SEEDS OF LITERACY IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

Stumbling across the Carnegie Library in Bayliss, CA

Circumstance has dictated that once every two or three weeks, I drive from northern Sonoma County to Chico, California.  An aging mother enjoys her son’s visits.  The route from Cloverdale to Williams is pretty static, involving a good chunk of CA 20 over the top of Clear Lake and through the Coast Range.  Wonderful ride even after the first dozen or so times.

Once in the Sacramento Valley, a grid of state highways, secondary roads and gravel byways offers almost unending choices to get from point A to point B. 

Some routes cross vast rice fields that in the winter months are thick with migrating geese and cranes and throughout the rest of the year visited by herons and egrets. And other waders. 

Their reflection in the glassy, flooded fields against an azure sky (or a gray one) is always a delight.

Other routes split walnut orchards that in summer invite the passer-by to seek the cool shade and pause for a roadside picnic. 

There’s a great collection of long dead Chevy and GMC trucks near the intersection of River and Ord Ferry Roads. 

And lots of old barns both nearby and distant.

The old US 99 W parallels a frenzied I-5 passing through one-time bergs established as whistle stops along the old California Northern Railway: Maxwell, Delevan, Logandale, Artois, Grapit…

Boarded storefronts and tiny crumbling streets remind us of what once was. 

In some places, nothing reminds us.

Ten miles east of the freeway, CA 45 traces the west bank of the Sacramento River. 

The portions atop levees offer sweeping views of a riparian forest with peeks at sloughs now filling what used to be the river’s channel. 

There’s a nice little store in Princeton to stop for a beverage and a snack, a high school and an elementary school and a little other commerce. No working gas pumps, however...

Just north of town, the skeleton of the Princeton Ferry rests, pulled up to the landing where cars – including our ’54 Ford – once boarded to cross the river.

Glenn has a post office and little else.  Same with Ord Bend although a manufacturing plant churns out something at the crossroads. 

Butte City, Afton, Jacinto, all have pretty much come and gone.

Recently, I traversed the valley on Bayliss-Bluegum Road; Bluegum being the out-of-town spot where many young high school boys may have – or may not have –  “become men” after the prom or some other such celebration.  The motel there is now no longer a motel. 

Heading south on CA 45, I turn west.  Signs indicate the Jacinto Grange would hold a pancake breakfast on an upcoming Saturday morning, and if I miss that one, there’d be another next month.

The walnut orchards near the river give way to rice fields on the fertile flood plain of the Sacramento.  Lettered roads – “County Road S, County Road T,” etc – that are little more than driveways, lead to houses and barns a mile or so north or south.  Wading birds stand like statues in the still canal waters next to the road. 

Weed encrusted implements dot the field edges, coated in rust and field dust.

Then, just ahead on the right: a copse of elms or cottonwoods at a crossroad.  Perhaps something major?  I hadn’t seen a store, a post office or a filling station.  Not even a bar.  But I was coming to a something.

Andrew Carnegie was a Scottish immigrant businessman and philanthropist.   Pivotal in expanding the American steel industry, he founded the company that would become US Steel.  By the late 1900s, because of his investments in railroads, railroad sleeping cars, bridges and oil derricks, he became one of the richest people ever in America.  Palling around with the likes of English poet Mathew Arnold, English philosopher Herbert Spencer and American humorist Mark Twain, Carnegie’s affinity for the written word and the import of literacy manifested itself, first with the construction of a public library in Dunfermline, Scotland.  His efforts led to there being more than 3000 libraries built throughout the world with nearly 1700 built in the United States.  There’s probably one near you.  (Chico people, check out the Chico Museum on Salem between 1^st and 2nd; folks in Roseville, check out the building adjacent to the arched bridge crossing the UP tracks heading north out of town.)

A placid white building, circa 1910, stands near the shade of those elms in what once was Bayliss. 

I stop for a look.  The paint is fresh.  The lawn is trim.  The hours are posted.  Serving the southern section of Glenn County, California, they’re still loaning books.  

Just not the day I happened by.  Besides, my library card expired decades ago.

I stand on the lawn thinking about the visionary accomplishments of this immigrant industrialist, glad to see that the fruits of his love of literacy still flourished.

What else is to be found by the casual visitor to Bayliss?  Not much.  There’s the store.

And an excuse for me to take a picture of an old truck repurposed as a source of power to pump water into an irrigation canal.  Or maybe it’s just stuck inside a cyclone fence.

A few miles further on, I come to I-5 with all of its frenzy and fury and high-speed, gotta-be-there-yesterday travel.  In moments, the Carnegie Library of Bayliss, California is a century behind me.

© 2017

Church of the Open Road Press

WEST SIDE OF THE RIVER

on California’s State Route 45

Click on any picture, if you must, to expand

State Route 45 provides a welcome alternative to I-5 when traveling the valley north of Woodland.  Coursing through farm lands, orchards and tiny bergs, the two-lane carries us back in time a bit. 

Along the way it tempts us with occasional views from the west side of the Sacramento River.  Although many lanes lead to the leveed banks of the Sacramento, few provide an alternate to Route 45.  Most of these little avenues offer access to farmers and fisher-people simply dead-ending at the river.

The run south from Hamilton City is straight and smooth.  Once past the Tehema-Colusa Canal levee, undeveloped land allows for nice views of the Coast Range off to the west and riparian stands of oak and black walnut nearer the river. 

Within a few miles, almond orchards present row upon row of, on this day, delicately blossomed trees.  Their fragrance is high on my list of favorites: a virtual tie with my local cigar guy’s humidor.

The highway passes through bergs that, before interstates, served as mercantile hubs farmers and ranchers. 

An equipment repair shop may or may not stay open along with taverns, small, whitewashed churches and tiny country stores.  I stop for bottled water and an apple, not because I need the water or the apple, but because, I figure, they need the business.

Route 45 intersects 162.  I cross the river here to visit Butte City and see what’s going on.  Not much…

…except for this pleasant reflection of peach blossoms.

Area kids go to school in Princeton with those making it through the twelfth grade legitimately called “Princeton Grads.” 

In the 50s, the Princeton High School Band made regular treks to South Bend, Indiana to perform at Notre Dame football games.  No longer.  No money.  Heck, there may not even be a band any more.  Where’s Harold Hill when you need him?

Out this way, the almond orchards have yielded more to English walnuts.  These black-stumped, silver-barked trees are spaciously organized into cool groves that might invite a nap on a hot summer day.  Cautiously wondering how the landowner might react, I don’t do this.

Colusa provides a respite from the saddle.  Once among the largest wheat transshipment points in the country, the town nestles the west bank of the Sacramento about half way through a sojourn along state route 45.  Devoid of big box stores, the main street seems to be weathering some less-than-the-best economic times. 

A stroll through the neighborhood backing the business district, one finds a nice collection of Victorian and craftsman style homes on spacious lots along tree-lined streets. 

 

125 years ago, the state powers-that-be strongly considered Colusa for the location of the northern Normal School, an institution for training teachers. Fifty miles distant and home to US Senator John Bidwell, Chico won the bid for this school.  One can only imagine the flip-flop of town fortunes had the decision gone the other direction.

Beyond Colusa, the valley has become more of a sink, a low land in which water may collect for weeks at a time in winter.  Rice is now king as are wintering fowl.

Heading south from a junction with SR 20, highway 45 slips through glens of standing oaks, then veers onto the tilled valley bottomland.

Soon, it curves back riverward at Grimes.  Another country store and little church make this a community.  From here, the highway appears to follow straight lines, making ninety-degree turns at, perhaps, historic property lines. 

A nice alternative is Wilson Bend Road. 

This little gem wanders through a few more fields and orchards and offers few more miles of levee top views of the river. 

The pavement isn’t great, but I’m not in a hurry or I’d be over on I-5.

The final stretch is a pleasant jaunt through the Great Valley, although I always get to Knight’s Landing wishing there were a few more miles of state route 45 to enjoy.

o0o

Today’s Route:  I-5 to Orland or State Route 99 to Chico; SR 32 to Hamilton City (Glenn County).  From Hamilton City, south on SR 45 through Ord Bend (what’s left of it), Glenn (ditto) to Four Corners.  Here, consider a side trip over to Butte City just to check things out across the river.  Continue south of SR 45 through Princeton (find the old ferry pulled up on the bank in the shadow of a warehouse; but watch out for the little yip-yip dog who guards it!) to Colusa.  SR 45 joins SR 20 through town splitting about five miles south of town.  Bear right, through Grimes, Grand Island and on to Knight’s Landing.  Alternate south of Grand Island: left on Wilson Bend for a few miles of levee riding.  From Knight’s Landing SR 113 leads to Woodland or Yuba City; county road E-10 hooks up with I-5 at Zamora.

o0o

In Colusa, I pulled onto a side street, visited the nicely maintained city park and then hoofed over to a newly opened tacqueria occupying once-vacant and dusty storefront.  The carnitas tacos were subtly smoked and gently spiced.  They came with homemade refrieds and well-seasoned rice.  The proprietor, who may or may not have been born on this side of that new fence folks seem to be so excited about, made chipper conversation with customers, asking me about what I was riding and where I might be headed.  He was equally deft engaging a Hispanic gent who’d parked a working copy of a Chevy truck out front.  As I departed, the young restaurateur bid me “safe travels.”  I left feeling gastronomically satisfied.  I couldn’t help but reflect on the opportunity this young man had sighted and seized.

© 2013

Church of the Open Road Press

EAST SIDE OF THE RIVER

Not on California State Route 45

The Sacramento River is a silent, strong workhorse.  The river sources itself off the flanks of Mount Shasta, way up north in Siskiyou County.  It collects minerals and vegetable matter and, not withstanding the recent appearance of Shasta Dam, transports its load south to deposit throughout the broad Sacramento Valley.  The rich loam on the valley floor provides the best growing anywhere in the world.

Roads in the valley are generally straight, providing no real challenge for the motorcycle rider.  The exceptions are those routes that trace the river’s banks or levees.  State Route 45’s seventy miles between Knight’s Landing and Hamilton City (and some neighboring secondary roads) offer a pleasing respite from I-5 or SR 99 with sweeping turns and nice views of the workhorse.           

Such then, was my plan.  Except that I started on those secondary roads and never actually got to 45.

The Knight’s Landing Bridge is a rather unadorned crossing of the Sacramento River.  The bridge’s spray painted label looks as if it were an afterthought.  Walking across the span, one is afforded a nice view up the river.  Just below, a resident lives in a houseboat that rises and falls with the rhythms of the river.  Not bad. 

Immediately across the bridge, Cranmore Road heads west and follows the river’s winding levee.   

A once-near-classic Cris-Craft, having seen far better days, serves as the landmark for the turn.

Cranmore Road is not well maintained.  The pavement is rough enough to not invite spirited use of the throttle.  But that’s okay.  Views along the languid river are beautiful.

It is said that in Africa, toward the end of their lives, elephants find special places to greet eternity.  Elephant graveyards, they’re known as.  

In America, the same might be said for Studebakers.  This is the second of such hollowed places I’ve run across in my travels.

Much has been done to contain and control the Sacramento River.  No longer does it flood the valley in winter spreading new nutrients to the deep fertile loam.  Levees can only contain so much, so at various places, weirs are constructed allowing water to flow into by-passes, thus relieving pressure down stream.

At Tisdale, excess water flows into the Sutter by-pass.  When not in use, the facility serves as a launching point for folks who’d rather not work today.

State Route 20 crosses the river at Meridian – a town located where the Mount Diablo Meridian bisects the Sacramento.  The bridge is an elegant little suspension span that pivots to allow channel traffic to pass.

Throughout the journey, if the paved road isn’t riding atop the levee, little gravel access roads tempt the passer-by. 

 In the shadows of the Sutter Buttes…

…one finds many implement graveyards scattered here and there…

…and barns of many different construction materials like this corrugated metal building just waiting for the next big wind to blow it into the river.

But, with all that old stuff, it is interesting to find modern big-scale farming deploying some land for solar power collection.  I passed three of these solar farms this day.

Llano Seco is one of the few remaining properties secured during the days of the Mexican Land Grants.  170 years ago, these grants were enticements for folks to settle the California interior – perhaps to prevent an influx of Americans that might ultimately overthrow the Mexican powers-that-be.  (Apparently nobody told Capt. John C. Fremont or James Marshall over in Coloma.)

Once rich wheat, then rice acreage, much of it serves as a haven along the Pacific Coast flyway.

I spent twenty-eight years growing up in Chico living along Chico Creek, but I’d never made it out to its confluence with the river.  Until today. 

Looking east, the creek is the placid little stream I remember wading in and building dams across. 

Where it joins the river it is a mud flat thick with cattails.  Once known as the “Wash Out,” it was a great place for high schoolers to enjoy some clandestine beer on a Saturday night.

Up stream of this confluence, the river appears wide and lazy, but tossing an errant stick into it, one soon becomes aware of its swift and unrelenting flow.

Crossing the river wasn't always so easy or convenient.  As recently as the 1960s, cable ferries at Ord Bend and Princeton shuttled farm vehicles and residents from one side to the other.  Dad used to drive us out to the river in the old '54 Ford wagon just to ride ‘em.  

I stumbled across the remains of the Princeton Ferry rusting and rotting just above stream level.  And atop the levee just behind the hulk?  That's State Route 45: the road not taken this day.

Between Chico and Hamilton City, the narrow, steel trussed Gianella Bridge carried traffic for decades.  While working for a local route delivery company in the 70s, a colleague named Mark Stoy (for the purposes of this story) had the Westside route.  Daily he’d steer a big old Ford bobtail across the bridge and about twice a month, he’d return to the warehouse missing a mirror having clipped it on the side of the bridge, or worse, on some unsuspecting on-coming vehicle.  All of which prompted the boss to say: “If you’re on the Gianella Bridge and you see Stoy coming from the other direction, the safest thing to do is jump off.”

The old bridge is now gone and here is the replacement:

Next trip:  Looks as if I’ll need to rocket up to Hamilton City planning to take a day exploring the west side of the river on and off SR 45.

Today’s Route:  Carry a good local map – don’t rely on GPS!  I-5 to Woodland; north on SR 113 to Knight’s Landing; cross river: left on Cranmore Road (landmark: busted up Cris-Craft).  Follow Cranmore Road through Kirkville, and Cranmore (see if you can find either of these places) always bearing west toward river.  Short of Grimes, right on S Meridian Rd; cross under bridge at Meridian, continue north on N Meridian, becoming Butte Slough Road and leading to Colusa.  North on River Road to Princeton area.  Left on Rd XX – crummy pavement, broken glass, loop west, north and then east on Rd 69 to Afton Rd.  North on Afton Rd; Cross SR 162; north, then east to Seven Mile Lane; north (left) on Seven Mile; west on Ord Ferry; North on River Road; left to continue on River Road at Chico River Road (don’t be confused); North to SR 32; cross River at Gianella. 

            Return:  West on 32 to Hamilton City; south on 45 to Knight’s Landing; OR east on 32 to Chico; south on SR 99.

© 2013

Church of the Open Road Press