Jack

Jack

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

More Exploring...

Trying to keep the kid semi-occupied through tough emotional times is difficult, so today I take her for another short drive.

I'm trying to find the cool little back road to Yerington I knew of years ago, but it's eluding me. I took my husband on it before our daughter was born; it's a stunning, winding road paralleling the West Walker river as it flows blue-green through rock canyons, often turning to whitewater.

I can't find it.

Then I realize--there was one of those once-every-100-year massive floods in this area about 13 years ago, which not only wiped out numerous homes and businesses, but no doubt took this road, too. Hell, it washed away a big chunk of Highway 395 that took months to repair, and the Walker River rerouted itself. So I eventually give up and we take the main road into Yerington. This road is famous for hares running across it everywhere, naturally not all of them make it.

But, in case you need it, EVERYTHING (or rather 'Ever thing') is for sale!


The road is pretty, if long...


...and attractive to bicyclists, it's a great ride with few cars to worry about.


The farms in the pretty little town of Wellington are growing what looks like alfalfa, protected by a stout fence laced with electrified wire. I warn the kid not to touch it, hotwire can give you a jolt! The fields are beautiful...



...and aided by truly menacing-looking machinery.


We stop by the old classic one-room Wellington schoolhouse, which looks to be remade into a museum...but sadly, also looks like it's been closed for a long time. We cup our hands and peer through the dirty windowpanes but everything inside is thick with dust.



At least one of the neighbors has a sense of humor...


On the way back we stopped at the local cemetery to pay our respects. I noticed on the side of one of the 1880's grave markers that the stonemason had used a piece that included a geode!


At first I thought some total pinhead had vandalized the grave marker when I saw what looked to be a gash in the side of it.


The fence surrounding the oldest grave in the cemetery has this nifty little hinge arrangement on the gate.


The skies were appropriately gloomy.


After this we took a drive across the valley so N. could see the view from there. On the way one of the farms had a cool old metal sign...





I was telling my daughter how I used to housesit for one of the people up here, and at night the raccoons would run races across the roof of the house.

On the way back, we ran across the road to the dump, aptly named.

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