There are many historical ranch cabins dotting the lower elevations of the Crystal Range of the Sierra. They each have a unique personality but none of them were as large and grand as the Van Vleck Ranch.
Most of the high country ranches were built in the mid to late 1800s as Italian/Swiss emigrants, having come to America in search of instant fortune in the California gold fields, turned to the life they knew best...providing the milk and dairy products that fed the hungry miners.
The original owner of what is now documented on forest service maps at the Van Vleck was a man by the name of Ciperano Pedrini. Wishing to sound a little more American, he changed all his business holdings to the name of William Tell and consequently the name of Tell is still used for the first peak in the Crystal Range and the creek that has its meager beginnings near the summit of that peak. The original Pedrini holdings bear the name of Tells Peak Mountain Ranch in all of the early El Dorado County records prior to the sale of the ranch property to the Van Vleck family in 1933.
In 1875, the Pedrini holdings were reorganized and a partnership was formed between Massimo Pedrini, Clement Pedrini and a nephew, Rinaldo Filippini, who had come to California in 1859 to work with his uncles. The new partnership was known as Rinaldo Filippini and Co. The Mountain Ranch became the summer graze for the ever-growing herd of dairy cows the company maintained to produce the dairy products they sold in their store in Garden Valley, Calif., as well as to other merchants in the area. Several large cheese cellars were built about half a mile away from the main ranch house where the workers stayed for the summer. Half way to the Van Vleck/Pendola airstrip, the dirt road cuts through a huge meadow. Historically known as the Filippini Pedrini meadow, it was renamed by forest service and is now called Milk House meadow. Near the road, on the left, is a huge slab of granite with the head of a pick ax embedded into the granite as well as the crumbling foundations of what once was a huge cheese camp. Walk just a little further and you will see the remains of hand stacked rock foundations built right into the hill side where the cheese cellars were located.
In 1901, Massimo Pedrini passed away and in 1909, the two surviving partners sold off most of the holdings of the high country Tells Peak Mountain Ranch to Alex F. Forni.
With the acquisition of the high country ranch, the Forni's became neighbors of their cousin's by marriage, the Bassi's. Alex Forni's father, Dennis Forni, was an uncle of Giosue Bassi's wife, Virginia Forni Bassi. The Forni high country holdings came to approximately 2,240 acres adjoining the lands of the Upper Bassi. The Forni's used the land in the same tradition as their predecessors had done only they found more profit in raising cattle for the beef instead of the dairy products. The Forni's owned a large meat market in Placerville, located on the west side of the Bell Tower on Main Street. Forni beef was some of the finest in the county.
The Forni's had owned the Tell's Peak Mountain Ranch for almost 18 years when Alex Forni died on September 30, 1927. His widow Nettie and his 20-year-old son, Loren, gallantly tried to keep his estate intact but too many of Forni's business dealings were dependent on his good name and when he wasn't around to insure financial success of the investments he had made, too many people wanted to take their money and run. Nettie and Loren were able to hold out until 1932 but while drowning in financial difficulty, Oren Van Vleck was able to purchase the high country holdings for delinquent taxes, finalizing the deal in 1933 and breaking the chain of Italian/Swiss ownership.
The Tell's Peak Mountain Ranch remained under Van Vleck ownership for 40 years. They made a lot of improvements to the property during the years without changing the exterior appearance of the original ranch house more than slightly. The large kitchen, which had been nothing more than a screened in porch, was fully enclosed. A bathroom, complete with indoor plumbing, was added as well as a large entry way mud room along the driveway side of the house. The upstairs, once a huge open attic lined with bunks for the ranch workers, was walled off into two spacious and sunny bedrooms on the south side of the house and two smaller, but cozy little rooms on the north side. At the top of the stairs was a huge landing that could accommodate another bunk and small dresser. Downstairs, along with the new additions of the bathroom and kitchen, was the great room along with two more large bedrooms and a smaller one. A huge picture window was transported up the bumpy dirt roads from Sacramento and installed in place of the two smaller windows on the east side of the great room providing an unobstructed view of the Crystal Range. During the early 40s
the bunkhouse was built and wood was salvaged from the old Orelli homestead located at what is now the meadow behind Robbs Resort to enlarge the barn.
When Oren passed away, his son Stanley continued to run the ranch for grazing and limited logging operations. Stanley was a horse person but he was more enamored with flying. He acquired huge salvaged military grids used for temporary landing strips during WWII and laid them out in the front meadow so he could land his small aircraft right in front of the house. The makeshift airstrip was dangerously short so, off to the south, he leveled the tops of the trees to give a little more space to get his plane up during take-off and even then a few straggling branches would tickle the undercarriage of his plane. He later built another airstrip higher up on the mountain which still required someone with a dare devil spirit to negotiate but it was a whole lot safer than his first creation. In later years he adopted the helicopter as his method of rounding up the cattle, surveying his land holdings and making it easy to land, once again, in the front meadow at the ranch.
In 1974, he made the decision to sell the high country holdings to William J. Pendola of Grass Valley, Calif. Stanley only retained 10-acres of the airstrip along with the rights to use it and the Orelli Meadow behind Robbs Resort. The Pendola family used the land for limited logging and then traded all but 52 acres surrounding the ranch house to forest service in 1987 for other investment properties at Castle Peak near Highway 80.
After the Pendola acquisition in 1974, the historic ranch house was used as a high country pack station. The owner of Crystal Basin Outfitter and Sugar Pine Stables, Barry Gorman, treated many city weary people to the high country experience. He opened up the ranch to guests that wished to escape the hustle of modern living and return to the warmth of kerosene living like a hundred years ago.
On May 19, 1992, a chimney fire took the "Queen of the High Country ranches" and all the ancient surrounding out-buildings, except the bunkhouse, from all of us. But, even in the ashes, the memories of happiness created within its walls still remains. The meadow still comes into full bloom every year. The endless view of the Crystal Range will never be gone. For those of us who passed through the doorway of the Tells Peak / Van Vleck Mountain Ranch, it will always stand in our hearts forever. In 1994, Pendola traded the remaining 52 acres to forest service ending the long reign of private ranching on the Van Vleck. The remaining bunkhouse has been converted into a winter ski hut and summer cabin rental for the public to still enjoy.
The Van Vleck Ranch
The Queen of the mountains until it burned down in 1992
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Last Ride
I guess I will begin by telling you about why I love this drawing as much as I do...it has a lot of meaning to me.
Ernest "Doc" Scheiber will be someone I will always remember in my life. He could be as crusty as an old corn cob, dried in the sun, but under that gruff exterior beat a heart of gold...if he liked you that is...if he didn't he wouldn't have given you the time of day! I was one of the lucky ones. He was a high country cowboy that had followed in the tradition of his family for several generations, wintering the herd at their home ranch in the El Dorado County foothills near Shingle Springs. Every spring, as soon as the snows melted in the high country, Doc and his friends would saddle up and the herd would be driven some 50 miles up along old Highway 50 to the upper reaches of the Sierra peaks near a place called China Flat in the Desolation Wilderness. In later years, some of the romance of the traditional cattle drive disappeared as the herd was relegated to transport trucks bringing them as far as the Crystal Basin. None the less...every year since the time he could straddle his little legs over a saddle until he passed away in 1992, Doc returned to the place his heart and soul belonged...his precious high country.
I had grown up hearing the Scheiber name. I had even seen some of the cattle drives up Highway 50 but I had never met Doc until I came to the high country to live on the Van Vleck Ranch in 1985.
I loved that first fall when I was living there, going down to Robbs Valley Resort where all the cowboys would congregate around the huge rock fire place after a hard day of gathering the herds for transport to the foothill ranches. There would be Doc, right in the middle like he was holding court. The beer would flow, one after another, and the stories would flow as freely. It was a wonderful time.
The next fall would not be as care-free. It was September 27th and an early September storm dropped several feet of snow in the Sierra and Doc's herd, more than 300 head, were still back at China Flat and blocked from escaping the Rockbound Valley by huge snow drifts. When the storm broke a few days latter, the cowboys gathered to bring the herd down out of the mountains. Ed Hagen, Doug Albright and Barry Gorman rode in from Loon Lake to break a trail to the snow bound valley. Doc was taken by the helicopter, loaded with enough hay to sustain the herd until the cowboys could arrive at China Flat, and was dropped off at his Rockbound Cabin to await their arrival. It took several days of hard riding to gather the herd. All but 16 were collected when they started their drive back to Loon Lake where all the other ranchers had collected together with their personal stock trailers to help bring the Schreiber herd home.
The cows baulked every step of the way. Creatures of habit, this was not their normal trail to return to lower country and they were hard to drive in a new direction. The last night on the trail, Doc's companions knew he was not feeling very well, but he insisted he was only tired and he kept on working just as hard as the other three. When the herd came in to Loon Lake the next day, Doc went to his cabin at Pearl Lake and it wasn't until the next day that he finally agreed to go to the hospital. He had been having a heart attack while he was on the trail and yet he still kept going. I remember him saying " I knew what was happening but I had work to do." He was about as tough a man as I had ever met.
Doc recovered but Forest Service would not let him return to the allotment in the Rockbound Valley and China Flat. Instead they gave him a new allotment surrounding the Van Vleck Ranch. Unfamiliar with the area, Doc relied heavily on us to show him where to go. We spent a lot of time in the saddle that summer, working with Doc, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Doc would often ride into the ranch on a hot afternoon and take a break on our front porch and again, the beer would flow and so would the stories! I cherish those hours.
In the fall of 1991, Doc's health was failing but that didn't stop him from doing his normal work. He told everyone that he planned to die, doing what he loved to do, rather than to fritter away doing nothing. That fall during round-up, one of the cowboys came into the Van Vleck and said that Doc wasn't doing well and would I come with on the round-up to ride beside Doc and make sure he was going to make it to his Pearl Lake Cabin. My friend and I quickly saddled two horses and off we went to join them. My friend had grabbed her camera at the last minute and as Doc and I were riding along the Bassi trail, heading to Pearl Lake, she took the picture that I used for that drawing of The Last Ride.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Doc and I riding along, side by side through the forest the dust, stirred up from the herd ahead of us, was filtering down through the trees making brilliant rays reflected from the filtered sunlight. His faithful little cow dog, Pepper, followed dutifully behind him that day instead of doing her normal job, like me, we never left his side.
It would be the last time I ever saw Doc or talked to him. He died the following spring, just one week shy of returning to his beloved high country. He told me often that you had to "earn the right" to live and work in such a beautiful place and I can't think of anyone who earned the right more than he had.
In a way, Doc is still with us. His ashes were spread at the top of the Red Peak in the Crystal Range of the Sierra, right near his cattle gate going into the Rockbound Valley. On a clear day you can see Lake Tahoe. Every year, just about round-up time in September, the cowboys gather for a Memorial Ride to the top of the Red Peak and there they have a drink with Doc and some of his cowboy friends that have joined him up there over the years. Ed Hagen plays his harmonica and everyone gathers around to remember him and a time that is disappearing from our culture. And, as for me, it is a time to remember our "Last Ride."
Ernest "Doc" Scheiber will be someone I will always remember in my life. He could be as crusty as an old corn cob, dried in the sun, but under that gruff exterior beat a heart of gold...if he liked you that is...if he didn't he wouldn't have given you the time of day! I was one of the lucky ones. He was a high country cowboy that had followed in the tradition of his family for several generations, wintering the herd at their home ranch in the El Dorado County foothills near Shingle Springs. Every spring, as soon as the snows melted in the high country, Doc and his friends would saddle up and the herd would be driven some 50 miles up along old Highway 50 to the upper reaches of the Sierra peaks near a place called China Flat in the Desolation Wilderness. In later years, some of the romance of the traditional cattle drive disappeared as the herd was relegated to transport trucks bringing them as far as the Crystal Basin. None the less...every year since the time he could straddle his little legs over a saddle until he passed away in 1992, Doc returned to the place his heart and soul belonged...his precious high country.
I had grown up hearing the Scheiber name. I had even seen some of the cattle drives up Highway 50 but I had never met Doc until I came to the high country to live on the Van Vleck Ranch in 1985.
I loved that first fall when I was living there, going down to Robbs Valley Resort where all the cowboys would congregate around the huge rock fire place after a hard day of gathering the herds for transport to the foothill ranches. There would be Doc, right in the middle like he was holding court. The beer would flow, one after another, and the stories would flow as freely. It was a wonderful time.
The next fall would not be as care-free. It was September 27th and an early September storm dropped several feet of snow in the Sierra and Doc's herd, more than 300 head, were still back at China Flat and blocked from escaping the Rockbound Valley by huge snow drifts. When the storm broke a few days latter, the cowboys gathered to bring the herd down out of the mountains. Ed Hagen, Doug Albright and Barry Gorman rode in from Loon Lake to break a trail to the snow bound valley. Doc was taken by the helicopter, loaded with enough hay to sustain the herd until the cowboys could arrive at China Flat, and was dropped off at his Rockbound Cabin to await their arrival. It took several days of hard riding to gather the herd. All but 16 were collected when they started their drive back to Loon Lake where all the other ranchers had collected together with their personal stock trailers to help bring the Schreiber herd home.
The cows baulked every step of the way. Creatures of habit, this was not their normal trail to return to lower country and they were hard to drive in a new direction. The last night on the trail, Doc's companions knew he was not feeling very well, but he insisted he was only tired and he kept on working just as hard as the other three. When the herd came in to Loon Lake the next day, Doc went to his cabin at Pearl Lake and it wasn't until the next day that he finally agreed to go to the hospital. He had been having a heart attack while he was on the trail and yet he still kept going. I remember him saying " I knew what was happening but I had work to do." He was about as tough a man as I had ever met.
Doc recovered but Forest Service would not let him return to the allotment in the Rockbound Valley and China Flat. Instead they gave him a new allotment surrounding the Van Vleck Ranch. Unfamiliar with the area, Doc relied heavily on us to show him where to go. We spent a lot of time in the saddle that summer, working with Doc, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Doc would often ride into the ranch on a hot afternoon and take a break on our front porch and again, the beer would flow and so would the stories! I cherish those hours.
In the fall of 1991, Doc's health was failing but that didn't stop him from doing his normal work. He told everyone that he planned to die, doing what he loved to do, rather than to fritter away doing nothing. That fall during round-up, one of the cowboys came into the Van Vleck and said that Doc wasn't doing well and would I come with on the round-up to ride beside Doc and make sure he was going to make it to his Pearl Lake Cabin. My friend and I quickly saddled two horses and off we went to join them. My friend had grabbed her camera at the last minute and as Doc and I were riding along the Bassi trail, heading to Pearl Lake, she took the picture that I used for that drawing of The Last Ride.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Doc and I riding along, side by side through the forest the dust, stirred up from the herd ahead of us, was filtering down through the trees making brilliant rays reflected from the filtered sunlight. His faithful little cow dog, Pepper, followed dutifully behind him that day instead of doing her normal job, like me, we never left his side.
It would be the last time I ever saw Doc or talked to him. He died the following spring, just one week shy of returning to his beloved high country. He told me often that you had to "earn the right" to live and work in such a beautiful place and I can't think of anyone who earned the right more than he had.
In a way, Doc is still with us. His ashes were spread at the top of the Red Peak in the Crystal Range of the Sierra, right near his cattle gate going into the Rockbound Valley. On a clear day you can see Lake Tahoe. Every year, just about round-up time in September, the cowboys gather for a Memorial Ride to the top of the Red Peak and there they have a drink with Doc and some of his cowboy friends that have joined him up there over the years. Ed Hagen plays his harmonica and everyone gathers around to remember him and a time that is disappearing from our culture. And, as for me, it is a time to remember our "Last Ride."
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Welcome to High Country Sketches
Welcome to my world...a world where artistic illustration and history, along with some occasional added personal memories, will melt together in what I hope will make for some interesting reading and enjoyment of the things I have loved so much. Sometimes I will also show you some of the actual photographs I used to compose some of the drawings that I have created.
For more than 25 years I have tried to combine my love for pencil drawing with my love for history, providing visual reminders to so many people who share my interest and introduce others to things they never knew once existed on a certain spot. These are all of places, of special people, of animals, historical railroads and so many other images that have caught my fancy through the years.
I have always held the belief that as long as there is still simple reminders of places or people gone from our present time, they are never really gone. They will continue to live on in memories and the stories of how they existed, what they were for and, in the case of some of the people that I have drawn, what their life meant to the people that cared about them.
I hope that you will want to drop into my world once in a while and visit these places, some long gone, and learn a little about their importance in the scheme of life. Meet special people, some still living and some who are no longer with us, but who live on in the memories of people like myself, for the impact large or small, that they made on our lives.
In future posts I will provide you with images and stories of what these particular drawings have meant to me. So drop by my world and I hope you will enjoy tidbits of history, sprinkled with personal memories and a while lot of love.
For more than 25 years I have tried to combine my love for pencil drawing with my love for history, providing visual reminders to so many people who share my interest and introduce others to things they never knew once existed on a certain spot. These are all of places, of special people, of animals, historical railroads and so many other images that have caught my fancy through the years.
I have always held the belief that as long as there is still simple reminders of places or people gone from our present time, they are never really gone. They will continue to live on in memories and the stories of how they existed, what they were for and, in the case of some of the people that I have drawn, what their life meant to the people that cared about them.
I hope that you will want to drop into my world once in a while and visit these places, some long gone, and learn a little about their importance in the scheme of life. Meet special people, some still living and some who are no longer with us, but who live on in the memories of people like myself, for the impact large or small, that they made on our lives.
In future posts I will provide you with images and stories of what these particular drawings have meant to me. So drop by my world and I hope you will enjoy tidbits of history, sprinkled with personal memories and a while lot of love.
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