It was probably because I was so keyed up from the long drive yesterday, but I didn't fall asleep until around 2 am. When my husband K's alarm went off at 6:30, I woke and just could not get back to sleep. It was terribly frustrating.
K left at 7:50. Shortly thereafter, the electricity went out and stayed out for a good 15 minutes. I took the time to post photos of yesterday to Facebook and Instagram.
Finally, at 10:44 (25460 on the odometer), I finally pulled myself together and left. I drove up that windy road I'd driven down two days ago. I did not like being near the edge.
When I arrived in town, I went looking for free parking off the main street and did not find any I felt comfortable with due to the incline. I do not like parking on hills. Not only does the main street, which is C street go uphill, so do the streets that are perpendicular to it. Or, more precisely, some go downhill, while the opposite side of the street goes uphill.
I finally found a lot that was obviously where some buildings used to be on the uphill side of the street. The lot itself was flat with a tall wall in the back. It had quite a few empty spots and I pulled in (25482). I was pulling myself together to head out to explore and digging for the $10 parking fee, when a woman came out of the pay booth, yelling at me that she didn't have time to wait on me to get out of the car. I gave her the money and she went back to the booth. When I passed, I told her that I would have come to pay her and she didn't have to be so nasty.
She set a poor tone for the day and had me so rattled that I think it affected how I then perceived the town.
I'd heard of Virginia City as a child, because it was mentioned frequently on the TV show Bonanza. I'm fairly certain it was mentioned in other westerns, too. There was some realism to that, since the town developed as a boomtown after the discovery of the Comstock Lode of silver in 1859. Mark Twain worked for the local paper for a couple of years and his book Roughing It has stories about the town. The city had numerous fires, especially one in 1875, which caused millions of dollars in damage and left a couple of thousand people homeless. That fire actually got down into one of the mines and melted the wheels on rail cars. They rebuilt the town, but the boom years were over in 1880. Now, only 661 people lived here according to the 2020 census. They maintain the Old West flair on C Street and even have "gun fights" at times for the tourists. There are mine tours, but I did not go on one, nor did I bother with a gun fight.
I headed up C to the Visitors Center, which was in an old saloon with a beautiful bar. A sign on it noted that the bar had been there since 1871, so don't hang on the bar rail or put both feet on the bottom rail. They had an authentic tin ceiling and sold postcards and other tourist items. They didn't really seem to be in the tourist information business. You'll note that the historical marker is from the "Julia Bulette Chapter". Julia Bulette, who had been a prostitute and was brutally murdered in 1867.
I wandered along the boardwalk, stopping into a few shops, but mostly looking from the outside. Far too many seemed to offer nothing that intrigued me. One place sold Hawaiian Shave Ice. Another used an old-fashioned looking sign to advertise that it had an escape room.
Just beyond the Escape Room was the First Presbyterian Church, which was founded in 1862, but the church wasn't built until 1866. The building was open to visitors. So, I went in.
The women inside were quite friendly and seemed glad to have a visitor to the oldest church in town and the only major public building to survive the 1875 fire. As the pointed out some things that the church had that dated back to the mid-1800s, I realized I'd never been in a Presbyterian church before. It was really quite different from a Catholic church, even though some things, like an organ, were common to both. I wasn't quite sure how to end the conversation and gracefully exit, but I was saved by another couple coming in.
I crossed the street and when I came to the Comstock Firemen's Museum, I found a sign about the fire.
First, I have a hard time wrapping my head around $10 million. Second, the idea that there was that much wealth back then is mind-boggling, but I have to remind myself that this was the nexus of the Comstock Lode. By the way, that's around $200 million in today's dollars.
From across the street, I could see how woebegone the upper stories of the building were, even if they looked nice under the awning.
I turned down Taylor Street, which was quite literally down. It was a rather steep hill. Down on E Street was my next destination- St. Mary's in the Mountains Catholic Church. This had been built in 1868, but succumbed in the 1875 fire. Surprisingly, they rebuilt it the very next year.
It certainly didn't look like it was almost 150 years old. But, a sign noted that it was the first Catholic church in Nevada. The fact that only a vigil Mass and one Sunday Mass were listed told me that the congregation is not terribly large. For comparison, my church has a vigil Mass, 2 Sunday morning Masses in English, a noon Spanish Mass, and another English Mass in the evening.
The church was not large inside, but the woodwork made it beautiful. It had old-fashioned pew doors. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling that made you notice the woodwork up there that was reminiscent of the lace-like stone of old cathedrals. The altar was the old-school kind, i.e. up against the back wall. The tabernacle light was lit, but I wasn't sure that the others in the church at the time knew the significance. The stained glass windows were richly colored.
As I worked my way around the nave, I came upon the really lovely 1870 baptismal font that, luckily, had been removed from the church before the 1875 fire.
A small shop had been set up in a corner in the back of the shop to sell religious articles and postcards. When I paid for my postcards, the lady encouraged me to go around the side of the building to reach the free museum that had been set up in the basement. This struck me as a good idea, so I did.
In the museum, I found info on the 1800's Virginia City. There was also a treasure trove of Catholic items. Those associated with the Mass had helpful signs to explain them. They'd also rescued items, such as small organs, from churches that had closed. The older man who was on duty was friendly, although I detected a little loneliness. I'm not sure that many folks make their way down there. I was happy that a couple showed up before I left. By the way, it was just about impossible to take many photos down there due to the overhead lights and the glass coverings.
When I left shortly after 1:35, I passed the town's middle school and a street where the townsfolk lived. I also looked up on the mountainside and saw a V. Other towns had down this with their initial, too.
Can you spot the historical inaccuracy in the photo below?
As I roamed down C Street in search of food, I came upon a parking lot with the memorial below in it. I found it fascinating- samples of all the things that had been mined in Nevada. However, I was not as happy with the lot it was in. It was difficult to take photos of the monument and avoid including signs for the former guy. It was not the only place in town with such signs and it was making me uncomfortable and feeling not welcome. A tourist town should avoid such political displays.
I found a postcard mural like the one I'd seen in Carson City. It had an impressive amount of detail.
As I passed across the street from the lot that had my car, I noticed that the wall had an impressive trompe l'oeil of old Virginia City.
It was 1:57, when I finally gave up and chose the Red Dog Saloon for lunch. While it was nice to eat in a place that still had the old tin ceiling and decided to be funky by building bicycles into the tables, it really was unimpressive in the food department. They were also not terribly friendly. I finally figured out to go to a window in the back to order my barbecue beef sandwich and fries for $12.95 and Diet Pepsi for $2.25 from the kid. I was given a buzzer to let me know when to come get the food. Had I known that it would not be delivered to me, I would not have tipped so generously. When my food was finally ready and got it to my table, I took one look at the meat and recognized it as something that would have come in a Lloyd's barbecue tub. It was singularly uninspiring and not worth a picture.
I was back in the car at 2:48 and heading out of town. Just outside of town, I pulled over to take these shots to show what the road was like.
I had to pull over and take the photo below, when I got down the hill. I'd seen it yesterday, but didn't have the chance to take it. I also didn't see any horses, wild or otherwise.
It was 3:23(25496), when I pulled into a very busy Maverick gas station for a fill-up. This tank had 370.8 miles on it. the 8.478 gallons each cost $5.899 for a whopping $50.01. I was back on the road at 3:31, but 10 minutes later, I had the opportunity to photograph this overpass. I was really glad, too, because so many of them in Reno had great art on them.
I got back to the hotel at 3:52 (25505). I had time to do some posts and relax before K returned to the room with dinner- a toasted sandwich for himself, a huge chef's salad for me, and a piece of chocolate cake along with two Coke Zeros. It was definitely better than lunch. I put half the salad into the fridge for tomorrow.
I went down to the convention area with him after 6 to be able to hear him play in the professors choir. He usually plays in that and always finds a way to get me into it. I noticed that not everyone in the audience was wearing masks. This did not strike me as wise.
The room had doors on the side wall and the stage was set up at one end. There were people who were entering during the music, which made me wonder why no one was there to stop them. It also made me wonder why they even did it, when they could hear the music was being played and that is a huge no-no in a concert. You enter between pieces or movements. Then, this guy not only entered during a piece, he proceeded to head up the aisle and sit in the second row. What the heck?? That is beyond rude. That infuriated me. On this trip, I'd decided that I was now old enough to tell people when they are doing something wrong. After the concert, still incensed and and shaking a bit, I made my way up to the second row, where he still was. I asked him if he was a musician and he said he was. "Well, I'm not, but even I know that not only do you not enter the hall when the music is playing, but you also do not walk up the room to sit in the front." He stammered a bit and I said, "That was incredibly rude and you should know better." I turned and left, still shaking from the stress of it. But, it had to be done and with any kind of luck, he'll never be that rude again.
The concert was good, though, and done in under an hour. K was staying for the big concert of the night and I headed upstairs. I took a couple of pictures of the pool area from above.
My phone indicated I'd walked 5,010 steps for 1.7 miles.
