September 16, 2008
Day 1 Today is officially the 150th anniversary of the first trip west along the Butterfield Overland Mail Route.
It’s hard now to contemplate what an epic undertaking this was. From its conception, the enterprise was met with naysayers who thought it impossible to create reliable and safe passage, for mail and man, through the wild territories of frontier America. Newspapers claimed the task was impossible and that the government, in concert with John Butterfield and his partners, would be sending passengers to certain death. But they were wrong. Not only did the mail (and the aforementioned Mr. Waterman Ormsby) make it, they made it in under the 25 days required by the government contract: they arrived in San Francisco in 23 days and 23 hours.
And now, 150 years later, I find myself on an epic adventure, a modern-day Ormsby. While the obstacles and hardships I face recreating this trip are much different than those of Ormsby and Butterfield, I can’t help but feel a connection to them.
Our journey began this morning with a huge country style breakfast at the Waffle House in Granite City (hello Heather! Thanks for the great service and for calling us hun’ and sweetie, it was like being back home Pensacola, Fl.) Bellies full, we started for the St. Louis Arch. Check out the video.
The St. Louis riverfront, while flooded on our arrival (thank you Ike, my new nemesis), was nonetheless beautiful. The” ‘ole muddy” truly lived up to its name. Unfortunately, I’m finding that time is not our friend on this journey. With the hectic travel schedule, and the demands of reporting on our journey so connected to access to technology, I find myself once again rushing through a city that truly deserves more time than I'm able to devote. Having said that, we did manage to briefly see the major sites: the Arch (including a 4 minute journey to the top), the Westward Expansion Museum, the Old Courthouse, and Union Station.
With St. Louis behind us, we started on our way to our destination for the night—Warsaw, Missouri. We made a quick stop in Washington (Missouri!) for some filming by the Missouri river and unfortunately arrived too late to visit the Corn Cob Pipe Museum. But the town of Washington is a beautiful small town with old red brick buildings lining the riverfront. We continued along the old highway winding our way through lush rolling hills and small villages. We were becoming increasingly concerned with our ability to make it to Warsaw. And then, Ike did it again. After 20 or so miles of traveling down Highway 94, we saw up ahead what no traveler down a dark country highway wants to see—big red and white barricades. Road Closed. Upon pulling up to the obstructions, we discovered another road completely submerged. It appears another road had fallen victim to Ike, and once again our plans would have to be altered. And so we turned the old RV around, hungry and increasingly tired. But not discouraged: after all, adjustments had to be made in Ormsby’s day and so too in mine.
We decided that Sedalia, Missouri would be as far as we would go. After a quick stop for a yummy fried catfish dinner (man! I love being close to the South again!), with fried pickles appetizer at Colton’s Steak House in Jefferson City, served up quick and with a smile by Heather, we were off to Sedalia. By this time it was approaching midnight and we decided that Juan should stay in a hotel where he would have access to internet via old school Ethernet cable connection (again with the technology issues). We found a Ramada Inn in Sedalia and dropped Juan off. I decided to search for an RV campground so I could hook up our old RV to power, to keep our food from spoiling. According to my RV directory, Sedalia is home to three RV parks. I found the first with relative ease, but it was a senior’s only park. Next, I drove around guided by my handy GPS system to the next supposed campsite, which turned out to be an industrial park. Strike two.
Finally, the directory alerted me to the Missouri State Fairgrounds, which was supposed to have an RV campsite. However, a drive around the perimeter revealed only a sign that read, “Overnight Camping that way .5 miles.” But alas, a drive of over a mile and a half produced nothing. Exhausted and for the first time a little discouraged I made my way back to the Ramada, parked in the back and hit the hay. It was 3 a.m.
P.S. The mail is safe, secure and dry, Ms. Decker’s class!
September 17
Day 2
A little behind schedule, we left Sedalia this morning en route to Warsaw and eventually Cassville, Missouri. We made a brief stop at the Starbucks on Highway 50, where we were served up coffee and pastries by a friendly and interested crew, led by Dena. I don’t know if Dena is actually the crew leader but whoever the leader is, what a friendly crew they lead! Thanks guys, hope the picture came out, Dena and that you’re following along. From Sedalia it was a quick ride down Highway 65 to Warsaw. Warsaw, Missouri is a great small town on the Osage River. I discovered much to my embarrassment (and too late to change it in the video!) that Osage is pronounced with a long ‘a’ as in “Casey”, not with a short ‘a’ as in “mangle.” My apologies to Warsaw and the entire state of Missouri…
Warsaw is very proud of its heritage and particularly, its connection to the Butterfield Overland Mail Route. There are no less than three markers on the grounds of the County Courthouse that mention this connection. Although Ormsby talks of crossing the Osage in Warsaw at a ford in the river, there was already Lewis Bledsoe’s ferry which began operation in 1831.
After some filming, I had a few minutes to walk around the town. I stopped by the Warsaw Antique Mall, which I highly recommend if you ever find yourself in Warsaw, andI purchased a gold Butterfield Overland ornament with a date of 2006 inscribed on it. Not exactly an antique, but it was just the kind of thing I was looking for.
After waiting for Juan outside the RV for a few minutes—beginning to wonder if he had fallen in the Osage—I found him enjoying a Hibiscus Jamaica and a salad at the Common Ground Tavern. What a cool place this is. The building is fully restored and the attendant believes it was a “safe house” for slaves escaping to freedom prior to the Civil War. As we are always pressed for time, I took my salad and Jamaica to go (they were great by the way: another must-stop in Warsaw) and we were off.
We were soon on the winding road south, headed to Cassville. The landscape, aside from the houses and little towns, is much the same as in Ormsby’s day, with rolling hills, green prairies, farms and cattle. A stop for refueling led us to Teresa and Lucy, who work at the Cargo Bay Market. What friendly ladies these were. They seemed genuinely interested in our journey, and in particular, Eddie and Charlie. ( And who can blame them?) I hope they are following us along and if so, hello and thanks again!
After another couple of hours and some roadside filming, we finally arrived at our campsite where we met John and Jenny, owners of the Oak Hill Court and RV Park. What a great couple these two are. It is a relief to a weary traveler to meet some folks who really seem to care that you’re staying with them and treat you like family. Come on!—Jenny actually called me when we were running about 45 minutes behind schedule, to make sure we were safe! Now that’s a WOW experience! They even met us at the front and led us to our site and provided us with a hanging light to make sure we could connect in the dark. After chatting with our hosts for a few minutes and hooking up the RV, I sat down to relax a moment and collect my thoughts about the trip so far. One thing I notice is the increased enthusiasm that is building, not only my own but in the people I encounter as well. From Dena to Teresa and Lucy, to John and Jenny, to the school kids I’m meeting, to the folks posting comments on the web, people seem to be really engaged in our journey. I must say I’m pleasantly surprised and gratified that all my hard work —and the work of numerous other anonymous folks—leading up to this trip, and the trials since, have been worth it for the sheer excitement it’s created. The Butterfield Overland Mail Route is often overlooked, but it’s a monumental event in American History. I’m reminded of one of my favorite Ormsby quotes, which he wrote while traveling this very leg of the journey: There seems to be a catching enthusiasm about the whole trip, which excited more interest – I know for myself – than I ever supposed could be mustered out of the bare fact of a common coach traveling over a common road, with a common mail bag and a few common people inside.
P.S. Ms. Decker’s class—the mail is safe and sound and is about to meet up with mail from Lowell Elementary School in Arkansas, en route to its final destination – California!
September 18
Day 3 What a day! After saying good bye to John and Jenny at the Oak Hill Court and thanking them for their hospitality, I was off for what I knew would be a busy day. First stop, Pea Ridge Military National Park. There I would meet with Glen Jones, a member of the Heritage Trail Partners. Glen contacted me some time ago and arranged to have me meet with John C. Scott, Superintendent of the park, for a personal guided tour.
I was delighted to discover, when I arrived, that I was not only greeted by Glen and John but several other members of Heritage Trail Partners, including the mayor of Pea Ridge, Jackie Crabtree (what a treat!) and a journalist from the local Pea Ridge Paper. Mayor Crabtree was generous enough to present me with a wonderful book on the history of Pea Ridge, and what a history there is. After chatting with the mayor about his town, we were off for our tour.
The park is truly spectacular and pristine. Whether you are a civil war enthusiast, interested in the Butterfield Route or the Trail of Tears, or just simply love nature—this park is for everyone. Unfortunately, not everyone gets the privilege of touring the grounds with John as their guide and Glen as his “confederate” foil. At one point John was telling me about a particular moment in the battle when Confederate soldiers were forced to retreat, to which Glen playfully reminded him that this was actually a “180-degree tactical advance.” They make a great team.
I love the story of their first meeting. John hadn’t been superintendent long when a tall “intimidating man” showed up at the park. (John’s words not mine—Glen is actually one of the nicest guys you want to meet.) Glen asked, “Superintendent, why aren’t you flying the Confederate flag here at the park headquarters?” To which the new Superintendent replied, “Because they lost.” They’ve been great friends every since. John’s knowledge and appreciation of history is really brought to light as he interprets the sights. As you gaze out on the vast open fields, the battlefield comes alive. You can imagine the gun blasts, the smell of gunpowder, the flowing of blood and the sorrowful screams of young men giving their lives for a cause. It was at once inspiring and somber.
Next, we were on to an actual stretch of the Butterfield route that runs through the park. We climbed on John’s utility vehicle, the modern day mule, and headed down the path over rocks and downed tree limbs, past a creek and finally to the site of an old tannery that was contemporary to Butterfield’s day. What a thrill. This was one of my favorite parts of the tour. I could actually imagine Ormsby bumping along this trail as I was now, 150 years later to the day. As I looked over the side, I wondered if the scattered stones I was seeing and feeling were the very ones that made Ormsby’s ride so rough. He was certainly correct when he described this part of the journey as, “steep and rugged.”
One thing I learned while I was here—and I think important to our understanding of the Butterfield Rout—is that much as our modern highways, the Overland was more than just commerce and communication for a growing nation. John pointed out to me that for a brief moment in time, the Route also served as an evacuation route. Like the millions today who use our highways to escape natural disasters, tens of thousands fled Arkansas to escape the destruction and lawlessness that ensued in the period after the Civil War battles had ended.
I could have spent many more hours soaking up all the knowledge that my guides have to share, not to mention the beauty of the surroundings, but once again my time was up and we had to be off.
Next stop, Lowell Arkansas and the Lowell Elementary School. Thanks to a generous invitation from Kathy Hansen, another Heritage Trail Partner and Media Specialist at Lowell Elementary, I was invited to meet with about 160 of her 4th and 5th grade students. What a treat. It was a pleasure to share the stories and triumphs of The Butterfield Overland Route, Wells Fargo History and our trip. I had a great time and I hope the students did, too.
I want to think them all for their participation, and Kathy Hansen for her hospitality and for setting up this event, and for the school t-shirt. I can’t wait to wear it. And for the student who left the comment, I got it! To all the students your mail has now joined with Ms. Decker’s classes’ mail and is safe and secure and on its way to Oklahoma tomorrow en route to San Francisco! As if the day hadn’t been exciting enough I rushed from Lowell Elementary to Springdale, Arkansas to the home of Jay and Sarah Barryman for another brush with the past and a meeting with the board of directors of the Heritage Trail Partners. On the Barryman’s property sits a stone stable that was once Fitzgerald’s station on the Butterfield Route. The stable sheltered horses that pulled stages on the line. What an experience to walk through these stables, knowing that John Butterfield himself once tended horses there. The station, according to the Barrymans, was used as a changing station as well as a meal station.
I really enjoyed walking the grounds (as did Eddie and Charlie) and visiting with all the folks from Heritage Trails. Everyone was so gracious and welcoming. Before I left, John McLarty, President of the Heritage Trails Partners, presented me with some great gifts. I was so honored to meet with all the folks from Heritage Trails Partners, they’ve worked really hard to preserve the rich history of northwest Arkansas and I’ll always remember their kindness, hospitality and generosity. And a special thanks to Sarah and Jay Barryman for letting me and the RV invade their property, and for the tour.
This was my first visit to Arkansas and if all these folks are representative of the people who live here, I’ll definitely be back.
Before I headed out I was also presented with a copy—hot off the presses!—of Driver’s Guide to the Butterfield Overland Mail Route, Volume One – Missouri, Arkansas & Oklahoma by Kirby Sanders, published by the Heritage Trails Partners. He expects the next volume out very soon and I look forward to reading it. Kirby is a great guy, full of knowledge. As his book will attest, he is knowledgeable particularly about the Butterfield Route. Kirby let us follow him as he led us along part of the original route, known as Old Wire Road, to the city of Fayetteville, home to another stage stop and a vast tract of property between Rock Street and Spring Street once owned by John Butterfield. After showing us a couple of spots in downtown Fayetteville Kirby led us to, and joined us for, some of the best BBQ I’ve had in a while. We had a finger-licking good dinner and great conversation at Penguin Ed’s B & B Bar-B-Q in Fayetteville. Thanks again Kirby, for the book and your hospitality.
So with my fried peach pie to go (takes an extra 12 minutes, but so worth it), I headed off to Alma, Arkansas for a stay at the KOA.
September 19
Day 4
I awoke at the Alma/Ft. Smith KOA in Arkansas, a great little spot with a pond full of friendly ducks that will come right up to your front door for a crumb of bread. We were headed for Van Buren, Arkansas, another quant little town located on the Arkansas River. First named Phillip’s Landing, the name was changed in 1836 in honor of President Martin Van Buren. From here, the Butterfield stagecoach crossed the river on its way to Ft. Smith. Ormsby described Van Buren as a “flourishing little town.”
From Van Buren we crossed the Arkansas into Ft. Smith. 150 years ago this morning (just after midnight) Ormsby crossed the river in a flatboat, led by a guide with a lantern on horseback. Fortunately for us, there is a bridge.
Once in Ft. Smith we discovered a Butterfield marker outside the Ft. Smith History museum. Much to our delight, the marker had balloons tied to it! Intrigued we wondered into the museum and approached the very friendly staff including the Executive Director. I inquired about what exhibits they may have commemorating the Butterfield and was disappointed to learn they had nothing in the museum. Just the marker next to the front door. In fact, the Executive Director told me, they hadn’t even realized it was the 150th Anniversary until a visitor read the sign and pointed it out yesterday. Hence, the balloons.
So we made our way down the street to the fort to explore the grounds. Ft. Smith National Park is a well-preserved fort with many original buildings, including the gallows were 67 men were hung for various crimes.
From Ft. Smith our journey took us into Oklahoma which in Ormsby’s time was known as “Indian Territory.” In Oklahoma we traveled through Checotah, which a large billboard proudly reads is the home of Carrie “I-Ain’t-in-Chakoata-Anymore” Underwood.
Further south, while exploring Boggy Station State Park, home of another Butterfield stop, we encountered Park Ranger Mackay Keener. Ranger Keener is a history buff and has been researching some of the local history. He proudly shared with us some great old photos he has collected of the area. He was then gracious enough to take us on a tour of the park aboard a “gator,” which is a very cool buggy sort of vehicle, similar to the “mule” we rode at Pea Ridge Military park in Arkansas. It was here that I discovered the “horse apple,” a very large lumpy green apple-looking sort of fruit that seemed to be everywhere in this area. According to Ranger Keener, they are a favorite food of horses and squirrels.
This was Juan’s last day traveling with me. We were to “switch drivers” the next morning, so we headed off of our path to Arlington, Texas where Juan would catch a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth Airport back to L.A. I headed to my Aunt Peggie’s house in nearby Ft. Worth. Her home has become a sort of “stage stop” for me over the years. Traveling from San Diego to Pensacola, Florida (my hometown) a dozen or so times over the last 15 years, a stop at her home is always just what I need to get me through that last leg of the journey.
After a big hug, a mug of coffee and bran muffin to go, I was off to pick up Connie Whalen, Curator of the Wells Fargo History Museum in Phoenix. It was good to see Connie and I’m looking forward to the next 12 days with her. Connie quickly whipped our RV into shape and turned in from a traveling bachelor pad to a “home” in one swoop. I know Juan is going to enjoy the break and I wish him much rest. See you back in a couple of weeks, Juan!
Connie and my first stop together was in Denison, Texas. There we headed to Eisenhower State Park to meet Jill Campbell of the Texas Historical Commission, Texas Heritage Trails Program. There are four regions to the program and Jill covers the Texas Lakes region. This group is amazing and Jill was really on the ball, having contacted with me months ago with offers of support for this trip. She helped arrange a trip on private property to the landing spot of Colbert’s Ferry, which carried stagecoaches across the Red River. What a treat this was!
We met so many great folks at the park, including Karen Watson of Texas Parks and Wildlife, Kim Phillips of the Denton Convention and Visitor Bureau and Superintendent Paul Kisel of Eisenhower State Park. After a great visit that included a lot of talk about fishing, and catfish in particular, I got really hungry. Superintendant Kisel took us to one of his favorite restaurants, specializing in fried catfish. (One of my favorites!) We were joined by the aforementioned Jill Campbell and Karen Watson.
The restaurant, Farm Raised Huck’s Delta Goodness, claims to be a “good place to eat catfish.” It was all that and more. I ordered mine “burnt,” which means extra crispy. If you’re ever in Denison you have to stop at Huck’s and have some fried catfish. After great food and conversation I had to, as always, hurry on to the next stop.
Sherman, Texas was supposed to be only a quick stop, before my final stop of the night in Decatur. But that was before I met Ivert and Jeanette Mayhugh of A Touch of Class Antique Mall in downtown Sherman, right across from the courthouse. First of all, A Touch of Class is a first-rate Antique Mall, but what makes the place are Mr. and Mrs. Mayhugh. I know I keep saying this, but I mean it every time, and particularly this time: these were the nicest folks! And what a wealth of information and knowledge they have about local history, and so much more. I spent at least an hour (although it went so fast) with them as they walked us through their Historic Exhibit Room on the third floor of their shop. In fact, I was there getting the tour until well after they closed. The mall is located in the historic Hall Furniture Building and was officially placed on the National Registry of Historic Places in 2002 and is now a Recorded Texas Historic Landmark. Any stop in Sherman must include a visit with the Mayhugh’s.
What a great day! A Red River adventure, friendly folks and good ‘ole fried catfish. It don’t (sic) get much better than that! Texas is the longest leg of the journey, and if my first day in the state is any indication of what’s to come, I can’t wait for tomorrow.
September 21
Day 6
After a good night’s sleep, I was off again. My first stop was Bridgeport, Texas, home of the elusive toll bridge. In 1860, Col. W.H. Hunt built a toll bridge across the Trinity River, mainly for the Butterfield Stage. Apparently, that bridge is no more: at least, no one at the local gas station had heard of it. I gave a valiant effort to find it, but that bridge I could not find. However, there are bridges in Bridgeport—in fact, they are very serious about bridges in Bridgeport. At the park near downtown there are no less than three bridges—huge, bright red, through-truss bridges. (Watch Video)
We also found the largest rocking chair I’ve ever seen, right on the main street in downtown.
After leaving Bridgeport, it was a short ride to Jacksboro, Texas, the Jacks County Seat. When Ormsby came through Jacksboro 150 years ago today, the town was only a year old. According to Ormsby, the town had a dozen houses with nearly 200 inhabitants. Today, if I didn’t know any better I would swear there were less than 200! There was hardly a soul in downtown Jacksboro when we stopped. All I saw was the occasional official vehicle of Texas, the truck.
However, across the street from the courthouse were some really amazing stone buildings in differing states of disrepair. From the back I noticed that they were in fact facades. Some had dates of 1888, some 1898. Apparently, there is some effort going on to restore them—or at least to stabilize them, judging from the beams holding up some of the walls.
After leaving Jacksboro we put in a call to Margret Ann Hoogstra. Margret is one of the regional directors of the Texas Historical Commission, Texas Heritage Trails Program. These are the folks who have been so helpful to us on our journey thus far through Texas. Margaret’s region is called the Texas Forts Trail. When we arrived in the town of Throckmorton, Texas, we were greeted by Margret and Trent McKnight. Trent’s family owns a ranch in the area and he was gracious enough to invite us up to the McKnight ranch for some pizza and wonderful conversation.
First of all, the views from the ranch are stunning. You really get a sense of the “rolling prairie studded with mesquite” that Ormsby wrote about when he came through this area 150 years ago. (Although the area is no longer “studded”—more like “inundated,” much to the chagrin of the locals.) Trent is a wealth of knowledge on local history. He shared with me an early map of the area he had discovered, which included General Marcy’s road. A part of that Road was the Butterfield’s route through this part of Texas. In fact, based on Trent’s research and my limited knowledge of the route through Texas, it appears that the Butterfield would have run right through the McKnight property. Trent also pointed out that this is the area of West Texas where the book and movie “Lonesome Dove” was set.
Trent thanks again it was a pleasure to meet you and good luck with all your research!
After a great meeting we were on our way to Ft. Griffin State Park with Margret in the lead. Lucky for me Margret knows so many folks in this area (and everyone loves her), so we were able to gain access to the park after hours. The park is located on the top of the hill just above what used to be the town of Ft. Griffin. We arrived just as the sun was setting and the view was gorgeous! We took a short tour of the grounds but I was exhausted after another busy day of driving and visiting. I soon headed over to the Ft. Griffin campgrounds to camp for the night.
After she helped me secure a good spot for camping, I said good night to Margret. We made plans to meet the following morning for another day of adventure in the Ft. Trails region of West Texas.
September 22
Day 7
Another late night and early morning found me in the Ft. Griffin State Park Campgrounds, where I met and shared a cup of joe with Kenneth and Harriet Shuck. The Shucks are a retired couple who live out of their RV. They spend winters in Ft. Griffin and summers in the White Mountains of Arizona as park hosts. What a dream retirement job! Traveling the country in an RV has been one of my dreams since I can remember. And even after some of the trials I’ve had in this RV, the dream lives on.
9 am brought the arrival of Margret Hoogstra, the regional coordinator of the Texas Historical Commission Texas Heritage Trails Program. She covers the Texas Forts Trail Region, which encompasses all of the frontier forts. You may remember that Margret met with me yesterday and has blocked out the next two days to show me around her part of Texas. My very own Texas guide!
Our first stop was to meet ranch owner, Cliff Teinert. Cliff is what this city boy would call a real-life cowboy. His ranch covers the former site of the town of Ft. Griffin, which was located below the hill from the fort—“the flats.” Cliff has begun to restore some of the old buildings of the town and knows everything there is to know about the area. In its heyday, apparently, Ft. Griffin was a wild place to live. I mentioned yesterday that this area was the setting for “Lonesome Dove,” but according to Cliff, it’s also where Doc Holiday met Wyatt Earp and Big Nose Kate. Saloons and bordellos were common in this town, but today the area is home to the largest music festival in Texas, the Ft. Griffin Fandangle.
Cliff took us on a tour of the property to see some Butterfield sites that the public rarely gets to lay eyes on, including an historic marker placed in the 1930’s to mark the spot where the Butterfield Stage stop was located at the Lambshead Creek crossing. The landscape is beautiful, fully covered for acres with white and predominately yellow flowers, and full of deer. I even saw a flock of turkeys and a small coyote that stared menacingly at the truck as we drove by, then ran off and disappeared behind tall grass and flowers. What a spectacular place.
After saying goodbye to Cliff, I headed with Margret as my guide for a pit stop at Albany, to view that historic little town. After about four or five miles, Margret suddenly pulled over to the shoulder. She came around to the RV and informed me that we were being “chased out of town.” What really happened was some good ol’ Texas humor.
Turns out Cliff Teinert had called and asked her to stop us before we got too far. This generous cowboy wanted to give me a copy of a book that he was instrumental in seeing to fruition. The book, Tracks along the Clear Fork: Stories from Shackelford and Throckmorton Counties, looks like an exciting read. I can’t wait to crack it open to learn more about the rough-and-tumble days when this area of Texas was the frontier. With a hearty handshake and a heartfelt thank you, we were back on the road and off to Albany.
We didn’t have long to stay in Albany, and after getting a quick peek at the historic buildings and formidable court house we were off again. Our next stop was Frontier Texas! Executive Director Jeff Salmon gave us a personal tour of this is a state-of-the-art museum, dedicated to preserving the history of West Texas. “Spirit guides,” characters from Texas history, take you on a journey covering the time period from 1780 to 1880. Some of the “guides” include Brit Johnson, a slave who was freed by his owner so that he could go and search for his wife and children who had been captured by Comanche Indians; and General Randolph Marcy, who explored, surveyed and created the road known as Marcy’s Road through this area of Texas, which later became part of the Butterfield Route.
There are two things that really stand out about this museum other than Jeff Salmon’s friendliness and knowledge: the Frontier Experience Theatre and the hologram technology. Frontier Experience is a film presentation that surrounds the audience with sound and light and film for a “real” experience of life on the Texas frontier. The hologram technology is an innovation where visitors can have a three-dimensional interaction with the “spirit guides.” It’s really visually stunning.
Frontier Texas! is a must see for anyone traveling through Texas. Say hello to Jeff if you stop by and tell him Casey sent you.
After touring Frontier Texas! I was off for a great dinner at Lytle Land & Cattle Company in Abilene. The food was excellent and the portions “Texas style.” I was really looking forward to the fresh raw oysters, but they were out. Like most places, they get their supply from the Gulf Coast and we know what happened there recently. Thanks again, Ike!
As good as the food was, the company (as always!) was even better. Along with Margret we had the pleasure of having Garland and Lana Richards join us for dinner. They are the owners of the ranch that occupies the site of old Ft. Chadbourne. Boy, the stories they have to tell. Garland actually grew up at Ft. Chadbourne and told me that he was nearly grown before he realized that not everyone had a fort in their backyard. I had a great time and lucky for me they were nice enough to invite me to spend the night at the fort. What a treat!
So after dinner, I followed them down a long, dark, winding Texas highway for a night of camping under the stars at Ft. Chadbourne. When I pulled into the grounds I was immediately confronted with the stone building that was once the officer’s quarters. Just in front of the quarters was a flag pole up-lit with soft lighting that really makes it awe inspiring. I was really taken aback, and was so honored to have the opportunity to live—even for just one night—within these ruins. I wondered what stories these stones could tell and couldn’t wait till morning to find out.
After hooking me up with all the necessities of RV living (and fixing my water hose, one of many issues this RV has), the Richards’ left me alone to enjoy the surroundings. I sat out in the night sky and gazed at the billion stars and the Milky Way. What a sight! I don’t know that I’ve seen the universe in this way since my days at sea in the U.S. Navy. I now know why they call this Big Country. I hated to go back inside but there was work to do and I had to get to it. So I took one last look and headed back to the RV with great anticipation for what tomorrow would bring.
September 23
Day 8
Ft. Chadbourne, the Richards’ and Big Daddy
Being a little behind on editing and downloading and uploading and sending video, I worked most of the morning. I finally emerged from the RV just before lunch. While I was busy working, the Richards’ (Garland and Lana from Sept. 22) had one of their ranch hands take my flat—or as it turns out, shredded!—spare tire, and replace it! Thank you again Garland and Lana. I was truly overwhelmed by their generosity and concern for my safety.
After meeting in their office for a quick show-and-tell of the incredible research they have done on Fort Chadbourne and the Butterfield stop that’s located on the grounds, we decided lunch was necessary before we began our tour.
A short ride through Bronte, Texas brought us to Pe?a’s Red Barn for a plate of BBQ beef brisket and potato salad. Now, I should have stopped there. But when the waitress asked, “would ya’ll like some desert… coconut cream pie?...” that’s all she had to say. I couldn’t resist. When she returned, the slice—like most things in Texas—was HUGE. It was still a little frozen in the middle and oh so good! It was amazing. I, on the other hand, could barely walk out of the restaurant.
If you’re ever in Bronte, Texas check this place out. You won’t be disappointed.
During lunch, or supper as they call it here, Garland and Lana were telling me about the restoration they have done on the fort and the archeological work that has been completed on the Butterfield stage stop. Garland explained how they came to begin the restoration. During a storm in 1997, one of the main walls on one of the buildings fell and the stones were scattered. After seeing that wall crumble, he had an epiphany.
“Never again,” he said.
He decided right then and there to begin preserving these historically important buildings that have been a part of his life since he was old enough to remember. After realizing what a monumental task historic preservation really is, he and Lana went to school to learn to write grants, and soon formed the Ft. Chadbourne Foundation. They’ve been hard at work ever since, and what hard work it is.
They have done a truly spectacular job. An officer’s quarters and barracks have been fully restored and Garland and Lana both have seen to it that authenticity and historical accuracy are the name of the game at Ft. Chadbourne. (Which can’t always be said for some historic sites.) In fact, using good ol’ ingenuity, Garland has developed a method for stabilizing these old structures without having to disassemble them first—a feat that seasoned architects, who specialize in historic restoration, said could not be done.
The officers’ quarters and barracks are beautifully done, as the number of weddings that have been held here will attest. But one of the things that I found most intriguing was all of the “graffiti” on the walls. Previously hidden by layers and years of plaster, these 19th century hieroglyphs were revealed during the restoration and tell the story of the folks who worked and lived among this frontier fort. Etched into the walls are names and dates and places. Running my hands across the chiseled remains, I wondered about the men who left their mark. Who were they? How long were they here? What became of them? Most are lost to history. But in these walls at Fort Chadbourne, Garland and Lana make sure they live on.
The Richards’ were in a celebratory mood during my visit, and with good cause. The week before I arrived, they were given a gift on behalf of the late Roberta Cole Johnson, a Brenham resident who died in June at the age of 96. Garland and Lana received $1.1 million to help finish the restoration of the fort and the Butterfield stage stop. Two more deserving people could hardly be found. They have put their heart and soul and quite a bit of their own resources into this historic place, and their dedication has finally been recognized in a substantial way.
Once again my heartfelt congratulations go out to the Richards’ and to the Ft. Chadbourne Foundation. Ft. Chadbourne is in great hands.
The Butterfield stage stop is still in ruins but thanks to the generous gift will soon come alive again with the Richard’s caring hands. It was really cool to be standing in those remains, knowing that at one time celerity wagons full of mail and passengers and news clambored in and out of this very spot. Ormsby himself stood right where I was standing, exactly 150 years ago today. I can’t wait to see the outcome of this restoration, and I hope to visit again someday so that I can. Maybe next May when the Richards’ host 1,500 elementary students for their Living History Day.
A trip to Ft. Chadbourne would not be complete without visiting the herd of buffalo and Black Jack the resident mule. Lana actually drove me into the buffalo field and I was able to experience the rush of being in the presence of these magnificent beasts. And magnificent they are. I was overwhelmed by the experience. The bull of the group, Big Daddy, was massive. I’ve seen them in movies and at zoos from a distance but to come face to face with a large bull like Big Daddy left me speechless, much to the disbelief of the folks who edit my blogs. (That’s for sure! –CR)
As we were shooting the video segment I could hardly describe what I was feeling. Despite being fully aware of how unpredictable and dangerous they can be, I was taken with what gentle eyes they have. I understand why Native Americans revered and respected them so, and it was an experience I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
Leaving Ft. Chadbourne was hard to do. I’ve visited many forts while I have been in Texas and all are wonderful places, but Ft. Chadbourne and Garland and Lana and Big Daddy will always have a special place in my heart. I hope everyone who visits West Texas will stop in on the Richards’ for an experience they won’t forget. And for more information on how you can help restore Ft. Chadbourne and its Butterfield stage stop please visit the foundation website and tell them Casey sent you.
With Ms. Decker’s class’s mail and Lowell Elementary School’s mail safe and accounted for, I am off to San Angelo.
September 24
Day 9
I was graciously offered a night at the officer’s quarters at Ft. Concho. (Another day, another fort…) I had to respectfully decline, due to my internet needs. One thing I never anticipated about this journey was how challenging the logistics would be of documenting the experience in real time. Without a good internet connection it’s even harder. You may notice a lag time in the blogs. and especially the videos. Well, getting the blogs written after a long day of traveling and visiting is hard enough; but then to have to download video and photographs from the day, edit them, get them uploaded so they can be reached by folks in a home office far, far away for more production, and then to make time to sleep is really more difficult than I ever imagined. Without a good internet connection it’s nearly impossible. I’ve become very envious of the folks at the big news stations with their traveling buses complete with satellite hook ups, etc. So, good intentions aside we really are doing our best to keep these posts up to date.
So please bear with us. But I digress….
The morning began at KOA/San Angelo. Or as the folk’s around here say, S’NAN-gelo. Our first stop of the day was lunch with the Wells Fargo District Manager for the region, Katrina Dorris, and Bob Bluthardt, Executive Director of Ft. Concho. Bob was the nice gentleman who offered me the VIP quarters in Ft. Concho. What a missed opportunity! The place is beautiful and under different circumstances I would have loved it.
We had lunch at Miss Hattie’s Café and Saloon in downtown San Angelo. The lunch was great and the town was a great little shopping haven. I scored a Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, circa 1952. (I collect cookbooks and these are my favorite to collect) I also got a few Indian arrowheads.
After a little shopping I was off to the downtown San Angelo Wells Fargo store for a “meet and greet.” Dressed in my costume, I set up a little display in the lobby and talked with team members and customers about the Butterfield and my cross country adventure. There was a lot of interest and the hour we had allotted flew by. After saying goodbye to the team members I headed back to the KOA for something I loathe and had been putting off since I left San Diego—laundry. It had to be done, but Ugh! At least I’m not having to wash my clothes in a creek, right?
After that dastardly chore I was once again in the company of Katrina Dorris for dinner and this time we were joined by Sylvia Garcia, the store manager of the downtown San Angelo branch. Dinner was at The Wharf Restaurant and Tavern. Our waitress, Ashley Harridge, was a delight and the food was excellent. I bet you can’t guess what I had. One hint—it wasn’t BBQ. No doubt! All the fried catfish I can get on this trip the better.
In case you haven’t figured it out, I love fried catfish and you just can’t get it in San Diego. So, I’m going to have all the catfish I can while it’s available. Katrina and Sylvia were great company and I wish I had a little more time to spend with them. San Angelo and Wells Fargo are lucky to have them.
After dinner Katrina was nice enough to take me supply shopping, even though it was getting late. I really appreciated it. Thank you Katrina for everything I really enjoyed my time with you in San Angelo.
September 25
Day 10
Next morning I was up early for a tour of Ft. Concho with Bob Bluthardt. Although Ft. Concho and San Angelo were not stops on the Butterfield stage route, they are the closest sites to the actual route. The Butterfield route actually passed just north of San Angelo; unfortunately, there are no highways or towns on that stretch of the old route.
Fort Concho has a great interpretive program and while I was there, I witnessed part of their school tour. The fort is complete with period furnishings and artifacts so that the visitor can really get a sense of what life was like for the average soldier on the Texas frontier.
After the tour I continued my journey westward for an overnight stay in the Ft. Stockton area. Again, not on the actual route. However, the RV parks in the city—Pecos, that is—don’t seem to have the amenities that this kind of modern operation need, i.e. reliable wi fi.
On the way however, I was able to find Horse Head Crossing. This was the spot where the stagecoach passed over the Pecos River and it was not easy to get to. My path led me about 6 miles down a dusty dirt road where few except a handful of locals probably ever go. Judging from the shell casings littering the area it must be a pretty popular spot for target practice. The river is not as large as the legend that preceded it, but it’s still quite beautiful. The old marker is still there—minus a few chinks missing from said target practicie.
On my way out, I ran into (almost quite literally!) a rattlesnake, my first live one. (The couple I’ve seen so far were on the losing end of a run-in with the modern highway). This one was in the middle of the road and deploying one of his defense tactics—playing dead or acting like a stick. Not wanting to run him over, I got out and tried throwing things at him to get him to move along. Nothing seemed to work. He was determined to remain a stick and to be quite hones,t I was starting to get the hee-bee gee-bees from being so close to such an intimidating and dangerous creature. So, I proceeded to move the RV around him.
Once the RV advanced toward him, he curled back raising the front half of his body off the ground then headed in the direction from whence he came. It was a very cool run in with Mother Nature, but good riddance all the same.
Don’t worry Ms. Decker’s class and Lowell Elementary the mail is safe from rattlesnakes and is proceeding on track to San Francisco!
September 26
Day 11
After arriving at the Ft. Stockton RV Park, I stopped in for a quick—you guessed it!—fried catfish dinner. (I’m seriously starting to grow fins and whiskers!) After dinner came blogging then off to bed.
Next morning I had some time to catch up on work while I waited to rendezvous with Paula Walker, who is with the Texas Historical Commission Texas Heritage Trails Program. She is the regional coordinator of the Pecos Trail. The Heritage Trails people are great folks who have really been helpful during my travels through Texas. Without them, much of what I was able to see and do would not have been possible. You may remember Margret Hoogstra from the Ft. region, with whom I spent several days. was no different Although I didn’t get to spend as much time with Paula, she still came up with some fun activities for me while I was in her region.
She first took me to a site of a building which she believes is somehow connected to Wells Fargo. Whether a stage stop or office she wasn’t quite sure, but local legend has it that it is Wells Fargo. The building is on private property, so I took a peek from the road but really couldn’t see enough to tell what the building was used for.
Next stop, Monahans, Texas. This is Paula’s hometown and she was heading there for her class reunion. Just so happens the local high school’s Homecoming Day Parade was starting in a few hours and Paula asked if I would like to be in it. Well, who doesn’t like a parade?! I quickly agreed and we were headed off to Monahans to be in a parade, a first for me.
It was really quite fun. The festive atmosphere was infectious and I soon found myself bouncing down the main street with Jack the Dog prominently displayed on the dash and Eddie staring out from my lap, greeting folks as we rolled by. I really felt special and was honored to be asked to join in the town and its high school’s celebration.
After the parade I met with some of the locals for a quick chat. We then headed toward Carlsbad, New Mexico for a much-needed and, I think, well-deserved break from the daily grind that is this Road Trip. But not before stopping at Great Wall Chinese Buffet for some delicious Asian cuisine. This was a first for me on this trip and was a nice break from the BBQ and, ah yes, the catfish. Buffets can be hit or miss, but this was definitely a hit. Who knew there was such great Asian food right there in the heart of West Texas!
Before reaching Carlsbad I just happened to stop by chance at a historical marker along the way. There are hundreds of these markers all along most of the Texas highways and roads. They mark everything you could possibly imagine. But it just so happens, out of just plain luck, I stop at one that has a Butterfield connection. I located the marker for Pope’s crossing or Pope’s camp by accident.
This was a stop on the Butterfield route and you can learn more about it on the video. What a great find. From this site I watched the sun set over the distant Guadalupe Mountains, a beautiful site. Then in the pink-tinged dusk, I headed north toward a Butterfield free day.
September 27
Day 12
Well, today was my first day off since I left San Diego over two weeks ago. I began with my first real breakfast of the trip, complete with pancakes, eggs and sausage, courtesy of KOA Carlsbad, New Mexico. Host Scott Bacher was kind enough to hook me up with a big breakfast, despite my arrival 20 minutes after the kitchen had closed down for breakfast.
After a big meal I was really looking forward to doing something that I have wanted to do for a long time. I Visited Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico and watched the flight of the bats. When I was first planning this journey, my intention was to stop at all sorts of sites along the route, even cool places that had nothing to do with the Butterfield. However, reality had other plans. I have found that the rigors of doing a trip like this are much more than I anticipated. I find myself running out of time everyday so that most everything I’m doing is Butterfield related.
Don’t get me wrong: it’s been amazing, and there are more Butterfield sites than I could have ever imagined. But with the time constraints, I really had to focus my energy. I hope I’ve been able to create an interesting log —albeit incomplete—of Butterfield sites from St. Louis to San Francisco. There are still many more sites out there to be discovered and I wish I could have seen them all.
But today, it was all about the caverns and the bats! The trip to the National Park is a beautiful drive up a winding mountain road. The visit began in the visitors center, where I found out it was my lucky day. The tickets to the caverns were… free! In order to get down to the “big room” of the cavern you must descend in an elevator. Before stepping onto the elevator for my ride I decided to purchase an audio tour wand so I could be enlightened while touring. Good choice—I recommend audio wands. Mine really made the tour more meaningful. While I was at the one of three gift shops in the visitors’ center, to pick up my audio wand, I adopted a bat.
Now, when you adopt a bat, you don’t get to take it home, unfortunately. But you do get a cool bumper sticker, a photo and an official adoption certificate. All of the proceeds go to help with bat habitat and conservation efforts and studies. After my adoption was final I proceeded to the elevator feeling like a new brand new father. Ok. Not really but I was proud nonetheless.
After a quick ride, the doors of the elevator opened to reveal what feels like the center of the earth: the temperature drops considerably. The caverns are simply spectacular. I choose to take the long tour and spent a good two hours looking at the most otherworldly and fantastic formations. This is Mother Nature at her most creative, for sure.
After my tour I had about an hour and a half to kill before the bat show. I had a little snack at the restaurant in the visitors’ center, then took the boys for a much needed walk around the grounds. Finally, it was time for the bat’s to come out for an evening of feasting. So, I made my way over to the amphitheatre for the show. The amphitheatre overlooks what is called the Natural Entrance to the cave and from here, the bats make their exodus each evening.
For about a half hour, one of the park rangers gave her speech about the bats and took questions from the audience. She was actually pretty good. Her talk was interesting and informative. Then, I heard a few people in the audience say, “it’s started.” I turned to the cave entrance and sure enough—like a black whirling wind, the bats were coming out of the cave by the hundreds, in waves.
It was so amazing how they whirl around with tornado furry as they exit, then in a stream disappear over the cave top into the horizon. According to the ranger they can eat several tons of insects a night! There are anywhere from 100,000 to 200,000 of them. The estimate was toward the lower end that night, given this was the end of the season for them here. The bats have begun their migration to Mexico, but do so only a few at a time for some reason. It was marvelous to watch the whirling bats disappear in a river of wings into the setting sun.
After I had my fill of bats I headed back to the Carlsbad KOA for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow the road trip continues and the search for the Butterfield begins anew.
The mail is safe and secure after a small break, and is back on track for arrival in San Francisco, October 10th
September 28
Day 13
After a day of bats and caverns I was headed for the Guadalupe Mountains and Pinery station. Waterman Ormsby wrote, “The Guadalupe Mountains loomed before us all day in the most aggravating manner.” The peak is so high. and can be seen for some distance. I can imagine if I had been traveling five miles an hour, I too would have been aggravated by their “looming.” Thankfully, it didn’t take long to get to them. And what a site they are.
The peak is a massive presence that seems to be, as Ormsby rightly described, as “if any moment to fall, while huge boulders hang as if ready,with the weight of a rain drop, to be loosened from their fastening and descend with lumbering swiftness to the bottom, carrying destruction in their path.” Unfortunately, I missed the big Butterfield celebration they were having at Pinery station over the weekend. However I did run in to a ranger who shared with me the secret to finding the Butterfield trail. So after a quick visit to the Pinery station ruins (partial stone walls and piles of stone), I headed for Guadalupe canyon.
Through this canyon are remnants of a 1930’s-era road. From this road, overgrown with foliage and cacti, I headed up the canyon toward the peak. After going through two rusted old turnstiles, I found a path that led me high above the modern Highway 62/180 and the older road. From this vantage point I could see three generations of road—the new smooth highway, the 1930’s-era asphalt road with all its cracks, and most exciting, traces of the Butterfield stage route. What a spectacular sght!
Behind me was the great Guadalupe peak. Around me were rainwater washes that I imagine can create quite a torrent, rushing around the peak and running down the canyon. And in front of me, the Butterfield route.
It was through this pass, 150 years ago today, that eastbound and westbound Butterfield stages met for the first time. As I stood there contemplating the scene I could imagine the sense of accomplishment and destiny this meeting must have engendered.
As I headed back to the RV, the ground seemed to be alive. Indeed, it was. Grasshoppers—millions of them—have invaded this area due to some rain the area has recently experienced. It reminded me of the Biblical plague. The grasshoppers were of every shape, size and color. I’ve never seen some of these varieties. One was about two inches long and solid black, except when it flew. When its wings were expanded it revealed the most vibrant blood red color. It was amazing to take a step and have the ground appear to jump around your feet.
With Guadalupe in the rear view mirrors I was headed to El Paso. After traveling about 15 miles from the peak, the sand around the highway suddenly and quite dramatically turned white. I could not believe the abruptness. Having grown up on the Gulf Coast it reminded me of the quartz beach sand of my childhood. It turns out, after a quick glance at the map, I had entered the Salt Basin of Texas. I had to get a closer look so I pulled to the side of the road near what appeared to be a lake mirage. It was way off in the distance, but being ever curious and a bit adventurous, I had to check it out.
So I took off for my mirage, nearly a quarter of a mile distant. As I moved closer it became apparent to me that the ground around me, cracked and full of animal tracks and a few human tracks, had been wet recently. This was no mirage. The closer I got to the small lake the muddier the ground became. I had to chuck off my boots before reaching the shore. And soon I was upon it.
When I reached the lake I stepped in and looked around. Wow! What a sight! I was standing in a temporary lake in the middle of the snow white Salt Basin, with the Guadalupe Mountains ahead of me, pink and purple from the setting sun. I stood there ankle deep in the salty water, basking in the beauty of the scene around me for several minutes, before grabbing my muddy boots and heading back to the ever present road and journey ahead.
Yet another moment I shall never forget.
The mail has made it through the Guadalupe’s and is on it’s way to San Francisco via El Paso.
September 29
Day 14
The morning found me at the Roadrunner RV Park in El Paso, Texas. After a quick bowl of grits and a walk with the boys, I headed for Hueco Tanks State Park. What a special place this is! If you are ever in this area you must make a stop here. You will not be sorry. The 860 acre park is named for the large natural rock basins, or huecos. These “tanks” have provided water in this arid region for thousands of years. From Paleo-Americans to Native Americans, to weary Butterfield passengers and horses, these tanks were a vital source of water.
As I approached the mountains I was amazed at how alien they seemed, unlike the surrounding land or the Franklin Mountains in the distance. As one Native American visitor to the park said recently, “it’s as if when the gods were finished with the world they had some leftover rock and decided to just store it here.” And that is a pretty good description. It looks like someone just piled massive boulders of all shapes and sizes on top of one another in the desert. It is spectacular.
From 150 year old “graffiti” to Native American pictographs, this park is filled with reminders of the people who sought shelter and liquid sustenance amid these mountains. Because it is such a special place and such a fragile environment, the park is well guarded with limited access. There is a maximum number of people allowed into the park per day, and everyone entering must watch an orientation video describing what a special place it is and how to protect it.
So after watching the informative 15 minute video, I was off to the interpretive center to visit with Park Superintendent Wanda Olszewski. Not only is Wanda knowledgeable but she is also very passionate about her job, and this special place.
Did I mention that this place was special?
With Wanda as my guide, I was able to visit graffiti etched into stone in June 1858. Several men carved their names and dates in the rock, and a few used a mixture of ash and axle grease to write their names. The number of men and the date suggest these could have been surveyors of the Butterfield route. I’m very excited by this prospect and Connie (as you may remember my partner, photographer, videographer and keep-me-organized-er for this leg of the journey) has promised to look into some of the names we found, to see if these were indeed the men who were surveying for the Overland Mail Company. I’ll keep you posted.
Next Wanda took me on a small hike up some very slippery rocks to view some of the older pictographs. One is a drawing of a man engaged in a battle, with arrows whipping past him, and one arrow that appears to have hit him in the groin area. The picture is so simple and yet remarkable, for the story it forever freezes in time, about one moment in one man’s life. His name may have been forgotten but his story will be told for eternity.
Another pictograph required I lie on my back to view it. This is an abstract painting in a style sometimes referred to as a “Mexican blanket design,” according to Wanda. She explained that this one was probably much older than the battle scene and the design is usually associated with water.
Finally, we reached the tanks. She took me to a spot that had several, including a sort of overflow basin for times of heavy rain. Lucky for me the basins had water. When Ormsby came through here, 150 years ago today, the tanks were dry. A drought had recently gripped the area and all the station keeper could provide were two eight gallon tanks, for “a dozen heads of cattle and as many men.” I can’t thank Wanda enough for sharing this special place with me. This is one of those memories of the trip, like my visit with the Richards’ and “Big Daddy” at Ft. Chadbourne, that I will always treasure.
With my visit to Hueco Tanks completed, it was getting a little late, so I headed off to do some personal shopping. Connie and I decided we were going to get cowboy boots before we left Texas, so we hit the El Rey Outlet in El Paso. I haven’t worn a pair of cowboy boots since I used to borrow a pair from my dad when I was a teenager. (And by “borrow” I mean take while he was at work.) The El Rey Outlet has hundreds of Justin and Tony Lama brand boots in every size imaginable. It took me a while, but I finally found the perfect pair, along with a belt to match. From now on I’ll be road trippin’ Texas style! Yee Haw!
With new boots on my feet I headed to Las Cruces, New Mexico. So long Texas! I’ll sure miss all the great folks I’ve met here. My special thanks to Jill Campbell and Paula Walker of Texas Heritage Trail Commission, Cliff Tienert, Trent McKnight, Garland and Lana Richards of Ft. Chadbourne, Katrina Dorris of Wells Fargo, San Angelo, Bob Bluthardt of Ft. Concho and especially Margret Hoogstra of Texas Heritage Trails Commission, Ft, Trails Region for making most of what we were able to see and do in Texas possible.
The mail is safe and sound and riding high in the saddle students.
September 30
Day 15
Another morning, another campground. This one was the KOA Las Cruces. After a restful night I was off to historic Mesilla, New Mexico. The town of Mesilla, and the local Wells Fargo team led by Pat Lamb, really put together a great event for me to participate in. The morning event began on the town square, where 120 local elementary students showed up to learn about the Butterfield Overland Mail Route and Wells Fargo history. While I did my presentation to one group of students, other groups were treated to a ride on the Wells Fargo stagecoach around the town square.
The students were really involved, and despite the challenge of holding the attention of 30 or so fourth and fifth graders while so much excitement was going on around them, they were great listeners and seemed to enjoy my stories.
After the great event with the students, I was invited to speak to a group of community leaders and team members at a luncheon held at La Posta de Mesilla Restaurant. Some of the attendees included State Senator Mary Kay Papen, and Mayor Michael Cadena of Mesilla. Several Wells Fargo Team Members were there, as well as the owners of La Posta, Tom (a.k.a. "Hutch") and Jerean Camunez Hutchinson.
I must admit that I was a bit nervous to start, what with all the important people in attendance. However, once I began talking and they laughed at my first joke I was completely at ease. They were all so great and responsive and I appreciate the opportunity to have had a few minutes to talk to them about Wells Fargo history and my personal experiences retracing the Butterfield.
Although I didn’t get to eat until well after my lunch was delivered it was still really great. But while La Posta is a great restaurant, it is also an important historic landmark. It is one of the few remaining stage stops still in existence. According to Jerean and Hutch, the building is actually several old adobes that have been joined. In fact, the section of the restaurant in which the luncheon was held was the actual stage stop. The Hutchinsons’ gave us a tour of the building and shared with us some of its special history. This is a must stop for anyone traveling through the Mesilla/Las Cruces area.
Mesilla is immersed in history. The town was once the capital for the New Mexico and Arizona Territories. Across from the restaurant is the Billy the Kid Gift Shop. The shop is so named because it was once the courthouse were Billy the Kid was tried and sentenced to hang.
I took an opportunity at the gift shop to pick up a coon skin hat. Not for myself but for Juan Colato, Manager of the Los Angeles Museum and my partner for the first and last leg of this journey. Juan and I kept running into these hats during the first leg of the trip, and he kept saying he was going to get one, but never did. So I picked up one for him. I hope he’ll wear it!
After leaving Mesilla, we headed west toward Tucson. On the way we stopped in Gage at the Butterfield Stage Stop. This isn’t actually a stage stop but a gas station/gift shop/Dairy Queen. Unfortunately, the very nice lady minding the store couldn’t really tell us if there was actually an old stage stop nearby, or if the name is just a gimmick. I’m betting on the latter but who knows?
Next stop was Ft. Bowie at Apache Pass. This was supposed to be a quick and uneventful stop to shoot some video at the Butterfield ruins. Unfortunately, it was neither quick nor uneventful. First it was quite a drive off of I-10 then about a mile-and-a-half hike to the ruins. It was an easy hike though, and the area around the ruins was actually quite beautiful. The ruins themselves were not unlike several others I’ve seen on this trip, with partial rock walls and scattered rock remains. This stop though actually still has the fireplace intact and I could imagine the keeper making his scant meals and coffee on its coals.
It was on the hike back to the RV that things became well…eventful. As we were leaving the trail about 50 yards from the RV, I heard what sounded like Connie falling down and a word that I won’t repeat here. I knew immediately something was wrong because Connie never uses a word like this. When I turned to see her lifting herself off the ground she held out her right palm and there it was—blood. Lots of blood streaming from her palm. I knew right away that this was no scratch because of the amount of blood pouring from her hand.
After making sure she was as OK as one can be after falling and splitting open a hand, I ran to the RV to get the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels. Upon returning we determined that Connie should go to a hospital. The cut was really bad and, full of rocks and sand. Yikes! But everyone who knows Connie knows what a tough person she is so it was no surprise when she began cleaning rocks out of her wound. Well that was about all I could handle. I don’t do well with blood.
We drove nearly an hour, and finally arrived at a hospital in Benson, Arizona. She hung tough the whole way and we talked about what would have happened 150 years ago if this same thing had occurred. Let’s face it, without cleaning out the wound, infection or gangrene could have set in. A traveler on the Butterfield route may have lost her hand with this serious a wound. Connie ended up with 11 stitches and two bruised knees. But the folks at the Benson Hospital were really professional and caring; she was bandaged up in no time and ready to return to the grind.
No accidents for the mail, though,students! it is safe and secure en route to San Francisco.
October 1
Day 16
Picacho Peak and the Giant Saguaro
After a night at the Benson KOA and with Connie all bandaged up, I headed to Tucson. I was meeting with team members and customers in downtown Tucson. I have to say the trip into Tucson was a bit nerve wracking. The city is undergoing a lot of road construction, and on top of that some streets around the store were very narrow. But with some new found RV skill I made it, and had a great event. The team members and customers I met seemed very interested in the journey and history. I really enjoyed my time there.
Outside of Tucson is Picacho Peak State Park. Unfortunately, the park was closed by the time I arrived. But the peak never closes. In fact it has been used as a beacon for many weary travelers on their way West. From an 18th century Jesuit priest named Father Kino, to the Mormon Battalion, to the Butterfield Overland Mail Company, Picacho Peak (or Pass) has guided the traveler’s way for centuries. Today, the road that led those early travelers west is occupied by the transcontinental railroad.
The area surrounding the peak is very beautiful and typical for this part of Arizona. The Giant Saguaro Cacti—some reaching as high as thirty feet—dot the landscape around the peak. If you’ve never seen one of these cacti they are amazing plants living as long as 200 years. Their shape is candelabra-like, with arms spread outward in welcoming. (But watch out for those needles!) Others reach high into the sky.
It was very hot, especially since I was still in my 19th century costume, so I stood under the shade of one of those giant green fleshed candelabras. I looked out into the distance over Interstate 10 as the cars flew by and I wondered how many knew they were passing beside an ancient beacon. Or was the towering Dairy Queen sign on the other side of the road too much of a distraction? When Ormsby passed this peak he himself said very little about it. His journal only mentions that the first fresh water to be found for 40 miles outside of Tucson is to be found at the pass. Thanks to some rain along the way, Ormsby’s driver had apparently scooped water from puddles along the road for the horses. There is no longer a station, but luckily for the I-10 traveler there’s always the DQ for refreshment.
With the mail safe and sound, and the peak in the rearview mirror, I headed to Phoenix and another event. This one will take place tomorrow at Connie’s museum. I have never visited this one before and I am excited to see the museum. You can imagine how excited Connie is to return home to her husband Bill and bird Sugar.
October 2
Day 17
Transmission Trouble Well, for the first time in 20 days I spent the night outside the RV. No, I wasn't sleeping in the street—I was enjoying the hospitality of the beautiful, cozy home of Bill and Connie Whalen. I met Bill briefly when we rendezvoused with him and Connie in Flagstaff, Arizona on the way to St. Louis. He was very helpful, figuring out how to get the RV’s pilot light lit for the fridge and some other things I was having difficulties with. After spending a few hours last night with him and Connie, I soon found him to be a great guy. I appreciate the hospitality he and Connie showed me and the boys while in Phoenix.
I was awakened very early by my youngest pup Eddie. He was whining by the bedroom door, apparently wanting out. Not wanting an accident in Connie’s house I thought I better get up and oblige. He led me straight to the front door which I opened then he bolted out the door and went straight for the RV. I opened it up for him and he jumped in, sniffed around then looked at me like, “o.k. let’s go!” I couldn’t believe it! Apparently he had grown so accustomed to the RV and traveling that he felt more at home there than in the house. However, I had other ideas, so I picked him up and reassured him we would be back on the road soon. I headed back for the guest bed inside the house. Although the boys and I had been on three-day cross country trips before, I wasn’t exactly sure how they would react to this extended road trip. But apparently Eddie is a born traveler.
The event at the Wells Fargo Phoenix History Museum was to take place in the late morning, so before heading downtown I dropped the RV off at Bell Ford so advisor Joe Hough could take a look at it. Along with all the other aforementioned problems I had had with the RV, it had started to shake and sputter a bit when I accelerated over the last day and a half. By the time I got to Phoenix the problem had become very noticeable and I knew it would not be safe to continue without having it looked at. I hoped it would be something a good oil change and fuel line cleaning could resolve. However, not knowing anything about the mysterious workings of a motor, I was wrong. Way wrong.
When Joe opened the cap and put his nose to the transmission fluid dipstick he could smell it—burnt transmission fluid! Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell the extent of the damage until he looked at it further, which meant the RV had to stay. Advertisements for the event had included the RV but there was nothing I could do. The transmission was in trouble so the event would have to go on without our branded RV. You can imagine my mindset upon hearing the news. Here I was on a journey whose schedule was important to its success. Much like that first journey overland, I had a tight schedule to keep and there was not a lot of wiggle room. But we did have a little time to play with. There was not another event after today until Saturday, when we had to be in Yuma, Arizona for a Wells Fargo store grand opening, complete with media. Needless to say my mind was not completely on today’s event, but I put on a happy face. Ever the professional, I joined the festivities with all the smiles I could muster as I anxiously waited on the call from Joe.
The event at the museum was a big hit. We had nearly 500 team members and visitors. And I must say if you’ve never been to the Wells Fargo History Museum in Phoenix, you have to go. The museum has an amazing western art collection and gun collection, and Connie does a terrific job with the displays. I especially love the simulated mine shaft complete with gold. Her staff, Amanda Bohn and Chris Adix, did a great job setting everything up and they had many team member volunteers helping out. One of the things they did that everyone really enjoyed was holding stagecoach races. Using tiny radio controlled stagecoaches, they let visitors race along the Butterfield Trail. The trail was a gigantic trail map placed in the large entrance way of the museum.
As Connie had finished traveling the Butterfield Trail with me, I was joined again by Juan Colato of the Wells Fargo History Museum in Los Angeles. He had been such a great help on the way to St. Louis, during Hurricane Ike and the leaking RV debacle. It was good to have him back now that I was faced with RV problems again. He was there when I finally got the call from Joe over at Bell Ford. Luckily, I was sitting down when Joe gave me the bad news. The transmission was shot and would have to be replaced.
Then he told me even worse news. It would be at minimum 3 days—maybe 5!–before he could get a new one and have it installed. I was not a happy camper, literally! I put in a call to the RV rental company and it was decided that first thing the next morning they would drive a new RV to me to complete the journey with hopes of reuniting with the branded RV before we reached San Francisco. After all the money and time we put into designing the wrap and having it installed it was just inconceivable that we would finish the journey without it. But, I had no choice for now. I was at the mercy of an RV that had been branded but was not in good working order.
So, feeling a little defeated and drained Connie, Juan and I headed back to Connie’s home to meet up with Bill for dinner. After a good meal we stayed with Bill and Connie for another night. But what a great night it turned out to be.
Bill and I broke out our guitars. This was the first time I had been able to find time to play on the whole trip, although I should have just kept mine in the case. Bill is a much better player than I. While he mostly played, Connie and I sang country and gospel song after country and gospel song. She has a great voice (and I’m not half bad myself, if I may say so!) and together we did some great duets. At times we were a quartet when Bill and their bird Sugar would join in.
Connie and I had sung along with the radio and CDs on the trip, but tonight we were jamming! It was so much fun and such a release after another stressful day of RV problems.
With the RV in the shop and all the songs sung out of me I settled in for another night off the trail. Tomorrow was to be an eventful day: we were getting up early for a ride along the Butterfield Trail near Gila Bend in an actual horse drawn wagon.
October 3
Day 18
Trading the RV for a Spring Wagon Although I had to be up early, it was nice that Eddie let me sleep as long as I could. Seems he knew the RV was in the shop and decided not to even check on it this morning. We had a bit of a drive on our hands to meet up with Daryl Hatch at the Butterfield Trail near Gila Bend. Daryl is a driver for our stagecoach appearance program and he owns lots of horses and wagons. Turns out he’s also a really nice guy and yet another real cowboy (see Day 7 of trip journal) I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on this trip.
We arrived a bit late but Daryl was waiting patiently with his horses out and spring wagon ready to go. It was a very warm and dry day out in the Arizona desert but I was looking forward to the ride. Just before we were set up to go I received a call from the RV rental company informing me that they had located a place in Phoenix that would fix the transmission and would have it done possibly by the end of the day. I was given the number of Premier Transmission and told to speak to Bill. Well, turns out Bill is not only a first rate mechanic but he’s also a real pro and a great guy. He assured me he would do everything he could to have the RV up and running as soon as possible. I felt much better after talking to him and looked forward to making the event in Yuma the next day.
So, feeling as though we were back on track, I loaded up the boys in the spring wagon and we headed to the trail. While I’ve had the opportunity to ride on the parts of the actual Butterfield Trail, this was the first time I would be doing it in an actual horse-drawn wagon. The ride was very bumpy as you can imagine. Unlike the Concord coaches, which have a suspension system of leather thouroghbraces that create a rocking motion, this wagon had next to no suspension system, which created a jerking motion. While Charlie quickly lay down I was a little worried about Eddie. He likes to be where the action is and doesn’t sit still. So I held on tight.
One of the things you hear about in all the traveler’s account of the overland trail is the alkali dust. Well, I can tell you all the complaints about it are very well founded. The dust gets everywhere and most troublesome is the amount that you breathe and swallow. If I had been better prepared I would have worn a handkerchief on my face. But like so many who came before, I just didn’t know until I got in it. And boy, was I in it! Despite the dust, the scenery was spectacular. The mountains, the living Giant Saguaro Cacti, the dead and decaying Giant Saguaro and the rocks all come together in a quintessential southwestern landscape. John Wayne would have been right at home.
It was on the way back that I had another one of those moments that I will never forget. This was right up there with the Buffalo at Ft. Chadbourne experience. I was allowed, under Daryl’s watchful eye, to drive the horse and buggy. What a thrill! Daryl is an amazingly patient man, and for five or so miles I handled those horses with new found skill and determination. Daryl was quick with praise at my newly discovered talent and I was proud as could be there with the reins in hand. I learned very quickly that horses don’t just go down the road on their own. They actually have to be steered in the right direction, otherwise they will just veer off course. And the reins must be orchestrated in unison lest they veer off course. Once I got the hang of it and was able to relax, I could imagine myself heading to town for supplies as if I had been transported back in time. It was an amazing experience and I am forever grateful to Daryl for his trust, patience and conversation as we moseyed down the trail.
After my thrill ride I said goodbye to Daryl and was off again to Connie and Bill’s. It was a bit strange to be in one place so long, but I had to wait for Bill over at Premier Transmission to work his magic. Back at the house, Juan and I said goodbye to Connie and Bill as they headed to their cabin for the weekend. I was really going to miss Connie and will never forget the time we shared on this adventure. She was a great companion and a real trooper despite the grueling schedule and exhausting work. But her time was up and she deserved a relaxing weekend at her cabin.
A call from Bill at Premier Transmission (so many Bills!) confirmed what I had feared. Despite staying late in the evening, the work would not be completed until sometime tomorrow morning. Now we were back to a time crunch. The event in Yuma was between noon and two the next day. It was too late to call the folks in Yuma so I just hoped that they would finish early in the morning and I could make a mad dash to make the event. With the pressure building, I retreated to Connie’s massage chair (I love this thing!) and tried to work out the knots that had been tightening since the fresh RV problems started.
So with the mail and the RV in the capable hands of Bill and his crew at Premier Transmission I headed to bed hoping for some better news and fewer tense muscles tomorrow.
October 4
Day 19 After not sleeping especially well worrying about making it to the grand opening event in Yuma today I awoke early. First on the agenda was coffee. Next, I put in a call to Bill over at Premier Transmission for an update on the RV. What I was hoping to hear was that the RV was fixed and ready to go so we could make our event. The folks in Yuma were really excited about adding the RV and the story of our journey to their event and had lined up press to cover it. They were all expecting the RV and me to be there along with the stagecoach to celebrate the grand opening.
On a personal note I knew that Marge Rice had really been instrumental in setting this up and I really didn’t want to let her down. Marge is Wells Fargo Communications for Arizona, and had been a great partner helping with all things marketing for this great adventure. I had no control over the RV’s mechanical problems, obviously. But, not making the event would have been the first failure of the journey. And because I had become so personally staked out of necessity in its fortunes, its failure was my failure. There is no way I could pull this trip off with all the long hours of research and planning and finally all the hours put in on the road up to this point unless I had embraced it completely and utterly. And I have. This has become a labor of love and to use another tired cliché, my baby. And not to be able to share my “baby” with all those folks in Yuma was terribly disappointing.
Luckily, Ormsby never had transmission trouble. The biggest delays his historic trip suffered were at the hands of unruly and uncooperative wild mules. And here I was with all my modern technology delayed and behind schedule. But I held out hope.
Unfortunately the call to Bill did not go as I had hoped. Despite all the hard work and extra hours his men put into fixing the old clunker (and they stayed late last night trying to fix it) an unexpected problem delayed the works completion. He tried to explain what the problem was that he had encountered but he may has well been speaking Latin. As I stated before mechanics is not my thing and all I heard was, “Blah blah blah transmission blah blah case blah blah blah I’ll have it done by 2 pm.
Well two was too late. Now, I had the unfortunate task of calling Marge and Teresa Mosley of the new Yuma store and delivering the bad news. They were both disappointed but very understanding and for that I was grateful.
Soon Bill and the team at Premier Transmission completed their work. I have to tell you, mechanics sometimes get a bad rap but Premier Transmission is first rate. Bill kept me up to speed on what was going on and understanding and appreciating the nature of journey worked really hard to get us back on the road as soon as possible. Before we found them our options had been bad and worse. But Bill saw to it that the work was done quickly at a very reasonable price always with my safety and the success of the rest of the trip in mind. I can’t think him enough but I can say that if you are in Phoenix and need some work done, you can’t make a better choice than Premier Transmission.
With the RV fixed and the mail safe and secure I was on my way again. Destination, Yuma, AZ.
October 5
Day 20 Well, it was a long ride last night from Phoenix to Yuma but I was happy to be back on the road. We reached Yuma late in the evening and after consulting the Woodall’s Campground Directory found a place to park for the night. I awoke this morning at the Riverfront RV Park in Yuma, Arizona. Turns out I was in a prime spot. The park is located right on the Colorado River. So, not only was it a beautiful spot to take the boys for a walk but it also provided a great location for filming. Near this spot was once a ferry that would have provided safe passage over the river for the stagecoach. So the videoing continues!
As I was preparing to leave, the owner of the park came over to share some information. She had noticed the RV (how could you not) and wanted to tell me about some ruins she was sure had once been a stop on the Butterfield Route. It’s always great to talk to folks about the Butterfield Route and it’s nice to not have to do the talking from time to time. And let’s face it, much of the information I’ve gained during this trip has been through all the great people I’ve met along the way. When it’s a random meeting like this it is particularly exciting.
I thanked her for the tip and headed over the Colorado River crossing for the first time in 25 days back into California on my way to Warner Springs. Reaching California was probably not as exciting for me as it was for Mr. Ormsby. After all he had never been and was probably anxious to arrive after such a rough and weary trip. I on the other hand while feeling somewhat weary was none-the-less sad to see the trip coming to an end. I could keep going and going and going.
I followed the directions given by the RV park owner and headed to see her ruins. She was right. There were definitely some adobe ruins where she said they would be in the little town of Winterhaven. However, I’m not sure they are Butterfield related. Ormsby doesn’t mention one in this spot and it seems much too close to Yuma. After all the spots were usually separated by 12 miles or more and this was only a couple of miles from where the Yuma spot would be. I got out to look and they were very cool. Most of the walls were crumbled like so many of the other existing spots. So, you never know this could very well have been a stage stop.
From Winterhaven the journey took me through some very cool sand dunes several hours outside of San Diego. They are amazing towering high above the dessert like a scene from The Mummy. Looking out at the sand and the ATV’s with their shadow dust clouds I understood why the Butterfield Route at this point dipped for a time into Mexico. The terrain would just have been too much for the strongest horses and most skilled driver. In a few miles the landscape made another dramatic shift. I had finally reached the Anza-Borrego Desert. With the mountains in the distance and the rock strewn dessert alive with all sorts of brush and the ever present Ocotillo the desert canvas was full of textures and color. And soon I was at the Vallecito Station. Vallecito was built originally for the San Antonio to San Diego Mail Line and was then used for the Butterfield. There is a building here but it is a reconstruction done in the 1930’s. Still it is one of the few places to see what an actual station looked like.
After Vallecito I made my way to Box Canyon. It was here that the stagecoach passed through the arduous mountains of San Diego County. It was also here that Ormsby described as one of the most beautiful stretches of the entire route. As the day was waning and I had made plans to meet with Allan Peterson of the San Diego Wells Fargo History Museum and his wife Janet, I took a quick hike into the canyon. What an awesome site! It is very beautiful as Ormsby said. But the juxtaposition of standing on the Butterfield Road with the old Mormon Battalion Road to my right and the modern highway to my left reminded me of the scene at the Guadalupe Mountains that had inspired me the week before. From Box Canyon I was on my way to meet up with Allan and Janet for dinner. However, being so closed to the town of Julian I couldn’t resist stopping for a famous Julian Apple Pie. I love these pies!! The town of Julian is such a special place nestled in the mountains just outside of San Diego. Walking down the main street is like stepping back in time. The pies made at nearly a dozen shops with the apples grown in Julian are to die for. However, when I turned the corner on to the main street I suddenly realized that it was Sunday. The town was filled to the brim with tourist many with the same goal as I. As I drove down the street I could see the lines at the pie shops many stretching around buildings. With not much time to spare remembered that there was a great little shop off on of the side streets and decided to give it a shot. The shop is called, Candied Apple Pastry Company. Unfortunately like most of the shops this late on a Sunday, they were out of apple pie. In fact, they were out of all pies! But, the I was told by the nice lady behind the counter that the lavender pear tart was really good so I decided to go with that. Boy was she right. It was amazing.
After loading up with tarts and a few other goodies I headed to Borrego Springs to have dinner. We decided on The Red Octotillo at the Palms Hotel. The groovy 1960’s architecture is really something to see. The food was great and the conversation was even better. It was nice to catch up on what had been happening in San Diego since I left nearly a month ago. I was also happy to share my experiences so far with Allan and Janet.
It was getting late and the day had been a long one. So, after the great meal and conversation I headed back to the RV for a good night’s sleep. Next stop, L.A.
October 6
Day 21
Retrieving Ormsby I awoke this morning in beautiful Borrego Springs to my normal routine of walking the boys, breakfast then preparing for the days videoing and site seeing. First, I consult my notebook to see which cities and sites are on the agenda for the day. Then, I consult Ormsby via his book, The Butterfield Overland Mail Route. Notebook, check. Ormsby…ugh oh…I couldn’t find Ormsby! I searched in all the usual spots but with only 24 feet of space there aren’t that many spots to look in. No luck. Ormsby was nowhere to be found.
So, I thought back to the last time I had seen the book, Box Canyon. While filming at Box Canyon I laid the book on top of the site marker. Oh, man! Without Ormsby I had no guide. I wouldn’t know what had happened on that first historic journey. I had to make a decision, continue without him or go back. No brainer. I had to go back and retrieve Ormsby. I feared that I wouldn’t find the book because the wind had been blowing so hard the past 24 hours. I just knew the book had blown off the marker and I would have to search the vast canyon. The trip back to Box Canyon took nearly an hour. As I hiked to the marker I strained my eyes in anticipation of seeing the book atop the marker undisturbed. It wasn’t there. But, as I approached the marker I discovered to my joy and amazement that the book was indeed there. It had been placed sacrificially below the marker and not only that but some kind soul (Ormsby’s perhaps) had placed stones on top of it to keep it from blowing away! Ormsby I think must be watching over my journey.
Since I was already there I decided to reshoot some of the Box Canyon video (hence the “costume” change you may notice during the Box Canyon footage). Then it was off to the Oak Grave Station in route to L.A. Oak Grove, located between Borrego Springs and Temecula, is an interesting site. The name as Ormsby states comes from the large oaks surrounding the area. One oak just in front of the building must be over 200 years old based on its size. How amazing to think that this oak may have been there providing shade for Ormsby as it is to me today, 150 years later? The building itself is a wood structure the first one not made of adobe I’ve seen since I left Arkansas. And it is the only station still standing on the entire route. As I peered through the windows it occurred to me that it must have been used as a museum of sorts at some point. The rooms were decorated and staged with furniture from the period and in one of the rooms were these strange looking mannequins dressed in period attire.
After a quick exploration of the old station I was off destination, L.A. for an overnight stay. As this is Juan’s home he was particularly glad to arrive in L.A. and looking forward to a night in his own bed. I still had 4 days to go before I was able to sleep in my own bed again. But, at least I had my old friend Ormsby with me again.
The Mail and the book are safe and sound and just four days from San Francisco.
October 7
Day 22
First stop of the day took me to the city of El Monte just outside of Los Angeles. El Monte was called the “end of the line” of the Santa Fe Trail by many settlers to this area well before Los Angeles became the mega city it is today. Being settled by Texas emigrants it also has the distinction of being the first permanent American settlement in Southern California. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to spend in this little community but I was able to make a stop at the Santa Fe Historic Park. The park is small but full of history including the old city well. Being the site of the well it is most likely the spot where the stage stop was located. When I arrived the park was gated shut but thanks to the kindness of one of the maintenance workers I was given access to the beautiful little spot. Ormsby had great things to say about El Monte and considered it an oasis of civilization after thousands of miles into the wild. For Ormsby and undoubtedly others, civilization meant shingled roof tops.
After leaving El Monte we made a pit stop at the Wells Fargo History Museum, Los Angeles to pick up museum manager Ileana Bonilla who was to spend a few hours with Juan and me. Then it was on to the Pico House across the old Los Angeles Plaza near historic Olvera St. The Pico House built in the years 1869 – 70 by the last Mexican Governor of California, Pio Pico dominated this area as a luxury hotel for several years. Near this site was the Butterfield stage stop. We were lucky to be able to go inside the grand structure which is now owned by the state of California. The bottom of three stories is used to house temporary exhibits and is currently housing an exhibit entitled, Sunshine and Struggle: The Italian American Experience 1827 – 1927.
Of course no visit to L.A. would be complete without some sort of Hollywood experience and lucky for me there was a movie or commercial (I was never able to figure out which) being filmed right in front of the Pico House. It was very exciting to walk onto the live set and I scanned the scene feverishly in search of a star. Unfortunately, I had no star sighting.
After some filming of my own inside and outside the Pico House I retired to the RV to do some work and check on the boys while Juan and Ileana walked down the street to grab some lunch. After a few minutes inside the RV there was a knock at the door. When I opened the door an unassuming man in glass with a sash around his neck identifying him as a docent was standing outside. He told me he had noticed the RV and thought I might be interested in his family history. Turns out he is a descendant of my very own Waterman Ormsby! For the second time in two days I had the very real feeling that Mr. Ormsby was making his presence known. After a brief discussion with Mr. Bob Lisenby he agreed to be filmed so I grabbed the equipment and hastily set up an impromptu interview. I could hardly believe it I was actually speaking to a descendant of Waterman Ormsby!
October 8
Day 23
About 85 miles from Los Angeles the stage route reaches the Tejon pass near Fort Tejon State Historic Park. My first of just two stops today, Ft. Tejon is a peaceful little spot surrounded by velvety smooth hills. When Ormsby arrived Ft. Tejon was an active fort with, “some very fine adobe buildings” and “few settlers.” Today Ft. Tejon is a state park with recreated and original buildings from the old fort. I arrived after closing time so I thought myself all except for Juan and the boys. Turns out we were not exactly alone. A family of deer was taking advantage of the open space and closed park. For the entire nearly hour I spent walking around and videoing I shared the space with the family. It really added to the tranquil feeling of the place and helped transport me to another time when I’m sure wildlife was abundant here.
Tranquility aside I had to be off. Further up Highway 99 was another town I had never heard of but will never forget, Visalia, Calif. When I arrived it was already dark out and I was getting quite hungry. After locating the KOA in Visalia and registering for the night I headed into town. Being a week night I was worried that there would be nothing opened in such a small town this late. Boy was I surprised! As I approached downtown I was greeted by a huge party. Not in my honor of course but tonight just happened to be the 15th annual Taste of Downtown Visalia.
I was amazed. There was live music. The streets and restaurants and bars were filled to the brim with people enjoying all that downtown Visalia has to offer. And boy does it have something to offer. Nearly every kind of cuisine you can imagine was there. Juan and I settled on steak and soon found the Double LL Steakhouse. I have to say I’ve had steak a few times on this journey (when there was no catfish available) and this was hands down the best steak of the trip. In fact I would venture to say one of the best steaks I’ve ever had. And the mash potatoes are to die for (and you will if you eat all that they put on your plate).
Unfortunately next morning was to be an early one so I wasn’t able to take part in the festivities so, after stuffing myself I headed back to the KOA. Before hitting the hay I grabbed my copy of Ormsby’s book to research for the next day’s visit and filming in Visalia and had another “Ormsby moment.” First there was the coincidence of having taken my first shower in the RV on the same exact day that Ormsby had his first bath in the Clear Forks of the Brazos River, then after having carelessly left my copy of Ormsby’s book at Box Canyon returning to find some “mystery” person had placed it in a safe place and put rocks atop it to keep it from blowing away then receiving a knock at the door of the RV in L.A. to find myself face to face with an Ormsby descendant. Now here I was reading how Ormsby had been quite unexpectedly greeted upon his arrival by a party in….Visalia! In fact, there was an anvil salute and Ormsby had his first beer since leaving New York and enjoyed the company of New Yorkers for the first time since he left. I had Taste of Visalia and he had a party in honor of the arrival of the mail 150 years ago to the day!
Next morning I met with Terry Ommen a local resident and historian. He was nice enough to drive me downtown to show me the Butterfield marker and give me a quick, cliff notes version of Visalia history. Terry is incredibly interesting and knowledgeable and I could have spent hours talking with him but as those of you who have been following this blog know, there just wasn’t time. So with a heartfelt thanks and a quick goodbye I was headed north. Next stop, San Jose.
October 8 (part II)
Day 24
The Way to San Jose.
(Charles feel free to use whatever title you think is best. I just always think of the Dionne Warwick song when I hear San Jose.)
After leaving Visalia I headed north toward Fresno. Fresno is not on the actual route but I had been invited to speak to a group of 4th and 5th graders at Riverview Elementary School. So, I took a small detour and was glad to do it. I met with Tim Rios, Senior Vice President Community Development Manager and a member from his team Kim Andersen who did a wonderful job of setting up the event. I had a great time with the kids and they, as well as the teachers seemed to enjoy my tales fromthe road and stories of Wells Fargo’s history.
After leaving the school I headed toward San Jose. This was to be a relatively short day as the event in Fresno was the only one on the schedule that day. The road to San Jose was beautiful. The weather was amazing and the views were stunning. In the little town of Hollister just off Highway 25 I passed but could not pass up Casa De Fruta. This is a fruit stand extraordinaire! It’s a combination fruit stand, gourmet food and candy shop and amusement park that has been in operation for 100 years. The stop provided a much needed break, a chance for the dogs to take a walk and for me to stock up on my favorite candies and fruit. I’m a Jelly Belly freak and this place has flavors even I haven’t had before.
With my belly full and my wallet emptied I headed north. About 33 miles south of San Jose is the town of Gilroy. Ormsby passed through this area 150 years ago and made note of the fact that he came across the first “croaker” of the whole trip. Dictionary.com describes a croaker as someone who grumbles or forebodes evil. This is exactly what Ormsby had in mind when describing this guy as, “the only man that was not glad to see the stage and to speak well of the enterprise.” Lucky for me I met no such croaker on my journey. The area today is much as it was in Ormsby’s day, a fine agricultural district with lots of farms and fresh fruit.
Further north I came to the town of Morgan Hill. Here I found the Coyote Valley RV Resort. Wow! This is the Hilton of RV parks and where I decided to stay for the night as I was not to arrive in San Jose until tomorrow. Juan had a friend that lived nearby so he escaped from our 24 foot abode for a restful night in a real home. But I was content. I had my dogs, beautiful surroundings and a bucket full of Jelly Bellies. I spent the evening pondering sentimentally my journey thus far, a little sad that it was quickly coming to an end but looking forward to my San Francisco arrival. One more day to go.
Oct 9
This morning provided me one of those rare opportunities – to sleep in! It felt great! Today will be a relatively easy day with an event planned at the Wells Fargo Store in downtown San Jose. I was looking forward to the event as I was meeting Bev Smith, Historical Services Manager and Anne Hall, Curator of the at the event. The two have been a constant source of support during this undertaking and it will be good to see them both. After breakfast and a walk around the Coyote Valley RV Resort grounds Juan arrived from his night of freedom and we were off.
This was my first trip to San Jose and I must say I was very impressed with the city’s downtown. It is truly a beautiful place. Ormsby tells of the prosperous ranches that lead to the “old Spanish” town of San Jose which was founded on November 29, 1777. The first full name was El Pueblo de San Jose de Guadalupe and served as the temporary state capital until 1851.
When I arrived the store was abuzz with excitement and activity. Planned for the afternoon was a visit by a group of children from the Third Street Community Center. In addition to the presentation that I would be doing the students were being treated to a presentation by Barbara Johnston and a group of volunteers from History San Jose. Dressed in period costumes they dramatized different events in California history focusing on historic travel. One of my favorites was the character of Charlie Parkhurst which many of you will know as the one-eyed stagecoach driver with a secret. The secret? Charlie was actually a woman named Charlotte. She lost her eye after a horse she was trying to shoe decided it didn’t want a new shoe. The woman who played this part was great and the kids as well as the adults in attendance really got a kick (pun intended) out of her.
With the help of local Team members including, Janine Nguyen, Lynne Van Hyning, Alex Torres and many others the event was a success. I really enjoyed meeting everyone especially the students of the Third Street Community Center.
Although the San Francisco arrival isn’t scheduled until tomorrow I have to be up early in the morning for the final school event in San Rafael (just across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin County). I was graciously invited to spend the evening at Bev Smith’s house and quickly took her up on the offer. A night in a real bed was too hard to pass up. And although they had no way to know, Charlie and Eddie were about to be treated to the run of a big backyard and some new friends, Bev’s dogs Penny and Carlos.
So, as the sun was setting on the day and metaphorically on this great adventure I head to San Francisco with mixed emotions. I was truly excited about the next day’s events but also more than a little sad that the trip was coming to an end.
Today is officially the 150th anniversary of the first trip west along the Butterfield Overland Mail Route. 
And then, Ike did it again. After 20 or so miles of traveling down Highway 94, we saw up ahead what no traveler down a dark country highway wants to see—big red and white barricades. Road Closed. Upon pulling up to the obstructions, we discovered another road completely submerged. It appears another road had fallen victim to Ike, and once again our plans would have to be altered. And so we turned the old RV around, hungry and increasingly tired. But not discouraged: after all, adjustments had to be made in Ormsby’s day and so too in mine.
I decided to search for an RV campground so I could hook up our old RV to power, to keep our food from spoiling. According to my RV directory, Sedalia is home to three RV parks. I found the first with relative ease, but it was a senior’s only park. Next, I drove around guided by my handy GPS system to the next supposed campsite, which turned out to be an industrial park. Strike two. 
From Sedalia it was a quick ride down Highway 65 to Warsaw. Warsaw, Missouri is a great small town on the Osage River. I discovered much to my embarrassment (and too late to change it in the video!) that Osage is pronounced with a long ‘a’ as in “Casey”, not with a short ‘a’ as in “mangle.” My apologies to Warsaw and the entire state of Missouri…
After chatting with our hosts for a few minutes and hooking up the RV, I sat down to relax a moment and collect my thoughts about the trip so far. One thing I notice is the increased enthusiasm that is building, not only my own but in the people I encounter as well. From Dena to Teresa and Lucy, to John and Jenny, to the school kids I’m meeting, to the folks posting comments on the web, people seem to be really engaged in our journey. I must say I’m pleasantly surprised and gratified that all my hard work —and the work of numerous other anonymous folks—leading up to this trip, and the trials since, have been worth it for the sheer excitement it’s created. The Butterfield Overland Mail Route is often overlooked, but it’s a monumental event in American History. I’m reminded of one of my favorite Ormsby quotes, which he wrote while traveling this very leg of the journey:
What a day! After saying good bye to John and Jenny at the Oak Hill Court and thanking them for their hospitality, I was off for what I knew would be a busy day. First stop, Pea Ridge Military National Park. There I would meet with Glen Jones, a member of the Heritage Trail Partners. Glen contacted me some time ago and arranged to have me meet with John C. Scott, Superintendent of the park, for a personal guided tour. 
John’s knowledge and appreciation of history is really brought to light as he interprets the sights. As you gaze out on the vast open fields, the battlefield comes alive. You can imagine the gun blasts, the smell of gunpowder, the flowing of blood and the sorrowful screams of young men giving their lives for a cause. It was at once inspiring and somber.
As if the day hadn’t been exciting enough I rushed from Lowell Elementary to Springdale, Arkansas to the home of Jay and Sarah Barryman for another brush with the past and a meeting with the board of directors of the Heritage Trail Partners. On the Barryman’s property sits a stone stable that was once Fitzgerald’s station on the Butterfield Route. The stable sheltered horses that pulled stages on the line. What an experience to walk through these stables, knowing that John Butterfield himself once tended horses there. The station, according to the Barrymans, was used as a changing station as well as a meal station.
After showing us a couple of spots in downtown Fayetteville Kirby led us to, and joined us for, some of the best BBQ I’ve had in a while. We had a finger-licking good dinner and great conversation at Penguin Ed’s B & B Bar-B-Q in Fayetteville. Thanks again Kirby, for the book and your hospitality.
Well, for the first time in 20 days I spent the night outside the RV. No, I wasn't sleeping in the street—I was enjoying the hospitality of the beautiful, cozy home of Bill and Connie Whalen. I met Bill briefly when we rendezvoused with him and Connie in Flagstaff, Arizona on the way to St. Louis. He was very helpful, figuring out how to get the RV’s pilot light lit for the fridge and some other things I was having difficulties with. After spending a few hours last night with him and Connie, I soon found him to be a great guy. I appreciate the hospitality he and Connie showed me and the boys while in Phoenix. 
You can imagine my mindset upon hearing the news. Here I was on a journey whose schedule was important to its success. Much like that first journey overland, I had a tight schedule to keep and there was not a lot of wiggle room. But we did have a little time to play with. There was not another event after today until Saturday, when we had to be in Yuma, Arizona for a Wells Fargo store grand opening, complete with media. Needless to say my mind was not completely on today’s event, but I put on a happy face. Ever the professional, I joined the festivities with all the smiles I could muster as I anxiously waited on the call from Joe. 
Although I had to be up early, it was nice that Eddie let me sleep as long as I could. Seems he knew the RV was in the shop and decided not to even check on it this morning. We had a bit of a drive on our hands to meet up with Daryl Hatch at the Butterfield Trail near Gila Bend. Daryl is a driver for our stagecoach appearance program and he owns lots of horses and wagons. Turns out he’s also a really nice guy and yet another real cowboy (see Day 7 of trip journal) I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on this trip. 
Despite the dust, the scenery was spectacular. The mountains, the living Giant Saguaro Cacti, the dead and decaying Giant Saguaro and the rocks all come together in a quintessential southwestern landscape. John Wayne would have been right at home.
After not sleeping especially well worrying about making it to the grand opening event in Yuma today I awoke early. First on the agenda was coffee. Next, I put in a call to Bill over at Premier Transmission for an update on the RV. What I was hoping to hear was that the RV was fixed and ready to go so we could make our event. The folks in Yuma were really excited about adding the RV and the story of our journey to their event and had lined up press to cover it. They were all expecting the RV and me to be there along with the stagecoach to celebrate the grand opening. 
Well, it was a long ride last night from Phoenix to Yuma but I was happy to be back on the road. We reached Yuma late in the evening and after consulting the Woodall’s Campground Directory found a place to park for the night. I awoke this morning at the Riverfront RV Park in Yuma, Arizona. Turns out I was in a prime spot. The park is located right on the Colorado River. So, not only was it a beautiful spot to take the boys for a walk but it also provided a great location for filming. Near this spot was once a ferry that would have provided safe passage over the river for the stagecoach. So the videoing continues!
In a few miles the landscape made another dramatic shift. I had finally reached the Anza-Borrego Desert. With the mountains in the distance and the rock strewn dessert alive with all sorts of brush and the ever present Ocotillo the desert canvas was full of textures and color. And soon I was at the Vallecito Station. Vallecito was built originally for the San Antonio to San Diego Mail Line and was then used for the Butterfield. There is a building here but it is a reconstruction done in the 1930’s. Still it is one of the few places to see what an actual station looked like.
From Box Canyon I was on my way to meet up with Allan and Janet for dinner. However, being so closed to the town of Julian I couldn’t resist stopping for a famous Julian Apple Pie. I love these pies!! The town of Julian is such a special place nestled in the mountains just outside of San Diego. Walking down the main street is like stepping back in time. The pies made at nearly a dozen shops with the apples grown in Julian are to die for. However, when I turned the corner on to the main street I suddenly realized that it was Sunday. The town was filled to the brim with tourist many with the same goal as I. As I drove down the street I could see the lines at the pie shops many stretching around buildings. With not much time to spare remembered that there was a great little shop off on of the side streets and decided to give it a shot. The shop is called, Candied Apple Pastry Company. Unfortunately like most of the shops this late on a Sunday, they were out of apple pie. In fact, they were out of all pies! But, the I was told by the nice lady behind the counter that the lavender pear tart was really good so I decided to go with that. Boy was she right. It was amazing.
I awoke this morning in beautiful Borrego Springs to my normal routine of walking the boys, breakfast then preparing for the days videoing and site seeing. First, I consult my notebook to see which cities and sites are on the agenda for the day. Then, I consult Ormsby via his book, The Butterfield Overland Mail Route. Notebook, check. Ormsby…ugh oh…I couldn’t find Ormsby! I searched in all the usual spots but with only 24 feet of space there aren’t that many spots to look in. No luck. Ormsby was nowhere to be found.
The trip back to Box Canyon took nearly an hour. As I hiked to the marker I strained my eyes in anticipation of seeing the book atop the marker undisturbed. It wasn’t there. But, as I approached the marker I discovered to my joy and amazement that the book was indeed there. It had been placed sacrificially below the marker and not only that but some kind soul (Ormsby’s perhaps) had placed stones on top of it to keep it from blowing away! Ormsby I think must be watching over my journey.
Oak Grove, located between Borrego Springs and Temecula, is an interesting site. The name as Ormsby states comes from the large oaks surrounding the area. One oak just in front of the building must be over 200 years old based on its size. How amazing to think that this oak may have been there providing shade for Ormsby as it is to me today, 150 years later? The building itself is a wood structure the first one not made of adobe I’ve seen since I left Arkansas. And it is the only station still standing on the entire route. As I peered through the windows it occurred to me that it must have been used as a museum of sorts at some point. The rooms were decorated and staged with furniture from the period and in one of the rooms were these strange looking mannequins dressed in period attire.