FIRST NIGHT / SECOND DAY -- 1926 TRIP

July 28, 1926 (Wednesday) -- continued

At Cambridge. Waiting while Bernice looks up a friend. Vance says “tell ‘em it’s better than hot.” We camped at Gouge Eye last night. We had one hilarious time arranging our beds. We put, from the front of the tent, Lynn, Vance, Irl, Bernice, Shirley, and self. We soon found we had too much cover and first one and then another were sitting up making adjustments, and we were not quiet before 11:30. Then a dog came along and growled over a bone, then two dogs started a fight. Then I heard Shirley begin to snore and Lynn started off and Bernice began to giggle. Dad slept on the cot.

The bed was hard with a gentle (?) rise just where our hips came and we thought the night endless, but all felt quite good, though, on rising at 4:30 a.m. Vance took a picture with the sun touching the hills and another of us at breakfast. Two other cars were camped there and one had two dogs. One, a little smooth puppy, came over and wriggled himself into the middle of our spread table. We all laughed, of course.

Irl said he’d bet we would not be laughing the next night but “cussing.” For supper last night we had fried potatoes, bacon, coffee, bread and the remains of our butter and strawberry jelly. For breakfast this morning we had bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, jelly and Himalayal [?] jam. [To be continued . . . ]

[The two photos in this post are those mentioned as taken by Vance. The group at breakfast are, from right: Shirley, Bernice, Lynn Dryden (Bernice's brother), Julian, and Ina. Somehow it doesn't look like she's having as much fun as she says she is. I'm sure the photo of the mountains does not do justice to the beautiful scene. On the back of the photo Ina wrote: "The sun-tinted bluffs border the main stream." KW]

TRIP CONTINUES -- FIRST DAY

We soon crossed the mountain and dropped down into the Salmon River country and canyon – 3,000 feet in 12 miles [the old White Bird Grade]. The highway is very scenic, a good deal like Lewiston and Uniontown, but the canyon itself is magnificent, such high rugged bluffs or mountains. The river is beautiful – green mostly. Dad could show us the old road he and Charles P. came over on. White Bird is 18 miles from Grangeville and is a dilapidated little town. From there to the Meadows is 72 miles and the road is fine though not graveled.

It is now 5:45 p.m. and the boys still mending that tire. Bernice says to tell you we have just been investigating an old house. It is a nice shanty but there were quite a number of clean-looking glass jars with bright covers, a little old bed in the corner and a little old table. Bernice has just come along again to tell me to tell you that we plan to camp at “Gouge Eye” tonight. She keeps laughing over it. We are all feeling fine. It was pretty hot for a while along the river but a cool wind is blowing now. I’m getting hungry.

We thought we’d make it to Cambridge but Dad says we will about 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.

We are off -----
Wed. a.m. Had a blowout just after this and had to camp at Gouge Eye. Had lots of fun – more later. Made 127 miles.
Love, Momma
[The photo above of the old White Bird Grade was taken by Vance. It's actually a good photo but did not scan well due to the hazy appearance of distant mountains.]

READY TO GO . . .

July 27, 1926 (Tuesday), 5:10 p.m.
Gouge Eye [Riggins] on the Salmon River

Dear Girls,
Shall write my first to you while Irl and the boys mend a flat tire. We stopped to gaze at some wonderful bluffs and Irl discovered a flat and a nail hole.

To begin you must imagine our keen delight in being really off for the Yellowstone at 7:45 at June’s. The breeze was coldly keen and Vance soon put on a sweater and Bernice pulled up her collar. We noted that at least half of the fall grain was in the shock and/or being shocked. We saw a threshing machine this side of Russell and several combines farther out about Nezperce. The grain looks wonderful and we saw several pieces badly fallen. Just at the Catholic church Irl 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 tweed knickers 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 there so got bananas. I got this tablet there and 10-cents worth of gum.

The engine “bogged” to Craigmont, then Irl got it looked after and we were there nearly an hour. Bernice found one of the Tweedy girls there in the garage office. She is married, of course. Dad and Lynn went on to Cottonwood and waited there. We saw Charles Strick there and he told us Mrs. Hill is cooking in the hospital in Ferdinand and Abe is baching at home. Charles is running a combine and looked thin. Bernice had time to look up an old friend she hadn’t seen for 11 years and Irl tinkered with the car while Vance and Shirley got a hair cut, for I had forgotten about Irl’s outfit being in. We were all starving by that time and drove out this side for a way 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 voted the salad dressing fine. We got two big heads of lettuce in Cottonwood. We 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. [“Dominique” is a breed of chicken – black and white speckled.]

We got to Grangeville in due time and left there at 2:00 p.m. We got paper towels there and some postcard views and Dad told us where the corner was where he and June ran sorghum. He says it looks to him like it [Grangeville] is twice as big as 20 years ago.

To be continued . . .

[The above photo is not clear but still gives a picture of their travel conditions better than words. The car to the left belongs to Lynn Dryden. Lynn drove, of course, and it seems that Jack was his passenger -- at least most of the time. The back appears packed with camping supplies. The car on the right was Irl's and he appears to carry passengers more than provisions. Note the running boards.]

COME WITH ME TO YELLOWSTONE, 1926

There’s not much going on here in town – at least not for me. So I’m planning a trip to Yellowstone Park, and you’re invited to come with me. It won’t matter that you just came back from Philadelphia or that you plan to spend creative time with your sewing machines. Nothing will interfere with this trip – not your job, your responsibilities, or gas prices. You don’t even have to pack a bag. And I’ll do all the work.

You see, our trip takes place in 1926. We’re going to ride along with the Dobson family on their road trip from the homestead to Yellowstone and Teton National Parks. I recently found tucked away in a little cedar chest the letters Ina wrote during the trip. Those letters served as her travel diary and will now serve as our guide. The paper is yellow and worn, attesting to the fact that in years long past they were much read and enjoyed. Now it’s our turn. We also have corresponding photos and some postcards. And if we want info about Yellowstone Park in 1926, we can refer to the official Haynes Guidebook. We’re all set to leave tomorrow.

Included in the travel party are Ina (55) and Jack Dobson (62), their son Irl (30) and his wife Bernice, son Vance (22), daughter Shirley (15), and Bernice’s brother Lynn Dryden. They took two cars, one belonging to Irl and the other to Lynn. Daughters Myrtle and Ethel stayed at the farmhouse and the correspondence is addressed to them as well as to Ina’s sister Bertha. Ethel has a new baby, Shirley Jean.

Here's a family photo taken in 1926 to help us establish the players. From left: Irl, Shirley, Bernice (Irl's wife), Vance, Pearl Dobson Sanders with Stanley, Ina, Ernest and Ethel Robinson with Shirley Jean. Between Shirley and Bernice you can just make out Julian.

WHAT WE'VE BEEN UP TO . . .

Here are photos pertaining to last weekend’s activities on the farm. Photo left shows the new septic tank cover Mike installed. The old one stood above ground -- rather dangerous and in the way of mowing. This installation felt so good just because we've needed to do it for a long time.


The photo right is the south side of the house where I do a little gardening. I planted strawberry plants along the border last Saturday. The royal imperial frittalaria are fading away. They emit an odor that is supposed to repel rodents. There was no rodent activity in that bed, so perhaps it works. The iris I transplanted last summer from the Hazel Wright place which was torn down. Two of them will bloom this spring. Why is it that iris doesn't always bloom?

This is a photo of "bum-wing" Mike installing his weather station. It tells temp, wind velocity, humidity, and rainfall. Unfortunately, it doesn't work well. The good news is that we didn't install the wind gauge (whatever you call the thing) on the roof peak. We're thinking of seeing if we can return the station. The instruction booklet doesn't seem to correspond with the unit. (I hope it's not that we're getting old. I remember that nothing seemed to work well for my parents in their last years.)

And here I am, painting the old garden gnome. Would anyone volunteer to paint the eyes for me? I'm not good with eyes. And does anyone know if there's some compound I can rub onto him that might give him some shading -- like antiquing?


And, of course, like many country folks we enjoy watching the hummingbirds squabble. Mike hung the new feeder Hallie and Nick gave me for Christmas on the kitchen porch. The hummingbirds were just beginning to discover it on Monday. Photos next time -- maybe.

Our time here in town has been filled with meetings and appointments. The weather is cool again -- from 95 to 59, as they say. Today Mike has taken the 4-wheeler into the Waha area to pick up some geocaches. He took the camera, so he'll probably post a blog soon.

RETRIBUTION

I can tell what Nellie is thinking – at least some of the time. This past weekend we took our friend, Duke [see photo right], with us to the farm. Duke is a 3-year-old male German Shorthair who belongs to Ken, Mike’s hunting buddy. Ken is traveling for a couple of weeks, so we agreed to rescue Duke from the boarding facility when we went to the farm. But our spoiled girl didn’t like having to share her domain and her people with another dog. Her body language conveyed her disappointment. “Why did we have to bring Duke anyway?” she moped.

“Nellie has something,” said Mike from the chaise lounge on the porch. Nellie was trotting purposefully toward the barn with a mouthful of something dark. But neither one of moved to chase her down, trusting that the “something” was not something important.

So, when I discovered one of my leather work gloves was missing from the porch step, I naturally thought of Nellie with “something” in her mouth. I knew she had taken it. Her snout was “out of joint” and the glove was available and nicely nasty. The pieces all fit. I hated to lose that glove, too. The pair were made of tanned deer hide and fit my small hands snuggly. I should have been more careful, of course, but who knew Nellie would pick one up? I’m sure she had some vague notion of what she was doing. But when I asked her about it, she just smiled and wagged her tail.

Down to the barn we went. “What did you do with my glove, girl?” I asked. Oh, she pretended to look around all right, sniffing here and there as though she had a clue. I gave up searching the barn and began to check the grounds. I knew we wouldn’t find it by searching, though. We would find it by keeping our eyes open – and hopefully before it dried out and became useless.

Sure enough, this morning as we were preparing to leave the farm, Mike found the glove in the barn – on the south side where we keep the 4-wheeler. He said Nellie had actually dug a hole preparatory to burying the glove, but in the end she thought better of going through with it and just left it by the hole.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

I knew that Mike enjoyed the frogs that our friend and contractor, Mike Lorenz, planted in our expanded pond some years back. However, I was surprised when the old homestead was dubbed the “Frog Farm” on the blog.

In the old days, some family members called the homestead “Rimrock Farm” -- an apt name, I think, when you consider its location on the breaks of Little Canyon. I don’t think my dad particularly liked that name, though. In fact, at one time in the ‘50s he thought “Hoot Owl Farm” was a good name owing to the fact that owls were in residence here at the time. He even had routed wooden signs made -- “Hoot Owl Farm” and “The Dobsons” -- but for some reason he never hung them. Maybe the owls left. Maybe his siblings expressed disapproval. But the signs kicked around here at the farmhouse until eventually I tossed out “Hoot Owl Farm” but kept “The Dobsons” for a shelf ornament in the utility room.

Anyway, something about “Frog Farm” seems to stick with the place but we never refer to it as such – thank heaven! While I’m not exactly pleased with the name, the whimsical theme of frogs having fun is popular now and makes the concept tolerable. I chose several “frog” fabrics for the quilt I might finish someday. And I enjoy the “frog theme” garden ornaments that I see in all the marts. I bought a few; perhaps I’ll find a few more at clearance time.

[The frog with a little frog on his/her back in the top picture belonged to my dad and was part of a little area he arranged at his studio door. The frogs on the shovel I bought last week. That's about what it takes to make a dent in the soil here -- lots of frogs on a shovel!]