WHY LOCAL BOARDS MAKE LOUSY CHOICES

TRUSTEES OF A PLACER COUNTY SCHOOL DISTRICT face decisions to reduce offerings in music, increase significantly the number of students in classrooms, nearly eliminate paraprofessional instructional assistants, discontinue the department that purchases and distributes textbooks and materials and reduce by twenty to twenty-five percent the number of educators supporting staff from the District Office. This comes after shuttering a school site three years ago.

All bad choices. But then, as of late, there are no good choices to be had.

The school district has a long history with tremendous frugality of budget. The operating tenet always was “Take care of the kids and take care of the people who take care of the kids.” Historically, more dollars were spent in classrooms – closest to the kids – than in nearly any district in the state of California. The ratio of administrators to staff was among the lowest.

Yet it was not the case that the teachers were close to the highest paid in the area. Quite the opposite. Money was channeled toward small classes, paraprofessional support, robust teacher training, up-to-date curriculum and supplies, tremendous libraries and computer labs and very well maintained facilities.

It has not been easy to do this. Because of regulations put into place when Proposition 13 passed back in 1978, the basic amount of revenue allowed to the district by state formula is far below that offered to neighboring school districts. This factor has to do with the tax rate of rural properties that have, in the past 30 years, become suburban.

Still, even with the fiscal disadvantage, the little 3500-student district consistently ranks among the top in student performance statewide. Data for 2011 show a district Academic Performance Index of 907 – recall that 800 is the statewide target benchmark – continuing a consistent decade-long upward trend in this measure. It is the place to be for kids, for families and, most staff would agree, for teachers.

In the district’s county, a higher percentage of voters register Republican than almost any other county in the state according to data from Secretary of State Debra Bowen’s office. But unlike the caricature-esque way Republicans may currently be viewed on a national level, these people are bright, energetic, involved and supportive of their schools – as I suspect most traditional Republicans are – and they pay close attention to the actions of their local trustees and administrators to ensure the system walks the “take care of the kids” talk. Indeed, the parent community practices its due diligence.


THE CURRENT REALITY allows only dwindling resources to support those institutions that, back in the 1950s and 60s, made the state truly golden. California’s fiscal structure has become a checklist of what not to do if local government is to meet the demands of the citizenry. The initiative process offers us the privilege of amending the state constitution in ways that hamstring those we elect to make decisions. Then, of course, we get to satisfyingly carp that nothing gets done “down there (or up there) in Sacramento.” Revenues necessary to pay for the services a majority of the public demands can only be increased by a two-thirds plurality of lawmakers or by a two-thirds plurality of the voters should the question go to ballot. Thus, a minority can keep state or local district solvency at bay.


CHICKENS DO COME HOME to roost. And in the case of the little school district, the chickens are not of the community’s brood. Because school funding – since passage of Proposition 13 – largely comes from state coffers, when state revenues go bust, so do school districts.

Sam Clemens opined: “In the first place, God made idiots. That was for practice. Then he made school boards.”

To him and his adherents, I would reply: “Not so fast, Mr. Twain.”

When local finances are governed by the collective decisions of folks not local, local decision-making, in essence, goes away. When Trustees know that the budget will not support the comprehensive programs they understand tomorrow’s citizens will need, prudent trustees simply cannot offer the programs.

While there may be some historic truth to Mark Twain’s quip, the recent spate of lousy choices district trustees have to make is not a result of their idiocy.

Collectively, it is a result of our own. If we want our local elected officials to make better choices, we need to afford them better choices to make.

o0o

NOTE: This post ran as a guest opinion in the Sacramento Bee on March 17, 2012. It, along with reader comments may be accessed at http://www.sacbee.com/2012/03/17/4344391/lousy-choices-school-boards-make.html

A QUICK VISIT TO WILBUR HOT SPRINGS

WESTERN COLUSA (CALIFORNIA) COUNTY

I shall return.

General Douglas MacArthur

(although the General was not referencing this specific destination)

Third in a series, thankfully, of only three.

THERE IS A VORTEX we travel through – sometimes on a motorcycle, sometimes only in our dreams – a vortex that leads us to some curious and special other side. Maybe it’s time travel. Maybe it’s Eden. Maybe it’s just to a place where time doesn’t matter, the cell phone doesn’t connect and neither does talk radio. It may not be Iowa, but it just might be heaven.

A few hundred yards from where California State Route 16 tees into Route 20, a nicely compacted gravel road exits north and follows the course of Bear Creek through the eastern foothills of California’s Coast Range. These mountains are older than time. Their folded strata are formed by pressure some 4500 miles east as the mid-Atlantic trench pushes all of North America a few millimeters a year closer to China. You can look it up.

It isn’t just pressure and folding. The Coast Range sits on the North American edge of the Pacific Ring of Fire – a natural phenomena that June Carter Cash did not write about. Spotted throughout these grass and oak studded mountains are geo-thermal sites fueled by molten rock fairly close to our earth’s crust’s surface. The cracks formed in that on-going folding process allow the heat to escape – or at least play tricks on the surface water that seeps downward.

(c) Wilbur Hot Springs

BACK IN 1865, when the color had played out in the Sierra and the transcontinental railroad was still only a gleam in the eyes of four who profited from the gold rush, someone stumbled across a hot spring along the western edge of Colusa County. The pungent sulfur smell and warm temps of the naturally occurring creek clued that someone to something special here. The waters are natural. Their impact divine. And the one-percenters of 140 years back, folks from Sacramento, San Francisco and points undefined found their way to Wilbur Hot Springs.

An inveterate NPR listener, I’d heard of this place through a sponsorship promo placed by the current proprietor. I knew the Leesville, Lodoga, Stonyford intermountain area, but I hadn’t ventured up the road that leads to these living waters. Until last Sunday. With a family celebration due in mid-May, I was curious whether this venue might accommodate.


I TOOK THE LONG WAY HOME after my trip through the Capay Valley. Following Bear Creek, I zigged across State Route 20, finding myself on a Prius or Civic-able stretch of nicely grade gravel road. The late winter hills still wore cloaks of rust and gold; but tiny shoots of green pushed through. The occasional clump of lupine spoke to the unending rhythm of the seasons. And the purple redbud blossoms, somehow, didn’t cause me to think of Judas. I just rode.

Four miles on, substantial steel bridge crosses Bear Creek. The intersection is marked Wilbur Springs Road. Clever. I would not be lost this day!

A mile west stands a sign and a steel gate. I paused to ponder. An afore-mentioned Prius pulled up. An occupant stepped out, opened the gate, answered a question I posed and drove forward. I followed.

THE WILBUR SPRINGS resort consists of a turn-of-the-century hotel, a couple of newer buildings and a series of baths fed by a fluminarium sourced at the vent from which the naturally heated water emanates. All is tucked in to a voluptuous fold through which a creek flows from a valley just a few turns up the road.

A courteous sign asked that I remove my boots before entering the hotel. Ample “cubby” space is allowed on the veranda just out the door from the cozy and inviting lobby. A young lady worked a reservation computer just across the counter, but, in this neck of the woods, I have no idea what it could be plugged in to. Proprietress Meg graciously walked me through the various rooms of the century old hotel. She shared about the communal kitchen and the accoutrements found in each of the 20 rooms – each period appointed, harkening back to a simpler yesteryear.

She accompanied me across the road to the spa area, commenting knowledgeably about my BMW, parked where I knew I shouldn’t have parked it. She pointed westward toward the 1800-acre preserve that followed the upstream course of Sulfur Creek, which, later I would investigate on foot.

Across the way, several pools are spaced – each maintaining a different temperature of mineral-infused waters ranging from 107 degrees to 98 degrees. Attire is optional.


Quiet thought to self (not uttered outside the security of the Shoei RF1000 helmet): By 2010 it was estimated that there were 6,840,507,003 folks residing on the planet. Right off the bat, I’m thinking, at least half of them I have no desire to see “nekked.” A little more math and that group increases to well, well over ninety percent. Of the remaining far-less-than-ten percent, I dare say, very few would care to see me “nekked.”

ENCHANTING THOUGH THIS SPOT IS, it would not be the right locale for the family get-together I was scouting. The bulk of the grandkids are under four and there are no jungle gyms or sand boxes for their amusement. Still, come some November, when the Sacramento Valley is cloaked in a bone-chilling fog and the sun will not appear for about a dozen weeks, Wilbur Springs is a place I will visit (with spouse) for some rejuvenation, relaxation and escape.

Meg had shared: “We have no internet up this way. No cell coverage either. Sometimes, we ask folks to simply leave their watches in their vehicles.” I drove away thinking about the vortex and how easy it would be to slip through to the other side.

o0o

TODAY’S ROUTE: North on SR 16 to 20; west on 20 about 675 yards, right on Bear Valley Road; four miles. Left on Wilbur Springs Road. One mile to gate. Unlocked. Resort is a few hundred yards beyond. Alternate return route: Left on Bear Creek Road to Leesville, east on Leesville-Lodoga Road to SR 20. East to Williams and I-5.


RESOURCES: Check out Wilbur Hot Springs informative website at www.wilburhotsprings.com. The link shares area history and available accommodations. See you there! (Just probably not “nekked.”)

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press

RIDIN’ THE RANGE

Bear Creek Road (Western Colusa County)

Second in a series of, hopefully, only three…

I GUESS IF IT WERE ABOUT 120 YEARS BACK, I’da rode me a horse. Something about a stretch of road where you can’t discern the plume of dust from the last participant sets the mind to wanderin’.

North of the little canyon Bear Creek has cut through the mountains, an expanse of grazing territory occupies a valley floor that is measured in square miles, not acres. The compact gravel road upon which I am travelling is merely an engineered rise, perhaps four to ten feet above what must become a bit boggy in the rainy season. Fences parallel my route, but many of the cattle pay little heed to fences. More than once, tooling along at 30 miles per hour, I scare up a calf or a yearling that has discovered the greener grass in on the road-side of the barbed wire.

The nearest neighbors are two or three miles apart. A civil distance. Tiny two-rut paths lead to ranch-steads set well back from the road. Steel cattle guards keep the livestock in – or are supposed to.

On this valley floor, the road is straight until it makes a right-angle turn, then it is straight again. Miles grind by under the Metzeler Tourances. With the ESA suspension set for gravel, that 30-mile per hour rate is easy to maintain.  I did, however, pause to take a portrait of this hulk from yesteryear sitting just on the otherside of a barbed wire fence - recalling that, back on SR 16, another old truck had captured my attention.  We don't build 'em like this anymore. 

A CLUMP OF WILLOWS (maybe elms) is ahead to the north. Here there is a substantial building – relic though it may be – standing at a crossroad. Left would take me to Bartlett Springs and on over to Clear Lake. Right will take me to Leesville. The hostelry there long since converted back to a ranch house. The jog north will route me through Lodoga.

None of these three bergs is much more than a collection of fencing, a cattle chute, an Aero-Motor wind machine for sucking water from the aquifer, some barns and outbuildings and, generally, a nicely shaded old house with an inviting front porch. Ahhh… For a fine cigar or maybe a favorite pipe and a shot or two of whiskey at the end of a long day, feet propped up on a railing.

I OPT FOR LEESVILLE. The road here east was once paved. Its patchwork repair prompts me to drive on for the cattle trail paralleling the shoulder rather than to rattle and bang over a surface that reminds me of a large-scale replica of Manuel Noriega’s sad complexion. No taut-sprung hot-rod sport bikes here, thank you very much. 

The road takes to climbing a ridge for a few hundred yards. Then the bottom drops out. The view off to the east is of the grand daddy of all California Valleys – the Sacramento. I’m gazing at it from, perhaps, 1800 feet above its floor. From this point, I can trace the route of the river that formed it, clearly pick out the four peaks that form the Sutter Buttes and see all the way across to the Sierra. (But I didn’t get a picture.)

From here, the road engages in a miniature impression of the famed Stelvio, corkscrewing downward – although on seriously rucka-chucky pavement – into the drainage of Calvin’s Creek. Not a bad valley in its own right. It picks up a the stream course passes another “development” and wiggles east out of the Coast Ranges’ dry foothills.

Once to the valley floor, I race between almond (rhymes with “salmon”) orchards in fresh blossom and find my way to State Route 20, Williams, and I-5. Had I been on that horse, my ninety-minute adventure would have taken three days and I’da needed to carry some water and a bedroll.

o0o

TODAY’S ROUTE: State Route 16 from Woodland to 20; left. Almost immediate right onto Bear Valley Road. Compacted gravel. Continue north where Brum Road heads east to Bartlett Springs – the road becomes what they call pavement in these parts. East on Leesville Road about a mile; then wind south over Windy Point (view) bending eastward to connect with State Route 20. Reserve for another day Lodoga Road north to Stonyford and Elk Creek. Always good to have something new on your bucket list.

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press

RETURN TO THE CAPAY VALLEY – AGAIN AND AGAIN

California State Route 16

TWO THINGS: Great roads and near year-round riding weather. Finding a new place to ride isn’t easy after one’s been riding a while. Revisiting a great road, however, makes up for it. So many elements are at play while in the saddle: Time of year, time of day, direction of travel, weather. Each of these elements make tomorrow’s ride on yesterday’s road different from the passage before.

State Route 16 through Yolo and Colusa County’s Capay Valley is one of those roads one cannot get too much of. It had been quite a spell since my last trek up this way and the early March weather report called for highs in the mid 70s. Any questions?

As ever, clicking on any picture will expand electrons.

PICKING UP 16 off I-5 north of Woodland, this abandoned farmhouse has always captured my attention. It wasn’t until this trip that I pulled over to take its portrait. Rising out of the valley floor amid row crops, with boarded up windows, the luster of its elegance is long lost. It stands like a haunted monument to the stature of some century-ago landowner. Nearby, someone is living in a mobile.

Across 505 (Winters Cut-off between Interstates 80 and 5) the little town of Esparto provides some commerce at the mouth of the Capay Valley. The train station stands as vacant as that Victorian farmhouse a few miles back, but a new banner suggests restoration might be in its future.

SR 16 is more heavily used this past 15 years since, up in Brooks, the Cache Creek Casino has taken root and flourished. The hamlet of Capay lies along the way. Its Chamber of Commerce sign indicates that there are old time things to do in the area – things folks enjoyed before the gambling and nightclub scene sprouted.

The little valley is home to small farmers – some totally organic – who raise vegetables for local markets as well as almonds and stone fruits for wider distribution. Having traveled Umbria some five years ago, with the exception that oldest buildings here are about a thousand years younger than those in old Italy, the Capay region is quite reminiscent of that temperate Mediterranean area.

Tiny roads lead left and right off the main artery, but most dead end not too far up the eastern or western slope of the ridges that texture the horizon.

The old school stands empty – there is no banner promoting its restoration. Set at a little crossroad, I can only imagine that the community got together and constructed this edifice on a donated corner of farmland. I wondered if the product of this institution graduated prepared for that which they would confront throughout life. Then, peering at the verdant hills and rich farmland concluded that its students did right well here.

The Guinda Store is a must stop. Meat counter. Sundries. Snacks. Local wines. And a pleasant bench upon which to sit and watch the world slowly pass by.

I’d never stopped in Rumsey before although I’d always admired their community hall: neat as a pin, cared for, loved.

A plaque tells the story of the town that once was.

Unlike the Victorian farmhouse, the depot or the old school, this beautiful old building is still finding reason.

Across the way, a local has collected artifacts of the valley’s agricultural heritage and placed them just out of reach on his private corner. I suspect that by judiciously pouring a little low octane into this devil – maybe after changing the spark plugs – she’ll fire up ready to pick up where she left off seventy-five years ago.

Highway 16 rises out of the valley and courses along Cache Creek, then Bear Creek for the rest of its run. The redbud tells us spring is here.

Between the BLM and Colusa County, several primitive camp, picnic, pit toilets and access points dot the route. Good timing if one stopped for too-much-of-a Dr. Pepper back at the Guinda store. Across the way, it looks as if an old cowman’s house has seen far better days.

And the fence board here looks like a huge piece of petrified linguine.

Bear Creek settles into what, for this area, is considered a high mountain meadow. The deep blue water is a mere reflection of a deep blue late-winter sky.


THE COAST RANGES in California are oft overlooked – particularly their eastern flanks. They are overshadowed by the ocean and the redwoods to the west and the snow corniced Sierra far to the east. Highways and lesser roads in this region are delightful to explore and, outside of that stretch up to the Casino, very under-trafficked. It is difficult to imagine a better place for a relaxing traipse into yesteryear.

o0o

Local Capay Valley booty

TODAY’S ROUTE: I-80, north on I-5; west on SR 16 past Woodland. SR 16 through Esparto (right turn into town, left out of town at depot), Capay, Brooks, Rumsey; follow Bear Creek to “T” at SR 20. Watch for sand and slide detritus on the pavement as you carefully enjoy sweeping turns along Bear Creek! Return: Either east on 20 to Williams; south on 5; or West on 20 – 675 yards, right on Bear Valley (gravel) Road. Head north. Explore. But carry a good map.

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press

WHY OUR DEMOCRACY DOESN’T WORK

QUITE SIMPLY, our democracy doesn't work because we (collectively) don’t pay attention. This makes it really easy for anyone to say anything, and if repeated enough, that anything becomes fact. Here are some examples:

ENERGY:

1. In the run up prior to the 2008 elections – notably the first contest in over 60 years where an incumbent or former president or vice president did not stand on the ticket – oil prices skyrocketed to over $145 per barrel. Gas prices jumped. People paid more money at the pump and had less money for other consumer products.
2. Coincidentally(?), the US dropped into its greatest recession since the great depression.
3. Now, preceding another presidential race, the outcome of which may have interesting tax consequences for oil companies, oil prices are again skyrocketing.

The spin:

1. The Iranians are threatening to close the straits of Hormuz.
2. The oil companies need to shut down refineries in order to retool for the summer formula.
3. The administration is not serious about cutting our dependence on foreign oil or it would have okayed the Keystone pipeline carrying Canadian tar sands oil to our gulf for refinement.

The facts as I see ‘em:

1. Oil companies on the east coast are shuttering refineries because there is a reduced demand for their product.
2. The US exports record amounts of gasoline offshore.
3. Keystone? As of Monday, February 27, Canada was still a sovereign (foreign) nation.

Defensible conclusion:

1. The run up in oil prices can damage a teetering economic recovery while enriching oil companies and speculators.
2. The price rise can damage the Obama reelection efforts.
3. The run-up is political and is a cynical stick in the eye to the average American trying to fill his or her tank while strugglingly under-employed.

FOREIGN POLICY:

1. In 2002, the US engaged in an insurgency in Afghanistan in order to find and kill the Osama bin Laden, the mastermind of the horrific attacks on the World Trade Center.
2. In 2003, the administration alleged that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction and was plotting to supply terrorists and use them in attacks on the United States. A pre-emptive war ensued with the US in the role of aggressor for the first time in its history. Later the allegation was proven false.
3. In 2011 Arab nations took it upon themselves to throw off the chains of dictatorship and overthrow their oppressive regimes.
4. In Libya, NATO elected to provide support to rebels as Gadaffi’s regime brutally murdered it people. As a member of NATO, the US provided tactical and air support.

The spin:

1. With the decision to support NATO, critics claimed Mr. Obama was engaging in a third war at a time when our troops were beleaguered and our treasury unable to support this third front.

The facts as I see ‘em:

1. After Mr. Bush admitted that he didn’t spend much time thinking about bin Laden, the Obama administration authorized a mission that removed the leader.
2. The administration has pulled combat forces from Iraq and has fast-tracked the pull out in Afghanistan.
3. The overthrow of Gadaffi cost no American lives.

The kicker:

1. Some of those concerned about Obama’s third front are clamoring for greater US involvement in the Syrian Civil War and a pre-emptive assault on Iran’s nuclear facilities.

Defensible conclusion:

1. Disengaging militarily in the Middle East and Central Asia will help return the US to its long-held position as a moral world power; ignoring, for the moment, our less-than-upstanding use of economic might.
2. Eliminating those who would threaten peace, stability and our sovereignty can be accomplished without major military deployments.
3. Our security can be protected through the judicious use of our intelligence operatives.
4. Bringing troops home does not determine whether one is soft on defense.
5. Results determine the ultimate quality of policy.

THE CALIFORNIA LEGISLATURE:

1. Decades ago, the solons in Sacramento were considered out of touch and corrupt. The first step in trying to remedy this was the development of a full-time legislature. Being engaged as a full-time employee, it was reasoned, legislators would be less susceptible to pay-offs from industry lobbyists and special interests groups.
2. When the full-time legislature found itself unable to wrangle with budgetary problems, a proposition passed with a trailer that mandated budgets could only pass with a two-thirds vote of the assembled. Smaller groups of ideologues could stymie the process.
3. Because of this gridlock, term limits were imposed so that those elected would have to return to “real work” rather than making a career of politics. With each step the ability for legislators to accomplish their tasks moved further and further away.

The spin:

1. The legislature is corrupt.
2. We need to let them know they work for us.
3. They need to quit playing fast and loose with our tax money.
4. We need to take back California.

The facts as I see ‘em:

1. The people of California have voiced that they wish their pet program – education, fire protection, police protection, prisons, state parks, aide for dependent children, highways and infrastructure – to continue to be funded. They expect services to be rendered when need arises.
2. In the next breath they veto any attempts to raise revenues in order to fund those programs.
3. The term-limited legislature is one of the few venues of employment where with experience comes disqualification.
4. The two-thirds plurality in order to pass budget offers a diminishing number of ideologues the power to hold hostage the mechanics of state and control the pace of legislative movement.

The defensible conclusion:

1. The voter-imposed remedies to the failings of the legislature have themselves proven to be failures.
2. A return to one-man, one-vote majority rule would return the threshold of democratic decision making back to 50%+1.
3. Electee’s terms should be limited only by the specific will of the electorate.
4. Such a solution will only work if voter demands the truth from their punditry, pays attention to the deeds of their elected officials and takes appropriate action in the voter’s booth should those elected officials fall short of expectation.
5. If voters would rather not pay attention to the affairs of state, then the autopilot solutions we have in place should remain (Hell! Let’s make up some more!) and we shouldn’t be surprised about the results.

WE ARE A NATION of individuals who can open the garage door remotely and turn on the television remotely, yet not even remotely be engaged in our representative government. We just expect it to happen. We are happy when we are told to be happy and angry when we are told to be angry. We are, sadly, on autopilot.

This will be remedied when we, as a people, return to the habit – embrace our duty – of paying attention ourselves to the nation’s needs, the government’s actions and the hits and misses that link or separate the two. Then acting accordingly on Election Day.

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press

BOOM AND BUST AND BOOM, AGAIN: REVISITING DUTCH FLAT

It’s tough to make predictions, especially about the future.

Yogi Berra,

(also attributed to physicist Niels Bohr)

MAYBE A DECADE AGO, an ambitious couple, in love with an out-of-the-way berg called Dutch Flat, settled upon the romantic idea of refurbishing the old hotel there. The massive 150-year-old structure, across from a tiny market, stood through cycle after cycle of boom, bust and decay. The project would not be small, but the results, an amazing transformation. Visitors would wheel up from the city and cross the threshold into an exciting and elegant yesteryear. They would be part of history.

Back those 150 years, four bully entrepreneurs met on the second floor of a house nearby to discuss with a young engineer named Theodore Judah best route for the Central Pacific Railroad to crest the Sierra. Prior to that, there was gold. Prior still, Nisenan Maidu, black bear, cougars and the food chain that supported them; tracks, trails and footprints of each can still be seen today.


DUTCH FLAT is located a couple of miles off Interstate 80, over a ridge that abates the freeway noise. It is an easy blast from Sacramento or the Bay Area up the four-lane.

Old US 40 at Newcastle

A better route involves finding vestiges of the Historic Highway 40 (the same route in some places as the old Lincoln Highway) as it snakes from the valley floor, through towns, former towns and place names like Newcastle, Bowman, Applegate, Cape Horn, Gold Run, Monte Vista and up over the Sierra.

East of Applegate

I took this alternate today enjoying nice pavement with turns first sweeping through pastureland and fruit orchards, then tracing the edges of the Bear River drainage, and finally winding into and out of great, forested stands. Light traffic made it easy for the mind to wander; easy to picture some sourdough knee deep in the Bear shoveling sand into a sluice, easy to see why the Big Four coveted the timber they harvested for ties, easy to see why some left over from the gold rush and the railroad days couldn’t leave. A mid-day February sun sliced through the woodland canopy to warm the front porch of a hundred-year-old home. I pictured myself there.

Storefronts in downtown Colfax on old US 40

Several times I crossed the old CeePee’s route over the mountain. Now double tracked, sometimes I’m crossing the footsteps of the Chinese laborers who blew themselves to smithereens as Charlie Crocker pursued his goal; sometimes, I’m crossing the newer route, the one with the more gradual grade, the one that allows the Union Pacific (nee: Southern Pacific; nee: Central Pacific) uninterrupted, year-round access to points east.

DUTCH FLAT is a colony of cottages. Some are summer homes. Some are full time residences. The town’s exposure is a bit northerly so when the snow level drops to 3500 feet, it nestles around the little village for a bit longer than over on the freeway. Spring comes later than in the valley. Tiny streams lace the town site and a cool morning is perfumed with pinewood smoke from working fireplaces. The vintage homes are in various states of spruced-up-ed-ness. Several capture my imagination and I consider the creative aspects of owning the small white cottage with the deck that reaches over the creek as a studio. I add it to my list of never-to-be and find myself humming something from Man of LaMancha.

Double-tracked

Once, walking outside of Dutch Flat, I heard the cry of a General Electric dash-8 as it struggled to pull a string of freight cars up the hill. Its air horn echoed against the mountain a mile and a half away. The echo, it turned out, was another freight, heading down the hill. The distant, rhythmic clatter of their trucks on the rail joints whispered as sweetly as a mountain brook. Far, far superior to the incessant roar of I-80.

MY MISSION TODAY was to check out the Dutch Flat Hotel. A family celebration is being planned for a few months off and, in combination with dinner at the acclaimed Monte Vista Inn; an evening taking over the hotel would be perfect. We’d phoned the hostelry, using both their listed numbers, but had received no call back. This necessitated my early spring drive into the mountains.

I followed Sacramento Street into town. Just past Secord Alley, I turned right onto Main. The restored three story building, resplendent in red, towered over Dutch Flat’s business district: the general store, a real estate office and the post office. The hotel was not open, but it was not closed down. It appeared as if there had been no visitors for quite some time; but peering through the lace curtains the restored wallpaper, antique furnishings and period art still adorned the inside.

I suspected that the ambitious couple dreamt of one day owning a classic B&B, put their heart, soul and sweat into making it a reality, sunk an incredible amount of money into a ground up restoration, and the recession hit. A local, willing to share, shared as much. He informed me that the owners were still around and that, under the right circumstances, they open for parties and events. Then he gave me the secret number.

Still, I couldn’t help believing that Dutch Flat, the little Sierra community that boomed during the gold rush, again with the railroad, yet again as Bay Area folks bought second properties was experiencing one of those busts that naturally falls in between. I felt melacholy for the couple and couldn’t help seeing the wisdom in Yogi Berra’s words about “predictions.”

o0o

TODAY’S ROUTE: Taylor Road from Loomis follows the old Route 40. Take it east to Newcastle; merge onto the freeway to jet through Auburn; exit at Bowman and cross under the Interstate. First right is Lake Arthur Road. Follow Historic Highway 40 signs, braid the freeway, and the Union Pacific right of way taking Applegate Road, and the Ponderosa Way to Colfax. Northeast on 174, right on Rollins Lake Road crisscrossing 80 to Gold Run. The route goes by several names through this stretch. Watch for the church to the right on the north side of the freeway; shortly, left cross track, then right onto Lincoln Road. Follow to Monte Vista. Left. Left again on Sacramento Street. Watch for sand on pavement! Wind down the slope and across the tracks into Dutch Flat. Return: Continue east to Alta and Baxter (source of your Arrowhead Springs water.) Join I-80. Head west but get creative figuring out a way to avoid the slab.


ADDITIONAL PICTURES (click on any to enlarge):

Schuyler Colfax and a plaque telling of his visit to the area:

The California Zephyr pulls out of Colfax after a quick stop:

Along Lincoln Road: hydraulic mining was not the exclusive purview of the folks up north along the South Yuba:

Dutch Flat historic marker:

Some vintage Dutch Flat buildings:

Roscoe. When his parents leave for work each day, Roscoe hops the fence and ambles over to the post office. There he welcomes friends and strangers alike. He was kind enough to accompany me as I wandered through town, talked with the locals and snapped a picture or two.




RESOURCES:

A little more history on Dutch Flat: http://www.ghosttowns.com/states/ca/dutchflat.html

The Dutch Flat Hotel’s (former?) website: http://dutchflathotelretreatcenter.typepad.com/

Information on old US Highway 40: http://www.route40.net/page.asp?n=1

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press