So I've been inspired by the Griffociraptor.

Today, while warming up for the Dunnigan Hills Road Race, I spotted a historical marker. It was badly neglected, grown over with weeds, spray painted on some of the cement base, long forgotten. But the words inscribe on the monument were very interesting. After I got home I Googled some of what I had read and I found the story amazing.

Horace Dunnigan was born in 1825 in Chicago, Illinois. All he knows of his parents is a simple letter that was written. It said: Please, take this boy and care for him. We are poor and I fear we won't make it through the winter. When the nuns that ran the orphanage turned Horace out into the world 18 years later, they gave him the note. They told him that it was pinned to his nightshirt and that they found him on their doorstep when he was about two.

He was a bright man, but quiet. He was confident in himself despite being abandoned at such a young age. He set out to find his way in the world and knew that his greatest opportunity waited 1500 miles to the west. He made it as far as St. Joes, Missouri where he found work as a black smith. In the evenings, he would go out into the wilderness and hunt. It was immediate that he discovered he was a deadly shot. Two years later, in 1845, he took on with the ill fated Donner Party as an advanced scout. His job was to ride two to three days forward of the wagon trains and hunt for food. He would chop wood and butcher the meat so that when the party arrived, they would be well prepared. Henry Donner, the Captain of the expedition, later wrote: I've never met a man so capable as Horace Dunnigan. Certainly we would have perished well before we ever reached the Sierra Nevada.

Dunnigan was quiet mostly, but would speak his mind when required. He was vehemently opposed to leaving the Oregon Trail for the rumored "shortcut" to California. Ultimately, the Captain chose the shorter route. Dunnigan, though in thorough disagreement with the decision, did his job. He was instrumental in getting the Party through the Wasach Mountain Range which shockingly did not do the Party in. Dunnigan again pleaded with the Captain and the Party elders to winter in what has now become Salt Lake City. In his advanced movements, he reported that the desert was too hard for the weakened Party to cross successfully. That by waiting, they could go in the spring when there would be more water to sate the oxen. Again, overruled, Dunnigan plowed ahead mapping a route through the desert that brought the team past oasis's that proved to be too few and too far between.

With Dunnigan about four days ahead, he had just cleared the Sierra mountain pass when the snows started to fall. Fearing he would be snowbound, he pressed on for eight straight days and staggered out at Sutter's Mill. It was only later that he realized that the Party was stuck on the other side of the pass. He immediately searched for anyone that would help him with his rescue plans, but few took up with him. Armed with crude snowshoes, a 110 pound pack of provisions, Dunnigan retraced his steps back into the mountains. It took him an entire month to cross the range and then locate the Party, now buried in 10 feet of snow. He had just enough food to keep the people alive for two weeks. He was able to locate and kill some game, but he knew these people would perish if they didn't get out of there soon. After reassuring Captain Donner that he would return with help, Dunnigan set out again for Sutter's Mill. This time he was able to rally a rescue Party. By the time they returned, half the Party had been wiped out and had given into cannibalism. Some in the rescue rescue party were so disgusted with what they found, they initially refused to partake in offering any aide to the destitute. Again, Dunnigan found the words to make them do his service and in the end, he marched those that remained to safety.

Naturally he became a hero. Word spread quickly in the west regarding this daring and industrious young man. General Fremont, who was leading the war against the Spanish knew that this was the type of man he needed in his army if he was to have any hope against the better trained and equipped Spanish. He sent for Dunnigan. He offered him a commission of men and would make him a major upon his acceptance. Dunnigan immediately accepted and reported for duty at an outpost called Yerba Buena (San Francisco today). His first and only mission was to be instrumental in defeating the Spanish and allowed the United States to stake claim on California. The Spanish had set up a formidable occupation near what is now called San Luis Obispo. Fremont needed to drive them back or he feared he'd lose the war. The plan called for Dunnigan and his men to drive directly at the Spanish while Fremont would take his men and shadow him to the east. A few days into the battle, Fremont would drive his men in from the east and drive the Spanish to the west. Dunnigan did as he was told, knowing full well that less than 10% of his men would live to see the fall of San Luis Obispo. When Fremont showed up on the scene, he found Dunnigan's men dead or dying on what he described as the most bloody battlefield his eyes had ever seen. He was stunned and almost hesitated while Dunnigan's men continued to fight. Fremont made easy work of what was left of the battle weary Spanish. Dunnigan himself was shot four times, twice in his left leg, once in his right forearm and once in the gut. But he continued to fight. Later, General Ayalla proclaimed: Major Dunnigan is the best soldier I have ever witnessed in battle. He commands his men from the front and fights with such valor and bravery, I knew immediately my forces would be no match.

News of Major Dunnigan reached Washington DC in short order. Congress immediately proclaimed that they owed him a great debt of gratitude and offered him anything as his reward. Dunnigan simply stated that all he wanted was some land to call his own. They parcelled off a section of land to the west of Sutters Mill and to the north of the Vaca Valley. An 80 square mile section of land grown thick with oaks and held the most fertile land in the west. It was a brilliant reward for his efforts, they said.

In the Cache Creek Valley and the surrounding hills, mercury was discovered. Dunnigan set up elaborate mining operations to harvest the liquid. Later, when gold was discovered in the hills to the east, it was Dunnigan's mercury that was used in the mining operations. But as is the case sometimes in history, Dunnigan's story ends sadly. Driven mad from the mercury poison, Dunnigan slowly lost his mind and then his fortune from the mining operations. Convinced that there was gold on his stretch of land, he began strip mining operations that were grand in scale. He dug huge holes about his land in search of the "color" but never hit the lode. As his money ran out, and he could no longer pay to keep the men digging, he became a recluse. In time, the hills and holes faded into the landscape and only those that knew the story knew that these were Dunnigan's Hills.

Anyway, I thought a lot about Horace Dunnigan today as I raced around that barren land. A man oddly enough abandoned at such a young age yet given to relentless devotion throughout his life. Our race, I guess fittingly enough, finished with the pack fighting to the very end. I ended up behind some floundering Penn Velo guy and I had to check up to avoid going down. I was able to make up some spots, but the win was history. I floated in fifth but richer for the historical knowledge of Horace Dunnigan.

Johnny GoFast