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Show THE ZEPHYRDECEMBER 1995 PAGE 22 F from Herb Ringer's Journal... DECEMBER 7, 1941 On the Morning of December 7, 1941, Herb Ringer set out from his home in Reno to explore a ghost town or two and to enjoy the magnificent scenery on this lovely Sunday morning. Herb kept a running journal of his trips, both long and short, and this day was no different. What he did not realize as he left Reno was that when he returned that evening, the world would never be the same again...JS Dec. 7, 1941 165 miles I left at 7:50 and travelled south over the familiar road toward Carson City. It was extremely dear and cold and certainly a beautiful day presented itself. Drove to the hot springs at Steamboat thence over the Geiger Grade to Virginia City. The scenes which presented themselves at each turn in the road were gorgeous and I took time to drink in all of the beautiful mountain and desert scenery as I climbed the long grade. Stopped at Geiger Point, dimbed the rocks to stand on their utmost point and gaze out over the vast valley beneath with the d mountains were extremely craggy Sierras in the background. The beautiful in the early morning light as the brilliant sun shone on their glossy tops. Then drove on over the crest of the hogback and down the long twisting grade d to the gold camps. The mountains to the east showed clear and while far to the south range after range of snow-cappe- d peaks glistened in the sun. After entering Virginia City I drove over to Boot Hill and visited the old and boarded or broken, sagging or possibly padlocked by andent locks, windows walls caving in and roofs partly gone. Walked up to the Presbyterian church then down to the Catholic church thence down the old streets to the car and started on my trip to Sutro. The road leads down a very steep grade immediately out of Virginia City and down past some old mines and the old Brewing Company building thence down Canyon. The road, at past more mines through the northern part of covered times very narrow and rocky at other times wider and by a thin blanket of snow where the road was protected by some low mountain, wound on down Canyon. Part way down this slash in the mountains through the famous I met a Basque sheepherder walking with his dogs and sheep down the narrow canyon trail toward a little grassy valley that branched off to the cast. His rifle, a Winchester carbine strapped to his back was a warning to coyotes. I continued down, down through the canyon whose walls towered far overhead on either side, passing an occasional old stamp mill or foundation of some mine building then emerging upon a vast valley after having traversed the rough country and the change in scenery was truly surprising. I turned west here and drove over a fairly wide dirt desert road for a mile or so then on a narrow desert road, overgrown with sagebrush and not without a few boulders and rocks. Thence twisting back toward the mountains I passed under an old overpass promising to fall in at any moment, across rocks, wood, sagebrush and Six-Mi- le Six-Mi- le snow-covere- snow-covere- Virginia City, Nevada. 1941 new cemeteries. One is apt to wonder at the neglect and tumble-dow- n of appearance many of the graves but one must realize that many who died in old Virginia City or were killed there left no relatives or friends; thus their graves suffered from neglect as no one tended the graves. I wandered back and forth among the graves noting many of young men who had died early in life, most likely with their boots on for this city was a place of terror and gun fights were so common as to go unnoticed entirely. Many graves were of important people in their day in the wild bustling gold camp. From beside the grave of Charles H. I took a Setzlcr 5 picture of Virginia City across the little draw which separated it from the cemetery. A draw which contained some rubble and mine dumps, now dormant as the town and the whole scene presented an idea of death and sleeping memories. Mt. Davidson, solemn and capped by snow lay serenely beautiful above the old town. The grave of J.R. McKay was seen, as was that of DeVVitt A. Stanton - New York, died Jan.8, 1876 19 yrs. old. Then the graves of McKenzie and Capt. Ed Faris Storey after whom the Storey County was named died 1860. After spending an hour in the old boot hill I drove in to town and entered the Crystal Parlor. Spent some time looking at the old relics and listening to the 60 yr. old player piano, then took a picture of the famous Crystal Chandelier. This beautiful piece of work is composed of gold tubing, standards, bars, 18 chimneys, 18 shades and 18 bulbs and 600 separate crystal pendants that have to be taken off to be cleaned. Then walked up the street along the old board walks past the old buildings which once housed places of business, stores, shops, saloons and a multitude of other business places. Now most of the buildings arc vacant, empty, doors 1824-187- -- mud puddles and deep sand to the tiny town of Sutro, or what was Sutro at one time. A few mine buildings are noted here and timbers used in the mines and a dinky electric engine and flat cars, narrow-gaug- e were seen here, the tracks leading to the tunnel entrance. Here, Sutro tunnel has its exit and at this point, Sutro finished his marvelous dream tunnel which drained the mines of their deep waters and work was resumed again in the deeper shafts of the mines and prosperity again smiled at Virginia City. Truly a great achievement and a marvelous inspiration, this tunnel itself a memorial to Sutro's ingenious mind. Then I drove on to the place where a few short weeks ago still stood the old Sutro Mansion until a disastrous fire completely leveled the old building with its marble fireplaces and mantles, its Persian mgs and costly paintings and furniture. Outside, stood a perhaps Sutro's own pet's house and as one gazed at this mass of charred timber and wreckage one could vision the once beautiful house that graced this scene, looking out across the great desert floor toward the south. I then drove back over the same route to Virginia City, thence down through Gold Hill and through the desolate Gold Canyon to Silver City. From here out to the highway and in to Orson City where I purchased a film and retraced my way to and beyond the point where the Silver City road enters the highway and on in to Dayton. A few miles before entering Dayton the highway drops down from the rolling range to a narrow valley in which the little town lays. Alders and willows line the stream meandering along the valley floor and small farms are noted. The town, now only a shadow of its former self, lays in a tiny cup in the surrounding hills and is in poor repair, fast on the way to decay. Once a dog-hous- e, |