Forty to Finish

Sheridan, in the “heart of the Ruby Valley,”49 had been ground zero during the gold rush. As was the case in many western towns, gold was the impetus that drew thousands of individuals to these early settlements. The 19-mile stretch of highway between Sheridan, Alder (population 116), present-day Nevada City, and Virginia City (population 195), known as Alder Gulch, yielded “over $40 billion of gold (today’s prices)” after its discovery in 1863.50 At its peak, 10,000 residents lived in Virginia City, which was formed as a mining sector near Alder Creek by Bill Fairweather and Henry Edgar during the gold rush. My bike ride across America was many things, including an educational experience.

The views of the snow-covered, 8,000-foot peaks of the Ruby Range that enveloped the horizon on the road to Alder captivated me. Vehicle traffic increased closer to Virginia City, and I incorrectly assumed Virginia City would hum with activity. At a roadside marker just outside of town, I read about the Ruby River. It was initially referred to as the Passamari by the Shoshone Indians. Miners referred to the Stinking Water as the Ruby. “Gems” found along the riverbanks were garnets, not true gems. Vigilantes ruled the era. The route I traveled was known as Vigilante Trail during the periods after the gold rush. Much of the newly discovered gold in Alder Gulch financed Harvard University in the early twentieth century.51 Today, rusted gold dredges sat idle along the path between Alder and Virginia City. A weeded-over railway track ran parallel to Highway 287. As I approached the outskirts of Virginia City, I could see that many buildings maintained the original character and condition, including one that formed Adobetown, which settlers erected from mud and grass during the gold rush. Several homes, saloons, restaurants, theaters, and a music hall make up Virginia City today.

Wendy greeted me at the front lobby counter at 7:15 p.m. I dove right in, asking Wendy questions about this old western town. My enthusiasm was evident, as I was eager to learn. Wendy shared her story. She first visited Virginia City with her son when he was in grade school. Wendy loved the community and history of Virginia City so much that she and her son moved to Virginia City, when she started working at the Fairweather Inn. She became involved with the local chamber of commerce by working as a docent, volunteering for group tours, and taking part in reenactments for school groups and other visitors’ cultural activities. Eventually, her son attended the University of Montana and finished with a history degree. Montana’s eighth-grade students visit Virginia City every year on a planned field trip and immerse themselves in a history lesson about the 1860s. They learn, as I did, that Virginia City residents first heard about Lincoln’s assassination three months after it happened in 1863.

I ate pizza and treated myself to a vanilla ice-cream cone at the Virginia City Creamery across the street from the Fairweather Inn. I sat by myself, thinking about the cultural divide between communities in different regions of the United States of America. I reflected on traveling to a foreign land, the favored exchange for college students. Universities tout their foreign exchange programs as a recruitment tool. Why? What about traveling to another region of the United States in order to better understand our past? I had seen firsthand hundreds of small towns, many with different lifestyles. They all blend to form the greatest nation on earth. Sitting in the creamery, I imagined many of my friends would welcome the opportunity to trade places with me and experience seeing America one mile at a time.

I asked two college-age women working at the creamery about their experience living in Virginia City. I was particularly interested in what this place was like during the winter months, when it was bone-chilling cold with several feet of snow covering the ground. They gave a straightforward response. “Not much to do in the winter.” One girl shared that the Pioneer Bar, about 0.2 miles from the creamery, was the go-to place (the only place open) during the winter months. Residents would often come together for a day of banter and beer.

When I returned to the Fairweather Inn, I called Kelley and told her my idea to develop an exchange program. However, this plan is still in its infancy… This idea occupied my mind for several days as I thought about executing such a plan. Since returning to New Jersey, I’ve contacted Wendy, who introduced me to folks from the Montana Schools and Historical Society. Just like a seedling transplanted to an area where a new forest will emerge, it only takes one student interested in other cultures to bring home a better understanding of history, people, and culture of life in the nineteenth century for a new generation of curious suburban dwellers to appreciate aspects of early America not found in history books.