Editor:
I read with interest about the story of the wild weather in Thomas Canyon. (Sun, July 9). In 1948, my uncle Kenneth Eddie purchased the Grass Valley Dairy from then Sen. Pat McCarran who soon became governor.
Along with the large ranch came property situated along the banks of Thomas Creek, at the mouth of the canyon. My first visit was in 1952 to what Kenneth called the 'Upper Ranch." The road at that time paralleled the south side of Thomas Creek, from the intersection of airport and Grass Valley roads to the canyon. Two knolls guarded the canyon. Past the knolls, we crossed the shallow creek and then entered the pasture through a gate near the creek. Kenneth couldn't pasture the dry stock there, as the Mormon crickets had inundated the pasture. They were nasty little creatures ranging from two to five inches long. A hundred yards or so above the creek on the hill, two walls each were all that remained of three stone cabins. The buildings had been built into the side hill.
My family moved to the dairy in late 1952. In the spring of 1953, I noticed a large cloud above Thomas Canyon. I thought it was strange, as there wasn't a cloud in the sky, except for that one. I called my mother and uncle out to look at it. We could see the lightning and hear the thunder from the valley floor. Then we could see the hail, which turned the entire canyon white, all the way to the top of the mountain. The hail was followed by heavy rain. Soon the cloud dissipated and the canyon was turned back to shades of greens and browns.
Kenneth told us to make preparations, as we would have floodwater by morning. We moved everything up to the high shelves in the basement and moved a week's supply of provisions up to the kitchen. The next morning, my mother was miffed when she found my six lambs, the dog and the cat in bed with me. They had followed the cocker spaniel in through an open window escaping the floodwater.
The main ranch was covered with six inches of water, including in the house. Kenneth had opened the gate at the reservoir so that it didn't overflow. He also removed the boards in the check and turned the flow of water into the gravel pit that sat about a mile above the ranch. Both the reservoir and the gravel pit were full to the brim and all the irrigation ditches were overflowing.
The large culvert across Grass Valley Road that handled the normal flow of Thomas Creek had washed out. Drivers couldn't see the water until they were stuck in it. Kenneth spent the day using the old steel-wheeled McCormick tractor to pull vehicles out of the floodwater, until the county could put up barricades. My job was to do the milking and feeding of the livestock.
When we could finally drive up to the canyon to inspect the damage, we discovered that the knoll on the south side of the creek was half gone, eroded away. The water had to have been at least thirty feet high, with unbelievable force to have done that kind of damage.
In 1954, the father of one of my classmates, Mr. See, told me of his experience in Thomas Canyon as a young man. He was hired to tend the sheep that were pastured at the Upper Ranch. He explained that one of the stone cabins was a cookhouse, one was used for storage and the third cabin to the west was the bunkhouse. He woke in the middle of the night to a roar that he thought might be a plane crash. He opened the door and was hit chest-deep in water, which threw him backward into the building. He dived through the doorway and was swept into the floodwater. He was able to grab a bush and pull himself up out of the water up to the side hill. By daylight, he could see that the buildings were gone, as were his provisions and his clothes. He found a pair of jeans that caught on the barbed wire fence. He walked barefooted to the main ranch to get help.
My family returned to California in 1954, but I spent most of my vacations at the ranch. Easter Sunday in 1956 Kenneth took me for a horseback ride up to Thomas Canyon. He gave me the sad news that he was selling the ranch to Mr. Westmorland. This is my little piece of history about my favorite place in the world for an afternoon horseback ride.
Frances Marian Gordon Miley
Yuba City, Calif.
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