Finding Fritz, Sr., Day 7

When we got up we saw why we needed the heater: the mountains surrounding Winnemucca still had a layer of snow on them, and they were only about a mile away! The temperature outside was around 45 degrees; pretty cold for early June. I was glad for a good night sleep, knowing that today had the potential to be one of our best.

After breakfast we headed to the Tourist Information Center in preparation for the next part of our trip. According to Pop Pop’s diary, he left Winnemucca on a train to Gerlach, Nevada:

June 10th, 1922
Left Winnemucca at 11.00 A.M. on a Shriners special going to Frisco where they were having a convention. We rode up on the coal car as big as life in broad day light. The crew were wonderful. About ten of us rode this train. At Gerlach we got off for no reason at all.

I love the irony of Pop Pop’s statement about getting off the train for no good reason. They had one of their best and most stress-free train hops, which probably would have taken them the remaining 450 miles to San Francisco. Maybe their appetite for adventure wasn’t yet satisfied, and they didn’t want to get there quite so soon. If so, they certainly weren’t disappointed, because they were about to have one of their greatest adventures – and so were we, as we tried to follow their steps.

Ghost Towns and Desert Trails
Looking at our AAA map, the most direct road to Gerlach was a 100-mile dirt road that followed the train tracks, and we wanted to find out if it would be safe to drive that way with our RV. We also saw two ghost towns on the map that we thought would be fun to find. However, based on the advice of the Info Center, we decided to skip the ghost towns and go the long way around to Gerlach, taking the paved roads. Even though it added 110 miles, it was actually 2-3 hours quicker, and we really wanted to get to Gerlach, for several reasons.

First, Aaron had learned that Gerlach may soon become a ghost town itself, due to the fact that the local Gypsum plant was closing. As a result, the local school was about to complete its final term. But even more than that, I was especially interested to find out more about one of Pop Pop’s greatest adventures just west of Gerlach:

June 10th, 1922 (cont.)
… At Gerlach we got off for no reason at all. There we got another special at 12.30 A.M. The conductor saw us and chased us off the blinds {between cars-see left photo} but we got the steps {see photo below right} which wasn’t very comfortable but it was good enough in a pinch. We rode this way for about 50 miles when the train slowed down and they threw us off. Here we stood right in the middle of the desert with nothing around us but a small shack where we found a telegraph operator. He informed us that no trains ever stop there but he said we could get one thirty miles up the track at a water tank there.

This was the one part of Pop Pop’s trip where we actually lost his trail, since neither the AAA maps nor the online map engines showed any roads in this part of NW Nevada. However, I was able to trace the railroad tracks out of Gerlach on Google Maps. This was an important clue, because, based on Pop Pop’s estimate of the distances, I was able to guess that he and his friends were kicked off the train in the vicinity of a place identified as Sand Pass. Zooming in, I could see a few buildings, and I had strong hunch that one of them might be the telegraph operator’s shack. If only we could find a way to get there! Our best bet for finding any new clues would be in Gerlach, so we gave up our search for the old Winnemucca train station and headed down Interstate 80.

Comparing the road map and some of the historical maps we brought along, it was clear that some of the interstates and railroads followed the wagon trails of the early 1800s, such as the Oregon Trail and the California Trail. At a rest stop we learned about and saw the “Fortymile Desert,” a notorious and waterless part of the California Trail that was so difficult that it was generally traveled at night by the wagon trains. To us it seemed pretty harmless at first, cruising through at 70 miles an hour, but it didn’t take much to imagine the hardship of trudging through for several days.

Northeast of Reno, we left I-80 and headed north towards Gerlach, and made several stops to ask the locals about any possible roads to Sand Pass. No one we asked had any idea about the state of roads in that vicinity, and most had not heard of Sand Pass. So we pressed on to Gerlach, following a barren, but oddly attractive desert valley, and catching a glimpse of Pyramid Lake along the way. It reminded me of a desert version of Crater Lake, with its deep blue waters and pyramid rock rising out of the middle.

Gerlach, NV - Desert Gateway
Coming into Gerlach, the cluttered evidence of the gypsum mines and surrounding businesses overtook the gradual ebb and flow of the surrounding desert. At the edge of town we rejoined the railroad that we had left back in Winnemucca, and stopped to explore the tracks which we could see extending straight to the horizon in both directions.

After a few minutes taking photos and taking in the surroundings, we saw what looked like a train engine approaching the station, from the west. As it got closer we could see that it was actually a kind of amphibious truck, with both train wheels and retractable road tires. We watched as they approached a kind of grade crossing, where they let down the tires, which raised the rail wheels off of the tracks. Once they pulled the service vehicle away from the tracks and parked by the station, we went to the crew chief and introduced ourselves and our day’s mission. He was a very experienced technician for the Western Pacific rail line, and he lived down the tracks in California. As a result, he was familiar with Sand Pass, as well as with the buildings there, and told us that there was indeed a gravel road that would take us directly there. He bragged that he had once driven a passenger coach down that unpaved road. This raised our hopes somewhat, and we thanked him for the information. However, I was a little skeptical, due to his cavalier attitude. There was a lot at stake driving a rented RV 80 miles down an uncharted desert road.

We wandered around town a bit, which had an unusual mix of run down restaurants, old RVs, and junk stores, since it is the final launching out point for the annual “Burning Man” celebration, a week—long “celebration of self-expression” in the middle of the Black Rock Desert to the northeast. We were considering entering one of the restaurants to get more information about the road to Sand Pass, when I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearly 5:00 pm. Across the street was a small shop marked “Tourist Information.” It hardly looked official, with hand-painted letters on some of the signs, and I wasn’t even sure it was open. However, if it was, it would probably be our best bet, and might be about to close.

Sure enough, we got there just in time. Inside was a gentle and husky man named Bill, dressed as if for winter, who confirmed that we would be his last customers of the day. As we described our journey, he became very interested, especially when we showed him Pop Pop’s diary. As I read him the part about Gerlach and Sand Pass, he began to filming it using his smart phone. He then showed us some old photos of the former train station, taken shortly after Pop Pop’s visit in 1922. Finally, he assured us that we could navigate the road to Sand Pass, provided we keep a reasonable pace of about 35 miles per hour. There would be several ranches along the way, and the state maintains the road so that it stays level, not full of ruts and gullies. This was the news we wanted to hear, since it meant we could reach Sand Pass in daylight, and also gave us the prospect of help if something were to go wrong along the way. As Bill described the route, he began to show us some detailed Bureau of Land Management maps of the area, which sealed the deal: armed with these, we felt we couldn’t fail! We thanked him and in my mind thanked the Lord for sending such a godsend.

The Search for Sand Pass
About 6 miles up the road, we saw the sign for the turn-off for Sand Pass. It also listed towns in California, which encouraged us to venture on. Before long we were surrounded by dry earth and sage brush, with only occasional signs of human life: an infrequent car, old fence posts and wire, and even a few dilapidated ranches. From looking at the map, we saw that we were following one of the old California Trail wagon trail cutoffs, which added to our sense of adventure.

Forty miles into the desert, we crossed a small bridge, and were surprised by a small pond with some cattle and an abandoned building nearby. I later learned that this was the Bonham Ranch, and the pond was fed by an artesian well. We stopped to explore a bit, but pressed on, knowing that our hours of daylight were running out.

Soon afterward we saw two old buildings in the distance, which we took for another ranch. We were not expecting to arrive at Sand Pass for another 20 minutes or so. It wasn’t until we almost passed the buildings that we saw the railroad tracks rising up the hillside, which alerted us that we must be near the pass.

We backtracked a bit to the short dirt access road to the two buildings, one of which looked like it could have been a home at one time. It had a covered porch in front, but all of the windows were missing. The buildings were empty inside and one was covered with graffiti announcing that they belonged to the Pyramid Lake Indian reservation. It was clear that they had not been lived in for a long time, which stoked our enthusiasm and belief that we had found the actual telegraph operator’s location.

We spent a good 30 minutes taking in the scenery, and savoring the satisfaction of having found an important puzzle piece of my grandfather’s journey. Unlike many of the other locations he visited, this spot was essentially the same as it would have been in 1922, and we had fun imagining and even re-enacting what I must have been like for Pop Pop when he came through here.

The railroad passed by above the houses, so we walked up a steep incline to get a better view of the houses and the expansive Smoke Creek Desert below. We noticed that this section of the tracks was relatively new: instead of the traditional wooden railroad ties, these tracks had separate concrete ties under each rail. The path of the tracks made a distinct cut into the hillside, and there was a man-made mountain of dirt below the two houses. We figured that at some point since Pop Pop came through here, they must have re-laid the tracks. At this point, we recorded the following video, which sums up our discovery of Sand Pass:



As Aaron and Dad returned to the RV, I found myself wanting to stay longer to soak in the sense of adventure and accomplishment. It was the same feeling I felt at the top of Mt. Sinai, Huayna Picchu, and other peaks I’ve climbed. Very few things make me feel as alive as I do at these times. Unfortunately, the sun was getting very close to the surrounding hills, and we still had about 25 miles or so of uncharted desert tracks to follow before we reached civilization. As we pulled away, I looked over my shoulder for a last look at Sand Pass, a little puzzled by the strong sense of connection I felt to this place. Maybe it seemed like a geological incarnation of the grandfather I never knew.

Picking up Pop Pop’s diary, we read:

June 10th, 1922 (cont.)
… no trains ever stop there but he {the telegraph operator} said we could get one thirty miles up the track at a water tank there. There were two other fellows with us. The four of us started out on the run as it was very cold. It sure was a good thing there wasn’t any sun for awhile. I guess we covered about twenty miles before the sun hit us and when it did Oh! Boy. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. Ray had lost his hat on the train so he was in a bad way. We tied a bunch of red hand kerchiefs up and made a hat for him. We hit the water tank at four in the afternoon which was at a place called Hackstaff, Cal. Here we were in sunny Cal. at last. I’ll admit this part of Cal. was sunny. Have often heard of how men saw …and lakes and things in the desert and I’m not quite sure whether I didn’t see some my selfe.

Unlike Pop Pop’s entry to California, our day got cooler and darker. As we drove, I think we were all in a reflective mood, and we began to reminisce about past events, and our combined memories sometimes clarified details for one another. Our questions led to some surprising revelations, such as Dad telling us about boyhood exploits, and about the fact that his grandmother was the daughter of a Methodist pastor.

An hour after leaving Sand Pass, we crossed the Nevada-California line, and the sign there told us that our destination, Doyle, CA, was only 12 miles away. The sign also told us that the dirt track we were taking had a name, “Fort Sage Road” This surprised us a little, since, as far as we could tell, the roads in this area did not seem very organized or planned. If they had asked us, we would have called the road, “Jack-Rabbit Trail,” since we nearly clipped a few as we blindly drove in the deepening twilight. An hour after entering California, around 10:00 pm, we finally reached a paved road, and tried to find a place to make a quick dinner. Now that we were in somewhat of a residential area, we tried to keep our generator use to a minimum.

According to our guide book, the closest campground was at least 45 minutes away, and we were weary after our long, eventful day. We decided to drive a few miles back into the desert and just pull over for the night.

However, our adventures were not quite over: out of nowhere, a sheriff of Lassen County appeared behind us. We did not see him until the blue lights started flashing, and we dutifully pulled over. He walked up to us and asked if he could “help” us. We told him we were looking for a place to pull over, fully expecting him to courteously, yet firmly, tell us that it was against regulations to “dry camp” in that part of California. Instead, much to our surprise, he told us of three unlisted campgrounds within 5 miles of us, one of which was on federal land, and therefore free of charge. He offered to escort us there, to help us avoid running into the free-ranging livestock along the way. We laughed at the irony of being rounded up and led by a sheriff to our night’s lodging, just as Pop Pop had been a dozen or so times on his way across country. I couldn’t help feeling this was somehow orchestrated, and that Providence was also having a good laugh with us!

It didn’t take long to fall into our beds at the Fort Sage Trailhead campground, grateful to the Bureau of Land Management for such a well-placed and immaculately clean location. I began to drift off to sleep, with the memories of the day swirling together in a random cascade of images and thoughts. What a day this had been! A perfect mix of fulfilled hope and unexpected discovery!