Jessie James        Larry Cressey                                                                                                 Page 4

The place we had come to Jesse called perfect because he now was sure of his bearings.  We were at a fork in the creek, where Granite Creek entered the East Fork of Knownothing.  I felt it was perfect for other reasons.  There was a small grassy patch on the gravel bar that was perfect for resting in the warmth of the afternoon, though the sun did not reach this spot.  The surroundings were perfectly serene, as the sound of the two creek’s confluence made conversation unnecessary.  The hills rose sharply on either side with gravity causing the big trees to lean over the creeks, making this seem a closed world, separated from the past in both time and distance, protected by the expanse of nature surrounding us.  Ferns and wildflowers were abundant, and the place seemed so far removed from all I had known, I would not have been surprised if our next encounter had been with Sasquatch.

After a short rest and a drink from the creek, we continued up the East Fork of Knownothing, and as the canyon was too steep for just walking along the side of the creek, we hopped from boulder to boulder, sometimes forced to get our feet wet.  We scrambled over the big windfall trees that littered the creek bottom creating calm pools in the stream.  We were beginning to wonder if we were going to reach our destination before dark, as the light was fading in the canyon.  We eventually reached a gravel bar that seemed to be the only flat space in the area, and though the area was not large, it had been big enough for someone to choose it as a site for a cabin.  The cabin was built from hand split shakes that were weathered and falling off in places.  The door was wired shut, but upon opening it, saw there was only room for a bunk, a small counter area, and a small wood heater with the pipe extended through a hole in the wall.  The fading daylight showed through the cracks between the shakes, and it was obvious we were not going to move right in to this shack and feel at home as small animals had made use of it, so began pitching our tent in the growing darkness.  Jesse gave us a few words of advice and disappeared into the sunset, leaving us to fend for ourselves in the wilderness.

The boundary of what was then called the Salmon-Trinity Primitive Area and is now the Salmon Mountain Wilderness, was a few miles up the creek, but this was close enough for us.  The Marble Mountains could wait; we had what we needed here.  

Our needs were simple.  We had a stock of freeze dried backpacking foods, as well as other staples such as oats, spaghetti, rice, dried soup mixes, and dried fruits.  We learned to forage in the woods for edible plants, and fish for trout in this clear mountain stream.  We spent a lot of time just idling, recovering from the years of school that seemed so much like prison.  Reading, fishing, hiking, and writing letters to friends to tell them of our mountain Eden took up our days, and we slept long and peacefully through the nights, not waking till the sun hit our tent, as if our souls needed time to rest.

We hiked out after a couple of weeks, leaving the tent pitched for our return, and spent a couple of days with the De Faria boys, enjoying their warm humor and company. Sleeping in the clearing in our sleeping bags without a tent proved inadvisable as the mosquitoes were so thick it was impossible to rest, and we ended up on the cabin floor.  We helped Mike and Joe with their work and learned from them how to get by without many ordinary necessities as they patched together their 100 year old mill and created a 2000 foot long water system with discarded pipe and welding rod.  I did not fully understand the nature of the water system, though I walked its length many times and was familiar with the spring that was the source, until a day when the water quit running in the house.  Mike got out some pipe wrenches, took apart a connection, and hooked up a bicycle tire pump and started pumping.  With the spigot removed from the kitchen sink to allow for the blockage to pass, we took turns pumping and finally heard something blast out at the other end.  We all rushed to the kitchen to see what had caused this problem and there was a half rotten lizard lying in the sink.  We had a lot to learn about country life. 

We decided to explore some more of our new surroundings, so headed down the hill to see if Jesse would be our guide as he had proved so able, and we wanted to thank him for the blessing he had bestowed upon us.  We spent several different days with him, as he led us on tours of old mines and introduced us to strangers who would become fast friends.  Although we had heard of the Black Bear commune, Jesse did not want to go there as he had had some kind of run in with one of the leaders of the place, so we did not meet any of local hippies for quite awhile.  Jesse’s acquaintances were mostly older bachelors and some married couples, all trying to scratch out a living on claims on the Salmon, Klamath, and Scott Rivers.  They all seemed to just tolerate Jesse, often kidding him about being a claim jumper or a sluice box robber, which he just laughed about.  I asked him how he got the name Jesse James, and he said someone had called him the Jesse James of the card table and the name had stuck.  He seemed to relish and even promote his reputation as a shady character.  Not many people knew his real name, but it seemed everyone between Yreka, Callahan, and Happy Camp knew Jesse James.  Clearly not everyone liked him, but there were many who were willing to invite him in for a meal, even with a couple of young long haired strangers in tow, as he could always provide some entertaining stories to these mountain people who lived without the story telling appliances of the modern world.

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