DAY 2 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP

From left: Shirley, Bernice, Earle, Jack, and Ina. Photo by Vance

July 28, 1926 -- Ina continues:

We had one hilarious time arranging our beds last night. From the front of the tent, we were Lynn, Vance, Earle, Bernice, Shirley, and self. Dad slept on a cot. We soon found we had too much covers, and first one and then another sat up to make adjustments. We were not quiet before 11:30. Then a dog came along and growled over a bone, then two dogs started fighting. Shirley began to snore, then Lynn started off, and Bernice began to giggle. The bed was hard with a gentle rise just where our hips came, and we thought the night endless, but all felt quite good on rising at 4:30. 

Vance took a picture of the sun touching the hill and one of us at breakfast. We had bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, jelly, and Himalayan jam.

We got off at 7:45. Until a few miles past Pollock, we had the old road. Then we found them working on the highway.

We struck the Little Salmon at Riggins. It was very beautiful, growing more wooded and picturesque toward the summit and broadening into meadows which looked to me nearly ½ mile wide in places. The river curved and flowed slowly and with low wooded mountains surrounding was wonderfully beautiful. We were surprised to find little ranches in pockets along the river or on benches. Some looked dreadfully burned out, while some had irrigating ditches and gardens. We passed a place or two with lovely green lawns!

Just before reaching New Meadows, we passed a beautiful field of grain being cut. They seem to raise hay mostly. New Meadows is small but up and coming in quite a large valley. In fact, from there, the landscape began to be southern Idaho. A distant range of timbered mountains made it seem more natural.

We didn’t strike any more surfaced highway until after we left Cambridge, but the roads are wide and smooth and look almost as though surfaced. The country is rough and sagebrushy. I got out and got some and will put in a piece of the leaves for you to smell.

It was awful hot at Cambridge and the country round depressing. Our next town was Midvale – small. Then on to Weiser, which is a nice town, but we couldn’t get lettuce there and no hamburger, which caused us to be disgruntly. We ate lunch 1000 feet from the Starky Hot Springs Hotel – bread, butter, cheese, jam, cookies, hardtack.

Continuing on, we passed through Payette. We had our first glimpse of the Snake River near here. We pulled in on the Payette River to camp but found poison oak, flies, and mosquitoes so pulled out again and drove 4 ½ miles beyond Fruitland and camped at a farm where they had things to sell. It was a free camp and they even allowed us to drive in on the nice lawn but we wouldn’t. We pitched the tent there, though, and made us a fine bed. Everybody was grouchy over our trouble finding a camp, but we had a good supper of fried potatoes, bacon, bread and butter, tea, fresh tomatoes, and cantaloupe. When supper was nearly ready, a kitten walked onto the table and dragged off two slices of bread. We all laughed, but Earle said we wouldn't be laughing tomorrow night.

After supper we all felt better. Earle and I then made the beds. Right here, let me say that Earle and Lynn are official packers, unpackers, tent pitchers and strikers. Dad is the official fire builder and water getter. Vance officiates at fire, Bernice at dishwashing, and Shirley sets table and packs up grocery box, grub box, and lunch box. I am majordomo by common, though unexpressed, consent. Of course, we all work at other things.

We are 53 miles from Boise and 500 miles from Yellowstone Park.

[At Cambridge, Ina reports that Vance said it was “hotter than hot.” I think Vance likely made a stronger comparison, don’t you?]  KW

DAY 1 – YELLOWSTONE TRIP

Car on left is Lynn's; car on right, Earle's.

In 2008, when I was fairly new to blogging, I posted a 20-part series regarding Ina’s trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1926. In this centennial year, I decided to expand on those posts. Some will be quite long, others rather short.

As always, my main character is my grandmother, Ina. She kept a travel journal, so the words are mostly hers. However, other voices chime in from time to time. Born in 1870, Ina was 55 in 1926 and already old-fashioned for the times. It comes out in her manner of speaking.

Our travelers had barely left home when Ina began to write a journal in the form of a letter to daughters Ethel and Myrtle at the farmhouse.

Dear Girls,

Shall write my first to you while Earle and the boys mend a flat tire. We stopped to gaze at some wonderful bluffs, and Earle discovered a flat and a nail hole. To begin, you must understand our keen delight in being off for Yellowstone. The breeze was coldly keen, and Vance soon pulled on a sweater and Bernice pulled up her collar.

Salmon River Hill -- photo by Vance

We noted that at least half the fall grain was in the shock or being shocked. We saw a threshing machine this side of Russell and several combines closer to Nezperce. The grain looks wonderful. Just at the Catholic Church, Earle stopped because the engine began to sputter but only for a minute. Then we proceeded on to Nezperce. We put in 35 minutes there. Bernice got a dandy pair of lined britches in brown mixture ($3.00). Dad got two new shirts and a pair of regular pants ($2.00), but he had to take blue in shirts. We couldn’t get lettuce so got bananas. I got this tablet and 10 cents worth of gum.

View from summit, White Bird Hill, N&S Hwy (postcard)

The engine “bogged” to Craigmont. Then Earle got it looked after, and we were there nearly an hour. We were all starving by that time and drove out for a ways and stopped where some big locust trees hung out over the road. We set the box on a bank and proceeded to fill up. Everybody enjoyed the creamed cheese and noted that the salad dressing was fine. We got two big heads of lettuce in Cottonwood but also ate the corned beef hash and thought it good. But oh – the flies were terrible! We were near a barnyard and some nice young dominicks came out to eat our crumbs.

Box Canyon, Salmon River, N&S Hwy (postcard)

We got to Grangeville in due time and left there at 2:00 p.m. We got paper towels and some postcard views. We soon crossed the mountain and dropped down into the Salmon River canyon – 3,000 feet in 12 miles. The highway is very scenic, a good deal like Lewiston and Uniontown, but the canyon itself is magnificent. The river is beautiful – green mostly. White Bird is 18 miles from Grangeville – a dilapidated little town. From there to New Meadows is 72 miles and the road is fine though not graveled.

Salmon River Hills, photo by Vance

We are all feeling fine. It was pretty hot for a while along this rim, but a cool wind is blowing now. I’m getting hungry. We thought we would make Cambridge, but Dad says we will more likely make Pollock. We see many cars loaded much as ours are. I have already thought of many ways to shift the load and contrive more convenience.

Had a blow-out after this and had to camp at Riggins. Had lots of fun. Made 127 miles. For supper we had fried potatoes, bacon, coffee, and the remains of our butter and strawberry jelly.

GETTING READY TO TRAVEL – YELLOWSTONE 1926

Taken at the farmhouse in 1925. See identification below.

Imagine it’s late July in 1926 – one hundred years ago. My dad, Vance Dobson, an accomplished pianist, is working at the Orofino Mercantile to earn enough money to enroll at the Cornish School of Music in Seattle. His family is planning a trip to Yellowstone National Park, and he wants to go, too. His employer agrees that this is an opportunity he shouldn’t miss and excuses him from work.

They will take two cars. One belongs to Vance’s brother Earle, the other to Earle’s brother-in-law, Lynn Dryden. The party includes:

·      The parents – Ina (55) and Jack (61) Dobson

·      Their son Earle (30) and his wife Bernice (26), married since 1921

·      The younger children, Vance (22) and Shirley (15)

·      And Lynn Dryden (Bernice’s brother), probably in his 30s

I suspect this trip happened at Earle’s suggestion. He had a car, and he would have been familiar with the route. He involved his brother-in-law, Lynn Dryden, who also had a car. One car would not have been big enough. They loaded Lynn’s car with provision, and “Dad” (Jack) rode with him most of the time. Earle carried everyone else and some provisions.

You can imagine the hustle and bustle as they prepare for the trip. They plan to camp and buy provisions along the way. No coolers in 1926, remember. They have a tent, bedding, and food besides personal items. By today’s standards, the plan leaves much to chance, but that’s the way it was. Ina is excited to visit Yellowstone as well as to see the sights as they travel through Idaho between here and there.

Staying at the farmhouse are the Dobson daughters, Myrtle and Ethel. Ethel’s baby, Shirley Jean, is now a toddler (born June 29, 1925).

We’ll be off in the morning, so let’s get some rest. KW

[Taken in1925, this photo includes most of our players. From left: Earle Dobson; Shirley Dobson; Bernice Dryden Dobson (Earle's wife); Vance Dobson; Pearl Dobson Sanders with her son, Stanley Sanders; Ina Dickson Dobson; Ernest Robinson; Ethel Dobson Robinson holding Shirley Jean Robinson. Between Shirley and Bernice, I can just make out Julian (Jack) Dobson. Three of these group photos were taken at this time, and the reflection of the sun on the house obscures the image of those standing on the left.] 

A STAYCATION AT THE FARM

Central Ridge

 I said that the centennial appreciation of the Dobson’s 1926 trip to Yellowstone would be next, but first, we have to prepare. We’ll set off on this journey on Monday, July 27, and hopefully I’ll be ready to go. Right now I’m organizing the info.

Southerly view obscured by smoke

Meanwhile, in real time, Mike is off on another motorcycle adventure, and since we’re now in the midst of the hottest temps of the year, he suggested that Bess and I stay at the farm. I’m not sure this was the best idea. We arrived Wednesday mid-morning, and the farmhouse was warm and stuffy, having been shut up for three days. Outside temp was already 80, so too late to open the house. We walked around the pond anyway and I chucked a few balls for Bess to chase, but she was fussy the rest of the day. She tends to fuss now anyway, but I think she was too hot.

Looking to the north -- serviceberry in foreground

It was 91 at 4:30 as we took our afternoon constitutional. Bess insisted on another walk at the pond, but as we passed the east end of the kitchen porch where the faucet is, we found a bull snake doing its best rattlesnake impression. I wasn’t fooled, but I was intimidated anyway, and Bess was spoiling for a fight. I managed to drag her off to the pond, but when we arrived back at the house, the bull snake was still languishing in the shade. We repaired to the house and waited an hour before playing ball.

The house was still hot at bedtime, and Bess had trouble settling down. At her insistence, we were up early Thursday morning and walked out to the canyon rim where I took these pictures.

Ina and Jack with grandchildren Shirley Jean and Stanley

Our staycation continued in that fashion – warm weather issues and a fussy old dog. So, I disappeared into 1926 and transcribed Ina’s journey of the road trip through Idaho to Yellowstone National Park. At this very house, the family of 1926 was preparing for their trip. My aunts, Ethel and Myrtle, will cover in Ina’s absence. I imagine that I’m here staycating with them. Ethel is 28 and Lynn is 32. They’re good friends as well as sisters, so with the house to themselves, I see them enjoy each other’s company. I can just hear those deep Dobson voices rambling on, sharing opinions – and smoking!!!! They both smoked, and they were probably happy to be able to do so free of Ina’s critical eye.

Ethel holding Shirley Jean

Anyway, Ina trusted them with her farm responsibilities, and having been raised on the farm, they were adept at their chores. They fed the chickens, milked the cows – or maybe Uncle June came over and milked the cows – and took care of the garden, which by now was producing well. Perhaps they even did some canning. And besides that, Ethel has a baby – Shirley Jean – who is just months old. What fun! KW

A PROFUSION OF GRASS

 

I had planned to develop a meadow of drought-tolerant plants in the orchard behind the farmhouse. I was working on it – identifying and maintaining the desirable weeds that were already established there, researching and planting more, hoping that these perennials would spread and add interest to that garden. Even last year, this plan was alive. However, it came to naught this year with the explosion of grass – and I do mean explosion! We have several varieties, but Mike’s plant app identifies the dominate one as “beardless wildrye.”

“Stay out of tall grass,” my old dad used to say, and this grass qualifies as tall, so I stay out of it. Who knows what lurks under that mass. It’s habitat for rodents and snakes, and it’s a fire hazard. I've tried to tell myself that it's beautiful just the way it is, but it’s crowding out desirable plants, and I find its presence daunting. I don’t want to walk through it to tend the apple trees and other plants. Further planting is impossible.

And while I speak of the orchard / meadow, the grass is everywhere here – in the grove, at the pond, bordering the yard, on either side of the lane, etc. And it’s not just at our place. It IS a regional explosion of grass. 

Interestingly, my research indicates this grass variety is seen as positive. However, I don’t have livestock to graze on it. I’m disappointed because my plan was to make that area into a garden. I’d like to think the grass is a temporary situation, but grass is difficult to eradicate. The soil is clay, and in summer, it’s hard as a rock. I think the only way to remove it would be to dig it out and then lay cardboard to discourage its return. I’m not sure I could take on such a project even if I would. The time comes when stooping and pulling is not a good idea if you want to continue to walk. KW

Up next: A Trip to Yellowstone Park, 1926 – A Centennial Appreciation 

PRISON DEATHS

Since our son Milo’s murder at the Idaho State Correctional Center on Dec. 10, 2023, I have quietly taken on a quest to support public awareness of conditions in the judicial / prison system. Given the political climate of the times, it’s not easy to advocate for those who are remanded to the prison/parole system. The level of public concern is low. Nevertheless, it’s the quest that came my way, and I will honor it.

A recently-published article by Alex Brizee of The Idaho Statesman (Boise) provides information on Idaho prison deaths in the wake of the death of an inmate while on work release during a hot day. The title is “Idaho Prison System Reaches 11 Deaths This Year,” and it can be found online, including here. I was interested to read that a prison official apologized to the inmate’s family, friends, and everyone involved. No one apologized for Milo’s wrongful death.

I have a shirt with Milo’s name on it, which I thought might be a conversation starter, but I’m hesitant to wear it. I get it out, put it on, and take it back off. We all endure difficult happenings in life, and we have to carry on. Still, we have to do what we can for humanity, even if it’s one person at a time. KW

MIKE’S NEW TOY

Mike and I spent the last two mornings splitting fir rounds into firewood with his new Bilt Hard 35-ton log splitter. I was the assistant, and my task was to toss the firewood into the pile as it came off the splitter. Sometimes I pushed the lever while Mike held the rounds in place. We will eventually haul this firewood to town, so there’s loading and unloading in our future. We feel pressed to get it done and out of the field. They disked the fields yesterday in preparation for planting canola next month.

Serving as an assistant is not interesting to me, so at some point I  go into my “zone” and think about other things. I thought of Chris’ new Bernina 770 QE Pro and pondered if I’d like to have one, too. Chris says it’s an amazing machine. (Chris should be an ambassador for Bernina.) The thing is, a person can buy seven Bilt Hard splitters for the cost of the 770. It’s hardly a straight-across trade – not in terms of money anyway.

And I thought of my Grandfather Portfors. When he was Mike’s age, he lamented that he could no longer swing an ax but he still remembered what it felt like. Speaking of bygone days with a faraway look in his eyes, he said, “A man could swing an ax in the woods for a dollar a day,” as if that were big wages. Maybe it was for him in that day and time.

And as Mike was separating wood fiber with a hatchet, I thought of my dad, whose vocation from a young age was playing and teaching piano. I recalled that he had a misshapen thumb as the result of an accident while cutting wood. Writing in 1934, Aunt Bertha tells about it: “Vance was cutting wood lately and I suppose holding it with one hand and the ax glanced with the usual result. It severed some of the tendons on the back of left hand; they took him to the doctor and after stitching it up he could use his fingers.” Daddy told me of his gratitude that the doctor had found a way to reattach the tendons so that he didn’t lose the use of his fingers – and his vocation.

I wondered if the wood splitter would be safe, but I think it’s altogether safer and less labor-intensive than chopping wood with an ax. The operator controls the blade as it moves through the wood, and the chunks fall off to the sides. KW