Day 3 -- Wendover, Nevada to Springville, Utah -- 186 Miles

Wow! What a day. With Wilbur and Orville Wright keeping us company on the disc player, we powered our way out of Wendover, Nevada, across the seemingly endless Utah salt flats, and into the sparsely-populated Utah desert country south of Interstate 80. Not wanting to get anywhere near Salt Lake City and its jam-packed freeways and manic drivers, we ventured off the interstate at the Grantsville exit and headed south into the unknown.

Our intent, at least on paper, was to wend our way down a variety of narrow two-lane roads to the tiny state park of Camp Floyd somewhere off to the south and east of our location. Visiting Camp Floyd had long been a goal of mine since I started studying the genealogy of my mother’s family who had some tumultuous beginnings in the area.

Camp Floyd’s history goes back to the year 1857, when some less than scrupulous advisors convinced President James Buchannan, yet another of my relatives, to go to war with the Mormons and the Mormon Church for their supposed dastardly deeds in far-off Utah. The President sent some 3,500 troops to under General Albert Sydney Johnston to bring some order to the rebellious Mormon law-breakers and establish a U.S. Government presence in the area.

In response, the head of the Mormon Church, Brigham Young, having learned of the oncoming invasion force, raised a militia army of his own numbering some 5,000 troops. Not wanting to simply wait for the U.S. troops to arrive, Brigham fortified Echo Canyon, which leads into Salt Lake City from the north. He figured if Johnston’s troops were crazy enough to enter the canyon they would find themselves drawing fire from both sides of the canyon walls. Sagely, Brigham Young also sent some of his men to attack the long trains of supply wagons traveling separately from the advancing troops, the destruction of which effectively marooned the troops near Wyoming’s Fort Bridger north of Salt Lake City for the entire winter of 1857/58

In the end, the stalemate with the U.S. army was settled without any major bloodshed, and the U.S. Government backed down from their invasion intentions. However, the Mormon Church had to agree to allow a fort to be established in Utah to allow U.S. soldiers to be on hand to protect the overland pioneers from native American attack and any other threats to health and safety to the pioneers. Grudgingly, the Mormons gave in but stipulated that the fort must be constructed well away from the Salt Lake City area.

The area selected lies about fifty miles to the south and west of Salt Lake City and near the northwest end of Utah Lake. After the truce was solidified, Johnston’s 3,500 troops were allowed to march down Echo Canyon and through the streets of Salt Lake City on their way south. Though lasting only from 1858 until the beginning of the Civil War in early 1861, Camp Floyd and the resultant nearby civilian town of Fairfield constituted the third largest settlement in Utah for those several years.

My ancestors, the Daleys, lived in the tiny village of Springville which is located on the eastern side of Utah Lake and about forty miles from Camp Floyd. Part of the family history tells me that my 2-times great grandfather, John Daley, as well as an unknown number of his brothers, were involved in both farming and the freighting of goods. I have long wondered if John had been involved in freighting supplies to Camp Floyd, but so far I have not turned up any proof. But genealogical lore tells me that John was on a freighting run when he was supposedly “killed by Indians” somewhere out in the Utah desert. No other information has ever turned up on the subject. Part of my reason for wanting to visit Camp Floyd was to see just how far a trip that would have been and what the terrain might look like and the like.

We got to the town of Grantsville first, just as we expected, and fully intended to roll right on through this town of 11,000 people. It’s a pleasant-looking town for sure, but what caught my eye as we rolled along the main street was a sign that proclaimed that a left turn would take us to the “Reed Donner” museum. As long-time students of western history we naturally recognized the two surnames as being connected with the famous/infamous Donner Party whose trip west came to such a tragic end in the year 1846.

Evidently the local area around Grantsville was called “Twenty Springs” in those days and was widely known as a wonderful place to pause and recoup after long weeks trekking west on the dusty prairie. Many a wagontrain diarist would remark on the crystal-clear and inexhaustible water supply available at the springs.

Naturally we took a quick left turn and headed right over to the museum to see what we could see. Unfortunately the museum was closed and we were advised by the entrance sign to call one of a dozen listed phone numbers and a docent would show up to conduct us inside. Not wanting to bother with that, we instead took the opportunity to have our lunch in the RV parked beside the museum’s leafy grounds and contented ourselves with viewing the many and sundry outdoor exhibits available.

After lunch we got back on the highway and continued our trek in the dirction of Camp Floyd. As we listened intently to David McCullogh describe the hundreds of demonstration flights Wilbur and Orville Wright were conducting in their wood and fabric-covered, twin-wing Wright Flyers of 1908, we enjoyed some of the most sparsely populated and traveled country we’ve seen in a long, long time. Certainly, if you want to avoid the crowds of Salt Lake City, do take highway 145 turnoff toward Grantsville and then continue on toward Toole using Utah Route 36. It’s just great.

After turning onto Utah Route 73 from 36, we finally were in reach of Camp Floyd. Camp Floyd is not a camp any longer of course. When the soldiers were called back east in early 1861, the U.S. Government sold everything they couldn’t load into a wagon to sustain the troops on the journey, destroyed what weapons they couldn’t carry, and sold the remainder of the camp to the Mormons. This included millions of dollars in supplies, the contents of the buildings, and the very buildings themselves. As you might guess, the fort was reduced to vacant land in short order.

When you go to Camp Floyd nothing now remains but the overland stage stop and Pony Express Station, the one-time Suttler’s store now converted to a museum, and a nearby lonely field of white soldier tompstones. Still, we were thrilled to hear the presentation and get reacquainted with Camp Floyd’s story. Naturally I was looking for any research material that the Suttler’s store might have available, and I came away with a book on the story of the “Mormon War,” as well as one on the Mormon Battalion in which another of my ancestors served during the Mexican War.

Reluctantly, we had to leave the serenity of Camp Floyd and seek a camp to sleep for the night. We never make reservations so it’s always an adventure to try and find our evening camp once the clock arrives at the late afternoon hours. In this case, we were shooting for my ancestors' old stomping grounds of Springville, which meant immersing ourselves in the afternoon traffic of south Salt Lake City was going to be unavoidable.

Just as we expected, super-populated cities are just not a fun place through which to pilot a 32-foot RV, but we managed, albeit at a much higher rate of speed than I am normally comfortable driving. But by four o’clock we had arrived at our destination and discovered that the Springville KOA campground had plenty of room to include us. They quickly issued us a shady spot in which to have our dinner and relax until the whole adventure begins anew tomorrow.

Day 2 – Winnemucca to Wendover, Nevada – 230 Miles

Today we decided to bite the bullet and put even more miles on the ol’ RV then we did yesterday. Ordinarily we try and keep our daily mileage output to 150 miles. This allows us to see all the sites, take side trips if we want, and still be in camp by cocktail hour. But the thing is, there isn’t much between Carson City and Salt Lake City, Utah, that we haven’t explored a dozen times. So, as our book on DVD entitled “The Wright Brothers by David McCullough turned out to be excellent and quite enthralling, we decided to just keep riding along, learning a bit of history, and put some miles behind us. Total distance traveled: 230 Miles as the crow flies, which he can easily do in Nevada as there’s nothing open ground most of the time.

There are a couple of must see destinations in this portion of Nevada, both around Elko. The first is the Overland Trail Museum which you encounter just west of Elko. We’ve stopped there several times and it’s absolutely fabulous even if you’re not a trail buff or dedicated history aficionado. There are many “hands on” exhibits and superbly crafted dioramas that make it very easy to visualize our ancestors’ rugged and dangerous lives as they trekked two thousand miles across the prairies from the Missouri River to Oregon, California, or Utah. Speaking personally, my 3-times great grandfather was a Mormon wagon master who made two such trips, in 1847 and 1853, so I always love to stop and reacquaint myself with the museum's marvelous displays. AND, their western history book collection is extensive and always up to date.

Today we skipped the Trail Museum as the parking lot was empty and we decided it was probably not open. The second must-see is the Northeastern Nevada Museum which can be found on main street next to a large park on the east side of Elko. Though you might expect any museum in Elko, Nevada, to be a yawner, such is definitely not the case. We always try to stop when we come this way. The large adjacent park provides ample parking for an RV and is always an excellent choice for eating lunch, either in the rig or at a nearby picnic table.

The museum complex contains the traditional collection of display cases full of everything from geological samples to frontier guns to women’s fashions to, well, you name it. This is the oldest part of the museum. It even contains a print shop display full of real life printing equipment (photo right). Having spent nine years of my life as a printer you can guess that I always gravitate to this display. Completely on the other side of the museum is the new addition that contains the most incredible display of lifelike wild animals the taxidermists discipline can produce. Everything from African animals to just about any animal you’d likely see in the western states is present. Until I stood next to the Giraffe I had NO idea how incredibly tall those creatures can get. The museum’s giraffe must have stood a good twelve feet or even taller.

On the second floor, more or less above the wildlife exhibit, is the continuously changing gallery which tends to contain western art. Today’s changing exhibit was divided into four parts and boasted the western author and writer, Will James' collection of drawings and books, the Ansel Adams black and white photography exhibit, the Edward Weston black and white photography exhibit, and the Randy LaBarge western water color exhibit. I liked the water color exhibit the best, though all the art was outstanding.

In between the two wings is a very large space which contains everything from a small changing gallery where today we say some wonderful native American art by the renowned painter, Micqaela Jones, to a huge myriad of souvenirs. Also included in this area is everything from an artists' sales area, to a diorama of a large Mastodon and locally-dug two-million-year-old Mastodon bones. Especially interesting to us today was 1929 Ford pickup which sat quite close to the main entrance.

So, if you travel Interstate 80 anytime in the future don’t glue yourself to the blue highway, get off and take a look at these truly fascinating attractions. I guarantee you won’t be sorry.

Tonight we’re staying at the KOA in Wendover, a facility which is sort of bare-bones but which sports fairly level sites with fairly modern utilities. No cable TV. No internet unless you go sit in the registration lobby. But it’s seldom booked up and you can usually drop in without a reservation. Tomorrow we’ll be heading out across the salt flats on our way to Salt Lake City, which is about 122 miles away. From Salt Lake we’ll be dropping south along the Wasatch Range of Mountains with an eye toward ending up in southern Colorado next week. Until then, we hope to keep you informed and entertained as the Happy Wanderers travel the backroads of America. Cheers!

Day 1 -- Carson City to Winnemucca, Nevada -- 200 Miles

Well we’re off and running. The Happy Wanderers have FINALLY broken free of the Government’s Covid Containment and have hit the road in our beloved home on wheels. We managed to get everything on board and leave town about 10:00 a.m. this morning. Then it only took us to the far side of town to determine we’d forgotten something important, and back we went the way we had come. All things eventually put right, we left home again at 11:00 a.m. headed for our favorite truck-wash facility in Sparks where we hoped to find a very short line of dirty trucks waiting to be washed.

Wonder of wonders, we arrived at the truck wash just in time to be first in the wash bay and the crew got right to work washing the two years’ worth of Nevada dust and grime from the exterior so we could hit the road looking professional and sparkly.

By the time the truck was washed, Concetta had lunch ready to put on the table. So our first meal of the day took place amidst a veritable “sea” of parked 18-wheelers sporting every conceivable cab color, manufacturer’s name plate, and state of origin. We felt like a tiny silver minnow in a very large lake of giant rainbow trout.

Ordinarily we always try and avoid the Interstate Highways, those ubiquitous blue ones on the map atlas pages. But there isn’t any other type of highway leaving Sparks for points east, so we soon found ourselves merging into a solid, and very daunting stream of traffic headed in our direction and spent the rest of the day trying to maintain our travel lane as the 18-wheelers blew by us in a buffeting whirlwind.

After stopping in the town of Fernley to do a bit of banking, we continued on east until we made a stop at the Trinty rest stop where we could park and do a bit of walking to stretch our legs and get some fresh air. We were surprised that the wind had come up while we drove. Off to the northwest, as well as directly to the north of us, it was raining and the storm appeared to be moving toward us, or at least paralleling us. Still, right where we were standing, it was mostly sunny and clear and we did our walk and read up a bit about the immigrant trail that passed beneath our feet 150 years ago on some nearby historic markers.

Quite near Trinty is where the overland pioneers had to decide whether to head south toward what is today’s Fallon, Nevada, or to continue on west toward the Truckee Meadows that one day would be known as Reno. No matter which choice the wagon trains chose, it meant that they had a good forty miles of waterless desert to navigate before they reached water again. Many of these pioneers perished in the attempt no matter what their choice.

After a couple more stops to stretch our legs and get some exercise, we finally pulled into our intended camp for the night in the town of Winnemucca, about 200 miles from our home in Carson City. Once there, we discovered to our dismay that all of the spaces were full and the camp had no room left because of Winnemucca's annual rodeo.

So, our first choice being a no go we moved on. Fortunately, another camp just down the road – the Silver State RV Camp -- agreed to squeeze us in even though they also had a stack of reservations a half inch high on the check-in desk and the desk clerk had a pretty hard time finding a vacant spot.

So far the threatened rain has not appeared and that’s fine with us. But the sky was certainly beautiful today with its dark swirling clouds and streaks of light on the distant peaks.