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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Why do we live in Iowa Hill??? And Dempsey
March 1982
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Thus Thoreau succinctly explained his sojourn at Walden's Pond. Americans have always romanticized their history, times when men challenged life and their very existence with basic survival skills - all related to living close to the earth and in harmony with nature. Iowa Hill is just one example of a time capsule with many doors. Depending on your finances and/or the degree of modern comfort you want, you may step back in time to the middle 1800's or just 20 or 30 years ago. Beneath all the various reasons for living in the Iowa Hill country lies an appreciation for the history of the area and an adventurous pursuit of times past.
There are many off-setting factors that living in the "boonies" entails. Electricity without running a generator is unavailable, but there are no double-rate PG&E bills either. It's a one hour drive to town for business and groceries, but door-to-door salesmen don't knock on the door. Our roads are passable at best, but the delightful quiet is not marred by traffic noises.
The absence of conventional niceties, considered to be necessary by many, is not a predominant reason for choosing to live here - it is just the price that these folks pay to do so. Although, to some, it serves to challenge one's ingenuity by devising ways to circumvent the absence of modern utilities.
Some of the traits that I have observed in the residents in this country may serve to partially answer the question, why? Independence or self-sufficiency is one of the trademarks up here. A person who chooses to turn their back on the regulated, comfortable lifestyle and to confront their own challenges of providing creature comfort and living on less is a person who owns their life instead of their comforts and conveniences owning them. Linked with independence is an isolationism - an absence of fear of being alone. However, the aloneness leads to animated conversation at the occasional dinner party as folks vent their pent-up vocabularies. There are no status seekers in these hills, most people being very accepting. Mode of dress, year of car or choice of lifestyle makes no difference. Both monied and poor relate on equal terms.
One last note and as promised, the story of Dempsey. A majority of Iowa Hillians are perhaps typified by Lori Baker, a young woman whose childhood memories serve as part of her reasons for living up here. Dempsey was a mule, a sort of town pet-nuisance, depending on which direction you were taking - to or from the store for candy. Duly appointed as Iowa Hill's honorary mayor and being a connoisseur of candy, he would waylay Lori and her sister as they returned from the store. Threatened with the candy pirate's teeth, they raced for home, the mayor hot on their heels. Lori has many such fond memories of her childhood in Iowa Hill and as a result, introduced her husband, Roy, and daughter Rachel to life in the slow lane up here.
From a Mormon hymnal dated 1862:
I heard of gold at Sutter's mill
At Michigan Bluff and Iowa Hill
But never thought it was rich until,
I started off to prospect.
At Yankee Jim's I bought a purse,
Inquired for Iowa Hill, of course,
And traveled on, but what was worse,
Fetched up in Shirt-tail Canyon.
At Iowa Hill they buried me,
In the Catholic cemetery,
Underneath an old pine tree,
Now I no longer prospect.
Yet from below the gravestone cold,
I think about the days of old,
Still yearning for the days of gold,
When I went off to prospect.
Next week I'll tell you about the aerodynamics of an oak leaf or how to slow down and smell the roses. Remember, we are human BEINGS not human DOINGS.
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Thus Thoreau succinctly explained his sojourn at Walden's Pond. Americans have always romanticized their history, times when men challenged life and their very existence with basic survival skills - all related to living close to the earth and in harmony with nature. Iowa Hill is just one example of a time capsule with many doors. Depending on your finances and/or the degree of modern comfort you want, you may step back in time to the middle 1800's or just 20 or 30 years ago. Beneath all the various reasons for living in the Iowa Hill country lies an appreciation for the history of the area and an adventurous pursuit of times past.
There are many off-setting factors that living in the "boonies" entails. Electricity without running a generator is unavailable, but there are no double-rate PG&E bills either. It's a one hour drive to town for business and groceries, but door-to-door salesmen don't knock on the door. Our roads are passable at best, but the delightful quiet is not marred by traffic noises.
The absence of conventional niceties, considered to be necessary by many, is not a predominant reason for choosing to live here - it is just the price that these folks pay to do so. Although, to some, it serves to challenge one's ingenuity by devising ways to circumvent the absence of modern utilities.
Some of the traits that I have observed in the residents in this country may serve to partially answer the question, why? Independence or self-sufficiency is one of the trademarks up here. A person who chooses to turn their back on the regulated, comfortable lifestyle and to confront their own challenges of providing creature comfort and living on less is a person who owns their life instead of their comforts and conveniences owning them. Linked with independence is an isolationism - an absence of fear of being alone. However, the aloneness leads to animated conversation at the occasional dinner party as folks vent their pent-up vocabularies. There are no status seekers in these hills, most people being very accepting. Mode of dress, year of car or choice of lifestyle makes no difference. Both monied and poor relate on equal terms.
One last note and as promised, the story of Dempsey. A majority of Iowa Hillians are perhaps typified by Lori Baker, a young woman whose childhood memories serve as part of her reasons for living up here. Dempsey was a mule, a sort of town pet-nuisance, depending on which direction you were taking - to or from the store for candy. Duly appointed as Iowa Hill's honorary mayor and being a connoisseur of candy, he would waylay Lori and her sister as they returned from the store. Threatened with the candy pirate's teeth, they raced for home, the mayor hot on their heels. Lori has many such fond memories of her childhood in Iowa Hill and as a result, introduced her husband, Roy, and daughter Rachel to life in the slow lane up here.
From a Mormon hymnal dated 1862:
I heard of gold at Sutter's mill
At Michigan Bluff and Iowa Hill
But never thought it was rich until,
I started off to prospect.
At Yankee Jim's I bought a purse,
Inquired for Iowa Hill, of course,
And traveled on, but what was worse,
Fetched up in Shirt-tail Canyon.
At Iowa Hill they buried me,
In the Catholic cemetery,
Underneath an old pine tree,
Now I no longer prospect.
Yet from below the gravestone cold,
I think about the days of old,
Still yearning for the days of gold,
When I went off to prospect.
Next week I'll tell you about the aerodynamics of an oak leaf or how to slow down and smell the roses. Remember, we are human BEINGS not human DOINGS.
The Aerodynamics of An Oak Leaf
March 1982
Deer bound into the forest, quail scurry for cover, the crunch of our feet on the hoar frost alerting them to danger. The brisk early morning air tingles our ears and braces our lungs as my wife and I go on our run - one of the ways in which we infill our spirits for the coming day. Coupled with our morning journaling, reading and quiet time, the day beckons us with promises of adventure and accomplishment. What a celebration life can be!
I want to share a momentous discovery with you as promised. Late one autumn afternoon, after sawing and splitting firewood for a few hours, I was sitting in the middle of a grove of oak trees. Periodically, gusts of wind would loose a blizzard of leaves from above. At first all that I saw was a cloud of leaves fluttering to the ground. Then an overwhelming awareness pervaded me. Each leaf, as it dries and curls on the stem, assumes a unique shape. On their flight to earth, each one takes a different path; one does a pirouette, another becomes a glider, yet another takes a roller coaster ride to the ground. It was as if I had discovered fire and then realized that indeed, I had slowed down enough to take note of the real world around me.
I am confident that most Iowa Hillians would agree with me that by living up here away from the bustling freeway of life, it is much easier to make such inward discoveries. However, I realize that we don't have a monopoly on such freedoms. Indeed, the bottom line of this week's column is to point out the beauty and inward peace available to all, given the quiet moments needed for the discovery.
Notwithstanding, the work ethic is alive and well up here. We don't sit around watching rocks grow all the time! Frank Colnar is a real life example. Much of life is written on his face yet the enjoyment of today and expectation of tomorrow is apparent in his smile. I asked him, had he been working much during our inclement weather? He answered, "When you are almost 80 years old, you have to stay busy and keep moving every day."
Frank had kindly picked us up on the way to town as our old faithful truck had refused to make the trip. On the way home, we walked from town to the Iowa Hill Bridge. After all the many motorized trips down that hill, that walk revealed so many worthwhile sights; a covey of quail, a waterfall, the patterns of the rock-face, a cedar tree whose top had been broken off. Plus a new friend, Win Benson, an itinerant gold miner, tale spinner, all around nice guy. He intercepted us at the bridge with his friendliness and a cup of coffee.
On the way up the grade, John Hecker, Holly and Lottie stopped and gave us a lift on up to John's house. John and Carol, his wife, feel so strongly about living up here that he commutes to work.
A day of forced slow pace in which we saw, felt, shared and thoroughly enjoyed. Happy slowness and good oak leaf watching!
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March 1982 - a week later
It has been my special privilege over the past six weeks to write about the hills and the people around Iowa Hill. I wanted to show the interested reader in the neighboring communities that the Iowa Hill area is populated with plain folk in touch with themselves and not by wild gangs of gun-totin' outlaws. Hopefully, I have inspired the people up here to re-appreciate themselves and their environs. The nature of my columns have been a bit on the "pollyannish" side on purpose. I wanted to write what I would have wanted to read, the good stuff. We have a unique opportunity up here to foster a loving, sharing community having the same problems and challenges in common. Through the diversity of people available up here, we could lend our talents to each other, building a foundation of caring.
Since this is my last column, I am going to do a little preaching. I have been up here long enough to listen to the gossip that passes for conversation. There are some folks who won't go near other folks and others who have real or imagined charges concerning events past. Now my daddy always told me, "If you can't say something good about someone, then don't say nothing." Also, he taught me to take my grudge or complaint to it's source, confront the person and either settle it or bury it. Life's too precious to waste time harboring grudges.
I love it here on King's Hill and I have found more genuine friends in the last 6 months than I have ever had. I want to make this my home and so I hope that what I have said is taken constructively. I'd like to think we can live together with love and caring, exercising tolerance and forgiveness when necessary and lace our conversations with real topics instead of back-biting gossip. Amen?
Congratulations to John and Pat on their betrothal. Pat says that they are planning a two-day town festival for the weekend of June 19-20 with lots of unique events including a street dance. Check the bulletin board at the store for further developments. Like most of us, John and Pat work at a variety of jobs including mining to make ends meet. Although they reside in Colfax, they feel at home up here, hence the site for the wedding at Iowa Hill.
We all walk through this life one day at a time, confronting each problem as it pops up with the best that we have. Too soon, in looking back, one's life strings out behind like a desert highway, littered with our successes and failures. There are only a few lingering effects once we've gone - the impact that we have made on other people's lives both good and bad - and the kind of kids we raise. God knows that I've made my share of mistakes in the past. My total goal for the rest of my life is to live it well and in doing that perhaps helping others along the way.
Deer bound into the forest, quail scurry for cover, the crunch of our feet on the hoar frost alerting them to danger. The brisk early morning air tingles our ears and braces our lungs as my wife and I go on our run - one of the ways in which we infill our spirits for the coming day. Coupled with our morning journaling, reading and quiet time, the day beckons us with promises of adventure and accomplishment. What a celebration life can be!
I want to share a momentous discovery with you as promised. Late one autumn afternoon, after sawing and splitting firewood for a few hours, I was sitting in the middle of a grove of oak trees. Periodically, gusts of wind would loose a blizzard of leaves from above. At first all that I saw was a cloud of leaves fluttering to the ground. Then an overwhelming awareness pervaded me. Each leaf, as it dries and curls on the stem, assumes a unique shape. On their flight to earth, each one takes a different path; one does a pirouette, another becomes a glider, yet another takes a roller coaster ride to the ground. It was as if I had discovered fire and then realized that indeed, I had slowed down enough to take note of the real world around me.
I am confident that most Iowa Hillians would agree with me that by living up here away from the bustling freeway of life, it is much easier to make such inward discoveries. However, I realize that we don't have a monopoly on such freedoms. Indeed, the bottom line of this week's column is to point out the beauty and inward peace available to all, given the quiet moments needed for the discovery.
Notwithstanding, the work ethic is alive and well up here. We don't sit around watching rocks grow all the time! Frank Colnar is a real life example. Much of life is written on his face yet the enjoyment of today and expectation of tomorrow is apparent in his smile. I asked him, had he been working much during our inclement weather? He answered, "When you are almost 80 years old, you have to stay busy and keep moving every day."
Frank had kindly picked us up on the way to town as our old faithful truck had refused to make the trip. On the way home, we walked from town to the Iowa Hill Bridge. After all the many motorized trips down that hill, that walk revealed so many worthwhile sights; a covey of quail, a waterfall, the patterns of the rock-face, a cedar tree whose top had been broken off. Plus a new friend, Win Benson, an itinerant gold miner, tale spinner, all around nice guy. He intercepted us at the bridge with his friendliness and a cup of coffee.
On the way up the grade, John Hecker, Holly and Lottie stopped and gave us a lift on up to John's house. John and Carol, his wife, feel so strongly about living up here that he commutes to work.
A day of forced slow pace in which we saw, felt, shared and thoroughly enjoyed. Happy slowness and good oak leaf watching!
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
March 1982 - a week later
It has been my special privilege over the past six weeks to write about the hills and the people around Iowa Hill. I wanted to show the interested reader in the neighboring communities that the Iowa Hill area is populated with plain folk in touch with themselves and not by wild gangs of gun-totin' outlaws. Hopefully, I have inspired the people up here to re-appreciate themselves and their environs. The nature of my columns have been a bit on the "pollyannish" side on purpose. I wanted to write what I would have wanted to read, the good stuff. We have a unique opportunity up here to foster a loving, sharing community having the same problems and challenges in common. Through the diversity of people available up here, we could lend our talents to each other, building a foundation of caring.
Since this is my last column, I am going to do a little preaching. I have been up here long enough to listen to the gossip that passes for conversation. There are some folks who won't go near other folks and others who have real or imagined charges concerning events past. Now my daddy always told me, "If you can't say something good about someone, then don't say nothing." Also, he taught me to take my grudge or complaint to it's source, confront the person and either settle it or bury it. Life's too precious to waste time harboring grudges.
I love it here on King's Hill and I have found more genuine friends in the last 6 months than I have ever had. I want to make this my home and so I hope that what I have said is taken constructively. I'd like to think we can live together with love and caring, exercising tolerance and forgiveness when necessary and lace our conversations with real topics instead of back-biting gossip. Amen?
Congratulations to John and Pat on their betrothal. Pat says that they are planning a two-day town festival for the weekend of June 19-20 with lots of unique events including a street dance. Check the bulletin board at the store for further developments. Like most of us, John and Pat work at a variety of jobs including mining to make ends meet. Although they reside in Colfax, they feel at home up here, hence the site for the wedding at Iowa Hill.
We all walk through this life one day at a time, confronting each problem as it pops up with the best that we have. Too soon, in looking back, one's life strings out behind like a desert highway, littered with our successes and failures. There are only a few lingering effects once we've gone - the impact that we have made on other people's lives both good and bad - and the kind of kids we raise. God knows that I've made my share of mistakes in the past. My total goal for the rest of my life is to live it well and in doing that perhaps helping others along the way.
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