A road trip buddy complicates planning. I picked Alturas, CA, as our first destination mostly because it meant we could get to Lake Tahoe the following day early enough for Thom to enjoy some sun time.
Holiday Inn Express--our go-to accommodation when we travel together (usually reasonable, consistent, mini-fridge, breakfast included)--hasn't penetrated northeastern California. Nor had any other chain hotels. I feared that the Trailside Inn would not be up to Thom's standard but the helpful guy behind the check-in desk seemed like exactly the kind of friendly, efficient person you would want to be managing a motel, despite his response when I asked if we could walk to the local pizzeria. "Yes, and they're the only restaurant that delivers." So walk we did, entering a kind of literal twilight zone. "Where IS everybody?" Thom kept demanding.
Murals are the first thing you notice about a small town where the Four Seasons is the name of a feed store.
They reminded me of long-gone drive-in movie theaters in El Paso. Back in the day, the rear of the screens, which could be seen from the highway, served as enormous billboards typically depicting Western scenes. I really regret not being able to photograph them before they disappeared.
When the Niles Hotel was completed by a California pioneer at the beginning of the 20th century, its clientele included railroad workers, cattlemen and loggers. Wood burning stoves heated its 60 rooms with inexpensive firewood for sale at the front desk. Now you can buy an overpriced cup of Starbucks coffee.
The same pioneer built a movie theater, too. It opened in 1937. I immediately thought of The Last Picture Show, although it didn't seem to be in any danger of closing. By the same token, nobody was lining up to catch the 7 p.m. show of The Fall Guy. Just like in the rest of America!
Snow melt fed the north fork of the Pit River.
Cooks and servers outnumber patrons at Antionio's Cucina Italiana. Dinner for two inexplicably cost $80. At least I got anchovies on my pizza which provided lunch for the next two days, slowly reheated by the sun on the wide black dashboard of the Chariot. Neither the waitress or anybody else could tell us why there were so many thrift stores in town. It was almost as if they haven't even noticed although we counted four on Main Street, including one next to the Niles movie theater.
Turns out Modoc County, which occupies mostly federal land, is one of state's least populous. Though it has seen busier days, Alturas remains the county seat.
The place was eerily quiet for a Saturday evening. No matter. I was completely bewitched and convinced that the town should exploit its remoteness and become California's Marfa.
En route to the charging station the next morning, I passed the former headquarters of the Nevada-California-Oregon or NCO Railway, now an Elks Lodge. Passengers used to say that NCO stood for "narrow, crooked and ornery" or "Northern California outrage." The company made an early bet on the wrong technology (think: the Betamax/VHS wars in the 1980s).
Our motel desk clerk, an emigre from the big city, recommended we make a detour to Mill Creek Falls when he learned we were on our way to Lake Tahoe. "It's just as pretty and not nearly as crowded," he insisted.
He certainly was right about the last part.
While I searched unsuccessfully for Clear Lake, Thom took the early morning sun in the South Warner Wilderness.
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