Towns That Time Forgot

I'm just back from a quick car trip up to Ashland where we saw four plays. On the way, we stopped over at the foot of Mr. Shasta and spent two nights in a yurt. Our visit to the formerly thriving town of Weed established the theme of this entry.

We were in no particular hurry when we set out to make our way north from Oakland on Route 5. Hunger pangs hit about two hours from home near the town of Arbuckle. The town consisted of about 12 buildings including three Mexican restaurants. We chose one and enjoyed an unremarkable but perfectly acceptable meal of tacos (me) and enchiladas (Phil). If they hadn't overcharged us I would probably be giving the place at least a lukewarm recommendation. But, alas, they'll never see our yuppie faces again.

It looked like Arbuckle's claim to fame is a big rice processing plant. There certainly isn't anything else there to attract attention.

We continued up the road until we decided we needed fuel. During our fill-up, I noticed a sign directing traffic to the "historic district" of Cottonwood. I persuaded my traveling companion to take the small detour into town. We found a nest of buildings linked together by high cement sidewalks reminiscent of the wooden ones you'd see in the Old West. I even noticed large iron rings embedded in the cement that appeared to be for tying up horses.

We spent a few minutes peeking into windows on one side of the street--a large former barn is now a fitness center, there was also a hairdresser, automotive parts store, quilting shop, and western gift shop. But the biggest concern in Cottonwood (other than a restaurant on the other side) was a multi-room gift shop full of huge decorated Christmas trees, a few antiques and lots of pottery, linens, and home accessories that no one really needs. The trees had distinct themes but I only remember one. It was layered with ornaments in shades of olive green and lots of glitter--mushrooms, dragonflys, lizards, salamanders, knomes, and fairies with scary faces and lots of claws. The decorations were so thick you could see very little of the artificial tree underneath. There was nothing remotely Christian about it. Instead it exuded the very essence of pagan.

The proprietor of the shop was friendly and talkative. She asked us where we'd come from and how we happened to visit Cottonwood. "Did you see our new sign?" she asked. "It's just there since April." I ended up spending some money in her shop (not on Christmas ornaments) so I guessed it works!

We took a drive into Weed from our yurt in the woods the next day. Public works was busy resurfacing the road, but the place still looked pretty depressed. Many of the shops were clearly closed for good and we saw very few people.

A sign on North Main Street directed us to the Weed Historic Lumber Town Museum. But we were hungry again. A local resident gave us two options when we asked about a place for lunch. Ellie's was the place for gourmet coffee, espresso drinks, and sandwiches, but for "something a little more substantial," he recommended the Hi Lo Motel and RV Resort coffee shop. We eat gourmet in Oakland so we were instantly sold on the HiLo.

One excellent meat loaf and one pulled pork sandwich (with onion rings) later we proceeded to the museum. We were greeted by Sam Catalano, age 87, a lifetime resident of Weed and 47 year veteran of the lumber mill that once employed the whole town. Sam told us stories drawing from his own experiences, bonafide history, rumors, and tall tales. We learned a lot about the once lively town and left feeling as though we had broken ranks with typical tourists who skip Weed altogether in favor of the town of Mt. Shasta. We took the road less traveled and learned to tell the tale!

Next up: yurt living!