The New American Digest

This may be the last major stamp mill built in Nevada.

Out in the middle of once-was-somewhere Nevada, sits this relatively intact silver stamp mill. Not as unknown as it used to be, this mill was so far off the beaten path that much of it and the surrounding buildings still exist even though it is not part of a historical site or park. Hoping to maintain what little can be hidden, I’ll not reveal its name or location though it wouldn’t be hard to find information. Most of the machinery was removed when the mill shut down.

Although the Comstock Lode/Virginia City is well known as a major silver-producing area, the richest silver veins were found in the center of the state. The greatest “rushes” to the area occurred in the late 1860s/early 1870s but extraction methods were relatively inefficient.

Although this area had been “settled” in 1865, the majority of mines had played out quickly and the original mills in the region shut down by 1892 and the equipment moved elsewhere. However, after the Tonopah discoveries in 1901, mining companies using more modern techniques started to develop the older areas intending to seek deposits over-looked or deemed too difficult by the earlier efforts.

At this site, the mines were re-opened in the 1920s but the area was not suitable for building a mill. Transportation issues being what they were, it was more effective to mill the ore on-site and transport the semi-processed ore. A more suitable mill location was selected – about 2 miles distant from the mine – and this mill with associated structures was built. The ore was transported from the mine by an aerial tramway. It turned out the remaining ore in the reopened mines was not as rich as hoped, processing the ore proved more difficult than expected, and silver prices were falling; the re-opened mines and mill operated less than one year.

The tramlines are still in place as is the last tram bucket of ore, hanging in the wind, waiting for time (or vandals) to bring it back to earth.

It’s on my list as a possible destination for this year’s road trip.

This is something I won’t often do, but JD thought it was an article worth passing along … and I agreed.

The Thinking Housewife – “Museum Warfare”
https://thinkinghousewife dot com/museum-warfare-2/

It was requested that I not publish any excerpts and I will not post the entirety of someone else’s post without the author’s OK, so if interested – and it’s an interesting article, please visit The Thinking Housewife.

It was really a dreary kind of November day in the mountains. Temperature in the mid-30s, rain on the verge of freezing – wet and sloppy most everywhere.

Stacy was 19, probably in love for the first time. 5 ft something, blond, slim – pretty and cute. I didn’t know her more than that. But I got to know her in the most intimate way possible.

I wish I hadn’t.

She had been in town with her boyfriend who was at work. I’ll call him “SB” for Stacy’s boyfriend – I never knew his name, never met him, never knew what job he was working; I suspect he was early 20s, it appeared he was in construction but not too many construction jobs allow girlfriends on site. Maybe his job was somewhere else and he just had construction tools in his vehicle.

Speculation on my part so who knows?

SB had forgotten something at home. Stacy offered to go get whatever it was so SB didn’t need to take time off.
Stacy knew how to operate a vehicle but she didn’t have a license and didn’t know how to >drive<.

Found all that out later from the police report.

The call came about 2:30 in the afternoon. Being a lightly populated mountain area, it was difficult getting a full EMS crew together on a weekday – but Mo and I had worked together for almost 7 years and we both happened to be on duty that day. Three would have been a better crew but two was better than none.

Mo was the EMT; I was fire & extrication with the fire dept but filled in as a driver for the ambulance. Up there it made sense for the two separate organizations to work together – manpower was short enough as it was. So the two of us allowed a “full” crew to be on duty – and there’s lots of things to do on an emergency call that doesn’t require licensed medical training.

This day, we were “lucky” – we worked the east side of a mountainous 2200 sq mi county and most of our calls were at least ½ hour away; too often, closer to or even more than an hour response time. Some of those back roads even in good weather …

You wanted to live in the back country, didn’t you?

This call however, was almost at our driveway.

It’s hard to work an accident scene with only two people. Help was coming but not soon … and now was of essence.

Right now. 10 minutes ago now.

The scene was right there where the road bends away. The station was about ½ mile up the (dirt) road to the left by the sign.

The road was wet, maybe a bit slick with not-quite-sleet. Steep embankment on one side, creek down below on the other – not much shoulder.

Tracks on the road told the story.

Stacy was in a hurry, heading into the picture. Probably doing 60 in a 45. She took that corner too fast, drifted into the wrong lane.
Met one of these coming the other way …

What are the odds?

Not much traffic on this road but enough – it’s the only route through here; still needed to place traffic control. We used the ambulance to block one direction, the truck had swung partially around when hitting the brakes – it worked to block the other direction.

Oh, please hurry up guys. We need extra hands here.

People get pissed off when the road is blocked …

Mo and I got Stacy out of what was left of her boyfriend’s car. Got her to the side of the road. Did an initial eval. The truck driver was OK … sort of. Not physically injured. Well enough shape we didn’t need to attend to him right away. Stacy on the other hand …

This isn’t good … call in Life Flight. Meanwhile …

I was supporting Stacy’s head and neck in my lap while Mo was doing what she could with the equipment on hand.
Oh, lordy, lordy … I don’t pray often … the answer was No.

Stacy hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt and her head had smashed hard against the passenger side B post after impact.
Her skull was cracked – broken into pieces – and leaking. She was still breathing …
Then she wasn’t.

I don’t need to have someone breathe their last in my arms again.
She had been unconscious at least; it wasn’t an easy death.

Help finally arrived and the scene was properly conditioned during clean-up. The truck driver was physically OK but went into shock; not hurt but this was ugly. He got a ride home. I don’t know if SB came to the scene – it was cleared and we were gone if he did. Mo and I left the others to finish up – we were still on duty but no more calls that day. Probably for the best.

That was almost 20 years ago. Images still in my mind. Mo and I are still friends but left the service long ago; Mo now lives in the city, I’m on the west side of two ranges over from there.

Someone – SB maybe? – still leaves flowers on the marker where she died.

Lot of calls during my time; one develops a weird sense of humor. Not the only death call either, but this is that one of all.

Haven’t been on that side of the mountains for quite a while.
Maybe one of these days I’ll head over and place a few flowers myself.

and it would be short.

originally posted by Jean on june 3, 2007

Any leave from the war was hard to get approved.
Even for him.

She trusted him completely, so when he smiled and
ordered, “Close your eyes”, she did not hesitate to
smile back and obey.

He held her hand and kissed it while he drove.
His touch was warm. She let his voice surround her,
memorizing every note and inflection to be remembered
in his letters. No thought of where they were, only of him,
there with her.

He stopped the car and turned it off.

Only quiet sounds of a breeze rustling leaves, a distant
bird or two and… was that running water?

He helped her out of the car, her eyes still closed, took both
her hands in his. Both laughing now, he walked backwards
as he led her carefully along a cushioned path.

Speckled sunlight tried to tease her eyes open, but she
successfully resisted. She concentrated hard instead on the
sounds and smells that might proffer clues to their destination.

His boot-steps were firm and evenly paced.
Confident and pleased.
When he stopped, he led her two steps forward closer to him.
He released her hands and drew her face to his.

Wrapping her arms around his back, feeling the contours
of his shoulders, she returned his breathless kiss.

Sighing, he said, “Now you can look.”
She saw his face first, his eyes crinkled in a smile.
With a light laugh he said, “Not me, silly. Look there!”

Her eyes followed his nod. Deja-vu made her gasp,
“Oh my! How did you find it?”

“As soon as you told me about your dream,” he said,
“I knew exactly where it was. I came here once, alone,
before I ever knew you.”

His arm around her shoulders, they leaned against the metal
railing. The view was magnificent; a large, sparkling creek
below burbling over rocks. Lush, heavy boughs close above
keeping the two of them in cooling shade.

His duffle was keeping the wine cool beside the spot where
they would make love.

I just deleted over 100 spam comments from the spam bucket but for some unknown reason, a couple of them were from regular readers. If one of them hadn’t been flagged for my review, I’d have not noticed when I emptied the slop bucket 9and I probably wouldn’t have emptied the bucket for a few more weeks). The installed spam filter is good but not perfect.

It could be I’ve accidentally deleted other not-spam comments in the past, so in the future, if you post a comment and it doesn’t show, please let me know. I may need to form a white list but I’d prefer to not have to do that – I’d need your email or IP address to do so … and that’s your business to provide, not mine to require.
DT