The Downieville show, much like the Canyonville Oregon show, has earned
it's own nickname. Friends and "family" these days just call it D'ville .
And the answer to "What's not to like?" is simple
and to the point. Absolutely nothing~ It's all good! Nestled in the highest of
the High Sierras, Downieville is the ideal location for one of the west's
premier bottle shows and get togethers. The shows slogan should be, "step back in
time". That hits the nail on the head.
Deb, my wife, had never made the trek, despite the fact that
I've been a regular from day one. This year, as full retirement fast
approaches, I put my foot down. Make time, reschedule one of the labs that you
teach, and lets go forward, into the past. And much to my surprise, she did.
The drive from J'ville to D'ville is wondrous. We head out
of our 1851 Oregon
gold rush town, drive for about a half hour on back country roads and then
blast into the present on Interstate 5. Barreling south at well over a mile a
minute, we rocket to Corning
in record time. From Corning we head southeast,
stopping briefly in Chico
at Trader Joes (priorities...), finally arriving in Oroville for both people
and truck refueling. And then the regression begins. Lazy one lane roads
meander through the scrub oaks and Jeffery Pines as we wander eastward through
the Sierra Foothills. As we cross the dam at Bullard's Bar, a wondrous
transformation takes place and we emerge in the High Sierras. Sugar pines,
yellow pines and tall cedars replace the lowland vegetation. The air is
clearer, cleaner, crisper and bluer. Before we know it, we turn left on Hiway
49 and trek north as the North
Yuba River
dances downstream, outside the passengers side window. And then suddenly we
round the last bend. Magically, we return to the past in J'villes California
counterpart. Downieville aka "D'ville", ca. 1849. We've arrived.
Forward into the past.
It's around 4PM and it's 90ish and change; warm, real warm,
by D'ville standards. As Tim, Rick and Lou dealt with setup logistics, we
decided to wander around town for a bit. Talk about dejavu. Downieville, like Jacksonville, is akin to
turning the pages of a Norman Rockwell book of prints. History is around every
corner. Well preserved and restored historic buildings abound. Friendly folks
smile and say hi~. Local dogs meander, kids play, fisherman try their luck at
the river and the mountain bikers slowly come back in to roost. With an hour to
kill before things start getting into gear over at Simiville, we decide to
check into our home away from home for the weekend.
Located just before the iron bridge as Hwy. 49 crosses over
the Downie River, the Carriage House Inn perches on the west bank on Commercial
Street. It's cute, it's clean, it exudes personality. And Liz, the "sole
proprietor", is wonderful. She's perky, attentive, and a great
conversationalist; (not to mention very attractive). We were fortunate to be
assigned room #3. It has a private bath, queen bed, microwave / refer, a
leather sofa, and a balcony overlooking the river. Wonderful for kicking back
and taking in the D'ville late summer afternoon.
Around 5:30 we decide to migrate upslope to prospect for a
party. We stopped to check our pans about a quarter mile up Main Street. We'd heard that a serious
pay streak was rumored to have been discovered on the grounds of the old
D'ville Brewery. Man did we hit the mother load there! There were
"prospectors" from all over the west congregated.
Wil and Jeanne
Clark had the 49 Wines tasting booth set up. Standing room only. Wil has been a
great mentor to those of us that enjoy wine, but still need to polish up on the
finer points of appreciation.
Much like the rendezvous of 150 years ago, bottle
prospectors came together to enjoy a night of festivities that will not soon be
forgotten. As always, the food was simply awesome! Memorable snapshots include the ever present karaoke inside the
Simiville Saloon, which started with a
couple of the ladies (L & J) bursting forth with a rousing rendition of
Love Shack. Followed by a couple of the ladies (J & L) bursting forth with
yet another rousing rendition (or two) of Love Shack. Lane, not to be outdone,
proceeded to test the theory of gravity. Yep, Newton was right. And gravity still works just as
good these days. Rick and I visited outside while the gang inside put Simi's
framing abilities to the ultimate test. The '06 S.F. Earthquake could not have
rocked the Simiville Saloon any harder. And yet, it stayed on it's foundation.
No small tribute to the master builder!
As the evening progressed, we spent time mixing with as many
friends and fellow collectors as the hours allowed. Slowly, close to midnight, the
crowd began to run out of gas and we all migrated back to our homes away from
home for the evening. I'm sure my thoughts were mirrored by everyone else. What
a great get together! The hours flew by; the evening over too soon.
Debs cell phone alarm went off early, way early, like 5:30AM
early! Nothing like a technologically advanced four year old grand daughter to
get your morning off to an early start. Remind us never again to ask "Alli" how to
program the alarm before leaving on a trip; at least not until she's a
teenager and wants to sleep until noon...
Wide awake (well sort of), we begrudgingly crawled into
action. Shower, shave, Advil... and a banana washed down with coffee. Frankly,
I don't recall a thing about the early morning, although somehow the racks got
set up, the whiskies arranged, and folks started stuffing money in my hand in
exchange for bottles. Around nine AM things started to gel again and I thought,
heh, this is all good. Especially after Ferd was kind enough to snap a digital
of me with the flash locked in the off position. I owe him big time~
The show saw a steady flow of folks through the doors
starting early on. I was pleasantly surprised by the interest and sales of
common stuff off my table like Sarsaparillas, Dr. Kilmers, cures, remedies, and
the like. Sure, I had them priced cheap but at least there seems to be a
renewed interest in entry level bottles by folks (both young and not so young).
And there was also an obvious interest in the top end of
bottles as well. Here's a list, down and dirty, of some of the all stars that
changed hands; Dr. Bell's Cocktail (?) Bitters shaped like a bell, 3- Dingens
Napolean Cocktail (?) bitters - shaped like a banjo, Salutarius bitters SF in
dark green, GO Blakes, J. Moore / Chielovich, Old Woodburn, California Clubhouse
and an ST Suits, an Old Cabin Bitters in light amber, a yellowish Wormers pint,
a couple of Tea Kettles, a complete and matching set of cobalt Carters Cathedral inks,plus God knows what else... By the time the dust
settled, a healthy six figures in top end antique glass had changed hands in
one day. Sounds like a new fangled gold rush to me.
Fast forward to Saturday evening and a renewed chance to relax
at yet another BBQ. And once again, both food and conversation flowed. Being
somewhat adventurous, I took a chance on a sausage that intrigued me. Rick mentioned that Tim had supplied it and it wasn't just your basic off the shelf Johnsonville Braut. Hmm, what a nice surprise. It looked
like something I'd enjoy, since I'm well known in J'ville for creating my own brands of "Silva's
sausage". Warren,
sitting next to me, tried the same. After a couple of bites, the real surprise set
in. This wasn't just any sausage; it was nuclear sausage. Sweat poured out -
beer and wine poured in. It wasn't enough. The heat just kept cranking. @#$% ^*!!!! I felt like the star of Man vs. Food,
and the food was winning; in a big way! Higgins, we owe you.
Saturday AM greeted us with the sounds of the Downie River
gently gurgling past our room and continental breakfast on the verandah. A couple of trips to the truck, another brief chat with Liz, room checked out, keys turned in, and we were on
the road again.
I thought that we'd try a different route on the way home. It
was pretty, and pretty long~ Please remind me next year not to take the
"shortcut" home via 49 to 89 to 70 to 36 and down into Red Bluff next
year. (What the hell was I thinking?) 8+ hours home. Almost makes the Bullard's
Bar to Oroville drive look like a cake walk...
Late afternoon finally saw us crawling down the long dusty
gravel lane up to our place. Full of great memories of the D'ville weekend that
we dream about every year.
Two simple words describe the show;
Great Job!
