Journey to the Maiden’s Grave

Old Buildings

For many years when traversing Nevada via I-80, I would drive past the turnoff to Beowawe with little desire to check it out. The main reason I had little interest was that, due to highway hypnosis, or perhaps, a mild form of dyslexia, I thought the second “w” in the name was a “v” making the name look like “Beowave.” Beowave, to me, sounded like some microwave tower control center or some such modern gibberish that’s not appealing to an old history seeker like myself.

In more recent times I have realized the true spelling, which sounds less technical and more Native-American, therefore more alluring. I also learned this was the location of The Maiden’s Grave, which was something I had been wanting to find and explore.

During a mid-winter thaw with my navigator, Trish, riding shotgun for the first time in seven months, I headed out to see what all this was about. The settlement of Beowawe, such as it is, is only about six miles down State Route 306 on the way to Crescent Valley, where it crosses the Humboldt River and then the Central Pacific tracks. Beowawe was suddenly before us, and not 10 seconds later, was suddenly behind us. The town has never been very big.

My first and foremost concern was to find the way to The Maiden’s Grave, but before we could do that, something else caught our eye. We saw a few clusters of old buildings a short distance to the west. Abandoned and dilapidated, it sparked our interest, and we found a road out.

It appeared as if two, possibly three, of the buildings had been used for commercial purposes. Set back further was a neat row of three houses. Some of the buildings had stucco additions, leading me to believe they may have been used well into the 20^th century. (I later found out someone had lived in one of the houses as late as the summer of 1980.)  I wanted to rename this place “Sofaville,” as the area was littered with the wooden frames of at least six couches. In actuality, this is an abandoned mining camp for the nearby Cinnabar Mine.

Not far off we found a deserted homestead, complete with a partial 1940’s delivery truck and an early 1960’s model Dodge station wagon. In the cabin was a mid-20^th century ice box style fridge with plenty of bullet holes. And we found more broken homesteads, old cars, outhouses, and the general wear and tear of lost dreams.

Never send me on a mission to some place when there are old buildings, historical sites, or ruins along the way, because at least half of my time will be consumed with these stops; just as this post was to be about the Maiden’s Grave, which I have not even gotten to yet. I will now lurch myself away from these enticing distractions and attempt to get back on topic.

Old People

We found Rose Ranch Road, a well graded road that leads two miles or so to Maiden’s Grave Road, which winds up to the top of a bluff containing a cemetery. The large cross bearing the name of Lucinda Duncan stands out and can be seen a good distance off. I believe the significant marker is fitting, not only to the plight of Lucinda, but as a reminder of the thousands of westbound emigrants that lie in unmarked graves along the emigrant trail from Missouri to California.

The story of Lucinda Duncan is controversial in itself. Folklore has provided two vastly different stories as to who she was. Lucinda died on a westbound wagon train in 1863, that much is certain, but it is the only thing that is consistent between the two stories. One story tells the tale of railroad workers coming across her grave while working on the Central Pacific tracks. The appearance of the remains led the workers to believe they were that of a teenage girl, hence the name “Maiden’s Grave.” The remains were moved to the nearby bluff and reburied there for safe keeping and the Railroad has maintained it ever since.

The other tale is quite different. A diary from the wagon train indicates a 70-year-old woman and matriarch of the train, died here after an illness. The entry reads:

“Sunday Morning 16. An event occurred last night that has cast a gloom over our camp, the death of one of its members. An old lady, the mother and grandmother of a large part of our train. She had been sick for several days & night before last she became very ill so much so our train was compelled to lay over yesterday & last night she died.”

There is further mention of her in the entry the following day:

Monday 17. Before leaving Mrs. Duncans funeral was preached by Captain Peterson. Her remains were carried to its last resting place as we proceeded on our journey & up on a high point to our left about one mile from camp..”

Not only does the diary contradict the railroad claim as to who she was, but also suggests Lucinda Duncan was never moved, but originally buried where she lies today. In my own experiences with research, I would be more obliged to credit the documentation of an old diary, than to put faith in an old railroad worker’s legend. To read the plaque at Lucinda’s grave, go to  http://www.ipernity.com/doc/donbrr/21996459

The cemetery itself is somewhat expansive and still in use. I may be wrong, but it seems to me there are many more folks residing in the Beowawe Cemetery than there are in Beowawe itself. In fact, there may be more people in the cemetery than have ever lived in Beowawe during the past 150 years.

The oldest graves, from the wagon train days, are unmarked and positioned with the head facing west. The rest of them, ranging all the way up to 2020, face in various ways and are sprinkled all over the top of this prominent bluff.

Old Names

Since there is an air of mystery to Lucinda Duncan and the cemetery around her, it must be mentioned that the name, Beowawe, has ambiguous origins as well. A preliminary search may indicate it is a Paiute word for “Gate,” meaning a gateway through the mountains. It can also mean “Great Posterior. “ A Shoshone term for it is “Big Wagon.” Another Native-American definition for Beowawe is “Big-ass Indian woman.” Still, an 1881 map of the area claims Beowawe was named after a man. Obviously, the possibilities are long and varied. With such a list, feel free to choose tour own, as an exclusive term may never be available.

Another old name associated with the area is Gravelly Ford, which is only a few miles from Beowawe. It is a shallow and sturdy area of the Humboldt River which was the crossing of choice for the wagon trains. It is also a place of countless deaths from fighting between settlers and Native-Americans. The Donner Party had internal conflict issues here, in which James Reed killed John Snyder, although it has been argued if Gravelly Ford was the exact spot.

One thing is for certain. If you are ever out on I-80 in the Battle Mountain/Carlin area, you will want to take the short detour out to Beowawe and explore the old buildings, the Maiden’s Grave, and the picturesque Crescent Valley beyond.

If you would like to read more about the hazards of the Emigrant Trail, click on https://outerrealmz.com/trail-of-death-t…e-40-mile-desert/