Crosby, Minnesota still talk about that tall, lanky, Air Force flight surgeon being loaded into the small pressurized gondola in 1957.

The morning was clear and quite crisp, a not unusual event in Minnesota, even in August. Doctor David Simons was dressed in a partial pressure suit over which he wore a blue flight suit and multiple layers of underclothing for it would be minus 70 where he was going.

Here’s a picture from the town’s website (originally from Life magazine) of the capsule just before launch:

Back to Spacedoc:

The visor of his white helmet was open as he flashed a smile at the few locals brave enough to be up in the wee hours for this impressive show. The huge polyethylene balloon, now only partially filled, already was straining at the tethers as if eager to begin its trip to the stratosphere, the uppermost limits of Earth’s tenuous atmosphere.

At an altitude of just over 100,000 feet, the balloon was 200 feet across, with a volume in excess of 3 million cubic feet.

Simon’s flight was to study that new challenge to manned space flight known as galactic cosmic rays, tiny bullets of matter striking the planet from all directions of space with a nasty habit of occasionally striking some of the components of our cells, causing damage.

Finally, the gondola capsule door was sealed and the tethers released. Some folks could just make out Simon’s gloved hand in the tiny porthole, waving goodbye to his admirers.

Here’s a picture of launch scene (from StratoCat.cm):

And here’s a short video:

 

The flight was launched from the bottom of a 400-foot deep open pit mine.  I found no information about why the mine in Crosby was selected as a launch site other than its fairly close proximity to Minneapolis, where the capsule was assembled.  Maybe the lack of cross winds?

Anyway, time for a couple of GE Pano shots.  Here’s one by RDGates1 of a lake not far from my landing:

And another lake shot by ARK Photography:

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day

 

 

 

Florida, Missouri

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-three-or-four days 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) please see “About Landin above.

Landing number 2230; A Landing A Day blog post number 658.

Dan: I landed in a new state (since changing my random lat/long selection procedure:  MO.  My Score was 1464; it’s now 1419.

Here’s my regional landing map:

And my local landing map, showing that I almost (but not quite) landed in the Mark Twain Lake:

It’s time for my Google spaceflight in to NE MO.  Click HERE, and then hit back after viewing.

I have some decent Street View coverage.  Here’s one spot where I can look at my landing:

And here’s what the orange dude sees:

I moved the orange dude a little:

And here’s what he sees:

Time for my watershed analysis.  Here’s my streams-only map:

 

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of the Middle Fk Salt River (first hit ever!).  Zooming back a little more:

The Middle Fk Salt River makes its way to the Salt River (3^rd hit); on to the MM (870^th hit).

As you can see on my local landing map, I had a few towns to check out:  Paris, Stoutsville, Sante Fe and Perry.  But before I did that, I saw this on GE:

Hmmmm. Florida, eh?  Must be so tiny that it didn’t show up on my Street Atlas map.  But Florida was my first Google search and here’s what Wiki had to say about Florida:

Florida is a village in Monroe County, Missouri on the shores of Mark Twain Lake. In 2000, the population was nine. Following the 2010 Census, the village was reported as uninhabited.

Wow.  An uninhabited village?  Why does it have a Wiki page?  But then I read on:

In 1835, Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain) was born in Florida, Missouri.  He said of his birthplace that it was ‘”a nearly invisible village” and

“The village contained a hundred people and I increased the population by 1 per cent. It is more than many of the best men in history could have done for a town.”

Oh my!  I can see there’s no need to look any farther. Another quick Wiki quote:

Twain was born in Florida, Missouri shortly after a visit by Halley’s Comet, and he predicted that he would “go out with it,” too.  He died the day after the comet returned.

Here’s a more complete quote:

I came in with Halley’s Comet in 1835. It is coming again next year, and I expect to go out with it. It will be the greatest disappointment of my life if I don’t go out with Halley’s Comet. The Almighty has said, no doubt: ‘Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together’.

Twain moved to Hannibal when he was four; so Hannibal far outshines Florida in geographic references to Twain’s life.  Here’s a map (Hannibal is about 30 miles from Florida):

I bet few people realize that Hannibal, Missouri is only 30 miles from Florida . . .

Here’s a GE shot showing how close I landed to Mark Twain’s birthplace:

Here’s a Wiki shot of Clemens’ house (which is now inside the museum):

As I was researching Twain, I couldn’t help but run into his famous (and not-so-famous) quotes.  I decided that this post will be dedicated to his quotes.  Here is a sampling (and a very incomplete sampling at that) of his quotes:

Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts or happenings. It consist mainly of the storm of thoughts that is forever flowing through one’s head.

I was sorry to have my name mentioned as one of the great authors, because they have a sad habit of dying off. Chaucer is dead, Spencer is dead, so is Milton, so is Shakespeare, and I’m not feeling so well myself.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever.

The older I get, the more clearly I remember things that never happened.

The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog.

Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.

I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.

Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination.

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.

The best way to cheer yourself is to try to cheer someone else up.

The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.

The human race has only one really effective weapon and that is laughter.

Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.

When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

All generalizations are false, including this one.

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.

Out of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most.

A clear conscience is the sure sign of a bad memory.

The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.

Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself.

Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.

When your friends begin to flatter you on how young you look, it’s a sure sign you’re getting old.

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.

It’s better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than open it and remove all doubt.

As mentioned above, there are many more notable Mark Twain quotes.  Plus, he led a very interesting life.  If you want to learn more about him, simply Google Mark Twain and go at it.

As for his life, I’ll just post this paragraph from history.com that discusses Twain’s career as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi (and tells us where the name “Mark Twain” came from):

In 1857, Clemens became an apprentice steamboat pilot on the Mississippi River. The following year, while employed on a boat called the Pennsylvania, he got his younger brother, Henry, a job aboard the vessel. Samuel Clemens worked on the Pennsylvania until early June.

Then, on June 13, disaster struck when the Pennsylvania, traveling near Memphis, experienced a deadly boiler explosion; among those who perished as a result was 19-year-old Henry. Samuel Clemens was devastated by the incident but got his pilot’s license in 1859.

He worked on steamboats until the outbreak of the American Civil War in 1861, when commercial traffic along the Mississippi was halted. Clemens’ pen name, Mark Twain, comes from a term signifying two fathoms (12 feet), a safe depth of water for steamboats.

Time for some GE Panoramio shots near my landing.  Here’s a lovely shot right in downtown Florida, by Mufflesrusty:

And another from the north side of the peninsula by J. Stephen Conn:

And I’ll close with this sunset over the lake, by jberry3721:

 

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

 

© 2015 A Landing A Day