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The
McGee mining operation was concentrated in three shafts into the
ridge north of the Lake. The trail around the lake crosses the
tailings from the lowest of these shafts. The other two mines were
located above and east of this mine. The ore was then carried on
donkeys down a narrow trail and around the lake to the stampmill.
The
resort was a thriving business, attracting families from ``Down
Below,'' who would take the Western Pacific from the San Francisco
Bay Area up the Feather River Canyon to Blairsden, and spend the
summer at the resort. Papa would, perhaps, be able to join the
rest of the family for a week. Some things never change (except
that now Mama joins Papa in not having enough vacation time). Many
traditions developed, including regular theme parties (culminating
in a Grand Masquerade), indulgence of Mr. McGee's pyromania on the
Fourth of July, and Mr. McGee's ceremonial delivery of an
enormous Forty Niner Flapjack to any child celebrating a birthday
breakfast.
The
old lodge eventually burned, and was replaced by new buildings
next to the inlet of Salmon Creek, including a dance hall and the
core of the present lodge, which was built in the 1920s. The Lodge
is a``balloon frame'' building, which means that the wall studs
(in this case whole logs) run unbroken from the foundation plate
to the rafters. The central beam is an enormous pine log which ran
unsupported from one end of the building to the next, and
supported the log joists of the second storey (when its sagging
became intolerable in the 1960s, a post was added near its
center). All of the wood for the building was logged in the area,
with the frame made of unmilled timbers, and planks sawn for the
floors and walls. The outside was sheathed by sheet metal stamped
in a brick pattern, which according to legend was manufactured in
Soviet Russia. The main accommodations at the resort were about 20
two-room cabins that stretched along the western shore of the Lake
and on the hill behind it. The present hill cabin was built from
the best pieces of two of those cabins; it is the same size and
shape as the original. There were also a number of tent platforms
in the Northwest corner of the Lake.
We
don't know how profitable the mining operation was. One suspects
that it was sustained by the resort.
During
this time there was a competing mining operation, the Pecks Mine,
high on the ridge behind the tent cabins. During the 1970s we were
visited by an older man who had lived there as a child, while his
parents worked the shaft. They had to bring their supplies down
from the ridge above, because if they tried to cross the land near
the lodge they would attract gunfire. A cable ran down the cliffs
above the cabin, powered by a ``donkey'' engine, which was used
for heavy loads. The old Pecks Mine Cabin has finally returned to
the dirt.
During
the 1930s the Resort passed into the hands of Charles and
Verdabelle Brooks. Charles was an Army veteran who had suffered
serious wounds in World War I, and like George McGee was devoted
to the search for gold---and was accompanied by a brave and
hardworking wife. The couple had three sons, of whom two, Ronald
and the son Charles continued the family's association with Salmon
Lake. After the older Charles's death, Verdabelle married August
Ebbert, another avid miner and tinkerer; August and Verdabelle
owned the business until 1959, when they sold the business to the
current owners, and retired to North San Juan. During the
Brooks/Ebbert years, the back section of the Lodge was built
(where the kitchen is now), and a two-story porch was built onto
the front. In addition, the old part of the Lakeshore Cabin was
built. After ``retiring,'' August kept sawing logs for many years
in his front yard. Among other things he logged and sawed the
cedar “half-logs” that may still be seen in the walls
of the Hill Cabin and Showerhouse.
Before
PG&E came, there was intermittent electric power generated by
the Pelton wheel. The penstock feeding the wheel ran across the
ground from Horse Lake, whose level was raised a couple of feet by
a dam. In the evenings Ron would hike up to the outlet, remove the
board at the top of the pipe, allowing water to flow down to
wheel. The wheel would turn and the lights in the lodge would glow
for a couple of hours, until the water level in Horse Lake fell
below the head of the penstock...and the lodge lights would dim to
darkness.
The
electric power grid came to Salmon Lake during those years as
well. The Plumas Sierra Rural Electric Cooperative was expanding
in eastern Plumas and Sierra Counties, and there were rumors that
the co-op would expand its territory into the the North Yuba River
country. Perhaps in response to that threat, the Pacific Gas and
Electric Company extended its grid up the Yuba, ending in the run
of wire across the pine forests and granite domes at the top of
the Salmon Creek drainage. Ron Brooks recalled the excitement when
the crew finally got to Salmon Lake.
Dynamite was required to bore the hole to hold the power pole atop
the peak just south of the lodge, and the pole itself was hauled
by long ropes over the granite cliffs to its present
spot.
By
the time PG&E arrived, the old penstock was rather rusty, and
leaked in many places. In later years Ron remembered that he would
carry a coffee can full of wood chips up to Horse Lake, which he
would pour into the penstock. As water squirted through the holes
in the pipe, the wood chips would jam into place, plugging the
holes so long as the pipe was under pressure. When the water ran
out, the chips would fall down, and flow out of the bottom of the
system. Here is a picture of Ron, taken in the early 1960s, with
the old Pelton Wheel.
The
water ride at the Disney California Adventures theme park
in Southern California includes a large Pelton Wheel, modelled on
the famous wheel in Nevada City. The attraction gets some things
wrong---the wheel's inventor lived in Camptonville, not Nevada
City---but it is absolutely right in at least one respect: it is
fed by a rusty penstock, which squirts water all over the place
(especially on the unsuspecting clients below). Alas, neither they
nor anyone else has a laughing Ron Brooks to pour in wood
chips.
In the late 1950s, Verdabelle and August sought a new buyer for the Resort.
They approached the Christian family, members of which were then living in Loyalton.
The business passed into the hands of these new owners in 1959, where it has remained
ever since.
During the early 1960s, the resort continued much
as it had earlier. Ron Brooks stayed on for
several years, to pass on his knowledge of the
resort.
The old wood cabins were increasingly
ramshackle, and needed to be removed and
replaced. The first removal was accomplished
inappropriately by a teenage helper from
Loyalton, who had found some dynamite in the
attic. After the wood fragments finished
settling onto the lake, the helper was
dismissed, and future demolition was
accomplished in a less spectacular fashion
using crowbars. Meanwhile, we visited the
tent cabins in Yosemite's Curry Camp, and
worked with the Marin County architects,
Callister & Paine, to design replacement
structures. Charles Brooks, Ron's brother,
worked in that office, and delivered drawings
of light, high-roofed tent cabins and square
cabins with steep pointed roofs, inspired by
the ancient stave churches of Norway. During
the summer of 1963 construction started, with
the stave-church design applied to the
Showerhouse, and five of the double-unit
tent-cabins located next to a meadow above the
lake. These tent cabins remain the core of
our business.
To provide water for the
new development, a large redwood fermentation
vat was purchased from a winery in Lodi, and
was hauled in pieces to the top of the
hill between the tent-cabins and lakes. There
a structure was built, inspired by the
stave-church design, but with eight sides,
topped by a steep asymmetric octagonal roof,
pierced by dormers that would allow the
eventual construction of an Owner's Apartment
in an attic above the water tank.
As the old shingle cabins deteriorated,
they were torn down. Two cabins on a hillside
were carefully disassembled, the best timbers
taken from each, then reassembled as the Hill
Cabin on a site next to the Tankhouse. The
hill cabin has the same dimensions and shape
as the old cabins. The remaining old cabins
were rented for many years to guests from the
Old Days. The last of the old structures,
the Fish and Game cabin (which had earlier
housed state fish biologists) was finally
removed in 1976. In the fall of
1974, work began on a new water system, with
construction of foundations for a new tank
structure at its present location to the
north of the tent cabins. The next summer
pipe was laid across the meadow, into the
willows and up the gulley to Pecks Cabin.
The pipe was 2" steel in 20 foot sections.
For tractor transport, a set of
scissor-shears was placed in the trailer used
for hauling baggage. The pipes were then
stacked, six at a time, in the shears,
so that they extended over the driver's head
in front and just (usually) avoided dragging
in the dirt behind. If I remember correctly
the contraption only turned over once, and it
really didn't hurt that much. When we could
go no further with the tractor, the pipes
were unloaded and placed in slings, made of
cut-up inner tubes, criss-crossed over the
shoulders bandolier style so that two people
could safely (if with some effort) carry two
pipes. Digging trenches through willows
turned out to involve more work with a
chainsaw than with a shovel. While the
willows did provide some shade, they also
make wonderful mosquito habitat. It was not
a pleasant job. By the spring of
1976, the new water system was in place, and
the old tank structure was transformed into
the Tankhouse Cabin. A mill in Portola sawed
cedar planks to finish the walls, an old
artist friend of the family stared dreamily
into space for hours making shapes with his
hands, then built a
no-angles-or-bevels-duplicated triangular
window to fill the space above the door, an
employee designed and built an octagonal
table, and the work got done just in time for
the first guests. Well, almost in time. We
eventually repainted the floor which had
still been a tad tacky when the first guests
moved in. 1981 saw a major refurbishment of
old Cabin 2 (the cabins on the lake were
numbered). Charles Brooks led a crew in a
project to enlarge the building that his
stepfather had built, with such innovations
as indoor plumbing, electric heat, and a
large deck. The core of the old building is
still visible in the downstairs bedroom and
the living room; the upstairs and the kitchen
and bathroom were new. The Ridge Cabin was
built in 1990, while the Boathouse was
finished in the mid-1990s. Another major
construction project in the late 1990s was a
reconstruction of the Lodge, with replacement
of roof and siding and the construction of a
somewhat larger front porch.
Construction (or reconstruction) will always
be a part of our experience. Our buildings
are in a harsh environment, with up to 20
feet of snow in the winter, and long exposure
to the mountain sun. Things fall
apart up here, and we keep working to put
them back together, during the five months
between the snows. Now in our fifth decade at
Upper Salmon Lake, we think we have a pretty
good idea about what works and what
doesn't. One thing is certain: for it to
work, it takes work! There is, of
course, one big piece missing from this
history. Salmon Lake Lodge is partly the
buildings and the people who have worked and
lived here. But it is also the thousands of
visitors who have come here, some only once,
others for many years. There are many people
and families for whom Salmon Lake is a home,
and a part of their own histories. While we
do not tell these stories (which belong
to our friends and guests, not to us), they
are indeed a big and very important part of
the picture.
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