|
“The
Journey” A young woman’s account of her “Journey” to Seigler
Springs Author: unknown Pictures provided by Sylvies
“Fashions Head – to – Toe” We
leave San Francisco early in the morning and take the ferry-boat to
Vallejo. It is by far the most
pleasant part of our journey. At
Vallejo we catch the train and journey more or less northward to Calistoga.
Train travel leaves much to be desired.
If we open the window cinders blow in and if we leave it closed the
air becomes appallingly close. There
is a group of men in one corner playing cards and occasionally making the
spittoons ring with their wads of tobacco.
When the porter comes through with a basket of refreshments that may
be purchased they practically clean him out of the miniature whiskey
bottles. By the time we reach
Calistoga they are quite tipsy. Aunt
Hester says they should all be thrashed. The
stage is waiting for us in the little town of Calistoga. It is 16 feet long and 12 feet high, so
covered with dust that one cannot tell if it has been painted or left with
varnish over the original wood. The
rear wheels are 6 feet high and tower over our skinny driver; the front
wheels are smaller being only around 4 feet in diameter. There are three span
of horses. We
board the stage while the driver and his helper store our luggage in the
“boot”. Our round trip fare has cost
us each $7.00. Travel has become
simply shocking. Dear knows where it
will end! The
driver climbs on board and the ladies all adjust their dusters. The passengers brace themselves. “Gee-haw!” the driver shouts and the stage
lurches forward, throwing us all into each others laps.
There
are times when the wheels of the coach go dangerously near to the edge of a
cliff and the whole body sways so as to give the impression we are sure to go
over. Coming around a narrow curve we
almost collide with a buggy drawn by a single horse. It is such a close call that the buggy is
forced to drive so that the wheel is partially up the side of the cliff. His horse slips and goes down, entangled in
the reins. For a
few moments the driver of the stage and the owner of the buggy shout at each
other and it looks as though violence is eminent, but then they help the
horse to its feet, untangled the
reins, agree that the road here-about is murderous, but they wouldn’t live in
the city if it was give to them, and we are once again on our way. One
of the gentlemen passengers explains that we must not be concerned for this
is one of the best drivers on the route and one of the most experienced
teams. The two rear animals are chosen
for their size, being larger than the ones in front. On sharp turns the driver allows the horses
to deal with the situation and the leaders pick up speed, swinging out, while
the wheelers hold back just enough to keep the stage under control. Be
that as it may, Aunt Hester has become ill with motion sickness and must take
a sip from the medicine bottle she carries in her handbag. We
are going almost 6 miles an hour and making excellent time. Occasionally the driver pulls up and the
ladies “go pick wildflowers” and the gentlemen “go shoot rabbits”. There is a water bag on the coach from
which we all take a drink.
The
biggest event of his life seems to have been the visit of Ulysses S. Grant to
San Francisco in 1879, that and a recent visit to a Chinese opium den which
he describes over and over in detail; as though someone were begging him do
so. Aunt
Hester has all but finished her bottle of medicine and is becoming quite
jolly. The rest of us are drooping
with weariness. If the women are
slightly more protected from bumps and bruises by their numerous petticoats
and heavy skirts, they are also much hotter and the stays of their corsets
are miserable to bounce around in. It
has grown dark and the oil lights on either side of the stage have been
lit. Fortunately the horses know the
road for such dim lights could scarcely serve to guide them. We cannot see them at all for the air is
cold and the canvas has been fastened over the windows…And now at last, we
are at Seigler Springs. In the darkness we can see little but the
outline of evergreen trees against the sky and a wide veranda lit by hanging
lanterns.
The proprietor comes out to
greet us and we enter a spacious lobby.
There is a stone fire-place at one side with a small fire
burning. We register at the desk and
then follow a maid carrying an oil lamp up the stairs. There is a long narrow hall with many doors
leading off into all directions. The rooms are nicely furnished with heavy velvet drapes,
solid wood furniture beautifully carved and thick rugs. The maid puts our dusty outer garments on a
dustsheet and carries them away to the back of the building where they will be
shaken. She returns with pitchers of
warm water. Each room has its own
commode, so it is possible to wash up in privacy. Some of the gentlemen have gone downstairs
for a night-cap, but the ladies find it enough to remove their high-button
shoes and corsets and get into bed. After the night air the rooms seem rather warm and close,
but, of course, no-one opens the windows.
It is a well established scientific fact that night air is harmful to
the lungs. We turn over and go to
sleep. |
Created
March 1, 2002
Updated
constantly © March 1, 2002- www.middletownca.com
Free counters provided by Andale.
Links:
[ ANTIQUES, COLLECTIBLES, COINS ] [
UNIQUE
BOUTIQUE WOMEN’S CLOTHING-APPAREL ]
[ VINTAGE PICTURES ]
[ HORSE RANCH FOR SALE ] [
CURRENT
EVENTS ]