Owyhee Marginalia

2021-07-28 Vale BLM Announces Expanded Fire Restrictions Beginning July 1

{The BLM has announced expanded fire restrictions for the Vale District, which includes the Owyhee region.  Campers should carry a shovel, extra water for dousing flames and a fire extinguisher.   Park vehicles on bare ground; avoid dry grass.  According to the announcement, the largest culprit for human-caused fires on Vale BLM lands is equipment, including cars and trucks, ATVs and side-by-sides, industrial and commercial vehicles and equipment, recreational vehicles, chain saws, etc.   "Statistically,  fires caused by motorized vehicles and trailers are second only to lightning starts."  NO FIREWORKS !!!!}

 

 

2021-06-01 Blue Canyon Rock Corral

        When I began searching for information about my godmother, Stacia Davis, and her husband Conley, I discovered that while few folks remembered them, more could recall stories about Frank Davis, Conley’s father. Frank was noted primarily for his expertise in rustling livestock, particularly horses. (See “Early Life in the Owyhee,” Ch. 4 ‘Moonshine and Long Ropes.’”) Robert Danner, Glenn Fretwell’s grandfather, was the postmaster in Jordan Valley. To avoid being seen, Frank would come to the Danner place in the middle of the night to collect his mail. According to one story, someone took a pot shot at Frank in the dark as he came out the door with his mail, leaving a hole in his hat!

Glenn Fretwell atop the Corral Wall

        When I arrived in Jordan Valley for my current visit, Glenn told me of stumbling upon a rock corral in Blue Canyon that he thought might have been part of Frank’s operation. Because of their ready availability and their suitability for a rough form of dry stone masonry, basalt stones were commonly used in the construction of the walls and small buildings. In any case, given the dearth of trees, stones were about the only material available to put up walls strong enough to hold horses.w

Corral Wall in front of Basalt Talus Shot from Center of Corral

        The site of the Blue Canyon corral was surely chosen because it made the corral difficult to see until one is upon it. Below the canyon rim, the corral sits in a low spot and is in the shadows at least until midday, even later when the days grow short. It is beside a talus from which the corral was built, making it–like a trompe-l’œil–difficult to distinguish, especially in the dark shadows. Glenn’s previous visit, and additional information from Tim Davis, saved us much time searching for it. The darkness and severe contrast with the bright sky made photography a bit of challenge for one who hadn’t taken much more than few snapshots with an iPhone over the past year.

Glenn Fretwell Above Corral Wall

        Although overgrown with sage brush and tall grass, and missing a gate, this corral was nonetheless easily in the best shape of any rock corral I have seen. It is circular, measuring perhaps 60 feet in diameter. Because of the uneven topography, the wall in places is nearly ten feet high, though one can still look down into it while standing on the adjacent slope. The location of the corral leaves little doubt that it was for concealing stolen animals, though we can only speculate whether it was used by Frank Davis.

McCain Springs Rock Corral and Building

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        On our return trip we passed the ruins of of another stone corral at Lower McCain Springs, named for early rancher Jim McCain. It has pretty much collapsed or has been raided for stone, but the shape is still obvious. Not far way are the ruins of what must have been a small building. Glenn surmised that given the distance from the McCain ranch, which he estimated to be around twenty miles, it must have been shelter for buckaroos tending the cattle.
While examining the building ruins, I noticed that we were being carefully watched by the local caretaker–a curious young badger who didn’t seem particularly bothered by our presence and only dived back in his hole when Glenn came near him.

McCain Ruins Guardian Badger

2021-05-03 Argus Observer (Ontario, OR) Letter to the Editor

From the mailbag: It is time to revise the Southeast Oregon Resource Management Plan

• May 3, 2021 

    Last year saw Oregon devastated by massive wildfires. Conditions this year are building for a repeat. Temperatures have risen faster than normal, humidity is low, vegetation is drying and river flows are down. A drought emergency has been declared for Klamath county; three-quarters of Malheur county is experiencing moderate drought or worse. In the Owyhee, an abundance of dry fuels, combined with a flood of urbanites desperate to escape pandemic lockdown, is a disaster awaiting a spark.

    The threat to Owyhee rangeland and watershed is real and potentially dire. Large wildfires and desiccated vegetation will devastate the canyonlands for all who rely on them for their livelihood or recreation. Conservation of public lands should be a shared concern for everyone, regardless of differences regarding their utilization. While there may be some truth to the notion that climate change is a natural cycle humans can do little to alter, it is possible to mitigate the impact and sustain the health of the landscape by conserving its original and fundamental natural elements, including vegetation and hydrologic features.

    This will require full commitment and some sacrifice from all parties. Meaningful steps are possible now with the president’s order for federal agencies, including the BLM, to reconsider actions of recent years that contradict measures outlined to confront the climate crisis, i.e., listening to the science, protecting the environment, reducing greenhouse gas emissions, and bolstering climate resiliency in natural systems. This must include revisiting the SE Oregon Resource Management Plan, and revising it to meet current challenges. Everyone should be able to agree on these fundamental principles and work toward a respectful transition that, while it may not meet everyone’s specific desires, can nonetheless achieve goals held in common. This approach is fundamental to American democracy and the core of its strength and durability.

Bill Crowell

Portland (Frequent visitor to Malheur County)

 

 

 

2020-07-21 Mike Hanley’s Wagons

        A prominent rancher in Jordan Valley, Mike Hanley IV is best known as a local historian.  While many Owyhee ranchers have written anecdotal histories of their families and communities, Mike’s scope has been the I.O.N country, the broad area of the northern Great Basin that covers the tri-state territory of Idaho, Oregon and Nevada, particularly the Owyhee canyonlands.  He has written several books on the topic, the best known being Owyhee Trails, co-written with Ellis Lucia and published in 1973.  It remains in print.

My Granddaughters Lara & Sofie with Mike in his Uncle Bill's Buckboard in front of the old dance hall building

        Less well known is Mike’s work restoring–“repairing” is his preferred term–on old wagons, stage coaches and buggies.  This interest in wagons dates back to boyhood.  Riding with his dad, he would watch the wagon wheels as they came up through the mud.  He was fascinated by the water rising with the turn of the wheel and then falling back and he wondered how that could happen.  As he grew older, he began to collect relics and parts.  Some came from his grandfather, others from friends and acquaintances.  While in high school, on a camping trip to Delamar, he found a stage coach in a collapsed livery barn and made several trips to bring it home in pieces.  Others came from folks who wanted to see them saved.  Only once did he purchase an intact specimen–a military wagon he got for $65.

Studebaker Spring Wagon 

        The first wagon Mike restored was a Studebaker Spring wagon that belonged to pioneer cattleman Ed Stauffer.  These wagons were used by prominent cattlemen throughout the I.O.N.  The oldest wagon in his collection is a Conestoga wagon used by early settler James Gusman in 1858 to haul freight from Virginia to Missouri and then on to Denver.  It was pulled by oxen.  His most recent project is a Henderson Mud Wagon yellow coach of which only the frame has so far been completed.  Mike’s own favorites are the Delamar stage coach and an express spring wagon.

Delmar Stage

        “Repairing” the wagons requires research and the skills of a carpenter, blacksmith, and wheelwright.  These skills Mike learned from his father and grandfather.  Mike also credits neighbor and Jordan Valley rancher Omer Stanford as a mentor who became a close friend despite a forty-three year age difference.  They co-authored Sagebrush and Axle Grease, with stories of wagons and coaches (and a Model T) and descriptions of how they were built and maintained with photographs and illustrations drawn by Mike.  The Model T has been included in Mike's collection "to show what came next."

Model T

        For information on specifications, dimensions, colors and the like, Mike relies on books with diagrams, museums visits, and networking with other restorers to compare notes.  He fashions his own wheels, obtaining hubs, spokes and tires from Amish sources in Ohio and Pennsylvania.  Wagon tires are basically steel bands that are heated, placed on the wheel and cooled to draw them tight.  Mike fabricates his own tires or sometimes uses old tires found locally.

Mike the Wheelwright

        Mike’s wagons have been sought for a wide range of functions and events where a Western theme is desired.  These have included local weddings (among them his and Linda’s), funerals, parades, the Pendleton Roundup, dedication of the Idaho State Penitentiary museum, and re-enactments, most notably the recreation of the Applegate Trail.  But they have also been used as icons of the ranching way of life in making political statements, an example being the spring wagon he drove in the 1994 Sagebrush Rebellion’s “Save the West” rally in Boise, Idaho.

Studebaker Spring Wagon

        Mike has always welcomed the opportunity to share his wagons, their histories and their contribution to the settlement and development of the Upper Great Basin.  His hope is that his collection can find a place in an interpretive center devoted to transportation in the Great Basin before the arrival of the railroad, that is, prior to the 1880’s.  He would like to see such a center in Jordan Valley.  Jordan Valley was a major transportation hub through which the roads from the Snake River Valley to the Great Basin, Nevada and San Francisco and the California seaports passed.  Silver from the Owyhee mines was shipped along this route and contributed to the Union effort in the Civil War.  Until such a center can be realized, Mike welcomes travelers and local residents who are interested in seeing his collection.  Visits are by appointment.  He can be contacted by phone at (541) 586-2216, or by letter 682 Yturri Blvd, Jordan Valley, OR 97910-9500.

Chuck Wagon

2019-09-29 Argus Observer (Ontario, OR) Letters to the Editor

 

 

Letter to the Editor  (9/29/19)

Let’s set an example for civil discourse in the Owyhees

        In discussing the fate of the Owyhee Canyonlands, most of the focus has been on such matters as grazing allotments and the protection of endangered species. Population growth has hardly been mentioned. It is therefore most appropriate this issue be raised by Mike Hanley, a leader of the Sagebrush Rebellion and participant in the Owyhee Initiative, in a guest opinion in The Argus Observer on Sept. 22.

        As Hanley suggests, without a solution to the question of protection, demand from the burgeoning population of metropolitan Treasure Valley for recreation and leisure opportunities threaten to diminish the quality of habitat and riparian zones for supporting animal and plant life of all kinds.

        Ironically Hanley’s warning follows publication of three studies in Nature and Nature GeoScience that conclusively refute the notion that increasing temperatures of the last century are but a part of nature’s normal cycle. The studies compellingly support the conclusion that humans are significant contributors to climate change. For the Owyhee, these two developments – population growth and climate change – portend intensified wildfire risk, degradation of habitat for wildlife and forage for livestock, adverse impacts on aquatic species, and increasing drought, not to mention other impacts yet unforeseen.  Change will come willy nilly. To direct that change to diminish the impacts is in the interest of all. However, collaboration of the sort Hanley describes leading to the Owyhee Initiative will be required and meaningful protections must be devised. Involved parties need to come together, and be willing to compromise. The sooner this is understood, the better the chance of reaching producing the solutions needed to support continued viability of the Owyhee Basin.

        The nation as a whole seems currently to have forgotten the importance of civil discourse to the functioning of a viable democracy. Perhaps those of us concerned about the Owyhee can remind them by example.

Bill Crowell,

Portland

2019-08-26/09-01 Owyhee Trip

Birch Creek, Griffith Ranch, Island Ranch

        With just one free day before Glenn’s atlatl event, I set out to make the foray that was the purpose of my return to Jordan Valley–the trek down the river from Birch Creek to the Griffith Place where my godparents Conley and Stacia Davis had ranched before buying the place at Hole in the Ground, and then on to the Island Ranch where there remains the remnants of a large water wheel built by Carlton Fretwell, Glenn’s grandfather.  I drove to the Birch Creek ranch and parked at the north end of the alfalfa field.  There I forded the river, which was a bit over a foot deep and flowing moderately fast but still fordable with the help of trekking poles.  Not having brought water shoes, I left my boots on because of the rocky bottom.  The boots gave a firm grip, but once I reached the other side the foam in the tongue and around the tops required a good wringing that still left enough moisture to keep my feet cool for the rest of the hike.  The sky was beautifully clear and the sun bright, portending a warm trek.  The hike down to the Island Ranch was comfortable enough, but the return trip would prove pretty hot.  I didn’t begrudge having to carry three liters of water.

        The first leg of the hike brought me to the Griffith Ranch, which is also accessible by road from the Crowley Road.  I was particularly interested in the Griffith because when they were first married, Conley and Stacia leased it from Jesse Griffith, who had moved to Hermiston.  They lived there for three years.  Jesse’s father, William, who had emigrated from England in 1883, had homesteaded 152 plus acres in 1917.  Jesse himself  homesteaded 320 acres nearby in 1924.  The Griffiths may have acquired additional land, since Stacia reported they had a “640 acre homestead” and an informational sign at the site says the Bureau of Reclamation bought 255 acres from the Griffiths for $5500 in 1925.  In 1929, William moved to Hermiston leaving the ranch with his son.  But Jesse wasn’t interested in ranching and leased the place to the Davises.  While they had the place, the Griffiths had built a stone house, bunkhouse, shed, cellars, stables and a stone corral, some of which still remain.  They raised horses and cattle, some hay, vegetables and “lots of fruit.”  While living and ranching upriver at the Hole in the Ground, the Davises continued to lease the place.  Whether they leased it directly from the Bureau of Reclamation or subleased it from the Griffiths is not known.  According to Stacia, such land could continue to be leased until the reservoir covered it.  The Davises took lumber from the house of another ranch–the McNulty place–to build stables on the Griffith; they also moved a cabin in its entirety to use as a shop.   The rock house the Griffiths had built had floors that weren’t plumb and an unfinished interior the Davises covered with lumber so it could be papered over.

Stone House

 

Shed

        While at the Griffith ranch, Conley made moonshine.  It was here that, when Sheriff Charlie Leavitt came looking for Conley's still and contraband whiskey, Stacia “borrowed” his car to go warn Conley.  Stacia also told the story of a plane she’d seen flying over the ranch at Hole in the Ground without “a care in the world.”  A couple of days later when she went downriver to the Griffith, where her father, “Dad” Hall and Conley had been haying, they told her the plane had landed there: “they were out of gas.  It looked like a tricky place to land in the canyon where the Hole in the Ground ranch was.  But, they saw this open meadow and they landed in the meadow.  And, they took a felt hat and strained the gasoline that we had to put in that airplane to get them into Boise.  And, they were making [the movie] “Northwest Passage” at McCall, and this was a pilot and Spencer Tracy that landed.  ….  well I was just saying they didn’t have a care in the world, and they had a lot of cares.”

 

Rock Corral

From the ranch buildings, the road passes the rock corral that now holds nothing but a travel trailer fabricated from the rear portion of a ca. 1975 Dodge van and the remnants of an old shed.  The rock wall that encloses three sides is quite substantial and looks more like a breastwork than a corral.

 

Island Ranch Site.  River Crossing is to the Right

        The distance from the Griffith Ranch to the Island Ranch is a bit under two miles.  The ranch site was visible from a distance, though without a decent map, GPS or binoculars I found it difficult to be certain.  (How unprepared can one be?)  The grove of locust trees was a sure indication of a homestead, but I could see no buildings.  However, I thought I could make out the waterwheel that I had heard so much about and that I had come to see.   But as I drew closer it proved to be a mirage comprised of brush and tree limbs that resembled spokes and a wheel.  So, to be certain I was at the right place before I attempted a crossing, I continued on around a couple of bends to where I could see further down the river.  Nothing.  I turned back to where the grove was and scrambled down the river bank.  Recrossing the river involved two stages, first to a gravel bar where I fought my way through willows and across another channel to the “island.”  The water was shallower here than it'd been at the initial crossing, but I almost wished it were deep enough to swim.  The sun was high and the temperature quickly mounting.  The ranch clearly once had been an island and perhaps becomes one again when the water runs high.  But the east channel was now barely visible. 

Island Ranch Waterwheel

        As I made my way through the brush along the downstream end of the island, I spied the top of a wooden waterwheel.  As I drew closer, it did not strike me as imposing as I had expected.  I had seen those at Birch Creek (on the Morrison Ranch actually) and downstream from the Owyhee Dam as well as photographs of some truly gigantic wheels.  Before the dam was built, there were something like thirty-six waterwheels on the river from Birch Creek to where the dam is now.  Diameters of thirty feet or more do not seem to have been unusual.  George Palmer estimated the average wheel was 28-32 ft. in diameter, and he knew of one that was 50 ft.  James Page guessed that a few folks had 60 ft. wheels.  I didn’t measure the Island River wheel, which was half buried in the sand from river floods.  I’d estimate, however, that it fell within in the range given by George Palmer.

      

Unidentified Waterwheel

Mattingly Waterwheel Downstream from Island Ranch

      The Island Ranch was homesteaded by Barney Harrell, who filed a patent on  19 November 1919.  He settled there around 1914 and sent back to Arkansas, where he hailed from, for a wife.  That was the widow Hattie Perry, née Fry, whose husband, Theodore Perry, died in 1911 leaving her with two children, Walter and Kate.  According to Walter, they moved to Caldwell, Idaho in 1914 where she married Barney on November 11, 1914.  It’s not clear how long they remained in Caldwell.  They probably married within a day after Hattie got off the train.  The marriage was performed the same day the license was obtained and in the same building.  From there they went to the Island Ranch where they lived until 1918, when they sold the ranch and returned to Arkansas.  They returned to the river in 1920, and Walter and his mother resumed raising stock and farming there.  After the government bought the ranch from them in 1927, they continued working the place for another couple of years, when Walter acquired a place on Mahogany Mountain.  It is not clear when Barney passed away.  Hattie would later move to Ontario, where according to the 1940 US Census, she lived with her widowed mother and cleaned houses for as much as seventy hours a week.

The Island Ranch House

      It was only as I made it around to the front of the house that I found attached to the building the Bureau of Reclamation information sign that identifies the place as "Hattie Harrell's Island Ranch" with no mention of Barney.  

 

 

        When Walter was interviewed in 1980 about his life on the Island Ranch, he said that it still looked pretty much the same as it had in 1914.  There was the water wheel, a house with two rooms and a lean-to on the north side for the kitchen.  His mother and stepfather had the bedroom, while he and his brother slept on the porch summer and winter, keeping warm with “lots of covers.”  Most of their time was spent working on the ranch with a couple of trips out each year for supplies.  When they returned to the ranch in 1920, the old water wheel was in such bad shape that they had to build a new one.  The hardest part of that was getting the material.  They had to go into Vale to purchase 4x4’s for the spokes and boards for the paddles.  The buckets were made by hand from sheet metal.

         Island Ranch House Interior

        Walking about the property offered a real sense of the hardships of life and an appreciation of the strength of the Owyhee residents’ attachment to the place.  I find it interesting and sometimes puzzling that people who led such a hard life were not anxious to give it up and look for something “better.”  To the contrary, they and their descendants have found it a source of pride and are rightly offended by those who view them with disdain.  Of course, it is not just the stockmen of the Owyhee who feel this way.  One finds the same with miners, lumbermen, commercial fishermen and whoever supports themselves with hard labor in an extractive endeavor.  It is striking that many families continue following this sort of lifestyle after many generations.  I’m certain that this underlying difference in lifestyle and values contributes to the difficulty of finding common ground with others over what it means to “protect” the Owyhee Canyonlands.

        With that thought, I set out back up the river for the nearly four-mile trek back to my 4Runner and the spot where I had first forded the river.  It was after 1:00PM and the air had grown considerably hotter.  While the route would be relatively level, I wouldn’t be crossing the river again.  I checked my watch thermometer: 111º!  I took off the watch and attached it to a belt loop where it would be shaded by the tail of my white Columbia Omni-Shade shirt and unaffected by my body heat.  Twenty minutes later and a half mile up the trail I checked again: 114º!!!  I decided to check no more and took a long pull on my Camelback, which I opened to check the water bladder–about a liter and a half remained.  I was relieved, and my step became a bit more sprightly–though that ended before too long.  Still I was able to make the trek in about an hour and a half and little shade.  Back at the 4Runner, I filled a water bottle with cool water from a seven gallon container and poured it over my head.  An eight mile hike in 100 degree heat with little shade–just a week after my 75th birthday, and I felt great.  Can’t wait to do it again–this time with binoculars and a hat!

[Sources:  Bureau of Reclamation Site Information Signage; 1980 BLM Interviews; Arkansas County Marriage Index, 1837-1957; Idaho, County Marriages, 1864-1950; US Census, 1910,  Arkansas, Roll: T624–44, p. 18; US Census 1940, Oregon, Roll: m-t0627-03372, p. 5A; Find a Grave 13870233; Bureau of Land Management, General Land Office Records, Accession nos. 610329 (12/03/1917) & 718219 (11/10/1919)] 

2019-08-26/09-01 Owyhee Trip

Rome Station to Iron Point and Back

        As I was showing Sofie and Lara through Eastern Oregon and the Owyhee country, I was already planning a solo trip that would overlap with Glenn Fretwell’s Jordan Valley atlatl event.  Glenn, Maria and Hazel had been so kind and generous that I wanted to show support.  Additionally, Mike Hanley had told me that now he was retiring from ranching, he was ready to donate his wagons and other artifacts as well as some land to an entity that would use them for an interpretive center.  Though the proposal was still vague, it nonetheless came as a surprise.  Those wagons (and a Model T and ‘60 Chevy Biscayne) had always struck me as more important to Mike than his ranch!  I wanted to hear more.  But I shall set that aside for the moment.  Meantime I have photos and article sitting on the desk of the editor of the Owyhee Avalanche, a weekly published just across the border in Homedale, Idaho.  And Mike is in Tennessee for a family reunion, and I want to talk to him a bit more about his idea.  (Since I wrote this, the article has been published and Mike is in Pendleton for the Roundup.)

 

Mike Hanley IV and his Wheels

        Be that as it may, if I were honest with myself, I’d have to admit that Glenn and Mike’s activities were also a rationalization for an opportunity to explore further portions of the Owyhee country that I hadn’t been able to reach before.  I've been particularly interested in the area on the right bank of the river from Rome Station down to Birch Creek and beyond.  Part of that I had seen around the mouth of Bogus Creek with Tim Davis and up along Owyhee Butte on Elias Eiguren’s guided tour of his rangeland.  I had also seen that stretch of the river from a raft when I floated it back in 2009.  So, the first day I took off from Rome Station, drove up the west side of the river and crossed a narrow old iron bridge that looks ready to plunge into the water.  From there, I took Airstrip Road (!), which climbed northward and paralleled the river.  At the top of the rise, I stopped to look back at the Pillars of Rome, the eroded volcanic tuff cliffs that give the place its name. That took me past Owyhee Butte and the grazing land Elias had shown us a few weeks earlier.  How quickly things change in the semi-arid landscape of the high desert!  Earlier the native grasses had been green and the landscape attractive; now it was covered by sere invasive cheat grass that seemed to be all that one could see among the sage brush.  There were scattered cattle and every mile or so, a watering tank fashioned from a large tractor laid on its side and filled with water could be seen.  Elias had explained to Sofie that by using the tires in this way, they were being repurposed, saving the cost of new steel tanks that might eventually rust out and need to be replaced.  Bouncing along a two-track, I followed Airstrip Road about 17.5 miles to Bogus Creek.  In the interests of time, I decided not to drive down to the Bogus Creek ranch, which Tim Davis and I had visited earlier.  Chesley Blake claimed the ranch was once owned owned by Frank Davis, who made moonshine there.  Whether that is true, I am uncertain.  But there is a spot close by known as the “Frank Davis Cow Pasture” where, several people have told me, he kept his stolen livestock.  Bearing to the right at Bogus Creek, a couple of miles up from the ranch house I headed north on Mud Lake Reservoir Road.

 

Pillars of Rome

    About 4.2 miles from Bogus Creek I came to an intersection with a road that the Delorme Atlas identifies as Miller Lane but which the onboard navigation system and BLM maps say is Packer Road.  There are, of course, no street signs to identify anything, but I grabbed a left and headed for the canyon rim a little over five miles away.  The view from the rim–upstream, downstream and straight down–is stunning.  At that point, the depth of the canyon is about 1000 feet and the width less than a half mile.  Directly opposite me on the other side was Iron Point.  Standing there I recalled that ten years earlier I’d the gazed at that stone pinnacle as I’d floated through Green Dragon Canyon.  I once asked Mike Hanley if he’d ever floated the canyon.  “No, but I’ve seen it from the rim on horseback.”  This struck me as a metaphor for the distance between the points of view of the environmentalists/recreationists and the cattlemen in understanding one another’s concerns.  The floaters see the beauty of the river and its canyon walls close up but are prevented in that moment from seeing the generations of hard work invested and the pride earned in creating the possibility of life for families and community on such arid land.  On the other hand, ranchers and buckaroos view the river and its canyon from high above where it is difficult to fully appreciate the aesthetic and physical thrill of being on the river as well the concern over the threats to the well-being of the Owyhee watershed and all it supports.  This is a broad brush that paints a symbolic picture of a complex and nuanced problem.  But it serves to bring into relief the responsibility of all to help one another understand their concerns and why they are important.  The concerns of one side have unappreciated implications for the other.

 

Iron Point and Green Dragon Canyon  (river flows left to right)

        I took a few pictures of Iron Point and, being mindful of the cliff’s edge, a selfie or two and then drove back out to Mud Lake Reservoir Road and turned north.  That took me past Mud Creek Reservoir, which displayed a surprising amount of greenery in the form of cattails.  It really didn’t look much like the usual high desert reservoir.  From there it was a bit over 3.5 miles to Morcom Road, which put me back on the road to town and a late lunch and nap.

2019-09-11

The Owyhee Avalanche:  The 2nd Annual High Desert Atlatl Throw

15 August 2019

An Oregon High Desert Journey

        Last month, accompanied by grand daughters Sofie and Lara (10 and 5 respectively) and Mei-Yueh, I headed out for Eastern Oregon to first visit Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge followed by Jordan Valley and the Owyhee country.  This wasn’t to be merely a camping trip.  After a year in Copenhagen daughter Claudia’s family is permanently relocating to Munich, Germany–about an hour’s drive from son-in-law Mathias’ hometown.  The prospect of the future's offering only occasional short visits to the States led me to propose the trip to introduce the girls to their Eastern Oregon heritage and to the people who live in the rural West, a segment of our society too often misperceived through a prism of myth and distorted history.  The icing on that cake would be the wildlife and landscape and a few subtle lessons on the importance of preserving them.  

        With our trailer in tow, we departed Portland the morning of Tuesday, July 9 for Hart Mountain.  In view of the distance we took two days to get there, with an overnight stay near Sisters.  Although the stay at Hart was only two nights, it proved a real adventure for the girls, who haven’t done much camping or had a lot of experience with wildlife.  An indication of what was in store was the pair of roadside turkey vultures greeting us as we approached the mountain.  It was the first time they had seen TVs close enough to be able to identify them, and from then on they kept their eyes peeled for the red heads and characteristic wobbly flight.  By the time we reached refuge headquarters twenty minutes later they were doing the same with the white bar that marks a Northern Harrier’s tail and the white butts of fleeing pronghorn.

 

Warner Lakes at Dusk (Sofie Drton)

 

 

       Lara and Sofie Capturing the Sunset at Warner Overlook

        Our first morning on the mountain, everyone piled into the 4Runner to visit Petroglyph Lake, really a large pond that usually attracts migrating birds.  It is bounded on its West side by a rock wall 20 feet high or so, the northern end of which is covered with faded Native American rock art.  No one has with any certainty explained the majority of the images, but the girls had fun searching them out and suggesting their own interpretations.  An even more exciting sight was the Northern Harrier Sofie spotted flying about twenty-five feet above the car grasping a surprisingly nonchalant-looking rubber boa in its talons.  The highlight of the Hart visit, though, came as we made our way back to the refuge headquarters.  A herd of more than fifty pronghorn was grazing near the road, while a smaller group crossed the road in front of us.  We stopped and the girls hopped out and began walking toward the animals.  Several does with fawns halted and turned to watch the advancing girls.  Pronghorns are curious animals; I have seen them wander into a Sage-grouse lek where the male birds were strutting their stuff and just stand there to watch the show.  This time, I suspect they did not feel threatened by two young girls who were no taller than they.  In any event Sofie and Lara were able to get within twenty feet of them; the two sides stood and studied one another until the animals moved off to join the rest of the herd.  The girls were ecstatic.  

Sofie and Lara Approaching the Pronghorn (M-Y Crowell)

        In the afternoon we drove out to Guano Creek canyon to the site of the Old Camp Warner where 96 Native Americans were massacred in 1866 by a local posse and a company of soldiers.  Nothing remains of the original Fort Warner, though treasure hunters with metal detectors have occasionally (and illegally) recovered cartridges and brass uniform decorations there.  That evening we soaked in the campground hot springs.

        By this point, we were beginning to understand the limitations of our 17’ Casita.  The RV park in Sisters where we stayed the first night had required all of us to sleep in the trailer–the girls and Theresa on a converted dining-table double bed and I on a cot-sized bed from the dinette.  Even with no snoring, two adults and two squirming children in a small trailer does not make for restful night.  In the public campgrounds I could sleep on the ground next to the trailer, but most RV parks don’t allow that.  The decision after the second night was to sleep in motels rather than RV parks.  There was some regret on my part, since I slept best when I slept on my ground pad.  That includes the night I would spend on the floor in the Best Western motel in Nampa because I’d messed up the on-line reservation and got a room with a single king-sized bed.  Sofie and Theresa grabbed the bed, and Lara slept in an arm chair. 

        On the fourth morning, we drove from Hart into Burns for a motel stay and to do some grocery shopping for our stay in the Owyhee.  This was made necessary by our desire for fresh vegetables and limited space for carrying comestibles generally.  The highlight of the Burns stay wasn’t the food, however, but the motel swimming pool where Sofie met a young boy her age traveling with his German grand parents.  Nicklaus is also from the Willamette Valley, and by the time we parted a few hours later, they’d made plans to meet back in Portland for a swim in our HOA community pool.  The manner in which Sofie and Lara are able to quickly make friends almost anywhere they go never fails to astonish me.  Lara especially has an ability to insert herself into groups of strangers–regardless of age–and become a generous contributor to the conversation no matter the topic.

        The drive to Jordan Valley was smooth and the passing landscape was still surprisingly green.  Jordan Valley’s slow decline has left it without a grocery (there is a pair of convenience stores good for essentials such as beer, chips and motor oil).  In the last year the regionally renowned Basque Inn closed down; I suspect its being renamed the Flatiron Steakhouse probably contributed to its demise.  At one time it was known for serving “Basque cuisine,” which made it worth the stop if just for the experience.  This left just the JV and Rockhouse cafes.  The latter is really a coffee shop with espresso drinks, Italian sodas and fine ice cream, but also with excellent burritos and owner Cindy Beckwith’s homemade cinnamon rolls, cookies and hospitality.  But most of all I looked forward to the girls’ reaction to their first encounter with a rural community.  Sofie can describe it best:

“The next stop on our eight-day trip was Jordan Valley.  We arrived on Saturday.  Now, when we first arrived at Jordan Valley, it looked like nothing special to me.  It didn’t have any grocery shops except for the corner market and the gas station.  I didn’t know why it meant so much to my grandfather.  But as we started to get to know the place and the people who lived there,  I started to feel as comfortable there as I had been staying in the hotel in Burns.  The first person we met on our stop at Jordan Valley was Glenn [Fretwell].  As the owner of the RV park where we stayed those first few nights, his house was right across from where we parked our trailer.  The first night we stayed there we had the privilege of getting to watch Glenn throw the atlatl and we got to try it ourselves!  It was such fun for both me and Lara.  The next morning we woke up bright and early (i.e., 10:00 AM) and got to watch Glenn carve an arrowhead!  I was fascinated whilst my sister spent half the time pretending to gallop around on horses with my grandmother.” 

Glenn Showing Sofie and Lara How to Knap Flint

“Though I said we woke up at 10:00 AM, both my grandmother and I had rough time sleeping, bringing us to the decision of sleeping the next few nights in the motel down the street.  This worked better for us the next few nights.  Anyway, later that evening, waiting until the sun was nearly under the horizon, we threw darts again.  I was so happy when I first hit a bullseye!”

Sofie Throwing the Atlatl  (M-Y Crowell)

On Sunday, we decided to drive up into the Owyhee Mountains to Silver City, an old mining town that has become something of a weekend tourist destination with old buildings, a church and a cemetery.  Some of these have been refurbished after a fashion and house a souvenir store or two, a restaurant/hotel, homes and a lot of history.  The day we visited, Silver City was the destination of hordes of ATVs and Mormon crickets.  The latter infestation Lara described as “very disgusting!”  In the late afternoon we returned to JV and the girls immediately went looking for Glenn to resume their attacks on the atlatl targets.  By the end of our stay, Glenn judged Sofie to have great potential as an atlatl thrower and gave us contact information for atlatl aficionados in Germany.

        Monday was Labor Day, though aside from a few scattered American flags, there was little to suggest that it wasn’t just another day in Jordan Valley.  But for us–and especially Sofie and Lara–it was very special.  They had been invited to the ranch of Elias Eiguren and his family to compare riding Western saddle with what they’d been learning at the riding stables in Portland and Copenhagen.  Sofie picks up the story:

“The next morning we actually woke up bright and early ( I mean it this time!) at 7:00 AM.  Then we all piled into the car and were headed off to Elias Eiguren’s ranch.  Lara and Zada (Elias’ daughter) hit it off right from the start. At first we watched Elias, Thales (his son) and Zada ride around for a bit and then the show was on!  Our turn!  In the beginning we just walked around a bit, me alone and Lara led by Elias, and then I started to trot, while Lara refused to, even while being led.  I had a great experience at Elias’ ranch, seeing what it was like to ride Western.  Plus, we each got to take home a horseshoe, and got a nice hour-long tour around their property and where their cows graze.  At some point grasshoppers started flying in our faces and we had to close the pickup windows!  My favorite part was obviously riding Cheks and I bet Lara’s favorite part was riding Captain (aka Captain Sassy).” 

        The visit to the Eiguren place was an excellent introduction into the lessons of rural life.  When we returned from our tour of the ranch, nine-year old Thales came riding up on an ATV.  His dad asked what he’d been up to, and Thales explained that a drive chain on the hay baler had broken and launched into a description of how he’d been helping replace the broken link.  During our tour I was also witnessed an elegant example of the use of one's surroundings to teach a child ecology when Sofie said she wished they could get rid of all the annoying grass hoppers.  "But birds rely on them for their food.  What would they do then?" Elias asked.  "They'd eat something else."  "What would the birds that eat those other things do then?" Elias replied.  "Oh!  I don't know."  Without a lecture there had resulted a moment of understanding.

Elias with Thales, Lara, Zada, and Sofie in the Saddle

        In the afternoon Elias had to get back to baling, so we headed south along the Owyhee canyon to an overlook where the girls got their first glimpse of the  canyon’s magnificence and took pictures (they had commandeered two of my cameras), and we ate our picnic lunch.  And then it was back to town where I took the girls and Mei-Yueh to meet Glenn's mother, the wonderful and warm 99 year-old Hazel Fretwell.

 

Owyhee Canyon from the Overlook

        Tuesday took us to the part of the Canyon I really wanted to show the girls.  Sofie continues:

“The next day we (unfortunately) had to wake up just as early.  We drove to Jordan Craters and walked around a bit.  We chose some lava rocks and headed off to our next stop.  But not without stopping to be fascinated, though.  We took so many pictures, some of which are included in the blog.  On the way back we got some real good shots of cowboys herding cows (there was a cowgirl too, though).  Next we headed off to Hole in the Ground, where Gonggong’s godparents’ ranch used to be. We also took some great pictures there because the sight was just beautiful!”

Viewing Hole in the Ground Ranch from the Canyon Rim (M-Y Crowell)

I’d wanted to take them down into the canyon to the ranch house, but we’d been warned that spring rains had taken probably taken the road out.  A sign informing that the road down into to the Birch Creek ranch was closed underscored the likelihood.   We settled for viewing the ranch house from the rim through a spotting scope before heading back to see rancher-historian Mike Hanley.  I'll let Sofie describe the meeting: 

“After that we drove back to Jordan Valley.  I discovered the letters ‘J.V.’ painted on the side of the mountain above town.  The last (but not least) stop for the day was Mike Hanley’s ranch.  We found Mike in his shed fixing a buckboard. 

Lara and Sofie in the Buckboard with Mike Hanley

" Now, the cool thing about Mike is that he collects old buckboards and wagons and repairs them.  He is also a great artist.  We spent a good amount of time just looking at his drawings.  Then Mike led us into the pasture to get Gus and Patience, the two horses that would pull us.  As we were standing in the pasture waiting for Mike to return with Gus and Patience, two horses, one white, one chestnut brown, came galloping into the pen we were in.  I backed up into my grandmother, alarmed.  And then when they really started galloping straight towards us, I was shivering with fear.  Luckily by then Mike had returned.  We made our way out of the pasture, pushing aside other horses who wanted out, and watched Mike tack them up.  The first buckboard ride was Lara’s and mine.  It was such fun.   After our ride, my grandmother and I got a ride and then Lara and our grandfather got one.   After that we went to visit Hazel (Glenn’s mother).  The next day was the day that we left Jordan Valley, sadly.  And so the next moment I found myself looking back at Jordan Valley, the “nothing special” town that turned out to be very special, thanks to the people like Glenn and Mike and the Eigurens who live there.”

        Sofie’s reaction to Jordan Valley was gratifying; helping the girls understand and appreciate the life and people of rural Oregon had been my motive in putting the trip together.  But I think they went beyond.  Both had brought forth an unending stream of questions.  They were taken with Thales’ and Zada’s garb and wanted to know where they could get hats and boots.  Elias’ mother recommended the D&B Supply in Caldwell, one of those stores that has just about anything one might want or need for ranch life.  (The “Big R” in Burns is another.)  As we left Jordan Valley, D&B became the object of their repeated query “Are we there yet?”  When we did finally make it they got complete outfits.  (Except for their red bandanas, which we got in Pendleton.)  I got a package of licorice, surely a necessity of ranch life for those who don’t use snuff (or “snoose” as the old Finn Vern Mackey of my forest service days called it).  It seems to be available in every ranch supply store I’ve ever been in.

 

All Duded Up

        Our last morning in Jordan Valley morning we packed up the trailer, stopped at the Rock House for cappuccinos, hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, and then we headed across the Idaho border for Nampa to see my half-sister Karen.  The highway out of Jordan Valley was posted with bright orange warnings of slippery roads ahead.  In some years–as with this one–a crawling horde of Mormon crickets blankets highway 95, forcing ODOT to put up the signs.  Along the fog line at the edge of the road was a low, brown berm of mashed crickets that hadn’t made it to the other side.  Their mushy remains splattered all over the front of our trailer, which would cause folks back in Portland to ask if we’d been driving through a barnyard.

        The visit with Karen was short–less that 24 hours.  She has Down Syndrome and at 59 is slowly sliding into dementia, which sometimes makes visits short.  That in turn gives rise to guilt feelings, since studies have suggested that social interaction can improve cognitive function and increase brain volume, which has been correlated with a reduced risk of dementia.  The quality of the care is reassuring, however, thanks to Social Security, Medicaid and a devoted but underpaid staff of caregivers.  Seeing her situation, I could not help but think of Jordan Valley and wonder what life would be like there for someone like her.  It was a reminder that medical care and support for the disabled in this country are too often a matter of chance. 

        Our last stop was Baker, Oregon.  My great grandparents migrated there from Montana in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  The exact timing is a bit unclear, and this has presented a challenge to my family history research.  My great grandfather Benjamin Jacobs–“Jeep” to the family–was drawn by the Sumpter gold rush and had several placer claims that don’t seem to have panned out.  My great grandmother “Tarty,” being descended from good German Protestant stock, seems to have been more sensible and acquired ranch land and a brand.  Having witnessed Jeep’s handling of his father’s not insubstantial estate, she chose daughter Claudia over her husband to administer her estate.  Individual failings notwithstanding, my research has shown them all to be good if not always sensible folks. 

Lara Pointing to Her G-G-Grandmother's Class Picture

We visited the Baker Heritage Museum, which has my grandmother Claudia’s class picture hanging on the wall.  Then we took flowers to the cemetery where my maternal family (mother, brothers, grandparents and great grandparents) are interred.  We had visited the cemetery a few years ago, but Sofie and Lara had been too young to understand.  This time was different.  I explained to them the different people and told them a bit about the family history I have been writing, causing Sofie to interject, “I want a history too!”  “This is your history,” I replied.  “The history will become yours and you can continue to add to it.”  She was overjoyed and asked if it would be all right to use the material as a basis for writing a “fantasy”–a fictional account of the family.  She began working on it that night.  Later she would describe her impressions of the visit: 

“The graveyard was a slight twist to our vacation.  The graves left me feeling sad, especially after seeing some graves that looked all broken and uncared for.  I left a flower on an especially sad looking [neighboring] grave.  Made it look nicer.  The family history really interested me and I spent about half an hour pestering my grandfather about the names of all of the people so that I could include them in my story.  It seems funny to me how so many people that my grandfather knew, such as his grandma, seemed so ancient and long dead to me.  I really wish that I could go back in time and meet all of those people.  My grandpa said that I and his mother would probably hit it off.  Makes it seem so sad to me that I can’t meet so many wonderful people.  His mother especially had very beautiful handwriting.  Most of our trip had been all happy–look at this beautiful site, this is where these people lived, oh look how wonderful!  So like I said, the graveyard was a twist to our trip and left me feeling moodier than ever, really.  But it was so nice to learn about family!  Although sad, it was really fun.”

 

Sofie and Lara Putting Flowers on the Family Graves at Mt Hope Cemetery (M-Y Crowell)

I was filled with gratification, though not surprised, that Sofie seemed to understand the importance of family history.  It was Lara, however, who provided the unexpected reaction a few days after returning to Portland when she came to me with a small booklet she had made and asked me to write on each page the biographical information of the occupants of each grave, beginning with my mother.

        On the 19th we returned to Portland stopping in Pendleton on the way to get bandanas to complete their western outfits at the Hamley Saddle & Western Store, a local landmark.  But all they had were silk scarves, so we went to Bi Mart where the working man gets his red bandana.  Having filled up on mediocre pizza at Big John’s, we hit the road for Portland for an unhurried trip down the beautiful Columbia Gorge, arriving home in the late afternoon.

     

        Researching and writing my family’s history I have come to understand the importance of sharing this sort of knowledge with children when they are young.  Some have told me that kids aren’t interested and won’t be until they are much older, if ever.  That has not been my experience.  My mother never sat my brother and me down to tell the family’s story.  She answered questions when asked, but usually rather briefly.  It wasn’t until at the age of nine my daughter Claudia began asking about her namesake–my grandmother–that I began to appreciate how little I knew.  And that came mostly from overheard conversations between mom and my grandmother Gam when we traveled to Baker each Memorial Day to place flowers on the graves.  Knowledge that is shared unintentionally can be just as important as that passed on purposefully.  Often it was simply a few names of people or places.  In response to Claudia’s questions I wrote mom, and after a long delay she replied with a seventeen-page history of the family on her side as she knew it.  Appropriately it was dated on my daughter’s birthday, just a little over a year before mom’s passing.  That letter contained much I had heard as a child but even more that was new to me.  It became the starting point for my own research through which I found a great deal of what my mother knew to be mistaken.  The names generally were not, however, and even the errors provided essential guideposts.

        That letter not only launched my research into the family but also to an effort to put my findings into a form that daughter Claudia and others would want to read.  I wasn’t interested in compiling an extensive genealogy so much as in composing a family history that included social, political and economic context to reveal motives, values, and anything else that might bring long-lost folks back to life.  I recall once when I working in the St Lawrence University Library the special collections librarian emerged from his office and asked, “Are you interested in a masonry family history, that is building a wall brick by brick, or in a landscape history that gives a broad view?”  I replied my interest was in a “landscape history.”  He went back into his office and returned with several volumes of census data and analysis of the late 19th C society and economy of the region.  It proved invaluable to filling in the gaps and helping to understand just who and what these people I was studying were and what they had achieved.  

        The goal of a “landscape history” is what brought me to the Owyhee.  My grandparents never lived in the Owyhee country, but their good friends Conley and Stacia Davis did.  The two couples shared many values and similar views.  I remember as a child accompanying my grandparents to their home after they had sold the ranch and moved to Fruitland and then Ontario.  And I continued to visit them up until Stacia  passed away in 1990.  (Conley died in 1974.)  The attachment to the Owyhee that I gained through them remains even though they are gone and gains strength from the people I have come to know there and from the stunning natural beauty and history of the place.  That is what I hoped to share with Sofie and Lara.

22 July 2019

Second Annual High Desert Atlatl Throw & ISAC

        Building upon the success of last year’s first annual High Desert Atlatl Throw & ISAC, Jordan Valley, Oregon resident Glenn Fretwell has announced the Second Annual Atlatl Throw to be held over Labor Day Weekend. (See below.)  The competition will take place Friday, August 30 through Monday September 2, 2019 at the Oxbow Trailer Park in Jordan Valley.  If you are looking for something to do over that weekend, consider taking this in as part of a trip to visit the Owyhee Canyonlands.  Children are welcome.  Tent camping and RV space are available.

        When I posted Glenn’s announcement last year, a friend asked if the atlatl were something associated particularly with the Owyhee.  I replied that I didn't think so.  Since then I have learned that in fact atlatls were used prior to the bow and arrow by the early residents of the region.  Many of what we as kids thought were spear or arrowhead projectiles were in fact atlatl dart points.  Remains have been found in the Dirty Shame Rockshelter in the Owyhee Uplands of extreme southeastern Oregon. (Aikens. Archeology of Oregon, 20.)