The New American Digest

originally posted by Jean November 27, 2009

Sometimes, I am asked “Where do your poems come from?
How do you do that?”
It can be difficult to explain and often I simply shrug
my shoulders and reply “I dunno. Just happens.”

The process can be different each time but, one constant
is that I keep a notebook and pen with me, always.
I never know when the urge to write will appear. Often,
it may only be a word or phrase that catches my attention.
I never know when they might come together in one piece.

It isn’t uncommon for something noted days or even
months ago turns out to be a needed title, last line or the
inspiration seed that grows into a complete idea.

For example, the poem I’m posting here…
the title was written as two lines, out of the blue, several
days ago. Last night I was flipping through my notebook,
saw those lines, and started thinking thoughts with words
in them. They were insistent, demanding to be written.
This is what the muse was dictating :

You remind me of someone else…

too much time feeling
bound to do, be, say
aroused rebellion
resulting in not much good
for another batch
of too much time.
lost then found
now is when
not then.
savor self
and spend self
being true
to you.
love always honest
and much
now.

Out along the old 1840s Emigrant Trail along the Truckee River Route – just west of the Humboldt Sink – was the most difficult terrain of the journey. Hot, dry, and sandy, covered with vast alkali flats, there was no water between the Humboldt Sink and the Truckee River some 40 miles distant. A rough wagon road was constructed by the late 1840s but travel was so difficult that by 1850 most chose to tackle the equally dreaded but easier travel of the Carson River Route through the 40-Mile Desert between the Humboldt Sink and the Carson Sink to follow the Carson River to the Sierra. The route split near what is/was Toulon, Nevada along I-80, just east of the following maps.

In today’s terms, travellers chose to follow US 95 from just west of Lovelock south to Fallon and US50 over the Sierra south of Lake Tahoe to Placerville rather than follow I-80 west to Fernley and beyond over Donner Pass north of Lake Tahoe to Sacramento. Both routes pretty much follow the original wagon trails of the 1840s. That’s long ago out this way.

Mrs DT laughs about that.

But the Truckee Route was not totally abandoned. Just a few miles west of where US95 cuts off from I-80 were deposits of almost pure salt. By 1864, the area was a significant source of commercial salt, annually producing several hundred tons of salt used in silver ore reduction. When the Central Pacific built past here in 1868, the White Plains station was built here, greatly reducing transportation costs. Prospectors in the area found deposits of silver – the nearby Desert Queen Mine is considered the oldest lode mine in northern Nevada. By 1879, the White Plains settlement had a post office. Salt production started to decrease, the railroad was re-routed to the south, and by 1909, the town of White Plains essentially ceased to exist.

However, not far north of White Plains, a significant gold deposit was discovered in 1908, causing a new mining boom town of Jessup to be established. For a short while, Jessup was home to around 300 people with saloons and grocery stores serving those that worked the 8 mines in the area. The boom was short-lived and by 1909, the mines had played out and by 1912, Jessup had faded away.

Well, one of those days very long ago when I was too ignorant to know how unprepared I was for being out so far that even the boonies were a long way away, I was wandering around some of the back corners of the Trinity Range west of the Jessup site. What’s missing from the picture is my wreck of a 1964 Chevy ¾ ton pickup that I was driving at random through the sage. At some point, I came across some old mine workings … and nearby was this old cabin. This cabin was so remote, blue-enameled pans were still hanging on pegs on the walls, an old stove nearby, and remnants of furniture were laying around inside the cabin.

I may have cut a trail others would follow. Didn’t think of that at the time. I left the pans hanging there but even though that was almost 50 years ago; who knows, maybe the cabin and pans are still there.

I put together a little video sequence overlaying the 1890, 1908, and “now” maps to show changes … and no changes. This region shows the region of the split in the California Trail between the Truckee River Route and the Carson River Route; the Truckee Route heading SW (I-80), the Carson Route heading S (US95).

One can still follow the wagon ruts through 40-Mile a mile or so off US95; old busted oxen shoes and other such metallic trash still lies buried in the sand; any graves though being long ago obliterated.

ghostsniper’s comment reminded me – I should have added these two views:

Looking up road to Jessup – other side of those hills on the left

Looking south at the north end of 40-Mile desert. US95 along base of hills to left

Sometimes black and white says more than color. Up around 12,500 ft in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.

originally posted by Jean Nov 9, 2009

Wandered the beach very late afternoon,
wanting to see the moon rise.
While waiting for that, studied the rest
and composed and poeticized.

Wind frothed the breakers, square-danced
with the gulls. Candy clouds punctuated
the sky. Not a glimpse of a glimmer of
lunar peculiar jiggled the night swath
descending. A shrug and a slump then
turned course westward, resigned to a
glitterless eve.

Moon face smiled, “You could have seen
the moon but you gave up too soon. I’ll be
back in December but will you remember?”

There’s something … a feeling … that comes over me as I’m on a long trip with the sun sinking down. A full tank of gas, little traffic, a long forever-straight road in front. Not quite hypnotic … relaxing into the hum of tires on asphalt, the low sound of a healthy engine – all systems go, all needles in the green zone.

US36 not far west of Marysville. The Pony Express/Overland Stage/ California-Oregon Trails headed north into Nebraska from here – but I’ve passed the old routes and I’m headed straight west through the center of the country to the far Rocky Mountains near-on 500 miles ahead.

I’ll be in Loveland by dawn …