Ric Carter's
RIDGE RAT NEWS #2a

Can't tell if it's thawed any more since Friday. Those voices in my head tell me not to look. I always do what my voices say. It's safer like that. And the way the ice falls under the full moon...

I asked Evie at Ridge Roost how come she charged almost twice as much for a quart of Bud Malt as it costs down at the WalMart, just 50 miles away, and she sez, "Freight." I noted that the freight was only a buck for 2 or 3 cases, and she replied: "Y'know, I've thought on that a bunch. But the only way I can explain it is freight. If y'can do any better, y'go right on ahead, now, honey."

Crossing the Sierra spine has always been hazardous, due not merely to vagaries of weather, topography, confusion, starvation and hostility. But also, damn perversity and curiosity, greed and gluttony. Many have been lost chasing mineral wealth, delicate victuals, and other will-o-the-wisps. Others have gone, seeking the Fremont Cannon. Yet more have vanished, trying to find themselves. No loss. —A Seeker
(who will now settle for a good approximation)

DeWayne DeWitt, camping raw out by Kirkwood, after a summer-over up in the Alaska Range, sez "It's real easy to tell the difference between a black bear and a grizzly. Kick one in the rump, and it's the black bear that will climb the tree after you."

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Looking Down Upon the Mother Lode

Had a stopover last week, by Hairy Terry, semi-retired geologist and Death Valley expert. He was enroute from his new ranch east of Mono Lake (where he breeds rocks), to a Men's Retreat up in Sonora. There, he & a bunch of guys dance naked around campfires, chanting and howling and doing other manly stuff. It's always fun in Sonora.

"I went to minin' in the Amador, an' first they wasn't a woman in a hundred miles. And when one did come in one day on a wagon, the men all run to look at her as if she was a show. Better she'da stayed away, an' twenty more like her that come in when the diggins begun to pan out rich. I believe every woman was the cause o' fifty fights an'one or two deaths. It made me mad to see men fight about 'em, when they knowed jest what they was — men that had mothers an' sisters back in the States, an' some of 'em sweethearts an' wives." —J.H. Beadle
(who prob'ly didn't need to schedule men's retreats)

In old Amador City in 1853, a mob hanged a man for supposed horse-stealing, but afterward discovered that he was innocent. The mob's messenger broke the news to the victim's widow in this manner: "Ee hanged Jim for stealing a horse, but come to find out he didn't do it, so I guess the joke's on us."
—after W.A. Chalfant

(If, after gutting Iraq, no Weapons-Of-Mass-Destruction are found, who's the joke on? In fact, what's the joke?)

Jak at Placerville Poultry Plantation is so worried about the prophesized upcoming terror attacks that he's replaced all his roosters with puppets an' booby-trapped the freezer doors. Y'think he might feel safer in Fiddletown?

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Lookin'Down On Damn Near Ever'Thing

Got a call a few days ago from a reporter down in Riverside, near my old stomping grounds of Pomona-Corona-Yucaipa-Indio. Y'all may be aware of my efforts regarding Harry Oliver. This reporter found me out, said she was writing a profile on him and wanted some info, (which I am generally not shy about divulging).
Well, maybe I talked too much, 'cause she didn't call back. And maybe her assignment changed, 'cause the finished piece is about the Indio Date Festival, where Harry designed a red-hot Arabian Nights fantasyland. At least Harry's mentioned in the article. (see below)
You can see it (the article) at the Press-Enterprise [free signup required] or you can read a bare copy. Or you could take a bath. But I recommend reading it, whether or not you like dates or need a bath.

That reporter asked me about my enthusiasm for Oliveriana, and I gave my stock answer about preserving a part of America's heritage. But then I thought on it, and I wrote a scary essay, about my real motives.
And other scary stuff comes to mind:
She wrote "Harry Oliver [was enlisted] to transform Quonset huts and fairgrounds from a Western design to Moorish architecture. Oliver ... designed the stage to resemble a street market in Baghdad." Scantily-clad belly-dancers abounded..
And I wonder: what will the real Baghdad be like after being hit by 800 cruise missiles? Will the Indio Date Fair, and other stage sets be all that remains, other than ruins & bodies? Should these fantasy Baghdads be updated to reflect reality?

We return now to our regularly-scheduled shootout. Yee-haw.

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS: Published somewhere off Shake Ridge, Volcano town, Amador Co. Calif., despite everything - Published whenever I have something worth saying, if not oftener - This special addendum to issue #2, came about because I had some hot material, but not enough for a whole edition. A fella's got to know his limitations, as Dirty Harry said.

Ric Carter's
RIDGE RAT NEWS #2

The thaw is pretty well advanced along most of Shake Ridge Road, except for the drifts above Amador Pines deep enough for a herd of YETIs to hide in, which they do, giving the coyotes a hard time.

Mormon Emigrant Trail, down below Carson Pass is still socked in all the way to Pollock Pines, under a dozen feet or more of drifts. It'll be months before the Nazi cow sign emerges. Just as well.

Evie at Ridge Roost complains that all th' Lotto tickets she buys for herself are no good, that her customers get all the best ones. Of course, she's trying to save for retirement, so she only buys used tickets.
—A Loyal Customer
(Evie's luck will change some day)

When Jedediah Strong Smith first crossed the Great Basin and Sierras, he didn't follow that old "path of least resistance" approach, nope. Rather, he "headed downward straight into the sun; for yonder, if our reckoning was true, a crow would fly to find the rendezvous beyond the world's end."
—from Dr. John Neihardt _(poet)
Trying that nowadays will dump yer SUV inna ditch, fer sure, dewd.
(which could explain most rollovers)

Jackson to Carson is about 50 miles as the crow flies, over twice as far if the crow has to walk and push a flat tire.

Useful Hint to Persons Lost. When a person is bewildered in the forests and prairies of the West,he thinks that the sun has got turned and is setting in the East. For some time this idea was strong ; but I remembered the almost parting words of an old hunter, who accompanied our party. " Look ye," said he, " you straggle so much from the party, that some day or other you will not be able to find it again.Then all you have to do is keep right away for the east. It will be sure to bring you right in the end. But remember one thing—never get bothered—when the sun rises,strike to the east, and don't do, as many have done when puzzled ; don't think that the sun rises or sets wrong: for if you do you will go to the d——l." So I turned my back towards what I had been positive was the east,and travelled in the direction , which I was equally positive was the west.
—Davy Crockett (in them days they didn't have GPS)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Looking Down Upon the Comstock Lode

Took a drive along the Comstock's historical front, lately - from Donner Lake, where emigrants ate each other, to the old Mormon outpost of Genoa, home of the first saloon in the territory -- and in between, various locales of pillage & plunder & etc. Trying to keep a good mood, but...

The Comstock Lode Rush actually began in scenic Gold Hill, a mile downhill from Virginia City. But Gold Hill, just hasn't developed as a tourist attraction, mebbe because, it's got no (zilch) flat places to park excursion busses and RVs. Some excavation and landfill should fix that.

DEC. 1883 - James J. Smith, a consummate con artist, was arrested for selling a non-existent mine to two men for 0,000. The fake mine was named the DuBuque Lode. Smith stood trial for fraud and was sentenced to one year in Carson City prison. (where he learnt much)

Pieces of the Space Shuttle COLUMBIA might have come down in the south Carson Valley. That would acount for all those UFO sightings a few mornings back. Or maybe that theft of nitrous oxide from old Doc Dabner's Painless Dentistry has something to do with it.
—A Veteran
(who never touches any of that stuff)

COMPARING "WESTERN" TOWNS:

Virginia City, Nevada (population 1,000) has worn wooden sidewalks, saloons, slot machines, gift shops & museums. 1,500,000 people visit annually, gasping for air.

Gold Hill, Nevada, one mile from Virginia City (population: barely) is home to the Gold Hill Hotel & very little else. But it's quiet and scenic, when not glazed over.

Cerillos, New Mexico (population 350) has rutted mud streets, wooden buildings, hitching posts, a petting zoo, no police force. It has a museum of Southwestern flotsam.

Love Valley, North Carolina (population 71) has no cars or parking meters on Main St., only horses & hitching rails. A rock festival in 1970 drew 300,000 horny people.

Scottsdale, Arizona (population: 130,000), called 'The West's Most Western Town,' is home to: Western themeparks Rawhide & WestWorld, and festivals, rodeos, galleries, etc.

Toppenish, Yakima County, Washington (population: funky), is: 'The City Where the West Still Lives.' Many locals be old cowboy types and Indians. Has rodeos, arts-and-crafts.
—from The News & Observer, Raleigh, NC

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Looking Down Upon the Mother Lode

Americans also tried to rid the state of foreign miners by requiring them to pay a special monthly tax of twenty dollars - for the privelege of mining in California. The French, along with the Mexicans and some Germans, mobilized [massive] opposition to the tax and staged an unarmed protest in Sonora in 1850 [May 19]. Their protest came to be known as "The French Revolution."
—Jim Rawls, "Dr. History"
(something arose besides sourdough)

Some of the French in old California, well-organized and -armed as they were, may have found it expedient to pretend that they were Swiss, in honor of old John Sutter, whose employees started the Gold Rush and robbed him blind.
—from a French Letter

Cousin Phyllis suggests that I go out to Taboo Lake, t'other side of Roaring Camp, and ask the old caretaker, to show me the ancient gold mine there. But I'm always hesitant of Taboos, and Tabeaus. Might try it someday.

Stepping out of Volcano's Superman phone booth, Lovely Linny sez to me, "Damn cellphones don't work for sh!t here, and I'm dam'glad — keeps the tourists quieter." Except the bikers. And hot-rodders.

Even though Volcano, with its many social and intellectual activities, might have been considered a model community by ... its more boisterous neighbors, ... it, too, was threatened by an organized criminal group which was said to number over one hundred gamblers and lawless persons. Their activities earned Volcano a bad reputation in ... far-off San Francisco. Several hold-ups of Wells Fargo shipments were suspected of being "inside" jobs.
—M.E. Crosley
(a favorite intellectual activity was MASTERMINDING)

March 20, 1873 - An unidentified hotel employee stole a costly watch and 0 in cash. Some of his associates hoisted him up by a rope until he admitted his guilt; then they let him go. Presumably exhilarated with the success of their mission, they neglected to demand the return of the watch and money. By the time someone thought to correct this ommission, the avaricious servant had fled the companionship of his unforgiving neighbors.
—the Flume

A Lucky Thought. — A man in Volcano was pursued lately by a black snake. All at once it occurred to him, -- just as the reptile was preparing to jump at his throat, to run around a small aspen tree which stood in his path as tight as he could spring; he did so till he'd got the creature in a snarl, when stopping suddenly, he threw a back somerset, and the snake trying to follow him tied himself into a hard knot. —after Davy Crockett (a pretty snakey guy hisself)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Lookin'Down On Damn Near Ever'Thing

The nice local Indian Casino advertises "The Greatest Jackpot Is Friendship." Such payouts don't have to be reported to the IRS, but don't cover the rent too well either.

The Chief with the Twelve Feathers stands before the rising sun in the east, but only those who stand high and watch carefully recognize the New Light , for it does not come in the way most people expect.
—Navaho prophesy
(something to keep you on your toes)

The rangers reached their camp by noon the following day, and on their arrival, Jim Bridger met them, saying, - "Well boys, did yer kill'em all or did yer leave some [Injuns] for seed?" —Nolie Mumey
(a question to be asked in Iraq soon)

The Rocky Mountain Canary.
The Burro - is a hardy, homely, pathetic, yet ludicrous little chap; an interesting bit player in the colorful drama of the American West. The Burro and the pack train are inseparably linked with the West's early history, especially with the prospector & mining.
This faithful little animal carried the prospecting tools & equipment of the early pioneers, as they searched for precious metals between the Rocky and Sierra Mountains. Also, they worked in the underground mines, pulling tram cars, before the days of electricity and the air tram. In fact, many burros were born underground, and they lived & died there, without ever seeing the light of day.
The little fellow can maneuver over precipitous trails where other transportation fails; he thrives & multiplies where other "critters" starve, - whoever hears his musical bray echoing from the loftiest crags of the highest peaks, appreciates the aptness of his sobriquet, "The Rocky Mountain Canary."
P.S. they like butterscotch
—K.C., the burro (alpine musician supreme)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS: Published somewhere off Shake Ridge, Volcano town, Amador Co. Calif., despite everything - Published whenever I have something worth saying, if not oftener - This here's issue #2, still is a pretty rare item, you can show how discerning you are by giving extra copies to all your friends, if you got any.

Ric Carter's
RIDGE RAT NEWS #1

It stormed heavy on Shake Ridge just before Xmas, and just after Xmas, and after New Year's. A white season. It rained a few times before and between and after, and there was cold cold fog over the State of the Union sideshow — And not just here in the Ridges.

Evie at Ridge Roost is having a special on Cheapola Rum, just the thang for these cold nights, but only because she burnt out on it. Sez she's goin' back to hot Kahla with hash oil, herself. We'll see. —A Loyal Customer
(Evie's shelves are often bare in places)

Drove over Carson Pass on a clear weekend 2/3 of the way through January and there was near a half-dozen rollovers in a dozen miles, snowdogs in SUV's who thought they could overthrow physics as easy as miscounting votes. Reality Rules, on black ice. _{(try it)}
Did that Pass again on a sunny weekday, early February; the only real white-knuckle zones were the Avalanche Alleys, especially with all the UFO's buzzing around. They're bad enough when they're hovering quietly.

Heavy Timbered Land. "Is the land well timbered?" inquired a person of a Wolverine who was offering a tract of land for sale. "I vum," replied the vendor, "it is a most almighty piece of land, and so heavy timbered that a humming bird could not fly through it. As I was passing upon the road along side of it tother evening, I heard a loud cracking and crashing in the trees, so I looked to see what it was, and I'm darned if it were not the moon trying to get through the branches but 'twas so tarnation thick,she couldn't do it, so down she went, and I had to go home in the dark." —Davy Crockett (real estate promotions are remarkably constant)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Looking Down Upon the Comstock Lode

Reno's really hopping, especially with all those billboards that offer the Loosest Sluts In Town! Or izzat Slots? Anyway the whole casino scene at night looks like arrays of UFO beacons. Hypnotic place, except in full sunshine.

Washoe City, scene of that infamous drunken knife-fight of Mark Twain and John Muir, is nowadays just a sleepy suburb on the commute between Reno and Carson. But there's more potential wealth in its real estate than in *all* the precious metals ever clawed out of those damn' Comstock mines.
—A Washoe Realtor (with vested interests)

The Police Blotter for Carson City, Nevada's capital city, shows very few arrests. Either the populace there is very law-abiding — or, what's more likely, most of what folks CAN do there just ain't illegal! Carson City is unlike most other places. Period.

Heard the story 'bout a couple sharpies back in the 1860's, went fishing on Lake Tahoe (it was Bigler then) and found a hole in the bottom. Water seeped out to Nevada, into Comstock silver mines. So they figured a way to plug and unplug that hole, draining and flooding the mines, thus to manipulate Silver prices. They got assassinated by the Silver Kings, of course. But their notes were discovered just a few years back, by California energy traders, who learnt well & did well, till they got caught.

Virginia City has to be about my favorite Olde Weste Theme Parke these days, except on weekends when damn tourists are thicker than lobbyists at a Cabinet Lunch. But they're lots cheaper to feed, even in quantity.

ride the Virginia & Truckee till you puke

Carson River, Let 'er Buck! — She's ten yards wide — a damn inch deep! — full o' dust and flat fish! — swimmin' holes fer locusts — cross 'er anywhere — yeou! — uhh! — yahee! — She rolls up hill from Vegas! — yay-hoo! — yippee tie one on! — wooga wooga!
—Dan'l Boonesfarm (adapted from an old tradition)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS
Looking Down Upon the Mother Lode

In Volcano during the US Civil War, gold was shipped back East to finance the Union even while Rebel sympathizers roamed local hills. Union loyalists brought their cannon, "Old Abe," down to Main Street as the Rebel crowd marched on the Armory. At a signal, all the Union shopkeepers dropped their shutters, "Old Abe" was fired, every Reb-owned window in town broke and every Reb in town ran. A clean victory... —A Veteran
(luckily, cruise missiles were scarce back then)

Antiwar rallies are now regular Friday Nite events in most Mother Lode towns. But they get about as much media attention as the fact that: Saddam didn't "gas his own people," Iranians did. But hey, we stole America, so we can steal Iraq too, right?

Damn, I'm sure glad my face ain't visible in one of these mislabeled photos, from the Volcano Disco Brawl at the Armory (mentioned above). I'm just a blur of hair back there. As usual. Cousins B & B whooped it up, even before her big win. Feeling much better! Boogie down forever!

Down in Angels Camp, officials of the famous "Jumping Frog Contest" are debating whether to ban genetically-enhanced frogs, and if so, just how. They're rightly concerned about recent race results. —An Organic Believer (taste-tests are planned) If you've never read the famous JUMPING FROG story, y'all should. It's about cheating. It happens a lot, y'know.	The ridges and valleys around the *Mother Lode* are dotted with sign-posted old cemetaries: Catholic, Serbian, Jewish, Methodist, civic etc. These diggins are full of miners, veterans, families. Survivors gather to feast the solstice (or any other excuse) - and very rarely eat frogs.
IT'S ALIVE! A citizen of Angels Camp, returning home found a corpse in front of his house. Examining the body, he saw that it had not been shot nor stabbed, nor did it reek of whiskey nor ether. He thus concluded that it must still be alive, because those were the only ways that anyone died in Calaveras County. —News-Record (the coroner's jury concurred)

Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS Lookin'Down On Damn Near Ever'Thing
California's about to raise sales taxes by another cent, to help pay for theft by *energy traders* mentioned above. It'll be near as bad then as in the rest of the capitalist world,'bout 10%. *Mother Lode* goods dealers are ready to drop prices, to offset that burden, right? Yah sure, you betcha, by golly... With the great successes of the State Lottery, and Indian Gaming, the California legislature is trying to siphon yet more money away from Nevada, by legalizing prostitution. Also on the agenda (for Revenue Enhancement only) are the legalization of: opiates, slavery, indentures, licensed dueling, and cock- and bear-and-bull-fights. Amador's county seat Jackson, which had the last quasi-legal brothels in Calif. (documented by Curt Gentry), is ready to step into the breech - by re-activating the *Cat House, the Pussy Palace*, and other noted landmarks. Child-labor sweatshops are planned, too.	When Methodist revivalist Rev.Dr. James A. Goodnight appeared in Amador City in 1852, he preached flame & brimstone. He described the fires of Hell in eloquent and frightening phrases. Suddenly a whiskered miner leaped up in the middle of the congregation,- held up his hand to stop the preacher, and announced: "They couldn't be no sitch place — the people wouldn't stand fer it!" JUNE 1879 - Local authorities are very concerned with the recent outbreak of violins committed against the Chinese mining community. Opium dens are again on the rise and the Chinese miners have organized Tongs to protect their own. (no Yetis to call upon...)
Dry Weather All Around. The Oregonian - learned that California's heat was a 'dry' heat; that Montana's cold was a 'dry' cold; and - was immediately inspired to prove to any one that Oregon's rain was, after all, only a 'dry' rain.... —A.B. Hulbert (luckily, Western thought is dry)
Ric Carter's RIDGE RAT NEWS: Published somewhere off Shake Ridge, Volcano town, Amador Co. Calif., despite everything - Published whenever I have something worth saying, if not more often - This is issue #1, a real collector's item, you should buy a stack of'em - and stash them away until they're worth something, eventually.

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