The Downieville Turnpike - also known at various times as the Sierra Turnpike, the Mountain House Road, and the Henness Pass Road - was used by pioneers traveling from the valley to the mountains, especially during the Gold Rush years. It comprised several parts as it ran from Marysville to Downieville or on to Nevada. During its heyday, the road from Camptonville to Verdi, Nevada, was crowded with wagons and packtrains as goods and settlers moved east and west. One such traveler, J.D. Borthwick, an Englishman and painter, described a portion of his journey from Foster Bar to Downieville along the trail in the mid 1850s. It is interesting to note how far he could see through the forest; now it is difficult to see any distance because of the trees and brush.
"On leaving the river, I had as usual a long hill to climb, but once on the top, the trail followed the backbone of the ridge, and was comparatively easy to travel. It was the main “pack-trail” to Downieville, and, being travelled by all the trains of pack-mules, was nearly ankle-deep in dust. The soil of the California mountains is generally very red and sterile, and has the property of being easily converted into exceedingly fine dust, as red as brick-dust, or into equally fine mud, according to the season of the year. At the end of a day's journey in summer, the colour of a man's face is hardly discernible through the thick coating of dust, which makes him look more like a red Indian than a white man."
"The scenery was very beautiful. The pine-trees were not too numerous to interrupt the view, and the ridge was occasionally so narrow that, on either hand, looking over the tops of the trees down below, there was a vast panorama of pine-clad mountains, on one side gradually diminishing, till, at a distance of forty or fifty miles, they merged imperceptibly into the plains, which, with the hazy heated atmosphere upon them, looked like a calm ocean; while, on the other side, one mountain-ridge appeared above another, more barren as they became more lofty, till at last they faded away into a few hardly discernible snowy peaks. It was a pleasing change when sometimes a break occurred in the ridge, and the trail dipped into a dark shady hollow, and, winding its way through the dense mass of underwood, crossed a little stream of water, and, leading up the opposite bank, gained once more the open ground on the summit. I travelled about fifteen miles without meeting any one, and arrived at Slate Range House, a solitary cabin, so called from being situated at the spot where one begins to descend to Slate Range, a place where the banks of the river are composed of huge masses of slate. I dined here, and shortly afterwards overtook a little Englishman, whose English accent sounded very refreshing. He had been in the country since before the existence of gold was discovered; but from his own account he did not seem to have profited much in his gold-hunting exploits from having had such a good start."
- J.D. Borthwick, 1857