A TRIP TO YO-SEMITE - PART 3

         Okay, so we left my great grandfather Smedley and his traveling companions at the City Hotel in the pretty little town of Sonora, California, where Mr. Sutton had just insulted a young lady’s virtue and was about to be clouted by one of several willing folks.  Good thing they weren’t planning on staying there overnight!

And on we go . . .

 Left Sonora at 5:45 PM.  On rising a hill, saw a beautiful sunset.  (This was most likely from what is now called “Twist Road”)

This is where I’m sure he saw the sunset he wrote of.  The fence and windmill probably weren’t there at the time?

Arrived at Jacksonville at 8:15. Got some milk and crackers.  Crossed the Tuolumne at 9PM. (on Hoswell’s ferry).  Arrived at the foot of Rattlesnake Hill (Old Priest Grade) at 10PM. Then it was our turn to walk.

Jacksonwille in the early 1900s – some 30 years or so after J.K. and party stopped here for milk & crackers.  The small town sat on the banks of the Tuolumne River.  From here they would have been traveling alongside the river to Hoswell’s ferry.  Unfortunately, even in late May, going on 9:00 PM they probably couldn’t see much of the scenery which is a shame because the drive along the Tuolumne & thence the shores of Moccasin Creek beyond would have been lovely in daylight.

Jacksonville, sadly, today – somewhere in the vicinity of that boat except a ‘few’ feet under.  You can still see the old road leading down to it.  The town was flooded by Don Pedro Lake in June of 1970.

Hoswell’s ferry where they crossed the Tuolumne River.  Take note of the road on the other side.

The current (bridge) crossing of the Tuolumne River/Don Pedro Lake.  The old ferry crossing is, of course, underwater, but the road their coach would have been traveling on after crossing on the ferry can be seen just to the left of that spit of land.  The lake wasn’t full when I took this picture which allowed me to catch part of the road until it disappears underwater.  Note: I had to climb over three gates & pass warnings of wild horses in order to take this picture! J

The old road (except now paved) along Moccasin Creek.  Really a shame they drove it in the dark as it’s very pretty.  But J.K. was bound and determined to get to Priest’s Hotel atop Rattlesnake Hill, as it was then called, so they missed pretty scenes like this one.

Arrived at the foot of Rattlesnake Hill (Old Priest Grade) at 10PM. Then it was our turn to walk.  Just think of a hill two miles long and rising 1700 feet.  We all got out to walk but Sutton who was the smallest of the party.  Up, up, up we went and I thought we had walked five miles when Chase said "This is halfway."  Oh goodness.  Only a mile, and up, up another.  Then we began to change riding as some had done the first quarter mile.  Around and around, thinking every turn would be the last. Coats and hats off, and 11PM.  By this time, we had all climbed in the carriage.

A wagon coming up Rattlesnake Hill/Priest’s Grade.  Can you imagine coming up this steep curving one-lane dirt road in the dark with but a couple of carriage lanterns and a several hundred foot drop off the side?  It took them two hours and blood, sweat, and tears to get to the top.  It takes me four minutes to drive it (now a paved narrow 2-lanes but steep as ever).  Poor great grandfather!

Looking across Rattlesnake Canyon at Old Priest Grade from the New Priest road.  It’s a steady climb for two miles, the grade ranging from 14% to 17%.  A small bit of the original road can be seen going around the hill – left there when the roadbed was widened and cut through that small section of hill.

Finally, we heard the bark of a dog, knowing a house was near.  In a few minutes we reached Priest's, the best place and table in the whole land, and a pretty girl to attend to the table.  They were all snug in bed, but when we called they got up, and in 20 minutes, had a steaming hot dinner of fricasseed chicken, fried ham, beefsteak, good coffee and tea and milk, pie and cake and strawberries.  Such a luscious supper!  May Priest's shadow never grow less!        

          While eating and luxuriating over our good supper, in came Mrs. Whitehouse and Fred Conant.  The stage from Murphy's followed us.  And seeing such a supper, did want to stay, but when the stage goes, all go and they had to go on to First Garrote where they had reservations.

(First Garrote was renamed Groveland one year later. Families had begun moving into the area and as the word Garrote is a Spanish term for an iron collar used to hang people, it was thought a different name might be more appropriate.  Apparently the first such hanging occurred in First Garrote, & another, later on, in Second Garrote a few miles east.)

          We enjoyed our supper and did not tarry long before retiring where we had good beds and slept sounder than ever.  In the morning, Saturday the 23rd, the sun was shining beautifully and when I got up and went down, I saw we were really above the clouds and to look down that awful long hill I could only laugh and think we would have the best of Old Hill when we returned.  Sure did!

Priest’s Hotel a month and a half later in July, 1874, with a carriage bound for the valley to celebrate the opening of the Big Oak Flat Road all the way into Yo-semite Valley eliminating the need for an 18-mile saddle trip.

Priest Station today – store & café with a large deck overlooking both old and new Priest Grades (the ‘new’ built in 1915), plus a few rental cabins.

          After a friendly chat with Mr. and Mrs. Priest and their daughter of whom I shall never forget, we bid them adieu - promising to stop in on our return.  Left Priest's at 7:30 AM.  Passed Big Oak Flat.  Saw a fine chispa of gold. (Chispa is a Spanish word which originally meant something grand and glorious, but in Mother Lode country, it became a synonym for any nugget of gold.)

The giant oak tree, or what was left of it after it burned in a fire, for which the area was named.  Oddly, J.K. makes no mention of the huge tree. When he passed through Big Oak Flat the burned bottom half of the dying tree was either still standing or had fallen over by the side of the road.  Either way, it was so extraordinarily huge, I’m surprised, if he saw it, he didn’t write something about it?  What’s harder to believe is he didn’t see it?  Perhaps, having seen the giant trees in the Calaveras "Mammoth Grove" east of Murphys, the huge oak wasn't that impressive?

The giant oak having fallen over next to the road.

Today preserved pieces of the big tree rest in a roadside rock monument.

Jordan’s Cash Store between Big Oak Flat and First Garrote then.

The area hosts a gas station & quik mart in 1990.

Arrived at First Garrote – 3 miles, at 8:30.  There is a fine spring close to the road where we all drank.  This was Garrote Creek which flows through town and eventually through our former backyard in Pine Mountain Lake.  In my mind's eye, I see my great grandfather kneeling to drink water in cupped hands from the fine spring while over his head floats a bubble of the future in which his great granddaughter and great great granddaughters are sailing Hobie Cats on Pine Mountain Lake into which Garrote Creek flows.  I doubt he ever imagined only three generations later his kin would be living here driving all the same roads he had – though widened and paved now – and tripping up to Yosemite or over to Calaveras Big Trees on a moment’s whim.

First Garrote, now named Groveland, in the early 1900s.  The Iron Door Saloon is the first building on the right.

The town of Groveland, no longer First Garrote, today.  The first building on the left is the Groveland Community Hall where the Pine Cone Singers - one of the groups i sing with - hold their rehearsals.

The bridge over Garrote Creek then, where J.K. etal drank from the “fine spring close to the road.”

The bridge over Garrote Creek today.

J.K.’s great great granddaughters in a ‘bubble of the future’ sailing a Hobie Cat on Pine Mountain Lake into which Garrote Creek empties after flowing behind the house we lived in, in Groveland..

And for now, we’ll leave the group up on the main thoroughfare quenching their thirst at Garrote Creek.

To be continued

:->

La Nightingail