Route 49, considered the main location of the Mother Lode, runs parallel to and is in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and as we rode along that narrow, winding, mostly isolated road for about 60 miles before turning west, we could easily visualize what their stories were all about. From Nevada City to Placerville, all north of Route 50, all have been discussed in my other entries.
Amador City, just south of Placerville, is a beautiful, small, old western town with lovely, nicely kept, western-style homes and shops. We intended to take our time, but to keep going, but we stopped to take a few pictures because the town was so quaint. Thick stone walls and heavy doors are leftovers from the more established gold rush days because wooden structures burned down so easily in the dry California climate. Those beautiful old buildings are now being used for unique boutiques and lovely little restaurants. It would be a great place to go for a weekend getaway with lots of hotels and bed and breakfasts, and you can tour a working gold mine.
As we continued on most of the little towns were very western, looking as though the Gold Rush days just happened. In Jackson the old buildings were boarded up, waiting for someone to rescue them. One curious thing was a gravel manufacturing business. It seems like a great idea to dig into rock so near the mother lode.
As we entered Caleveros County, the road was very mountainous and winding. The hills were made of very dry grass with a scrub oak here and there. One sign stated there is a $1,000 fine for throwing a lit cigarette out of a car window and another sign suggested outlawing lawnmowers because the motors cause fires. Four fire trucks passed us on their way to a fire.
Cow-grazing farms seem to go on for miles, all the way to San Andreas. When gold was discovered there, Mexicans came to try their luck, but when the Americans came they forced them to leave. Legend says, this was where Joaquin Murieta had been offended and began his famous, abusive, and long lasting career as the leader of a dangerous gang of bandits. It is also where Black Bart, a successful business man from San Francisco, disguised himself as a bandit and was finally caught after 28 successful robberies.
On our way to Angel’s Camp, we saw a small weather worn sign pointing to Mark Twain’s cabin. We turned off the road, but when we couldn’t find it, we continued on. That town still celebrates the Jumping Frog Contest (has to do with Twain’s version of western gambling). Here, Bret Harte also gave the world a taste of the trials endured by the miners and how they coped.