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Making the Grade: NATE HARRISON’S ‘TREASURE’

Part IV of a series on Nate Harrison and the grade named after him.

By DAVID ROSS

Nate Harrison’s treasure. Arrrh! It brings to mind visions of pieces of eight and the Lost Dutchman and Indiana Jones.

Wish I could say that Nate Harrison had a treasure, but I can’t, although there’s always legends about people who live like a hermit miles and miles away from people.

But if Nate had a treasure, he kept it and clues to it well hidden. What he did leave behind was a wealth of artifacts, junk really, that he tossed about on the ground around his cabin during the 50 plus years that he lived on Palomar Mountain.

The owner of the land on which resides the few rocks and stones that recall Nate Harrison’s life had led our group to the spot and we spent about half an hour wandering around the small clearing, trying to imagine what it must have been like back then.

It probably looked pretty much as it does today, except for the cabin, which is located about 3500 feet elevation.

“The roof was shake,” the owner informed us. “Here’s where the door was, and there is the fireplace.”

It didn’t look as though Nate had enough room to stretch out full length.

This was where the resident archaeologist of our little expedition, Petie McHenry, really shone. She asked intelligent, pointed questions, and was able to identify several things that had mystified the owner of the property for years.

He took us further up the hill to where the source of Nate’s spring is said to have been.

Any spring that did exist is silted up now, the victim of some rain storm years ago.

Below that is a stream that still flows when it rains. He showed us a tree where barbed wire is still embedded in the bark and speculated that must be remnants of the fence that Nate put up near his spring. “That barbed wire has been there for ninety years or more,” said Don Seitz in wonder.

Petie McHenry noted that she has a photo of the spring (reproduced here) and took a photo of Don Seitz walking at the probable location.

Everybody was, of course, excited about this discovery. We history buffs are easily amused, but lest you think that such things are totally trivial, remember that some future “historian” may someday read this account and glean some small clue about life in San Diego County at the turn of the century.

The owner of the property is something of a “mountain man” himself. He moved to the mountain in 1969, built a house, raised a family and sent his kids to the one room Palomar Mountain School.

Once he was done showing us where Nate’s spring was he took us down into the clearing where Nate planted his orchard, and where an apricot tree still bears fruit, if you can get to them before the birds do!

He also planted a quince tree that still grows. He pointed out where the Palomar Vista Riders used to stop when they were making their epic annual rides from the top of the mountain down into Pauma Valley. They stopped doing that a few years ago when they weren’t able to get permission to cross people’s property any more.

Nearby an old Indian trail runs through, evidence that while Nate was the first “White Man” on the mountain, he was certainly not the first man.

Nate is known to have married an Indian woman, who had two children, although whether they were his children is unknown.

Although he stuck pretty close to home most of the time, Nate used to occasionally get on his horse to ride further up the mountain to visit a Basque sheep herder named Boucher, after whom Boucher Heights was named.

He was also good friends with George Doane, after whom Doane Pond is named.

He showed us another tree that Nate left a shovel leaning against one day, and never returned to claim. The tree grew around the shovel, and finally engulfed the metal blade. Time has its way with all us sooner or later, whether we are flesh and blood, metal or stone.

Then he took us to his old, battered pick-up truck and dumped out Nate’s “treasure.”

It seems that for years he and his family have used a metal detector around the ruins of Nate’s house, and found scads of stuff near his front door.

Remember, this is before the days of landfills and garbage collectors. “Almost any shovelful that you come up with will have something in it,” said the owner.

Most of it, of course, is of little interest. But, over the years they have come up with quite a collection of items that give fascinating little glimpses into life in another age.

“Of course, there’s always rumors that Nate had gold,” said the owner. “But I’ve never found any of it.”

If he did have a treasure, perhaps he learned from the example of Long Joe Smith (the mountain was first called Smith Mountain) who was murdered by someone because they thought he had gold.

Instead of gold, the pile consists of items of everyday living: a spoon, a knife, a planer, the leg of a cast-iron stove, a horse bit, a spike, a hay hook, a chain, a length of barbed wire.

“These are wonderful,” breathed Petie, fingering the items. There was more: a sardine can with a key, a broken whiskey bottle (this is in line with all of the accounts, which say that Nate liked a nip now and again), a lead canning lid, a mother of pearl button, a 12 gauge shotgun shell and a rifle shell made by Remington.

“You can find out a lot about looking through people’s trash,” observed Seitz. “That’s what archaeology is all about,” replied Petie.

Not much of a "treasure" except to a history buff. These artifacts come from around Harrison's cabin.