Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Four Generations Delivering Trinity County Mail…

Every family decides what’s worth keeping. For the Contos family of Trinity County, it’s 122 miles of mountain road. Every weekday, someone drives the mail route between Weaverville and Coffee Creek, just as earlier generations did. “It’s been in our family forever,” says Molly Contos.

For nearly nine decades, one generation has handed “The Route” to the next. “My grandmother had it. My mom and dad took it over from her,” Molly says. Now Molly’s son, Peter Contos, carries the route. “It’s what’s called a contract delivery service route. But, as far as I’m concerned, I’m just the mailman,” Peter says with a chuckle. “I’m so far into this I could never escape, even if I wanted to. The mail never stops. I find it remarkable they ran this route in a stagecoach 100 years ago, and there’s a throughline to me.”
That stubborn streak gets mail delivered in all kinds of weather. “I have driven through — no exaggeration — 10,000 miles of unplowed snow, just to get the mail from Weaverville to Trinity Center. They’ll plow, and by the time you get there there’s already another foot of snow. The county roads, which is most of my mail route, they might not get to for days. So, you think, should I go out in two feet of snow? But then, so-and-so needs their medications, and you drive through treacherous conditions to find they haven’t been down their driveway for their mail all week. But that’s the job.”

The route also carries happy memories. Growing up, Molly remembers riding beside her mother in the mail van. “My father drove during the snow and rainy seasons. During the summer, my mom would run the route, and my sister and I would get to go with her in the big van. We’d wait for the mail truck, take a big sack out to Lewiston, then deliver all those little spots on the side of the road. If a little red flag was up, we’d pick up the outgoing mail and take it back. Some of our fondest memories are driving the route with Mom and Dad.”

As Molly and her sister grew older, neither of them wanted to take on the job. Peter was attending school in Arizona when Molly suggested he come home and help his grandfather. “Boy, howdy,” Molly says with a laugh. “He came right home, and my father spent years teaching Peter every mile of the route. Grandpa was so proud, bossing him around.” Peter reflects on those moments with equal parts pride and nostalgia. “My grandfather was extremely specific. You had to brake in the same place, downshift on the same hill, and if you didn’t, he’d mumble that you should be going 23 instead of 24 miles an hour. Now when I train someone, I catch myself biting my lip for stopping two inches too far left. I try not to be exactly like him. Which, apparently, means I’m exactly like him. I’ve been doing it for 12 years, and it just becomes a part of you.”

“It’s your typical two-lane mountain road,” Molly says. “It’s super-hot in the summer, and snow and rain in the winter. There are logging trucks, hikers, campers, people pulling boats. There are bears, elk and bobcats. You just never know what you’ll find when you come around the corner. My dad got chased by a goat one time. Peter has, too.”

What has changed over time is the mail. “It used to be letters and checks. Now it’s packages. Internet service is spotty in Trinity Center and Coffee Creek, so the mail is still a big deal.” According to Molly, the people haven’t changed much, either. “Driving the route is a little step back in time,” Molly says. “People are so darn happy to see you. They’ll ask about your mom and dad, and tell you stories about them. Then they’ll hand you fresh dill from the garden.”

Those relationships also help every generation of the Contos family to negotiate those heavy winters. “If you can get behind a snowplow, you’re home-free. The Caltrans guys know you, and everybody watches out for each other. After Peter’s snow accident, at least 10 people called: ‘Peter’s okay. We’ve got the mail covered.’ They dried the mail, helped deliver it and arranged a tow truck. That’s our community.”

Today, Molly still fills in when Peter needs a day off. “When I drive the route now, people still stop me, and tell me how much they miss my mom and dad. Then, they’ll tell me a story.” Nearly 90 years after her grandmother first carried the mail, the responsibility remains the same. “The route has always been a source of pride,” Molly says. “You’re delivering the mail, but you’re also carrying all those memories with you.” Peter also treasures his present. “I love this job, and I love the people. It’s a good place to be. The better you do, the better off you are.” •