I do believe in spooks! I do, I do, I do….

January 6, 2024 steveboilard2 Comments

So much for my grand plan of escaping the wintry weather by taking a southern road trip. It’s been raining cats and dogs all day.

I knew something was up when I was on the second leg of my flight (from DFW to Texarkana). At our scheduled arrival time we found ourselves circling for three-quarters of an hour over thick fog and rain. Thankfully, the pilot of our tiny plane (there were only about 20 of us on board) handled the tiny plane as well as could be hoped. The whole situation reminded me of Gilligan’s Island; if not for the courage of our fearless crew, the airplane would be lost.

Anyway, we finally landed at Texarkana, which appears to be world’s smallest airport. Seriously. This airport does not seem designed to handle commercial aircraft. I think there’s just one runway. And some unfortunate employee had to literally wrestle the (apparently only) deplaning ramp into position by hand in the rain. When we made it across the small patch of tarmac and entered the tiny building, I practically bumped into the (single) car rental counter that is squeezed into an inadequate space next to the baggage claim. On the positive side, their single rental car was parked right next to the door. I was off in a flash!

There are actually two Texarkanas, which togetherstraddle the boundary between Texas and Arkansas. Texarkana, Arkansas (pop: 30,000) sits on the Arkansas side, of course, and hosts the Lilliputian airport. Its sister city of Texarkana, Texas (pop: 36,000) is in the Lone Star state. The two Texarkanas combine into a large metropolitan area with a population of almost 150,000.

Before heading out onto Route 82 I spent a little time exploring Texarkana’s downtown core. One of the most prominent features is an imposing federal courthouse/post office building that sits squarely on the state line. Half the building resides in Texas and half in Arkansas. There’s a sign out front that helpfully commemorates that fact.

Speaking of commemoration, I spotted this nearby monument to the mothers of Confederate soldiers. Clearly I’m not in Kansas anymore.

Inscription on the base: “O Great Confederate Mothers, we would print your names on monuments, that men may read them as the years go by and tribute pay to you, who bore and nurtured hero sons and gave them solace on that darkest hour, when they came home with broken swords and guns”.

The two Texarkanas were established in 1874 (in Texas) and 1880 (in Arkansas) at an important intersection of several railroads. The railroads contributed much to the area’s growth and prosperity….and when railroads began to decline in the second half of the 20th Century, so did Texarkana.

A relic of the glory days is Texarkana Union Station. It was constructed in 1928, and like the post office, it straddles Texas and Arkansas. It’s another imposing structure, and when I drove up it appeared to be alive and well.

So I parked my car among the many others in front of the building, and I entered through the front doors. What I encountered was a ghostly tomb of a building, which clearly hadn’t been in operation for years.

*Forlorn balcony overlooking the railyard.*

I should emphasize that there wasn’t a living soul in this place. In some places it had been tagged with graffiti, and if other places there was evidence of recent efforts to paint or repair damage. But the whole situation felt odd: why is the front door unlocked? What is this place used for these days?

I went to the back platform, where men in their fedoras and women in their shirt waister dresses would catch their trains.

A little more exploring revealed an active Amtrak waiting room and ticket counter! And by “active,” I mean it was closed. But evidently trains still stop at this station. In fact, according to Wikipedia, it is “the second busiest Amtrak station in Arkansas.” I couldn’t tell you how much of an achievement that is, however.

One final, tantalizing piece of information about Union Station: An April 2023 story in the Texarkana Gazette reported that Amtrak and both Texarkanas had signed a good-faith agreement to restore the station, that $200,000 in seed money had been authorized, and that grant funding was actively being sought. I do hope they’re successful; this could make an impressive anchor for the downtown, which clearly has seen better days.

This blog project has repeatedly encountered the question of why do some historic towns survive, others die, and still others wallow somewhere in between. I was thinking about this while I explored Texarkana. There are a number of buildings that have evidently been abandoned, just slowly decaying in place, like this old appliance store.

*No wonder the Maytag Man is so lonely.*

On the other hand, there are a number of public art installations and renovated structures scattered about as well. One of these is a historic streamline passenger car that’s been converted into a coffee bar.

The place is called Alley Cats, and it’s appropriately located not far from Union Station. I went inside and ordered a coffee from Gus.

*Gus making my espresso aboard the Concho.*

Gus also recommended their Loaded Peanut Butter Toast (thick, locally-made sourdough with peanut butter, honey, granola, and bananas). How could I turn that down??

Gus explained that the Concho was built in the 1930s, and it used to be a barber car (i.e., a car where train passengers could have their hair cut or perhaps get a permanent) while en route. Many of the original elements of the car, including the extensive use of stainless steel, remain. The car has also been decorated with the work of local artists.

As I tucked into my Peanut Butter Toast, the owner of Alley Cats — one Hillary Cloud — came aboard. She explained to me that she used to be a loyal customer when the business was owned by others. But when those owners had to sell the place last year, she and her business partner snapped it up. She seemed to be motivated by a desire to save a business she appreciated, but also to help advance the revitalization of a downtown that she loves. Hillary is not a major land speculator. She was born and raised in Texarkana, and after going away for college and doing some coaching she returned to her hometown. She spoke passionately, but realistically, about promoting local business. Alley Cats sources some of its food (including that delicious sourdough) from local businesses, and showcases the work of local artists. It was clear to me that people like Hillary make the difference between towns that thrive and those that decline.

*Owner Hillary Cloud, with a mug produced by a local artist.*

Finally, well-fortified with peanut butter, it was time for me to get onto Route 82–which was the whole point of this trip.

US Route 82 is like most of the other US highways that I’ve documented on this blog: most of it has one or two lanes in each direction, and it becomes the main thoroughfare of the towns it connects. These routes are not heavily traveled, as most of them were superseded by interstates the middle of the last century. As a result, they often feel like The Land That Time Forgot.

For this first day on the road, my goal was to drive from Texarkana to Greenville, which sits just beyond Arkansas’s border with Mississippi. Along this route there are only a few towns of any notable size. Much of the drive is flat or gently-rolling hills cutting through stands of second- or third-growth hickory.

One of the first towns I came to after Texarkana was Magnolia, Arkansas (pop: 11,000). Everyone wants to be known for something, and Magnolia is known for its World Championship Steak Cookoff each spring. They like to promote their “World’s Largest Charcoal Grill,” which I saw parked alongside Route 82. It is an impressive piece of ironwork which resembles an ICBM.

*View from the back. (I probably should have taken a panorama shot!)*

The next town was El Dorado (pop: 17,500). Established around the same time as Texarkana, it’s downtown appears to be thriving. Attractive public spaces, prosperous businesses, and public art displays abound.

And then I came to Crossett (pop: 4,700). Crossett isn’t a big town, but it’s noted for something that’s come to be known as the Crossett Spook Lights. Rather than try to describe them myself, allow me to quote from something called The Encyclopedia of Arkansas:

Outside of Crossett, where the old railroad tracks once lay, an unexplained light has become a local legend. It has reportedly been seen consistently since the early 1900s by multitudes of people. The light is typically seen floating two to three feet above the ground but also is said to move into the treetops and sometimes side to side. The light reportedly disappears as one walks toward it and then reappears the same distance away, so that one can never get a close look at it. The Crossett Light’s color reportedly ranges from yellow or orange to blue or green.

It’s claimed that the lights are connected with a long-ago incident involving a railroad worker who was decapitated. I did a lot of research on this as I had a snack at a Crossett fast food joint, and it seems that there are many people who earnestly insist they’ve seen the Spook Lights. However, there was a lot of disagreement as to where, exactly, they were to be found, and under what conditions. Undaunted, I waited into the approach of nightfall and I headed out a lonely dirt road into the middle of a dark forest to see what I could see.

It was getting cold and dark, and the rain was unrelenting. But I dutifully parked in the middle of the narrow road (I encountered no other cars) and waited for the lights. I confess it was eerie out there, and more than one I was startled by a bird or a wind-blown tree branch. A few times I thought I saw a small light briefly winking at me through the windshield, but as it was raining, I chalked that up to the drops of water.

Finally I gave up and slowly headed back along the muddy road. Then, what should I see, but several small yet distinct red and green lights!

I was beside myself! The stories were true! I can’t wait to report back to my loyal readership! Assuming, of course, I’m not about to be abducted by aliens…

I continued forward toward the lights and…alas, I discovered their cause. There’s a small, private airfield, complete with guidance lights, a few hundred yards off to the side of the road. Talk about a buzzkill.

I got back onto Route 82 and after an hour I crossed the mighty Mississippi and entered Greenville. This is where I’m spending the night.

BEER OF THE DAY

In Greenville I went to a local pub called “Spectators,” where I asked for a local brew. I was presented with a Southern Pecan nut brown ale, brewed by the Lazy Magnolia Brewing Company in Kiln, Mississippi. The beer is brewed with roasted pecans, and has an ABV at a very modest 4.5 percent.

Despite the brown ale style and the addition of pecans, this beer is pretty light. It has no bite to speak of (hops seem almost to be absent). But neither is is malty sweet. Still, it’s as smooth as silk, going down very easy indeed. I would have liked to have seen it in a glass (it was served in a bottle), for its dark color and head. (I was able to see some foam in the bottle.) Anyway, it’s an inoffensive beer, but not memorable. I give it 2.5 starts out of five.

Oh, as I was leaving, I noticed a plaque on the edge of the counter where I was sitting. I guess it was meant to be!

bridges · California history · trains

Before the Bridge

November 22, 2023November 22, 2023 steveboilard2 Comments

Eons ago, when I finished college, I moved to Sacramento, and in the succeeding years I made many weekend trips back to the familial homestead in Sunnyvale. The trip required crossing the Carquinez strait on the Benicia-Martinez Bridge. In those days, the bridge had traffic going in both directions, but in 2007 a second bridge was opened and each of the two bridges was henceforth devoted to traffic in a single direction.

As I crossed the Carquinez Strait in my Studebaker Hawk (which I’m not making up), I would always glance at the old railroad bridge that ran alongside me. Often I’d see a train rumbling over the creaky structure. Here’s a shot I took this morning of the railroad bridge flanked by the two automobile bridges:

*Looking south, from Benicia to Martinez.*

*Aerial view, stolen from the Internet.*

The Benicia-Martinez Bridge railroad bridge opened in 1930. It was–and still is today–the second-longest railroad bridge in North America. But did you know that trains had already begun crossing the Carquinez strait more than half a century earlier? How could this be?

To answer this question, I visited the unassuming town of Benicia (pop: 27,000). Briefly California’s capital (from February 1853 to February 1854), Benicia today is famously home to my son Ian and daughter-in-law Katelyn. But it’s also home to this old depot which can shed some light on our railroad bridge puzzle:

This 144-year-old depot was originally built in 1879 in the small town of Banta, California (pop: unclear, though probably around 100 according to this account). Banta was a whistlestop on the original transcontinental railroad. Westbound trains would make the final leg from Sacramento to the Bay Area by way of the Altamont Pass, which they would cross just after passing Banta.

But the same year the Banta train depot was constructed, the Southern Pacific opened a new, shorter route from Sacramento to the Bay Area. This route crossed the Carquinez Strait, shaving off several hours from the old route over Altamont Pass. But since the Benicia-Martinez railroad bridge wouldn’t be constructed until 1930, trains were ferried over the Strait. Seriously. An enormous ferry dubbed The Solano was constructed for this purpose. Westbound trains would slowly chug over the Benicia Pier, roll onto the Solano, and make the half-hour trip to Port Costa, about a mile across the water. From there the trains would return to the mainline and continue to the end of the line in Oakland.

This morning I stood on Benicia’s modern fishing pier and looked out at the ancient pilings from the old pier where the Solano used to dock.

*The Solano’s old haunt…perhaps literally*?

The Solano, which remained in continuous operation for 51 years, had a length of 425 feet and was equipped with four sets of tracks. It was the largest railroad ferry in the world.

Demand on the line increased continually, and eventually it was decided that a full-size railroad station was needed on the Benicia side of the ferry crossing. So in 1902, Southern Pacific uprooted that station they’d built in Banta, floated it on a barge to Benicia, and planted it where you see it today.

The Solano kept working around the clock, year in and year out. In 1914 she was joined by a sister ferry, the Contra Costa, to absorb the growing demand on the line. But then in 1930, the railroad bridge (which we encountered near the beginning of this post) opened, and the ferries instantly became obsolete. They made their last run in November 1930.

*The final run, loaded with well-wishers.*

So after exploring the depot and remains of the Benicia ferry pier, I enlisted son Ian to drive us to the other end of the ferry crossing, which was in Port Costa (pop: 200). Port Costa is a small, funky, historic town, replete with a Doggie Diner head. (People of a certain age may remember getting a hotdog at one of the Doggie Diner restaurants in the Bay Area in the 1960s or 1970s. I sure do! Those who don’t remember them can get enlightened here.)

After a bit of walking around Port Costa we came upon the remains of the southern dock of the Carquinez ferry crossing:

*The Solano’s southern haunt. Benicia is directly across the strait.*

So, for those of you keeping score at home, we’ve managed to find the depot from which ferry-bound trains departed, the remains of both ferry piers, and the bridge that put the ferry out of business. But what of the ferry itself?

A little Internet research revealed that the Solano was decommissioned and towed out to Antioch in 1931. There she was scuttled near the bank of the San Joaquin River and partially submerged to serve as a breakwater. She remained there, largely identifiable in her old form, for about half a century. But in the 1980s some clown was setting off fireworks and accidentally set The Solano ablaze, and she burned to the waterline.

Naturally, Ian and I headed over to Antioch to see what remained of the Solano. The answer is “not a lot,” but there’s still a ghostly presence. Check it out:

*Remains of the Solano in Antioch. We’re looking at the port side of the ferry, with metal rods from the bow poking out of the water on the left.*

*The 40-foot-high A-frame that housed one of The Antioch’s two paddlewheel engines still rises from the wreckage.*

*Aerial view, courtesy of Virtual Globetrotting, clearly shows the outlines of The Solano.*

So that’s pretty much it. As always I’m struck by how physical barriers were overcome in the Age of Steam…and how remnants of that era can still be seen all around us, if we’re just willing to look.

bridges · California history · Road trips · trains

Burning Rubber

August 24, 2023 steveboilard1 Comment

After completing my mission at Eagleville, I headed homeward on NV 447, then back into California via Reno.

You’ll note that my return trip skirted the west side of the Black Rock Desert, where Burning Man begins this weekend. My entire run through Nevada was overrun with “Burners” in their anti-establishment Winnebagos, powered by thousands of gallons of anti-establishment Chevron gasoline.

One worthy sight along the way was this 1907 bridge over the Truckee River in Wadsworth, NV.

The bridge served the Fernley and Lassen Railway, which was a 112-mile short line. I’m told that two of the railroad’s depots (in Fernley, Nevada and Susanville, California) have been restored, so this might be the subject of my next road trip.

*One needs to be careful when crossing this bridge….*

You should also check out this cute, heart-warming video that features the bridge:

Watch your step, little girl!!

After Wadsworth I stopped in Reno to have dinner with my son Ian, who happened to be in town on business.

I spent the night in Reno, and this morning, before leaving town, I made a significant, final discovery related to the N-C-O Railway:

Recall that I had been unable to find the NCO locomotive shop in Lakeview (northern terminus of the railway). This morning, however, I located the NCO’s 19th-century shops building in downtown Reno (the NCO’s southern terminus). The building is on the other side of the tracks from the Depot Brewery and it’s currently serving as the headquarters for Black Rabbit Mead Company. It’s notable that two of the NCO’s surviving Reno structures now make mead and beer.

*The NCO’s 1889 locomotive shop, now a meadery.*

*Steam locomotives used to enter those rounded doorways.*…

*…as proven by this historic photograph.*

You can get more information about this building and photographs here.

Finally, I need to share this art installation I saw in front of the Reno bus depot. It’s made from a real, retired bus, though it’s been gutted and narrowed. I’m told it also is illuminated from the inside at night, and the headlights and taillights illuminate.

*My only complaint is that the bus was retired from New Jersey. Shouldn’t they have used a Reno bus??!*

So ends this latest adventure. Be on the lookout for a Fernley and Lassen trip one day soon!

*The F&L’s Susanville station looks like a happening place.*

California history · Cars · churches · Road trips · trains · Yard art

The More Things Change…

August 23, 2023 steveboilard3 Comments

After getting my complimentary coffee and scone from the Niles Hotel this morning, I made a final circuit of Alturas looking for one final NCO structure. Apparently the old locomotive shops buildings are still around, but I could not find an address on the Interwebs. There was just this historic photo from the Modoc County Museum:

“Portrait of the old N.C. & O railroad shop in Alturas, Ca. Published by: The Journal of the Modoc County Historical Society in 1982.
Old N. C. & O Railroad Shop”

So I just cruised around the city, trying to hew to the rail line on the theory that railroad shops would be connected to the tracks somehow. Only two structures even remotely resembled the rightmost building in the historic photo, but I think they are not what I’m looking for. Here they are:

*The roof of the building in the back has the right pitch. Note the misspelling on the “uncollectables” sign.*

*This CalTrans facility looks like it could have been an old train shed…*

Anyone with information or even a hunch (I’m looking at you, Quasimodo) please let me know!

Around 9:30 am I left Alturas in defeat, and got back onto US 395 north. On my way to Lakeview, OR (which you will recall was the northern terminus of the NCO Railway), I passed a couple of noteworthy sites:

I spotted this Tin Man figure on the side of a house facing the road. Like the one I saw a month ago near Georgetown, CA, it brought a smile to my face. The owner came out of his house while I was taking the photo, and we had a nice chat. I think what this world needs is more Tin Men.

Finally I arrived in Lakeview, Oregon (pop: 2,500).

Just to the west of downtown I found the depot. It looked to be a happening place, with numerous cars parked in front.

*Note the rare AMC Marlin (?) on the right.*

But it turned out that these cars all belong to the depot’s owner. For unlike the other depots on this trip, this one is serving as a private residence. The owner’s name is Carmen, and she bought the depot from the second owner (after the railroad sold it). She appears to have changed little of the outside of the building. As for the interior, I can’t say. She steadfastly ignored my repeated hints that I’d like to see the inside.

*Carmen, managing her little Yardmaster.*

Interestingly, the tracks immediately behind the depot are still active. It seems there’s a short line railroad that ships goods between Lakeview and Alturas. The tracks are essentially unprotected, and run just a dozen or so feet from the depot’s back door. For a railfan, it sounds ideal. For anyone else, it sounds noisy and dangerous. But I am grateful to Carmen for preserving this piece of NCO history.

It was now finally time to fulfill the whole point of this trip: A return visit to Eagleville, CA. I said goodbye to Carmen and headed back down US 395 to Surprise Junction, then headed east on CA-299. After about an hour and a half I stopped in Cedarville (pop: 425) to get gas and lunch. Cedarville is only 17 miles from Eagleville, but the latter has almost no services, so I made use of the former.

While pumping gas I noticed numerous campers and RVs and VW buses lining up at the pumps. Almost all of them were carrying bicycles and other equipment, and the drivers and passengers all had fluorescent hair. “Burners,” muttered the gas station attendant. In response to my confused look, he explained that these folks were all going to the annual Burning Man event in the Black Rock desert. It struck me that, in their effort to be independent and iconoclastic, they all looked and behaved exactly the same way. That said, I did have to admire the work this guy put into his Burner Mobile.

About 20 minutes after I’d finished my pit stop in Cedarville, I was standing in Eagleville (pop: 45) for the first time in almost half a century.

The first thing I noticed was the general store, which was originally built in 1876. It’s gone out of business, and the owners seem to be trying their luck renting it out as a B&B. I think that might be a stretch. The 150-year-old exterior walls look largely unchanged from when I had last seen it.

Across from the general store was the old (1888) church I’d remembered. It looked almost exactly the same as my memory, though I read it underwent some restoration work in 2000. This time, though, the door was locked. Evidently they are less trusting than they once were. And who can blame them? I also read the church no longer holds regular worship services.

*A restored church that is no longer open for worship.*

I then went down the street to the street Aunt Alice’s family maintains three homes. The house where we’d spent Thanksgiving in the mid-1970s was still there, seemingly frozen in time. The South Warner Mountains still stand sentry over the town.

*Back of the house, just as I remembered it.*

Notably, I did not see one living soul in Eagleville. Maybe people stay indoors during the mid-day heat. But l it did feel a little unsettling. I guess some people prefer a quiet, isolated existence. Indeed, the gas station attendant in Cedarville told me he left Alturas to “escape the rat race.” He likes “how small this town of Cedarville is.”

But Cedarville is a metropolis compared to Eagleville. At least Cedarville has a gas station. Most of Eagleville’s erstwhile businesses are long closed. Like the Eagleville Garage.

I think I’d go crazy in a place like Eagleville. But I’m glad it exists, and I’m glad that some people make it their home. We all need to find the place that suits us. In addition, there’s also something reassuring about a memory from my past retaining some physical form.

After melancholy reflections such as these, I got back on the road and started to head home. Hundreds of “burners” shared the road with me as they made their way to the Black Rock desert, seeking to transform one of the country’s most desolate places into a teeming metropolis….if only for a week.

Mail Bag/Miscellany:

I neglected to mention in yesterday’s blog that Uncle Ed’s Dome of Foam includes information on the NGO and its depots. Here is the link.

See also some further input that Ed and others posted in the comments section of yesterday’s blog.

Finally, here’s Edward’s photo of Carmen’s “house,” back when it was serving a very different function.

“Arrival in Lakeview,” 1974. From Uncle Ed’s Dome of Foam.

California history · cemeteries · churches · movie theaters · Road trips · trains

A Likely Story

August 22, 2023 steveboilard8 Comments

About half a century ago, when I was in the throes of adolescence, my dad loaded up our family and made the seven-hour drive from Sunnyvale to Eagleville, in the northeast corner of California. We were going to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with my Aunt Alice’s family. One of Alice’s brothers owned a house up there (in retrospect, it seems her extended family owned half the town).

*Motto: “Any further north and you’d be in Oregon.”*

Eagleville is a tiny town in Modoc County. (Today it boasts 45 residents, about half of whom presumably are related to Aunt Alice). I have three main memories from that weekend we spent there: (1) Mom was sick with a migraine headache, Dad was distracted by mom’s condition, and Dave and I knew no one else other than Aunt Alice and Uncle Edward (Dad’s brother). (2) The general store was the only business open that weekend, so my brother Dave and I hung out there for what seemed like hours, studying the comic books and MAD magazines. (3) There was a tiny church that was unlocked and empty; as a city slicker, I was surprised that people could be so trusting as to leave a building full of chalices and patens and suchlike just sitting there unattended. Even though Dave and I were not known for our high moral principles, we realized that it would be extremely bad karma to rip off anything from a church. So we left well enough alone.

As I recall, our Thanksgiving dinner was a traditional though awkward affair. All the expected Thanksgiving staples were there: turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. But the four of us in my immediate family were clearly unfamiliar outsiders, while Aunt Alice’s family members were all comfortable together, laughing and joking and having fun. I envied their ease being in their own skin, and their grounding in that remote corner of California.

That Thanksgiving weekend still stands out from the 60 undistinguished others I’ve experienced. Perhaps it’s because it was the only Thanksgiving I spent with snow. Perhaps it’s because Eagleville felt like such a mysterious, remote, foreign place. Notably, I’ve never been back to Eagleville.

Until now.

Recently I decided, for no particular reason, that I would revisit that tiny town and see how the reality stacked up against my memory. So I contacted my Uncle Edward, who helpfully supplied me with the address of the house where we stayed, which evidently still remains in Alice’s family. As loyal readers of this blog know, Uncle Ed is the creator and sole “staff” of The Dome of Foam, which is internationally recognized as the premier, authoritative, entertaining website on western railroads (particularly the Southern Pacific). I asked Uncle Ed if he could recommend any railroad-related sites in the greater Eagleville area, and he connected me with a doozy: The Nevada-California-Oregon (N-C-O) Railway, a now-defunct narrow-gauge railroad that connected Eagleville’s Surprise Valley with the outside world.

In doing a little research I read that the N-C-O Railway’s southern terminus was in Reno, Nevada, and I recalled that son Ian and I had visited that same depot just last winter. (Scroll down to the BOTD in this post.) It’s now a brewery/distillery, but they’ve keep the original exterior largely intact. The N-C-O also had a major presence in Alturas, which is just west of Eagleville. And the northern terminus was in Lakeview, Oregon, which is just north of Alturas.

So my plan became clear: my trip to Eagleville would generally follow the entire route of the N-C-O Railway, an I’d be able to visit historic structures in each of the three states served by the railroad.

And so this morning I set out on the trusty Speedmaster eastward to Reno (pop: 264,000). Within a couple of hours I was standing in front of the N-C-O’s Reno depot. Originally built in 1910, the building served as a railroad depot until 1937. After that it was used for railroad offices and was finally sold off for non-railroad purposes in 1975. It was eventually abandoned, then in 2014 it underwent renovation to become the brewery/restaurant it is today.

*Once the southern terminus of the NCO Railway.*

*The rail line still runs alongside the Depot.*

*The Depot sits in the middle of Reno’s Brewery District, alongside a handful of other breweries and distilleries.*

I next headed north on US 395. I’ve written about US 395 before (here and here and here, for example). You’ll recall that Hallelujah Junction (where US 395 intersects with CA-70) holds special significance. So I made a brief stop as as I passed through, to relive the magic.

*Where I learned about the Seven Wonders of the Railroad World.*

US 395 has a stark beauty to it. You don’t see much in the way of towns or even other cars. The quietude and long horizon are conducive to contemplation if not meditation.

When the rare town does appear, I feel compelled to stop and look around a bit. One such town is Doyle (pop: 700). A couple of years ago Doyle lost much of its housing stock due to wildfires, so there really isn’t much going on here. But I was charmed by this historic chapel that somehow escaped the fire. Constantina Church was built around 1900 about five miles south of Doyle, and infrequent worship services were held there whenever a circuit priest was available. Services stopped around the 1920s, and the chapel was eventually abandoned. The structure was moved to Doyle in 1994, and it appears to be in regular use as a church once again.

*Same church in 2021, after the town’s fire.*

*A historic cemetery is next to the church.*

I also passed through the town of Likely (pop: 99). The story goes that, back when the area was being settled, some homesteaders were speculating about whether the settlement would become a proper town. One man (Billy Nelson) reportedly said “There’s likely to be a town here one day, and there’s just as likely not to be. So let’s call it Likely.”

Finally I arrived at the relative metropolis of Alturas (pop: 2,700). Approaching from the south, the first thing you encounter is a striking, if somewhat faded, 1904 steam locomotive that used to run on the NCO line. The locomotive was presented to Alturas in 1956 by Southern Pacific (which had earlier bought up the NCO), and it resides outside the Modoc County Museum.

The story of the locomotive, as told by the local boosters, makes clear how much the NCO had meant to Alturas:

“This particular locomotive was utilized on the Alturas, California to Reno, Nevada route. The railroad was chartered as N.C.O. (Nevada, California, Oregon) in 1884. It was first established in Alturas in 1908 reaching Lakeview by 1912. The railroad and Alturas have an extensive symbiotic relationship from its inception to the day that Alturas was terminated as a home terminal on January 17, 1972, which was a devastating blow to the city as a large percentage of the population was forced to relocate to Klamath Falls, Oregon. Every business in town interacted with the railroad, whether by the influx of tourists or business travelers when the Southern Pacific offered a passenger service from 1927 to 1938. Even railroad workers who made their home base in Alturas, or stayed in one of the hotels made on impact on the town. The third floor of the Niles Hotel offered dorm style living for the railroad workers for decades. Before and during the time of passenger rails, the Southern Pacific and N.C.O. offered livestock shipment from 1908 to 1972, which provided most of its revenue. This was an option for the ranchers throughout the region to get their livestock to markets and sustained a way of life followed since the pioneers first arrived to this region.”

The docent at the museum was incredibly helpful when I told him of my interest in the NCO. He directed me to a place down the road where an old NCO structure was being renovated. “Look for the red truck and ask for Shane.” Dutifully I followed the directions, and was rewarded by the sight of a large NCO sign…and a red truck.

Shane turned out to be the head of a nonprofit organization called the Nevada-California-Oregon Railway. (Evidently the name was free to use.) The nonprofit is working to preserve the history of the NCO railroad, including buildings and rolling stock. The building where I met him (and where he was restoring some woodwork) had once been NCO crew quarters, and Shane’s dream is to turn the building into a museum.

*Shane (left) and Andrew, taking a break from restoring the NCO crew quarters on Main Street, Alturas.*

According to Shane, there are several NCO buildings still standing in Alturas. He pointed to a large Mission Revival building that had once served as the NCO’s headquarters. Built in 1918, the building became an Elks Lodge in 1974 and remains such today.

Attentive readers will recall that I encountered this building when I drove through town coming back from my Weiser trip last year. At the time I didn’t put together that this building and the Reno Depot shared the same lineage.

Shane also pointed to a carpet store which had once been the NCO’s freight depot in Alturas.

And finally, Shane directed me to the NCO’s passenger depot, which was constructed in 1908. Seven years later, it was decided that the station should be closer to the center of town, so it was moved, stone by stone, several blocks.

The Southern Pacific RR bought the NCO in 1926, and passenger service to Alturas was discontinued in 1938. Freight service ended in 1988. Still, Alturas remembers the NCO as an influential and pivotal part of its history. Indeed, the Modoc County museum includes a number of photographs and artifacts from the railroad.

I’m holing up for the night in the Hotel Niles, a historic hotel that was built before the First World War. The hotel remains authentic, by which I mean the floors creak and the widows rattle. But it’s a fitting place to spend the night on this day of historical exploration.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is hotel-niles.jpg — *I’m on the second floor of the left side.*

Incidentally, the hotel sits across the street from the Niles Theater. Built in 1937, it dates back to the era of art deco movie palaces. The neon itself is a sight to behold. An unlike many historic theaters, this one still shows first-run movies. (Next week it starts showing the Barbie movie. I’m not making this up.)

*Note the telltale pink “B” on the lobby card.*

*(Night photo c/o the theater’s website.)*

What are the odds that two buildings in such close proximity (the hotel and the theater) would both be named “Niles?” Well, both were built by local businessman J.E. Niles. He was 85 years old when the theater first opened.

I had dinner down the block at a place called Antonio’s. Sadly I can’t recommend it. Even the BOTD is not worth mentioning.

*You’d think I would have taken a hint from the condition of the sign.*

Tomorrow I’m making the hour’s drive up to Lakeview to see the northern terminus of the NCO Railway. Then it’s off to Eagleville!