Before we left for our July road trip across the western states I overheard some fellow birders talking about how great birding was in California’s Sierra Valley. Like I’ve written before, despite the long-time love of birds, I came relatively late to the idea of organized birding and list-making. Competitive cycling, even after a point, Ashtanga Yoga, social media, had left me both weary, and wary, of too much quantification, especially around something that had been a resource and refuge for so long. But given time and maturity, I’ve recognized both the broader benefits to science and conservation of accurate birder lists. Plus it's fun to really see how many different birds are in a given place.
Sierra Valley, located along the Pacific Flyway and replete with crucial wetlands and a convergence of different habitats home to startling diversity of bird species— more than 200 species. Plus it was along our route home from Wyoming. Instead of overnighting in Reno like we usually have on the last day of our trip, we exited the I-80 and overnighted just a little further down the road in Loyalton, in the heart of Sierra County, I could do a little birding.
Loyalton, a small town with a population under a 1000, felt a lot further than 40 miles from Reno. Once a hub of logging and ranching, now it's more of a crossroads for birders, cyclists and hikers intent on enjoying the surrounding fields, hots springs and mountains. A few inns, a couple of restaurants, an old railroad museum and a smattering of homes made up the town. We checked into the funky hotel (housed, we would soon learn, in the former home of the once-upon Sierra County Coroner Alice Wing Rees) and went off to stretch our legs before dinner.
Most things were closed on the main street but when we ventured on a residential sidestreet we came upon half a city block given over to an extensive model train exhibit. We had found the Loyalton Museum’s Railroad Avenue where a tall man named Ken was maintaining the tracks. Technically, they were closed but when he saw us peering through the fence, he waved us in and switched on the train so we could see it. The tracks were hot after the long, hot day, so a few times the train stalled or went off-track. Still, we were impressed!
Ken encouraged us to knock on the door of the museum — housed in a former elementary school — and tell Barb to let us in (“Yeah, Barbie and Ken!” she laughingly would tell us after she revealed how she and her husband volunteered at the museum on weekends and we started. We had just seen “Barbie” in Elko the night before). Barb enthusiastically gave us a quick tour of the place, including a glimpse at another extensive model train depicting the local railroad history and Alice Rees’s black buggy. I felt like we had dropped into a whole other world. Given what I now knew of Alice Rees (a badass, it seemed), I also worried that our room might be haunted!
It wasn’t. At least for us. The Gilded Drifter was full of fellow travelers, several of whom we talked to while eating at the excellent restaurant right next door. As we shared a piece of pie, we learned that several were just passing through, some were here to ride their bikes, and others were enjoying a weekend of soaking at the nearby hot springs. The waitress knew about the local birding hotspots, which we got up and explored in the morning. Sandhill Crane, White-faced Ibis, White Pelican, large flocks of Yellow-headed Blackbirds and much more. It was lovely.
I’d almost forgotten about our time in Loyalton because when we got home, we hit the ground running. Appointments, shows, teaching, a quick overnight jaunt to look at property followed by the trip Alaska, Hawkwatch resuming. Real life got busy real fast. After the past week and a half, with my allergy reaction followed by a fender bender on the way to the gig last week, I’ve been feeling like that model train in Loyalton and that I’ve gone off the rails a bit.
Despite a full calendar of events to prepare for, the aftershocks have given me pause. There are signs to move and signs to slow down, haze in the sky, floors to be swept. Everyone I know is talking about personal shifts, injuries, recovery, how much time has passed, the events of the moment holding us here but somehow, in my case, not the main focus. I had a long chat with a friend yesterday about how injuries and accidents are signals to do things differently. I’m not sure what that looks like yet.