Ashland tidings. [volume] (Ashland, Or.) 1876-1919, 1919-03-21
So many Of our Ashland friends


made us promise to write to them
that we would be in despair OF re-
deeming our epistolary pledges II II
were not for the Tidings, which in
some respects is like a big family
newsletter Moving to Modoc in the
dead OF winter is something more
than little pleasure jaunt. We sent
some three-quarters of a ton Of our
goods by parcels post, thereby saw
ing between $50 and $35 over and
above what it would have cost to
forward them by freight. Our first
stop was at Gerber, little railroad
division point between Red Bluff and
Corning. We arrived at the un-
earthly hour of 3:45 a. m. and wait
ed until 1926 for the Marysville
train. While there we met Rev.
Hunter, an Ashland engineer, Ed
Hadfield, engine hostler, and Ed
Wolcott and Shorty Provost. The
latter were working on an ice house
Marysville is surrounded by lofty
dykes, being located near the con-
fluence of the Yuba, Feather and
Sacramento Rivers. The graveyard
was mostly under water and many
of the living inhabitants were OBJ
served soaking their systems in Sun
nybrook and Budweiser. The. s. G..
0iens live near here, but are think
ing of moving to Santa Cruz. Mrs.
0ien has suffered much from the
malaria, this disease being the
curse OF that country. We were
forced to stop day at Marysville.
waiting for our trunks. We pro-
ceeded on the Western Pacific, pass
ing only one town Of consequence in
over 200 miles. This was Oroyllle,
located in the foothills of the Sier-
ras. Great fields are covered with
huge heaps of rocks, the work Of
gold dredgers. Ny Uncle VIII, a
seeker after the yellow metal. died
at Oroville many years ago.
All the rest of the day and far
into the night we followed the beau
tiful Feather River Canyon, pene.
trating one of the widest, most in
accessible regions where rolls the
iron wheel. For more than a hun
dred miles there is practically no
human habitation. No auto or wag-
on roads, only dim. rocky trail on
the hillside, where We once observed
a solitary horseman vending his
lonely way. And yet. a rock crush
er would find here practically in
exhaustible supply Of material. There
is plenty Of water for domestic use
and other purposes, with no Argus
eyed inspector to turn off the supply
just as you get ready to irrigate your
onions or wash down the windows.
Taxes are low and street assessments
practically nil, while the cars run
past your door, seldom stopping in
their mad career to modest the NOR
ose mountaineer, giving a derisive
toot as they disappear around the
next curve ahead. In fact, this, Sc
cluded section offers many advan-
tages to those who banker after
sweet solitude and absence after the
smelly haunts of man.
At half-past ten, when within q
half-dozen miles of the Nevada line,
We stopped at Hackstaff, this being
the junction point with the N. C. G
o. R. r., which runs from Reno, Ne
vada, to Lakeview, Oregon. It is
not exactly a tourist resort, nor yet
a great business center, the chief in
dustry being the railroad crossing
This enterprise does not attract q
large population, but it is never dis.
turbed by strikes or financial pan
les, as the roads keep right on cross
ing all the time, day and night. AT
noon the next day we proceeded on
our narrow gauge way, first crossing
a vast, sage brush plain, the Honey
Lake Valley. At Amadee we stopped
an hour for lunch, not because II
took us that long to eat, but be.
cause we didn't wish to go on with.
out the train.
After riding for hours over barren
rocky mountains we came to another
thirty-mile sage brush flat bearins
the euphoneous name of Madeln,
Meadows. We didn't see Madeline
else We should have asked her where
she kept her meadows. Probably
some land promoter saw them in ,
mirage. having taken an overdose Of
snakebite medicine. When withir
25 miles of Alturas we reached some
real farming country. pastures an,
meadows along the south fork O.
Pitt River The latter looks like {
canal, its waters having been turned
Into a man made ditch which nnrni