November 15, 2011

Nevada's Online State News Journal

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Nevada History:

 [Albert S. Evans, A Flying Trip to White Pine, Alta California, May 30, 1869]

A FLYING TRIP TO WHITE PINE.

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            From Sacramento by rail to Elko under time table a week old was thirty hours, but it is less now, and will eventually be made in that time from this city, say about sixty days from first of June. On or about the first of August passengers will leave this city direct and pass Elko inside of thirty hours — reach the end of the Central Pacific track, north of Salt Lake, in thirty-six hours, and New York in six days. At Elko passengers for White Pine take the stage about one o'clock, reaching Jacobs' Wells (half way) at ten P.M., and Hamilton at eight o'clock in the morning; distance, nine hundred and twenty-five miles. The fare at present is fifteen dollars from Elko to Hamilton and ten dollars returning — cause of low prices, "opposition." Shortly after mounting the box at Elko, and while riding over the Humboldt Valley, the writer was addressed by the driver, in whom we recognised one of those Kings of the Whip which the old Southern Overland Mail created, Charley Crowell (as he is familiarly called). Schooled to the science of staging in the early days of California, the inauguration of the overland mail called for the best drivers of a mail coach on the coast and was the means of producing those princes of staging who have gone down to history as the finest drivers the world ever saw, or may see again. With the completion of the railroad they have disappeared forever. Horace Greeley paid tribute to one on his memorable ride "on time," when six horses, ribboned by Hank Monk, took the philosopher at an average rate exceeding ten miles an hour over the Sierras, and landed him in Placerville an hour ahead of the time for his lecture. The delays in the mountains by teams crowding the roads was made up by the skilful driver running his six spirited horses at the top of their speed down a grade, which almost raised Mr. Greeley's hat off his head, and brought forth the quiet remark from Hank, "Keep your seat, Horace; I'll get you there in time." Our driver was Charley Crowell, with whom the writer rode in the early days of the Southern Overland, and afterwards from Virginia City to Placerville. The nerve, coolness and chances taken by those old mail-stage drivers was marvellous. Through sunshine, rain, snow, hail, terrific storms, swollen rivers, sneaking Indians and white robbers, by day and night, the stages rolled on, and each man, as he mounted the box and grasped the lines, felt himself a captain in every sense of the word. Many a one has lost his scalp in the red devils' wigwam and his bones to whiten on the wild spreading plains or rocky fastnesses, but where one fell another took his place.

FEATS OF AN OLD DRIVER.

            Happening to know considerable of the daring men who carried the mail, and as Charley Crowell will answer as a fitting example of his class, a story or two may not be uninteresting to show that the "overland drivers" were artists in their line of business. After the usual dangers by storm and flood on the Southern route, he was placed on the stretch between Virginia City and Placerville, and, on one occasion, in descending "Slippery Ford Hill," the brake of the stage was knocked out of order by striking a boulder. To stop the coach was impossible, to turn off was out of the question; so, with tightened lip, and foot on the broken brake, he held his team in hand while the passengers were ready to jump from the coach, and carried them all in safety down the long hill and landed them securely across the treacherous ford. At another time, when driving at a high rate of speed, he came suddenly upon a long line of teams, where it was death to stop, as the coach would certainly turn over; but, with admirable presence of mind, he swung the leaders off the bank, jammed his foot heavily on the brake, and ran the six horses and coach down a steep mountain in safety. Doubt for one second as to the course to pursue would have been destruction. On another occasion, while driving in the night down the grade near Strawberry Valley, a large rock had fallen off the bank and lodged on the inside track of the coach, which was cleared by the horses, but the fore wheel struck the boulder with such force as to throw Charley clear from his seat, landing him on the ground alongside the wheel, both hands still grasping the reins. A gentleman who was sitting beside him on the box managed to retain his seat, and looking into the deep abyss at his side sprang across the coach to jump off, but finding the horses kept the road, he pushed hard on the brake with the hope of stopping the team, when he heard a voice come up from the darkness and dust below: "Jam your feet hard down; it'll be all right." In a short time the horses were brought to a halt, when Charley crawled out from under the coach, bleeding profusely, and his clothes torn nearly off. When asked where he had been, he quietly remarked that be found himself between the fore and hind wheels, and by doubling himself up into as small a compass as possible, and dragging along the ground, kept clear of the rear wheel, and by holding tight to the lines hoped to stop the team, which, with his pressure on the brake, had been successful; that he was the captain of the craft on whom the lives of a coach full of passengers depended, and it was his business to take all chances of personal danger for their safety. It is needless to say there were startled faces and grateful passengers in that coach when they learned of the daring feat of their noble driver.

DOWN THE VALLEY.

            After passing a low range of hills, the coach rolled along a continuous valley, which to the eye of the passenger looked desolate and barren, but the numbers of cattle grazing in many localities was evidence that there was something to support them. At Jacob's Wells (half way) your correspondent diverged from the regular road and made a short visit to Ruby Valley, where farms are cultivated, large crops raised, cut and cured, and cattle graze the year round. The apparently barren plains and slopes are made to yield large crops by irrigation, numerous springs giving an abundance of water for that purpose.

            Mr. Samuel Woodward, who has lived in this valley eight years, first experimented in raising grain, feeling certain that water was all that was necessary to grow wheat or barley.  After demonstrating this fact, quite a number of persons engaged in farming, the products first being sold to the Overland Mail Company, but now White Pine is their market.  From Jacob's Wells south the road continues along the edge of a valley which can be cultivated in many spots, water being handy; and cattle graze and grow fat where a short time since the general belief was that the country was too poor to sustain the life of a rabbit.

            In fact, a part of the route to White Pine lays through a region which twenty years since was put down on the maps of the United States as the "Great American Desert" and on others as "unexplored regions." Since the settlement of California up to this time, there is scarcely a league that has not been travelled over by our adventurous people, and the route from the Colorado River to the Overland road is familiar to many who have hunted for mines on almost every mountain or gorge. From the reports of the pioneers there is no doubt but that nearly all of that "unexplored region" is full of mineral deposits, and eventually will be filled with "white settlements" and lively mining towns, turning out bullion by the millions. The advanced guard of our hosts was Austin, and now, Hamilton and Treasure Cities, while to the east, northwest, and south mining localities are growing up, which ere long will have a place on the maps which all new settled countries create.

HAMILTON AND TREASURE.

            Passing over a low range of hills called by some romantic traveller "Pancake Mountain," the road enters a cañon, up which some six miles lies Hamilton — a busy, bustling town of many houses and more tents, the majority of the houses having canvas coverings, owing to the scarcity and high price of shingles. Towering above Hamilton some sixteen hundred feet, is Treasure Hill, the Mecca of many pilgrims, most of whom went there with a faint idea that silver ore could be turned into dollars as readily as gold dust washed from the placers of California. To mine for silver, no matter how rich the ore, requires capital, and many who went without it found out their mistake, departing with a rough idea that "something was wrong."

            The ore found on Treasure Hill is free from base metals, and consequently easily worked, while the mountains around abound in leads which produce ores which must be smelted in order to get out the coveted silver. Millions of dollars will be taken out of Treasure Hill, and every stamp is now busily running night and day, reducing the rich rock, blasted and picked out from the paying leads from one end of the hill to the other. The flow of silver bars has just commenced, and with the addition of every mill that flow will be increased. Experiments are constantly being made to treat the rebellious ores of the neighboring mountains, but labor and fuel are too high at present to do much in the smelting line.

            Through the courtesy of several old San Franciscans the writer was taken into all the rich mines, from the famous Eberhardt down to the California, on the bench, below Treasure City. All those have been written about time and again by your resident correspondent. There are millions of dollars in ore exposed by the shafts and drifts about the hill, and as milling facilities increase San Francisco will receive something back for the large outlay of coin so far expended.

SHERMANTOWN — SMELTING ORES.

            Away down in a ravine, between lofty mountains, is Shermantown — a busy place, where rock is milled and timber sawed into lumber. A splendid spring of water gushes out of the mountain, giving all of that precious article that is needed for milling and other purposes.  A large smelting furnace and refinery for silver has been put up here, but up to the time of the writer's visit it had not been used. While at Sherman, an experiment was made with a rude mud furnace in smelting the base ores with a patent fluid discovered by Dr. C. W. Moore. After running little more than half an hour the furnace broke down, but fifteen pounds of metal were run off into a mould, from which a chip was taken and an assay made, showing $2 75 of silver — the balance being lead. At that rate, a ton of this metal would yield $364 in silver, and it is said that one and a half tons of ore yield one ton of metal. At this rate, should the base range bear large ledges, the day is not far distant when these mines will also turn out silver in abundance. The bar which was smelted was presented to the Alta offices by E. F. Smith, Esq., and will be duly handed over [to] the Alta Cabinet. [It is now on exhibition at this office.—Eds. Alta.]

CONCLUSION.

            The White Pine region is a prolific source of study, from its geological formation, and the question of depth to the mines (now being demonstrated) is all that needs be determined to guarantee years of work. From the impetus given mining in the discoveries at Treasure Hill, the whole country, for miles and miles in almost every direction, is being thoroughly prospected, and almost daily reports are brought in of further discoveries. With the cheapening of freights by rail there will be more chance of bringing new mines into working shape; and from all appearances many portions of that so-called "Great American Desert" will resound with the thump of the iron stamp and the scream of the steam whistle. Where three or four years since all was solitude and void of man or beast, now is all life and bustle; while cattle are being driven in and pastured among those valleys which were thought incapable of sustaining life. From all directions they are coming, and desirable spots are being taken up for farming and grazing purposes, in fact from Promontory Mountain to the Truckee River, except where alkali predominates, every valley will be filled with cattle, and stock-raising will be the permanent business. Some people who have passed one winter in those regions are sanguine that cattle raising will be as prolific and safe as in the most favored localities of California.