|Carson Sink Station|
39° 16' 51"N, 118° 47' 37"W - SOUTH OF FALLON quad
|VISITED||We Visited: 28 February 2003|
|DIRECTIONS|| From Fallon, south on U.S. 95 for 13.4 miles, west on local road 0.7 miles
From Fallon: 14.1 miles
Carson Sink Station was, at one time, a frame house inside adobe walls . It was mentioned that there was a "fine spring of water" within a few feet of the station. At the time, Carson Lake was much bigger and much closer, as they mention getting mud from the lake to make the adobe.
Arrived at the summit, we sighted for the first time Carson Lake, or rather the sink of the Carson River. It derives its name from the well-known mountaineer whose adventurous roamings long anticipated scientific exploration. Supplied by the stream from the eastern flank of the Sierra
Our conscientious informant at Sand-Springs Station had warned us that upon the summit of the divide we should find a perpendicular drop, down which the wagons could be lowered only by means of lariats affixed to the axle-trees and lashed round strong "stubbing -posts." We were not, however, surprised to find a mild descent of about 30. From the summit of the divide five miles led us over a plain too barren for sage, and a stretch of stone and saleratus to the watery margin, which was troublesome with sloughs and mud. The cattle relished the water, although
Remounting at 5 15 P.M. we proceeded to finish the ten miles which still separated us from the* station, by a rough and stony road, perilous to wheel conveyances, which rounded the southern extremity of the lake. After passing a promontory whose bold projection had been conspicuous from afar, and threading a steep canyon leading toward the lake, we fell into its selvage, which averaged about one mile in breadth. The small crescent of the moon soon ceased to befriend us, and we sat in the sadness of the shade, till presently a light glimmered under Arcturus, the road bent toward it, and all felt " jolly." But, " Heu, heu! nos miseros, quam totus homuncio nil est !" [“Alas for us poor mortals, all that poor man is is nothing."]
A long dull hour still lay before us, and we were approaching civilized lands. "Sink Station" looked well from without; there was a frame house inside an adobe enclosure, and a pile of wood and a stout haystack promised fuel and fodder. The inmates, however, were asleep, and it was ominously long before a door was opened. At last appeared a surly cripple, who presently disappeared to arm himself with his revolver. The judge asked civilly for a cup of water ; he was told to fetch it from the lake, which was not more than a mile off, though, as the road was full
I preferred passing the night on a side of bacon in the wagon to using the cripple's haystack, and allowed sleep to steep my senses in forgetfulness, after deeply regretting that the Mormons do not extend somewhat farther westward.
-Richard Burton, THE CITY OF THE SAINTS, AND ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS TO CALIFORNIA.
In 1960 it was said you could still see the faint remnants of four or five adobe walls facing north. Now, however, unless you knew exactly what you were looking for, you're not going to see much of anything at all. Luckily there are a couple of competing markers standing side by side to tell you that this is the site.
Interestingly, there are seashells everywhere, indicating that this was once sea floor. Road can get sandy, so suggest 4WD.