Dunsmuir

In the shadow of Shasta, the tiny town of Dunsmuir California chases its tail.

Formerly called Pusher for all the locomotives it housed, ready to push trains up and over the steep sides of magnificent snowy peaks of the Trinity Mountains, it is now a town in transition.

Tiny houses originally built for rail workers and their families variably look forlorn or cared-for.

The population, which in the 1950’s and ’60’s was close to twenty five hundred, is down to just over sixteen hundred. Principal Ray Kellar of Dunsmuir High School says they once had a student body of eight hundred. Now, they are struggling to keep the home of the Tiger's football team open with only sixty-five students in four grades. I don't think the school's “Go Tigers” logo sent the students away. More likely it’s the lack of incentive to get up and go to school, says Mr. Kellar. Federal welfare laws changed in the 1990’s. The entire population took a dive. Many families left town. Work is scarce. The population is depressed - financially and psychologically. At least the Tigers enjoy breakfast and lunch for all students, no stigma, no questions asked. Charter schools and home study programs don’t require sleepy teens to get up and show up, says Principal Kellar. This June they expect to graduate sixteen students. Many of them will go up the road to Shasta City to the community college there. Fewer will go directly to four year colleges or universities. The future may hold one high school for several mini-cities in the shadow of Shasta's enigmatic and ubiquitous presence.

Writing buddy Jan and I stayed three nights at a fine old motel called Cedar Lodge - complete with lovely aviary full of parrots, cockatiels, and coy fish. Owners Mike and Sylvia Robinson filled us in on their effort to sell the place, and told how Dunsmuir’s demographics definitely are skewing older, as young people leave for jobs elsewhere.

Yet… there are glimmers of new life. City-weary folk from the Bay Area are looking northward for R & R. When we tucked into The Brown Trout, across Sacramento Street from the train station, we had the sense that change is in the wind. Feeling the natural air conditioning wafting up from a grate in the floor of this historical (1903) building was magical. SEEING the river flowing by directly under our feet through a plexiglass chunk of flooring was dizzying. Owner Peter and store manager Barbara were helpful and informative as my friend and I sought historical perspective on this gem of a town in transition. Peter travels east to Massachusetts and Pennsylvania about once a year to pick up dazzling antiques. Driving back trough the Rust Belt, he can't help but notice the strong resemblance these falling-apart-towns bear to his new hometown of Dunsmuir. A Bay Area transplant himself, he is made aware during his yearly sojourn that this old town is on a similar skid downward. It's as if the gutting of infrastructure due to lack of a vibrant economy yields a third world economy. Is it gentrification that is pushing out the welfare families? Is it the closure of rail yards and lumber mills? No viable opportunities to work make it hard to live.

Yet, Peter's inventory of vintage items - including fine old oak furniture, toys of the fifties, fine clothing, and jewelry - is impressive yet reasonably priced. Tourist trade is his life blood.

Dining at the Wheelhouse Cafe next door (yum!) completed a lovely afternoon in Dunsmuir. While dining, we saw and said hello to our waitress of a couple of nights before from Yak’s Restaurant. It really IS a small town! Yak’s is rated as one of America’s top 100 restaurants. She and her luncheon companion said they value the quiet and natural beauty of Dunsmuir and fled the "Big Bay Busy" to try it out. So far, so good!

By far my favorite place on Dunsmuir Avenue is the Hardware Store. Founded in 1894, it has the best selection of new items displayed under and around one hundred year old farm tools, crates, OLD license plates, and photos of the town in its heyday. Don’t old hardware stores have the best smell and the best wood floors? Again, owner Ron is seeking a buyer for the thriving and only hardware store in town. (At less than $500,000, folks... it's a steal!)

Our last evening there, we walked around the cemetery. I have a fascination with the oval convex photos adorning some of the tombstones. There was a small fenced yard around the grave of Abner Weed and his family. It is for him, and not cannabis that the town of Weed is named. Weed is just an exit or two north on Interstate Five.

Dunsmuir is definitely a destination for further enjoyment, along with its companion cities of Shasta, Weed, McCloud and Etna. And, hey... it's just a skip to the Oregon border and the annual Shakespeare Festival in Ashland!

(Grrrrrr.... I have some lovely photos that refuse to jump across from my smarter-than-I-am-iPhone to my computer. Perhaps, when I figure out how technology works, I'll be able to post them as a "Tuesday Museday.")