A series of weekly columns Larry wrote for the Colfax Record
February 1982
Some of my acquaintances and friends who live in the nearby communities of Auburn and Colfax, upon learning that we live up on the Iowa Hill Divide, react with varying degrees of repulsion - ranging from mild amusement to downright horror. For example, one Sunday after church, a kind lady exclaimed, "Do you really live up there where they carry guns and shoot people?" Over the next few weeks it is my privilege to dispel such negative images that the Iowa Hill community may have by sharing some of the beauty of these hills with you - the beauty of the folks who choose to live on this side of the North Fork of the American River and the beauty of our mountain that I call "God's front yard".
Transformation of a Flatlander - Part I:
Anticipation of the delicious smells of freshly brewing coffee and a new fire in the Franklin stove lure me from my warm nest each morning. Never before have I been so eager to greet each new "fireball" as my other half, Charlotte, calls sunrise. This eagerness is one of many symptoms resulting from my new life on King's Hill, a wilderness suburb of Iowa Hill.
From the vista up here, one wouldn't suspect that over 50 families reside in the canyons and on the hilltops within a 20-mile radius. The hydraulic mining scars on the hillsides are the only sign that man has ever been near. Unspoiled forests of pine, fir and cedar stretch to the horizon to contrast the blue sky and soothe the eyes. This pristine view belies the fact that the human drama of life continues albeit at a much slower pace than I am accustomed to.
For the past 20 years, most of my adult life, I "marched to the sound of a different drummer" as the saying goes. My lifestyle was complete with house payments, community fences, work commutes and job worries. The weekend was my goal each Monday morning. Then due to terminal mid-life crisis, I walked away from all of it on July 1, 1981. I was determined to live somewhere in the Sierra mountains by whatever effort was required.
Along the way, I married someone who shared all of my crazy dreams and our choice of a new home on King's Hill, though not randomly made, has been one of the nicest happenings in our lives. Without exception, the Iowa Hill area residents have welcomed us with warmth, offers of help, and most importantly - their friendship. Now don't get me wrong - we have many good friends in town whom we value, but these hill-folk with whom we number ourselves possess certain qualities that I hope to chronicle for you.
A most startling contrast in my life is the natural history of these mountains. The first surprise awaiting a newcomer's senses is the utter silence. The absence of sound kept me awake for a few nights. Then as I began to relearn my sense of hearing, (I used to live on the frontage road of a freeway where the noise was unbelievable). My ears picked up sounds - the distant song of a coyote, the rustle of browsing deer near the house, the soft hoot of an owl. I was not used to the wonderful myriad of birds and their songs. Days spent working on firewood or harvesting walnuts became days of vacation accompanied by a Disney-like symphony of sights and sounds.
My first reaction to all of this was one of guilt. Was one supposed to enjoy oneself this much? Suddenly, my life was filled with relevance - all of my wildest dreams seemed attainable - I had been freed from the life patterns that we all inherit. I felt the ecstasy of weightlessness and knew that I was home at last.
Next week I'll introduce you to some interesting people who live up here, my friends.
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Transformation of a Flatlander - Part II
This week's column is an up-with-people column though by no means will I be able to mention everyone who contributes a lift to my day with a visit or a smile and a wave. Neighbors and friends are important of course on humanitarian terms, but in this country, in times of need they are essential.
Getting stuck in the mud or snow doesn't appear upon first thought to be an occasion for socializing. However, such normal hair-pulling events have led to meeting and/or visiting with some mighty pleasant folk.
Just last Sunday our "weekender neighbor", John Pappa, a professor at UCD, came looking for help. John and his wife, Merideth, had come up from Davis to unwind for the weekend. His brother, Elmo, had taken John's advice and had driven down a snowy road to get firewood. You guessed it - he was stuck to the rims. After hauling him out, we had the nicest visit with four newfound friends including, Evelyn, Elmo's wife, that extended through dinner. John's grandfather owned businesses in Iowa Hill including the saloon - the front wall and iron doors survived the big Iowa Hill fire and still stand.
Speaking of getting stuck, one Saturday, after being snowbound for over a week, we became anxious for mail and besides, I was tired of winning at gin rummy and scrabble. Therefore, we ventured out assured by Don Bird that we could make it. You guessed it - stuck to the rims! Our dearest neighbors, Don and Mattie, are two of the more gracious people in this man's world. Always ready with warm welcomes to soften the intimidating confrontation with their dogs, the mile hike from our stranded truck seemed a small payment indeed for their hospitality. Mattie's smile and hot tea warmed us, and thus fortified, we ferried back with Don in his usual attire - field jacket and Australian bush hat. After being pulled out, I immediately slid right back into the same ditch - luckily, Don had waited to see us out safely.
Driving the rest of the way to the metropolis of Iowa Hill, we were greeted by Mo and Fay Parker, perhaps the most widely known Iowa Hillians. They operate the saloon-general store-post office, Iowa Hill's only claim to a commercial building. Fay dispenses cold drinks and sharp wit with equal flair. You'll note the sign on the wall outside the bar, "No, side arms allowed" and they mean it! Quick with a smile and a greeting, she welcomes friend and stranger alike from behind the bar, the walls and ceiling of which are covered with relics and memorabilia from the past. Mo would rather stay behind the scenes, working to provide firewood for the huge stone fireplace. He is a man accustomed to hard work but his warm handshake disguises the calluses on his rough hands. With side-long glances, Mo regales the eager listener with tales of old Iowa Hill or his latest outing with his dogs.
Occasionally, when we stop by for mail, I catch a few moments with a special friend. Jay is a young man, old beyond his years, yet full of boyish enthusiasm. His ready smile and gentle ways remind me of a wild deer, indeed, he is a man of the hills. Always generous with his time or labors, he is a welcome addition to the Iowa Hill population.
I have been trying to get a handle on some of the reasons people choose to live here without some of modern society's conveniences. You see the folks out here have no electricity unless from a generator and a few like us have no running water. Lori Baker, of whom I'll tell you more next week, gave me some insight to my quest when she related the story of Dempsey, an honorary mayor of Iowa Hill, chasing her as a child with threats of biting. See you next week.....
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